Page 39 of A Love Like Candle Light

"If you run over there, you'll probably still get a warm one," I say and bite into mine.

I didn't feel like breakfast this morning, and it's this first bite that reminds me how damned hungry I am. Dealing with Rick, his ego and attitude sucked all the energy out of me.

I have the impression he's the kind of guy who wants to be in the loop on any and everything, yet forgets half the stuff you tell him. He didn’t even bother to remember my name and called me ‘Aaron’ the whole time. I reckon he'd be a lot more successful if people didn’t dread working with him, but I’m only a small-town cop, what do I know?

“But if I run over now, I can’t complain about him not telling me about the fresh batch later.”

“Poor Caleb,” Kylie says and nudges Lauren with her elbow.

"How's the ghost situation?" I ask Kylie and take a sip of my coffee. A gust of wind blows hair into Kylie’s face, hiding her red cheeks until she brushes it behind her ear again.

"How cute, she's turning red,” Lauren squeals and pokes her cheek. “Yes, Kylie, how is the ghost situation going?"

"I think we're starting to become friends."

My hand stops with the cinnamon roll halfway to my mouth. She's talking about their budding friendship as though it's the most normal thing in the world.

This is messing with my head. Nic has talked about her ghost cat more than once, now Kylie’s house is haunted… is my un-haunted house the abnormal one?

"Yeah, whoever it is, they're pushing my pictures on the wall level. They've closed cupboard doors for me, so I wouldn’t bang my head on sharp door edges," she enumerates and lifts a finger with each point, an adorable glint in her eyes. "They also opened the door to one of my cabinets so Abby got into her food. Which was kind of annoying, but Abby is a cutie, so I can kind of forgive them."

She's giving more examples while I eat my cinnamon roll and wash it down with my cappuccino.

"I figured they don't like when I'm in the room I've declared my hobby space. So I'm leaving it alone and now it’s a friendly coexistence in the Kylie residence."

"Maybe their house used to stand there," Lauren wonders and taps her chin. "Sorry, but we're assuming the ghost is whoever the bones belong to, right?"

“Don’t look at me,” I say with a full mouth. “I’m not assuming anything.”

"It would make sense, though." Kylie shrugs and picks an orange leaf off Lauren’s jacket. "But how would I know? I can't talk to ghosts."

"No." Lauren's lips stretch into a mischievous grin. "But I might know someone who can."

Her eyes dart to the antique store. The decades-old sign is peeking between two treetops, so weathered the letters are barely legible

"Yeah, well, maybe some other time." Kylie shoots her down quickly. "The ghost and I currently have a truce. What if bringing a ghost whisperer upsets them and I’m right back where it started?" She shakes her head and visibly shudders. "I don't want to live with a poltergeist."

"Fair enough," Lauren mumbles and gets up. "Now I'll leave you two lovebirds alone and get myself one of those cinnamon rolls. They smell too good to pass up.” She points from Kylie to me with her finger. “Behave."

I almost spit out my coffee. Instead, it goes down the wrong pipe and I almost suffocate on twenty milliliters of coffee.

Lovebirds?

"Yes, Mom," Kylie says jokingly and watches Lauren walk off.

An awkward silence stretches between the two of us. She fidgets with the hem of her sleeve and I fight the urge to brush a stubborn strand of her hair out of her face.

"How are you doing?" I ask her instead, grabbing my coffee cup a little tighter. Aunt Molly’s words replay in my head. ‘She looked wistful’ is an awful reason to keep your distance.’

I kept rolling them over kept trying to find excuses to stay away from her, only to come up short. The simple truth is: I don’t want to stay away from her. I want to listen to her talk about her ghost, want to watch her turn the most adorable shade of red, want to watch her do absolutely anything as long as I get to spend time with her.

The cutest blush covers her cheeks, and she pulls the thick scarf she's wearing up to hide it.

"I'm doing okay."

The fact she won’t meet my eyes tells me she’s lying. "Really? I'm not talking about your ghost. You found a skeleton. It would upset anyone."

"No," she says quickly, eyes wide once she realizes how quickly the word came out. Her words are muffled by her scarf. I lean in to hear her better. Totally not to watch her blush deepen or to catch a little of her vanilla and honey scent.