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“Not exactly.” He glanced around at the web of twinkle lights along the ceiling rafters. They were on super thin wires to give off a spooky almost-lit vibe that highlighted the wild carvings on each end. Bats, ravens, skeletal hands—they all caught the eye and made you do a doubletake.
The few people that had been in here already were always aiming their gazes skyward. Mason was no different.
“This place is insane.”
I grinned. “I hope you mean that in a good way.”
“Definitely. This is my third walk-through and each time, I see different stuff. That animatronic zombie caught me off guard both times I was here at night.”
“I haven’t seen you once.”
Mason shrugged. “Lucky loves showing it off. We head to the Spinning Wheel whenever I’m in town. You’re always too busy with your pretty new girl.”
“Macy would lop off your head and add it to one of her decorations for calling her a pretty girl.”
“How about hot?”
I laughed. “That might work. She’d respect you more if you talked about her coffee though.”
“Her coffee is a religious experience.”
“See, now that’s how you talk to Macy.” And yeah, she was definitely my girl. I couldn’t help wanting to spend every available moment with her.
Spinelli was sitting on the edge of the dock, thumbing along the screen of his phone. His perpetually scraggly hair stuck out from under his dirty baseball cap. When he spotted me, he popped up to his feet. “Hey, Gideon. I thought Frankie would come back.”
“You screwed up another order.”
He looked down at the boxes of mason jars with the top one opened. “What do you mean? Every restaurant needs a mason jar.”
“I’ll have to agree with him,” Mason said good-naturedly.
I rolled my eyes. “By chance, did you notice what the name of this place is?”
Spinelli looked down at his clipboard. “The Haunt.”
“And would floral mason jars go with that aesthetic?”
“Astheta-what?”
I bowed my head and prayed for patience.
Mason stepped forward and dug out one of them. “A little pretty for my taste, but I’ve been collecting these things for my own place.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Your what?”
“So, do you want this order or not?”
“Call your boss, Spinelli. I need those bat candles here by the end of the day.”
“What? I have to drive all the way back out there—”
“Yeah, you do. We need this order to finish up the front of the restaurant for the soft opening this Friday.”
“Man…” Spinelli’s already stooped shoulders sagged. “I’ll be right back.” He dug his phone out on his way back to his truck.
Mason whistled. “Such a taskmaster.”
“Dude, I’m not messing with Macy’s plans.”
