SHIVER

Thirteen Sexy Tales of Humor & Horror

DEDICATION

St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

100 % of all proceeds for the life of this anthology go towards St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

Better The Devil You Know

by Belle Aurora

When you know, you know

Prologue

I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Bastian Lee.

It was a warm summer’s night.

Not that he had been there or anything. But that’s beside the point.

We had been dating a single week. A short time, I know.

But when you know, you know.

Insert dreamy sigh here.

He had been working late at the bar, the one we met at. I was just getting in from a girls night out. Stacey drank three too many and blew pretty pink chunks all over my brand new Manolo Blahnik knockoffs.

And I gotta admit. I was cheesed.

I paid a fifty for those babies.

Never to be worn again.

So there I was, wasted, slightly pissed, and mourning the loss of my new pumps, when my phone chimes.

Bastian: Wish you were here, beautiful. Sleep good.

And that was that. The exact moment.

It shook me like a thunderbolt through the heart. Suddenly, my body felt squishy and pliable, like warm vanilla pudding. A huge smile hit me so hard, my cheeks had to stretch painfully to accommodate it.

When a guy is at work, and at that workplace he’s surrounded by a plethora of gorgeous women, most of them easy, and he texts you to let you know he’s thinking of you…

That right there, ladies, is a keeper.

Stumbling around my apartment, bumping into furniture, I attempted parking my ass on the edge of the sofa. And ended up using the arm of the chair as a slippery slide all the way down to the floor, landing with a hard thud.

Whee!

I meant to do that. The floor looked lonely.

Lazily blinking through furrowed brows, I used my Jedi mind powers to focus on the cell phone screen and write back something equally as sweet to my new beau.

Me: My butt hurts.

His immediate response cemented my already strong feelings for him.

Bastian: I’ll kiss it better tomorrow.

Smiling like a loon, I drifted into a peaceful sleep on my living room floor, mouth open, forehead planted firmly on the hardwood floor.

Somehow, I knew we’d be together forever.

The Story

Our story

A cool hand gently squeezing my hip roused me from my sleep.

My smile was small and sleepy. The moment that hand moved lower to slide up my nightgown and lips connected with my tush, I jumped and squeaked. But he held me firm. His rough rumbling chuckle hit me right in the solar plexus.

I was so in love.

“Bastien, get your lips away from that. You have no idea where it’s been,” I mumbled sleepily through a smile.

His slow kisses stirred something inside of me. It never took long for Bastien to set me alight.

We’d messed around a lot, but we’d never been there. Not just yet anyways.

Hey, I’m a lady.

It would take him at least another thre- Okay, another two weeks to get there.

If foreplay was anything to go by, Bastien was a very giving lover. I couldn’t wait to take it there. But the anticipation of waiting would make it all that much better.

He placed gentle kisses on my hip, trailing up further, kissing the side of my breast, then my shoulder, up my neck, along the underside of my jaw.

When I suddenly realised something.

Bastien didn’t have a key to my place.

My eyes snapped open. “How did you get in here?”

I wasn’t really pissed about it when I was being woken up the way I was, more curious, was all.

His breath caressed my skin as he spoke against my cheek. “Security in this place is shit, babe. Took me all of twenty seconds to work the lock.” Suddenly, his green eyes were all up in my biz. “You didn’t even attach the chain, Em.”

I blinked. Then pouted. Was I seriously getting a lecture at this time of the morning? “In my defence, I was hammered when I got home.”

His full lips curved into a soft smile as his eyes softened and searched mine. “What am I gonna do with you?”

My fingers touched his shirt-covered stomach and lingered there. My voice turned to a hoarse whisper, “I have a few ideas…” Lightning fast, I was on my back, arms pinned. I scowled, “Hey, I wasn’t ready!”

The tip of his nose touched mine. I felt his smile against my lips. “Never are, babe.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re super fast, and quiet as a cat. You’re like a superhero or something.”

A choked sound escaped him. “Uh, no. Very no.”

I pulled away to get a good look at him. “Why no? Superheroes are awesome. They help people and make sure the bad guy always gets what’s coming to him. And you’re hot. And they’re always hot. It’s like a rule or something.”

Without asking, he lifted the covers and slid under, still holding himself above my body using his strong arms as leverage. “I never really liked superheroes. I always liked the villains.”

