Page 43 of Lost Track

“Dr. Pepper please.”

“I don’t even know if we’ll get any trick-or-treaters,” she said, setting the pop can on the countertop.

On cue, the doorbell rang.

Dave tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows. Her mouth dropped open and excitement tingled in her fingers.

Oh, this was happening.

They went to the door together.

“Wait. My mask.” Sabine grabbed the helmet and slid it back on her head. Dave waited, one hand on the knob. She nodded. “Okay.”

He grinned and opened the door.

“Trick or treat!” Two of the tiniest Avengers she’d ever seen held out cloth bags.

“You guys are socute,”Sabine said, crouching down to be at eye level. But again, her voice changer was on, so it sounded like a grown man.

The children giggled.

Dave chuckled and tossed candy into their bags.

He closed the door and Sabine stood up, taking off her helmet.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I know what Halloween is, dummy.” She rolled her eyes. “But you have to admit that unless you’re home, handing out candy, Halloween after a certain age is way less fun.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What age did it stop being fun?”

“Maybe that was just me then.” She gave up. “Apparently I’m the only one in the whole world who dislikes this universally adored holiday. I’m the Halloween grinch. Blah.”

His lips twitched like he found her amusing. “I didn’t say that.”

The doorbell rang again, and she sucked in an excited breath.

“Put your helmet on,” he prodded, reaching for the doorknob.

* * *

The next ninety minutes were filled with so much fast-paced fun she was surprised when it was over.

The children who lived in her building were sweet and adorable, and she wanted to give them all the candy in the whole world. At one point a young Darth Maul asked to duel Dave and they had a lightsaber battle in the hallway where Dave died dramatically.

When the candy had been depleted and the trick-or-treaters had stopped arriving, Dave locked the door and turned off the entry lights.

“Now we can commence the praying for dawn.”

“Ha ha,” she mumbled, taking off her cape. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her arms over her head. “Capes are heavy.”

He pretended to turn up the collar of his robe. “This is why bathrobes are best.”

She snickered and pulled an arm across her chest, stretching her shoulders. With the cape and helmet off, it was less of a costume. Just black leggings and a black tank top, and black boots—which she removed next.

“I noticed you didn’t bring your bodyguards with you tonight.” She sat on a stool by the island and pulled one foot into her lap, rubbing the sole.

He flashed his lightsaber on his hip. “I brought protection.” He watched her hands silently and then asked, “Your feet okay?”

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