She drops into the chair beside me with a huff. “Don’t get sappy again. That doesn’t mean you should give him another chance. He fucked up. Royally. And everyone’s carrying heavy shit, not just Ghostberry. Plus, he’s practically the poster boy for toxic assholes.” She shrugs. “But… whatever. He’s cool as a frenemy.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Temperance drops into the conversation, carrying a massive thermos of coffee. Woman’s gonna die of a caffeine overdose any day now.
“I heard something abouttoxic assholes. Are you talking about Bones?” she asks, raising a brow.
Ria snorts. “Nope. Ghostberry.”
“Oh,” Temperance says, eyeing me. “You know, I like to think I’m tough,” she starts, and Ria snickers. Temperance shoots her a warning glare before turning back to me. “But I don’t think Icould’ve handled someone like Ghost. You never know what that guy’s thinking. But you just know that whatever heisthinking, it can’t be good.It’s all doom and gloom. How the hell did you survive a year with him?”
“He’s not all doom and gloom,” I say, unable to stop myself from defending him. “At least he wasn’t like that with me. And yeah, I know he was lying and shit, but… He laughed. And we had fun.”
“Laughed?” “Fun?” Ria and Temperance echo in unison.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, laughter and fun. What? You think he doesn’t laugh?”
“Well, hedidlaugh last night,” Ria says. “To be fair though, he was high as a kite.”
“You gave him drugs?” Temperance asks, vaguely scandalized.
“It was just a joint, Sainty McSaint,” Ria shoots back.
I chuckle and rise from the table. “We’ll finish this later. I’ve got to distract Ghost before my next prank. And we need to get going.”
“You sure are enjoying this kiddie revenge thing,” Temperance says with a smirk.
“So much,” I gasp, grinning.
‘You’re strong.’
I pick up the note left near the cash register and frown at it. It wasn’t here yesterday when I closed up the bookstore, which means someone snuck in last night. Someone with stalker tendencies and a brooding personality. And temporarily blue skin.
The same someone who said those exact words to me less than an hour ago.
I turn my head and glare at the suspect through the shop window. He’s stuck on his bike in Ria’s parking space. I almost smile at the thought, but stop myself just in time. He’d catch it — he’s got the eyesight of a hawk. And I’m not giving him the satisfaction. Or encouragement.
I don’t know what the hell he thinks this stupid note is supposed to achieve, but whatever it is, he’s wrong.
I raise my hand, holding the note, and crush it in my fist. Let him see that.
Then I turn around, fully intending to toss it in the trash. But at the last second, I sigh, uncrumple the small piece of paper with shaky hands, and slide it into a narrow space under the counter.
Damn it.
The moment we pull up in front of the clubhouse, I jump out of Ria’s van in a hurry. I’ve been waiting for this all day.
I plant myself in a serious stance, hand on hip, face blank, and wait for Ghost to park his bike. I try not to smile. I really do. But I shamelessly lose that battle the second he shuts off the engine.
He slumps a little in his seat, biting his lip. Then he groans, cracks his neck, and starts looking around. His eyes lock on me fast. I can’t see them clearly — he’s still wearing sunglasses — but I know he’s glaring. I can feel it. I’m practically shivering from the intensity.
He takes off his sunglasses slowly, and —fuck— I was not prepared for the look he’s giving me. A second passes. Two. Then he grins. Dark. Dangerous. Just a hint of amusement.
“Are you proud of yourself, adorable?” he says, voice smooth as silk.
I almost squeak-giggle. Shit. I clear my throat, trying to keep my cool.
“Why? Is something wrong?” I ask, all casual.
His grin spreads. “Not for long,” he murmurs, and reaches for his boot.
