Page 59 of If I Stopped Haunting You

He frowned. He could smell a trap. “What’s your next book, Daniela?”

She raised her brows suggestively. “I’m hoping to debut an adult romance with speculative fiction elements—”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said, standing.

Daniela stood. “It’s a little different than my usual tales, but I’ve got a great pitch for my agent.”

“You haven’t even written it yet?”

“No!” she exclaimed, laughing. “I just came up with it. Like, literally minutes ago.” She shrugged. “I was going to take a bit of a break from writing—”

“Then why are you even here?”

“Buuuuut,” she drawled, batting her eyes, “I can’t say no to the perfect story that’s fallen into my lap.”

Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, don’t.”

“Picture it,” she whispered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He shrugged her off, but she only wrapped her arm around him tighter. “A grumpy, brooding writer who, for the first time in his career, can’t write.” She waved her arm before them,painting a scene. “A beautiful, sweet young writer who is trying to find her place in publishing after a terrible fiasco. Their friends ditch them at the last moment, leaving them in a castle all on their own. A snowstorm arrives, trapping them inside with no cell service”—she winked—“you know, a traditional forced proximity romance—”

“This is forced proximity,” he muttered, wrestling free of her grip.

“And there is only enough firewood to heat one room the entire time—”

“Enough!” Neil snapped, pushing her away.

Daniela’s coffee spilled, splattering the rug beneath their feet. “You’re no fun,” she mumbled, shaking out her hands.

Neil turned to go.

“Where are you going?” she called as he stomped off.

“Out!” he said with a wave of his hand.

Neil needed some fresh air to clear his mind. Trapped in this stuffy castle, he was thinking about things. Romantic things, work things.

Spooky things.

Daniela might have thought it funny, but the forced proximity of the castle was getting to him.

After pulling on his jacket and boots, he opened the front door. He remembered the snowball fight earlier, the way she’d laughed and smiled. God, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Pausing at the base of the stairs, he squinted into the distance, past the light snowfall dribbling down and catching in his curls. Penelope was nowhere to be seen, her and Laszlo’s footsteps already being buried beneath a fresh layer of snow. Neil wrinkled his nose and shoved his hands into his pockets, fishing for the keys to the van. Maybe he could leave. He’d already caused enough damage as it was. Neil could forget about this week. He’d figure something out in the long haul, but he could not let his feelingsget in the way of writing, feelings that were apparently not reciprocated.

He stopped beside the van. Snow had piled high, covering it, and he wiped away nearly a foot of powder on the windshield before struggling to open the door. Grunting, he finally pulled it free, sliding into the driver’s seat and breathing warmth into his fingers. As he closed the door and turned the key, the battery clicked.

And clicked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured, slapping the steering wheel. There was no leaving this place.

Muttering a string of obscenities, Neil climbed out of the van, pocketed the keys, slammed the door, and stalked around the side of the castle. In the light of day, the castle looked grim. Its walls dripped with dead ivy, the stone blackened in places as if a fire had torched it at one time or another.

Neil stepped up to the stone and pressed his hand against a blackened spot, his fingers coming away ashy.

“Strange,” he said, bending to scoop up a handful of snow to clear away the grime. He followed the side of the castle, with no one in sight. The air was brisk, that odd, lingering scent of freshly fallen snow filling his senses.

He’d grown more accustomed to snowfall since moving to New York, but even still, there was nothing quite like fresh snowfall in the mountains. It was cold, so Neil kept his hands tucked into his coat, his jeans doing little to combat the below-freezing temperatures.

He followed the castle up toward its back, fighting through the snow at a slight incline, pausing as he squinted against the brightness. Something broke the surface, tilting up out of the white powder at a strange angle. Still alone, he trudged through the snow, cold creeping in through the top of his boots.