I made a face of mock disgust. “Seriously? We are so going to have issues over this.”

The moonlight struck his face and my stomach dipped.

I had never seen a man more handsome than Bastien Lee.

It was almost as though God ran out of ugly to give so he gave Bastien the whole package.

If I had to put together a list of the things that would make up my dream guy, Bastien would have fit the bill. With dark hair stylishly cut, bright green eyes, full lips, high cheekbones and a beaming, white smile, he was — without being able to find a better work — perfect. His tall, built body towers over mine. And I didn’t just like that. Oh no.

I loved it.

I kept asking myself how someone like me was able to land a man like this.

I was no Scar-Jo, that’s for sure.

Being average height and average weight (a little more in the boob area) with long average brown hair and average brown eyes to match, I was not lying when I said I thought I was punching above my weight. But he never made me feel that way.

To think we only met a week ago. It felt like a lifetime ago.

I thought back to last Saturday…

Stacey, Laura, Ally and I had been talking about going to Frost for months. The problem with this was that Frost was an extremely popular cocktail bar and rarely let in people off the street. You could wait in line all night long and get nowhere.

This just wasn’t a risk I — or any of the other girls — was willing to take.

So as a group, we decided if we ever got someone to vouch for us, we’d go together. We made a vow that neither of us would go without the other and we stuck to it.

Thursday night came along and just as I stepped out of my extremely glamorous workplace, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered. “Yo, yo. What’s up?”

I smirked as I heard Stacey’s cringe. “Ugh. Must you talk like that? It’s gross, Em.”

Even though she couldn’t see me, I started nodding. “I must. I really must.”

“Whatever. How was work?”

I walked on to the bus stop, my shoulders slumped. “Awful. I swear, it’s like every time I ask my boss to stop doing something, he does it twice as much.”

Sounding none too impressed, she asked, “What was it this time?”

Last week, I had asked Mr. Vozzo to stop calling me sweetheart. The week before I asked him — ever so kindly — if he could please stop tapping me on the tush every time I walked passed him. Every time I bring something up, he has the same response. “I didn’t realise I was doing it… sweetheart.”

I wouldn’t mind so much if Mr. Vozzo were an eighty year old. The fact is that Mr. Vozzo is barely forty, married and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. The sad thing is, I need this job. Yes, it’s a crappy office job, but the pay is above average, I get four weeks of vacation a year plus dental. A far cry better from working in the diner I had been working at.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Just that he please only ask me to lunch if it’s business related.”

Stacey gagged. “The little worm! He’s married!”

“Oh, I know. I reminded him. Subtly, of course.”

Yeah. About as subtle as a mule wearing fishnets.

Stacey sighed. “I’m sorry your boss is a dick.”

Smiling, I muttered slyly, “Are you sure you don’t work for Hallmark with phrases like that?”

At least that managed to get a laugh out of her. “Okay, enough chitchat. You’re gonna freak when I tell you what we’ve got.”

That peaked my interest. “We’ve got something?”

She responded in a singsong voice. “We’ve got something!”

“Alright then. Lay it on me.”

She puffed out a long breath. “Are you sitting down?”

I shook my head. “No.” Taking a long look at the questionable stain on the empty bench next to me, I muttered, “It doesn’t look safe to sit right now.”

Completely ignoring me, she let out a shrill, “Good! Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready, baby. Sock it to me.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

I rolled my eyes and let out a long drawn, “Stacey!”

She giggled into the phone. “Okay! Alright! I’m just giddy. Sorry. I’ll tell you.”

“You better because I’m about to hang up on yo’ ass.”

She let out an exasperated. “There you go again!”

I burst into laughter. “Oh my God, will you just tell me!”

She blurt out. “We got vouched!”

Confusion crossed my expression. “What?”

“We got vouched. We’re vouched!”

Clearly not following, I mumbled, “Uhhhh…”

“Frost! We’re finally going to Frost!”

I gasped, “Really?” I gasped again, “Really really?”

She laughed in my ear. “Really really! The guy vouching us uses the family business. His name is Christopher Robin.”

I bunched my nose in an attempt to not laugh. “Isn’t that the kid from Winnie the Pooh?”

