Page 5 of Haunted Spurs

Grant Ashford lets out one of his trademark grunts. Yeah… well, I’m used to it. I love him for it, too, but sometimes even breathing looks like a superhuman effort for him.

"Why? I love it." Levi, on the other hand, is one of my favorite people. I’m so glad he’s my new neighbor. He’s the only one who actually manages to keep up with my brand of crazy.

"That’s not what we were talking about!" I snap.

Grant lets out another glorious grunt that shakes his shoulders. God… aren’t people in love supposed to be more… cheerful?

Levi crosses his arms, his firefighter uniform pulls taut across his chest. He furrows his brow, laser-focused on me. He actually listens.

"I was telling you guys that I had the most mind-blowing night of my life. Seriously, she's my dream woman. Except... she hasn't called me back yet. Is that normal?"

Grant grunts again.

Ah. I get it. He’s probably reliving his own personal nightmare: his one-night stand with Rae when she didn’t call him back. But... he's got his happily-ever-after now. He shouldn’t still be so pissed about it.

Must be a writer thing... I always figured as much.

“She didn’t give you her number?” Levi adjusts the black sweatband holding back his unruly hair.

We’ve made it to town hall. I have a meeting. Grant has to go see his goddaughter at Pumpkin Spice Café, and Levi is on shift at the firehouse.

“No…” I admit, a lump rising in my throat.

“And you didn’t ask for it?”

“I didn’t want to come on too strong…”

Levi furrows his brow, shaking his head. “Dude… you were literally inside her, but asking for her number felt like too much?”

Fuck.

Did I mess up? The question rattles around in my head. Is there any way I can find her? I’m pretty sure it goes against every rule of professional etiquette to email her work address asking, “Hey, why haven’t you texted me yet?”

Levi softens his gaze. “Alright, come on… it’s only been two weeks… she’s probably just been busy.”

Yeah… right. Even I know he’s being way too optimistic just to avoid telling me I’m a lost cause. Then again, he’s still pining for his summer fling…

I offer a half-smile, not really in the mood to complain. I reach down to pet my Labrador, pulling him back from Grant. Yeah… even my dog has a soft spot for my grumpy friend. I have no idea why, but he does.

The crease between Grant’s eyebrows deepens. Nope. I don’t need him silently worrying about me… like he always does.

I give them a wave and step inside the town hall.

I tug a little tighter on Ollie’s harness, keeping him at a heel down the hallway.

Elm Hollow town hall is proudly pet-friendly, but the town mascot, Pedro—the mayor’s talking myna bird—has a terrible habit of perching on the backs of chairs. I absolutely do not want my Labrador getting overwhelmed by a surge of friendliness and turning the bird into a mid-morning snack.

Shouting filters through the solid wood of the main office double doors.

“Are you serious? You can’t do this to me!” Aunt Tina’s shrill voice (and yes, she actually uses her stage name in an official capacity) vibrates with pure desperation.

“We don’t know how it’s going to play out yet, which is exactly why we called him in,” Francis tries to mediate in his usual know-it-all tone.

“How do you think this is going to play out? He’s probably one of those grumpy ranchers who won’t have the slightest intention of saying yes to a reality show!” Tina’s voice rises an octave, grating on the ears.

“Well… he doesn’t seem that grumpy to me,” Francis replies. “He participated in the snowman-building contest last year…”

“Zip it, Francis! I’ve been working on this haunted house reality show for years! Wasn’t this supposed to be historical town property? How the hell did he even buy it?”