Page 34 of Ghost in the Cupboard

Danny’s fingers were playing along my bare shoulder when I woke the next morning, the sunlight assaulting the drapes. I laid there for several minutes, my eyes barely open against the onslaught of day as Danny ran his fingers along my flesh. Between the central heat and the warm blankets, I felt flushed and his fingers felt like fire on my skin. A delicious fire that threatened to spread if I didn’t stop him before it caught.

“You know, we could just stay in bed all day,” Danny murmured, propped up on one elbow beside me in bed.

He was on the side closest to the window, blocking any draft that might somehow sneak into the house. That only made me feel cozier and warmer.

“The Lunch Counter can stay closed for one day,” he cooed. “And you would only have to cook for two today.”

I looked up at him, amused.

“I never cook breakfast at the diner,” I said. “And The Lunch Counter is always closed on Sundays.”

He frowned down at me; his head cocked to the side.

“If you paid attention to me when I wasn’t nude, you’d know that,” I said.

“Don’t start that,” he grinned and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I thought we finished that over dinner.”

Ignoring a conversation while we filled ourselves with carbs and minimal vegetables was not finishing a topic in my mind. However, it was early, I was starting to wake up, and I didn’t want to begin the day annoyed.

“Well, it’s closed,” I said. “I wasn’t leaving the house today, anyway.”

“What I’m hearing is you’re free to whip up a breakfast to help me recharge,” Danny said.

He laid back his hands behind his head, a sly grin on his face.

“You know,” I replied as I rolled over under the covers to look at him, “someone has to help the people in this town who can’t help themselves.”

He rolled his eyes, though I could tell he wasn’t being completely dismissive. I’d known Danny long enough to know that he didn’t hold a single bad thought in his head for the unhoused and struggling populations of Sage Grove. The town itself is what held his ire. The citizens were simply collateral damage to that anger.

“Who will help people if The Lunch Counter wasn’t there?” I asked.

“Who’s going to help them when the last business in this town finally shutters and the town becomes deserted by everyone but them?” he asked.

I stared at him.

“Are you going to stay here and wither away with them?” he asked, looking over at me. “Or are you finally going to look out for number one?”

“Well,” I said softly, “it would be a lot easier to look after the people in this town if certain people stopped shuttering the buildings, right?”

“Not this again.” Danny groaned. “Mom hasn’t closed up any more of the buildings she owns since Dad died. That was all him. She isn’t doing anything to hurt the people down at the camp and you know it.”

“She’s not helping as much as she could,” I mumbled and laid back.

“Dad closed that run down inn,” Danny said. “So what? Mom owns fifteen other buildings in this crap town and she isn’t doing anything with them, including closing them off. They’re just tax write-offs to her at this point. She doesn’t care who’s sleeping in them at night.”

“The county is posting—”

“She can’t stop the county from posting notices,” Danny grumbled, sitting up in bed. “You know, she pays you five days a week to swindle her so you can make food for them, free of charge. I’m not expecting you to give her a crown and throw a parade, but she’s doing more than anyone else in this hellhole. Except, maybe, you. Let it go.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, swallowing my anger, before sitting up.

“I’m not swindling her,” I said simply. “Your dad never appears when I try to summon him for her.”

Danny wasn’t unamused, but he rolled his eyes.

“Swindler,” he said.

He was teasing, but it cut deep.