Page 9 of Ghosted Cowboy
"Tell him what? That someone left me dead flowers? It's probably nothing."
"Rainey—"
"I saw someone here last night."
We both jumped. Mason Davenport appeared at the corner of the building, paint-stained jeans and a faded work shirt making him look like he'd rolled out of bed. The carpenter's dark hair stuck up at odd angles, and the way he stared at me made me take a step back.
Mason had been asking me out since high school—always too intense, always persistent, never taking no for an answer. I'd turned him down at least half a dozen times over the years.
"Mason." I tried to keep my tone steady. "What are you talking about?"
"Around midnight. I was working late." He gestured vaguely toward the converted barn he used as a workshop on the edge of town. "Drove past here on my way home. Saw someone at your door. Thought it was you at first, but..." He shook his head. "They moved wrong. Too quick. Like they didn't want to be seen."
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. "Did you see who it was?"
"Too dark. But they were carrying something. Could've been those." He looked down at the dead roses, then back to my face. "You should be careful, Rainey. Lock your doors. Maybe don't walk home alone."
His tone—concerned but possessive—set me on edge. That protective edge in his voice—like he had some claim on me—made my skin prickle. He'd never quite accepted that we were just acquaintances. How often did he drive past the shop?
"Thanks for the heads up," I managed.
He nodded, lingering for a moment too long before heading back toward his truck parked down the street.
Ellie waited until he was out of earshot. "Okay, that was weird. Is he still doing that thing where he just happens to show up wherever you are?"
"Small town. Everyone knows everyone's business." But my hands were shaking as I unlocked the shop door. "Come on. I need coffee before I deal with this."
Inside, Midnight Curiosities felt different this morning. I'd grown up here, learned to love beautiful things from Gran. Now it felt violated somehow, knowing someone had been watching.
"I'll make the coffee," Ellie said, heading toward the back room where we kept a small kitchen setup. "You sit down before you fall down."
I sank onto the stool behind the counter, the decaying flowers still in my hand. My phone buzzed—a text from Vivian:Rehearsal tonight. 7pm. Running Evangeline's scene with the fortune teller. Bring your best mystical energy!
Right. Because what I needed was to spend the evening pretending to summon the dead while creepy things were happening in real life.
The bell above the door chimed. I looked up, expecting Gran—she usually came down from her apartment around this time. Instead, Laurel Hayes floated in, her oversized sweater drowning her frame, a constellation-patterned scarf trailing behind her, mismatched shoes peeking from beneath her long swirly skirt. Her thick glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose.She had that dreamy, distracted look she always wore, like she was only half-present in this reality.
"Rainey." Her voice was soft, almost musical. "I felt something dark while I was meditating this morning. A disturbance of some sort. Then your name came to me." Her gaze landed on the roses, and her expression shifted. "Oh. There it is."
Laurel had always been odd, even as a child. While the rest of us struggled throughCharlotte's Webin third grade, Laurel read thick volumes with titles I couldn't pronounce. Her reading skills were so advanced that our teacher had created a special "Purple Reading Group"—which consisted of only Laurel. No surprise she'd ended up as the town librarian. By junior year, she'd moved on to crystal jewelry and tarot card readings, charging classmates five dollars for a glimpse at their futures. I'd never believed in fortune-telling, but everyone in Midnight Springs agreed Laurel Hayes was eccentric.
She crossed to the counter, reached out, and touched the long antique mirror I kept propped against the wall—a beautiful piece from the 1880s with an ornate gilded frame. The moment her fingers made contact, her whole body went rigid.
"Laurel?" My breath stuck in my throat. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes rolled back. When she spoke, her voice had changed—deeper, more resonant. "The veil grows thin. October's power builds. Betrayal wears a familiar face. Someone close to you seeks to harm."
Cold swept through me.
Then she blinked, stumbled back, and was Laurel again—dazed and slightly confused. "Did I do the thing? I did the thing, didn't I? I hate when I do the thing."
"You did the thing," I confirmed, trying to make it sound casual even though my pulse was racing. "’Betrayal wears a familiar face.’ Any idea what that means?"
"No idea. It just comes through me." She pushed her glasses up her nose with a finger and eyed the flowers warily. "But those are definitely bad news. You should burn them. Cleanse the energy."
Before I could respond, she drifted toward the door, seeming still a bit dazed. "Be careful tonight, Rainey. The theater holds many secrets."
After she left, Ellie and I looked at each other.
