Page 13 of Haunting the Mountain Man
Dan throws up his hands in surrender.
“Sabrina is off limits,” he agrees.
The boss claps his hands and starts the morning meeting. It’s a long eight hours before I’m off the clock and headed down the mountain to pick up my fiancée.
Tomes and Teais closed when I arrive, but the door is unlocked, and I let myself inside. The bell over the door rings and footsteps scurry overhead.
“Just a minute!” Sabrina calls down in a frantic voice.
Smirking I climb the narrow stairs to her apartment, taking them two at a time. At the top, I step into a small but cozy apartment. The ceiling slopes low, the furniture is mismatched, and the air smells faintly of cinnamon.
Something black streaks past my boots. Then another. A third saunters right up to me, cocking his head like he owns the place. If I had considered it, I would’ve known she’d have a black cat. But I never would have expected there to bethree. All black. Almost identical.
“You must be hellcats,” I mutter.
The bold one lets out a chirrup and rubs against my shin. I crouch to scratch behind his ear, and the cat purrs like a chainsaw.
“That’s Oswald,” Sabrina says breathlessly as she rushes out of the bedroom. Her black dress swirls around her knees, half-zipped, her hair clipped back in a hurry. She’s got one boot on, one bare foot, and smoky eyeliner half-done on one eye.
I forget how to breathe.
She freezes when she sees me, as if she’s just realized I’m standing in her living room.
“You weren’t supposed to come up yet!”
“Door wasn’t locked.” I straighten, Oswald curling around my boots like he’s claimed me. “I didn’t want to wait downstairs like some creep.”
“You’re not a creep.” She points her eyeliner pencil at me like it’s a weapon. “But you are a beast, breaking and entering like you did.”
Her cheeks are flushed, whether from rushing around her apartment or from me catching her like this, I can’t tell. But I like it.
One of the other cats, sleek and judgmental, perches on top of the fridge. The third stretches on the couch like a lord surveying his domain. She points to each in turn introducing me to Obsidian and Onyx.
“They don’t usually like strangers,” Sabrina mutters as she zips her boot. “Oswald must think you’re acceptable.”
“High praise. So, this is you.” I glance around, taking in the cramped kitchen and the stacks of books spilling from every surface.
She straightens, tugging her bodice into place and lifting her chin like she dares me to criticize the skull patterned wallpaper of her kitchen or the herbs drying above her sink.
“It’s small but its mine,” she says defensively.
“It’s perfect,” I say, and I mean it. Witchy and messy and warm. Just like her.
Her glossy black lips part, surprise flashing across her face before she covers it with sass.
“Flattery won’t make me forgive you for barging in while I was dressing.”
“Not flattery. Observation,” I say letting my eyes drift down her curvaceous body in blatant appreciation. I step closer, brushing my thumb under the eye she hasn’t finished decorating.
“I like you like this.”
Her breath catches.
“Breathless. Messy. You’re quite the temptation.”
Behind us, Oswald meows loudly, breaking the moment. Sabrina rolls her eyes and turns away.
“Sit down before you charm all three of them and I never get them back,” she grumbles, breezing into the bathroom to finish her makeup. It’s still steamy from her shower, the warm air reaching out like a ghostly hand from the grave.
