Page 48 of Kiss for My Kraken
“About time,” Eric said, and Sam blinked. “You’re a good male. You needed someone to share your life with. The Halloween Festival is this weekend,” Eric continued, frowning. “The town will be full of strangers, which makes it harder to spot troublemakers.”
He hadn’t thought of that. The annual Halloween celebration brought visitors from all over, especially now they had an active marketing committee to promote the town.
“Perhaps Nina should stay away,” he suggested.
“Or perhaps that’s the safest place for her. She’ll be surrounded by friends, in public. These types usually prefer to operate in shadows, away from witnesses.”
“I’ll be there too,” he decided, the words out before he’d fully processed their implications.
Eric’s eyebrows rose. “You? At the festival?”
Although he’d watched from the river, he’d always avoided the town’s celebrations, uncomfortable with crowds and attention. But things had changed. He had changed.
“For Nina,” he said simply.
Eric studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “I’ll make sure there’s access for you. The river platform by the square should work.”
“Thank you.” He began to sink back into the water, then paused. “Eric. If they try to take her…”
“They won’t,” the sheriff said firmly. “Not in my town.”
Sam held his gaze, needing him to understand. “If they do. No limits.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Eric said quietly. “But I understand.”
With a final nod, he sank back into the water. The river felt different to him now. It had always been his home, his refuge, his sanctuary. Now it was something more. It had brought him Nina, and it would help him keep her safe.
CHAPTER 21
Enormous purple spiders hung suspended from the Moonlight Tavern’s rafters, their fuzzy legs gently swaying in the draft. Nina balanced on a step ladder, carefully attaching the last leg with fishing wire. It was a precarious position, but worth it for the effect—especially since these particular spiders occasionally twitched on their own, thanks to a spell Annabelle had cast on them.
“Perfect!” Annabelle called from below, her blue wings fluttering with excitement. “When the lights dim, they’ll practically come alive.”
Nina climbed down, surveying their handiwork. The tavern had undergone a remarkable transformation over the past few days. Orange and purple fairy lights twined around every beam. Cobwebs draped from corners, embedded with tiny crystals that caught the light. Carved pumpkins with eerily realistic faces lined the bar, courtesy of George, who’d apparently learned pumpkin sculpting from “a genuine goblin artisan.”
“I still can’t believe Ben approved all this,” Nina said, running her hand along a pumpkin whose expression shifted subtly as she touched it.
Annabelle’s laugh tinkled like wind chimes. “Approved? Hon, this was his idea. Behind all that grumpiness, our bunny boss is Fairhaven’s biggest Halloween enthusiast. Unlike Easter,” she whispered. “He goes into hiding then.”
As if summoned by his name, Ben emerged from the kitchen, tall ears twitching with irritation as he surveyed the room.
“The bats are crooked,” he declared, gesturing to the paper cutouts suspended from the ceiling. “And there aren’t nearly enough skulls on the back shelves.”
“On it, boss!” Annabelle chirped, floating upward to adjust the bats.
Nina bit back a smile. Beneath his critical tone, she caught the gleam of satisfaction in Ben’s eyes. For all his complaints, he was clearly pleased with the tavern’s transformation.
“Kitchen’s yours for the rest of the day,” he told her, his voice returning to its usual gruff cadence. “Festival committee meeting approved your menu, so get baking.” He paused, then added with obvious reluctance, “And… good job with the spiders.”
Coming from Ben, it was practically a sonnet of praise. She felt a warm glow of pride as she headed to the kitchen, her sanctuary. The past three days had been a whirlwind of festival preparations, and she’d thrown herself into the work with desperate enthusiasm, grateful for the distraction.
The kitchen welcomed her with familiar smells—yeast, sugar, spices. She pulled her recipe notebook from her bag, flipping to the pages she’d carefully prepared for the festival. Pumpkin bread with maple glaze. Apple cider donuts. Spiced cookies shaped like autumn leaves. And her personal addition: cornbread cut into stars and moons, glazed with honey butter.
She tied on her apron and began gathering ingredients, the routine motions calming her jittery nerves. Measure, mix, knead. The steady rhythm of baking had always been her refuge, even back in Haven’s Grace. Of course, back then, she’d baked in the communal kitchen under Elder Matthias’s wife’s watchful eye, her recipes limited to the plain, unadorned foods deemed appropriate by the community.
Here in Fairhaven Falls, she could add cinnamon and nutmeg, drizzle maple syrup, create shapes that had nothing to do with practicality and everything to do with joy.
If only joy were enough to keep fear at bay.
