Page 4 of Haunted Hearts
It’s not Dad. It’s Dylan again. When he decided he didn’t want to be tied down three months ago, I deleted his number the same night. But of course I still recognize it. And although I haven’t replied to any of his texts these last couple of days, I’m starting to wonder if I should. He hasn’t said outright that he wants to get back together, but…
As the barista calls my name and I head to the counter to grab my coffee, I open the text and suck in a breath.
Jesus Christ, Dylan. That’s… bold.
But his words barely have time to register, because no sooner do I swipe my coffee off the counter than I feel myself collide with something big and tall and solid, and my phone goes skittering to the floor.
three
WILL
Zeke: So… is it possible to get a ghost pregnant? Asking for a friend.
Benji: Zeke. It’s 8:00 am. Waaaaaay too early for this shit.
Phoebe: Who needs jump scares when you can have pregnancy scares? Am I right??
Will: I have a meeting.
Brewed Awakening is hopping this morning. It’s a crisp, fall morning, and even the tables outside are packed with folks enjoying the weather. But I don’t have time for that—I’ve got five minutes to get in, get out, and make it to the library before eight.
“Anything else this morning?” The chipper blonde behind the counter asks after I order my dark roast.
She looks up at me through mascaraed lashes and flashes me a smile. It’s not just for the sake of customer service—she doesthis every time I’m in here. But she’s too young, too nice. She doesn’t know what kind of stock I come from.
Nah, this chick onlythinksshe wants a guy like me.
“That’s all,” I say, swiping my card. I stuff a couple bucks in the tip jar, just to be polite. It’s not like I’m going to be stuffing anything else anywhere near her.
Glancing at my watch, I move to the far end of the counter. Four minutes until I’m late to my meeting, and Ihatebeing late. Behind the flirty blonde at the counter, I see a barista set a fresh urn of coffee to brew.
“Goddamn,” I mutter.
I know the blonde hears me because she shoots me an uncertain smile, but I don’t apologize. Because, really. Drip coffee shouldnotbe taking this long.
I drum my fingers on the counter, wondering if the coffee’s even worth it. I could dip out. If I hop in the truck now, it’ll take me three minutes to get downtown, thirty seconds to park, forty-five seconds to sprint?—
“Fuck!” I roar as something comes crashing into my chest.
Out of nowhere, a searing wetness hits me, scalding my bare forearms and scaring the living shit out of me. There’s a clatter as something drops and goes skittering across the cafe floor. I look down at my shirt, where a dark stain is already soaking through the fabric. The line of customers to my right is frozen, and everyone in the whole damn place is craning their necks to see what the hell’s going on.
“Well, that’s just great,” I hear a voice say. “There goes my coffee.”
I snap my gaze up. I’d been gearing up to shoulder check the bastard who just drenched me with coffee, but that voice? It’s definitely female.
And when my eyes land on the woman in question, who’s got one luscious hip cocked to the side in a stance of defiance,my balls tighten despite myself—because she isreallyfucking female. And she’s staring at me with a face that’s absolutely livid. Which, honestly, is pretty damn rich, given the fact thatshedumped her coffee onme.
That snaps me out of it.
“I’m sorry—what?” I bark out a harsh laugh, tugging at my stained, dripping shirt. “That’s some apology you’ve got there.”
She huffs out an exasperated breath, looks me up and down. She’s clearly more upset that her coffee’s gone than she is that she spilled it all over me.
“You know what? Iamsorry—sorry you were standing so damn close to the counter. What were youdoing?!”
“What do you mean what wasIdoing? I was standing here minding my own business!”
She scoffs and turns away, waving to the barista. As she gestures apologetically to her sopping cup, I can’t help but notice the curve of her ass in her jeans. The way her hips are all pressed up against the counter. It’s enough to set my balls to aching again, but I jerk my gaze away.
