Page 1 of Nice to Meet Boo
ONE
STACEY
“What do you mean you aren’t coming?” I hiss the question into my phone while trying to ignore the curious stares from my fellow bar patrons. With my borrowed angel wings and halo, I look like I stepped out of a Christmas pageant.
Not that I’m the only one in costume. It is Halloween, after all, and this is our small mountain town’s annual “Spooky Scary Costume Party.”
But without my partners in crime—namely my big brother and his girlfriend—I look a little… lame. Or, if not lame than at least solo and single.
Very solo and single.
“I’m so sorry,” Heidi says, and I can hear the genuine frustration in her voice over the clatter of kitchen noise and a muffled voice in the background. “We’re up a the cabin and we had a pipe burst under the sink. Seth is in the shed rummaging for parts. I’m trying to triage the leak and mop before it warps the wood floors. By the time we get it fixed and find costumes?—”
“You wouldn’t even make it before the costume contest,” I finish for her, and blow out a sigh that flutters the cheap feather fringe along my shoulder blade. “It’s okay. Are you sure you don’t need me to come over and help?”
“Nope. We’ve got it. We’ll owe you a rain check.” She lowers her voice. “I really wanted to meet you here. I told Cyrus we’d corral you into entering the contest, and I wanted to see your wings.”
As if on cue, the halo headband pricks my scalp. “They’re crooked,” I say. “And I’m about one more pity stare away from ripping this halo off my head and booking it home.”
“Don’t you dare,” Heidi warns, light but firm. “You promised yourself you’d get out more. Consider this your brave thing for the week.”
I roll my eyes at the neon pumpkin behind the bar. “Fine.”
“And hey, Cyrus said the prize money is bigger than ever this year. There’s a bunch of Saints & Sinners-themed games. He has sponsors. It’s supposed to be a big deal.”
“Of course he does.” I glance over at Cyrus, the owner, who is currently glowering at a customer dressed in oversized wings that keep smacking him in the face. “He looks like he already regrets every decision he’s made for tonight.”
“He’s grumpy; it’s part of his brand. But you know he’s got a good heart.”
“I know,” I say, because it’s true. Cyrus is a marshmallow underneath the scowl.
A marshmallow that has been toasted with a blowtorch, but sweet all the same below the gruff exterior.
“We really are sorry,” Heidi says again. “Next time, I promise. We’ll even dress Seth up as a cherub.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay, but only if he wears a diaper.”
She laughs, then winces. “Gotta go. The bucket just slipped. Love you!”
“Love you, too.” I hang up and stare at my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I’m just a girl in a simple white dress with floaty sleeves, a sparkly halo, and cardboard-feather wings that keep sneaking into my peripheral vision.
The overlay of twinkly string lights in the mirror makes me look like I’m glowing. Or maybe that’s just the dark pink from the Cosmo I’m nursing.
I lift the glass and take a sip.
“All right, Stacey,” I say. “It’s just a party. Stay for an hour. Socialize with one person. Then you can go home and eat candy corn in bed.”
“Don’t even think about it,” a familiar voice says from behind me.
I turn to find Cyrus leaning one elbow on the bar top. His dark hair is shaggy, and he’s wearing a t-shirt that says HELL YEAH in big Gothic font, because of course he is.
He looks like a lumberjack who got lost in a record store. And there’s more bark than bite behind his scowl.
“About what?” I ask, too innocent.
“About bailing.” He nods at the chalkboard sign hanging crookedly near the stage. SAINTS & SINNERS GAMES — 9 PM — CASH PRIZE. “Sign-ups close in ten.”
“It’s a team competition,” I remind him. “My team bailed. I’m a solo saint.”
