“Grant,” she said, “this was in the trunk. It’s from the resort. I think it’s the last coupleschallenge card.”
Something heavy dropped in my stomach. “They do have a knack for appearing in strange places. Why not a trunk in an attic?”
If I told her about the ghost now, she’d be too distracted to focus on whatever was in the card. She might even decide not to do the challenge—and I wanted to. The first one had broken down a wall between us. Maybe this one could build a bridge.
I glanced at the ghost. His gaze traveled from me to the ledger before he slowly mimed zipping his lips.
A coconspirator emerges.
I snapped the ledger closed as he faded into the shadows. Whatever truth he wanted me to find could wait until tomorrow.
“All right,” I said, turning to her. “I think we’re done searching for the night. What’s the exercise this time?”
Chapter 21
Valerie
And then there weretwo.
The ghost vanished, leaving just Grant, me, and the envelope, suddenly heavy in my hands. Only a few more days until Christmas Eve, and the case that was supposed to fix my life had started ticking like a time bomb primed to blow it apart instead.
What happened on that beach didn't seem like a mistake anymore. It felt like divine intervention disguised as chaos.
Which was exactly the problem.
Because the more real this became, the more I wanted from Grant—real vows, not the joking ones we’d stumbled through. A life glimpsed around the edges of my fear, full of laughter and warmth and something dangerously close to forever.
That's what he’d meant, wasn’t it? The difference between a fake husband and an accidental one. He’d made me promise a year ago we’d never fake anything between us. So if he wasn’t faking, and neither was I, then that meant—
“You gonna open it? Because I’ve reached peak suspense.”
I blinked, snapping out of whatever spiral my brain had just staged. Grant waited, one arm resting on his knee, thefaintest smile tugging at his mouth. His sweater sleeves were shoved to his forearms, the knit stretched over a chest I’d had the undeniable pleasure of using as a pillow for nearly a week. The air in the room was warm, but my temperature spike had nothing to do with insulation.
Whatever was in this card was definitely going to get me in trouble.
I tried to wrangle my thoughts, but if Santa was a mind reader, my name was already scribbled in permanent marker at the top of the naughty list. Judging by the look in Grant’s eyes, he’d claimed the second spot—and was absolutely planning to challenge me for first.
“Just admiring the expensive stationery,” I said.
“Uh-huh. You admire. I’ll age.”
I tore the envelope open. Inside was a single cream card, stamped with the same embossed seal as the first challenge. I read the words twice, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
“It says we have to create a memory together that we’ll both cringe about later—in public.”
Snow still whispered against the dormer windows, soft but relentless. A thread of disappointment coiled through my chest. We weren’t doing anything in public tonight. Not with the roads closed, and the town buried under a storm.
Besides, what would we even do? WriteValerie Spellman might, kind of, possibly be falling for Grant Delaneyin the snow outside the police station, then throw a rock through the window? I shook my head. That wasn’t just cringeworthy; it sounded like a felony.
“I have an idea,” Grant said, his grin spreading with pure mischief. “And it won’t get us arrested.”
I jolted, cheeks flaming faster than smores over an open fire. Had I said that last part out loud?
“Arrested?” I squeaked.
“Yeah. The radio said there’s a state of emergency. Only official vehicles are allowed out.”
Relief rushed through me—good. My snow-writing confession was still safely in my imagination.