“What? No. He’s a real guy. He’s real. And he’s vouching for us this Saturday!”

I shook my head in disbelief. “How did this come about?”

She sighed. “Well, he’s been trying to get me to go out with him for a while and every time he asks, I tell him I can’t, but when he asked me to Frost…”

I wince. “Oh, Stacey. Tell me you didn’t. You did not whore yourself out so we could go to Frost.”

Her hesitation is as clear as day. “I- Um- Okay. I won’t tell you then.”

I can’t believe she did that. “Stacey! Don’t you even like him a little?”

Her words tumble out in a rush. “I do! I really do like him and he’s a total fox, Em, b- but every time my dad’s around he’s a total kissass, and I hate that.”

Oh. I saw the problem.

No one wanted a man without backbone.

But I always believed in giving people a chance. “Maybe you should make Saturday a day to see him on neutral ground. It’s true that he might only be doing that because of the business your dad offers. Give him a chance.”

“I told him I’d have a drink with him. That’s all.”

And he accepted that? Holy cow, he must really be into her. “Then you have that drink. And you drink it good.”

A voice calling Stacey sounded in the receiver. “Listen, I have to go. Be ready by seven. We’re having pre-drinks drinks at Joes. Love you!”

Finally, Saturday came and I spent my day relaxing. I gave myself a manicure and pedicure, I put a face mask on, shaved and scrubbed myself till I was near-raw.

I needed to wash the weeks stank off of me.

Friday after work, I went to my favourite boutique, Safira, because I needed something new and way out of my price range to wear to Frost.

You didn’t go to Frost wearing rags. You wore diamonds, emeralds and rubies.

Of course, all I had were my zirconia’s to match my pleather handbag.

This would not do.

As soon as I walked in, I spotted Tina, the owner. What I loved about this place was that Tina always treated you more like a friend than a customer. She remembered people by name and what they bought the last time they were there. She truly has a passion for fashion.

She beamed. “Emma! Black and white strapless cocktail dress!”

I smiled back. “I need your help.”

Her smile fell. “What are we looking for?”

I pursed my lips. “Something to wear to Frost.”

Her eyes widened. “I love that place!”

Hold up. What? “You’ve been there?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Uh, yeah. My husband and I own part of it.” She chuckled. “You should’ve said something earlier, I would’ve vouched for you.”

My mind started to tear up.

All this time. We could’ve gone all this time.

Never mind. I sighed. “What does one wear to Frost?”

She dragged me over to the long mirror and stood behind me. “Look at it this way. You’re the cupcake. And it’s my job to frost you.” Giggling, she leaned forward and whispered, “I might’ve had a part in naming Frost.”

Lifting my arms up by my sides, I uttered, “Do what you do. But I’m on a budget.”

She winked as she walked over to the clothes racks. “I think we can work something out.”

That’s how I came home with a little black dress. And I didn’t come home crying poverty either.

Tina is the shit.

I curled my hair, leaving it down in loose waves, added eyeliner, mascara and glossed my lips.

That was it.

I’d never really been one for a lot of makeup.

I slipped on my new dress, slid on my white pumps, and waited. Seven oh five, my phone vibrated.

Stacey: Get your butt down here!

Rushing down, I squealed when I spotted the taxi right out the front of my door. “Oh my God, I’m so excited!”

We headed to Joes, our local bar for a few drinks then close to ten pm, we walked the two blocks to Frost. As soon as I spotted the lineup, my stomach dipped.

Something was going to go wrong. I could feel it in my very soul.

I’d always been able to tell when something big was about to happen. My grandmother called me sensitive. I called it being a worry wart.

Stacey, Laura and Ally stared at the line in the same way I did. Probably because it went all the way down the block then circled down a side street.

Ally asked, “Are you sure we’re getting in?”

Laura aired her own concern. “Are you sure this guy is legit?”

Suddenly, Stacey lost some of her confidence. “I- um- I think so.” She straightened. “We’re on that list. He said we are. Let’s go.”

Stacey led us to the front of the line. The first thing I saw was him.

Oh sweet Jesus.

He was divine.

Dark hair, green eyes, strong chin, taller than me by a solid foot, his arms crossed over his broad chest looking something like a Greek god.

Oh mama.

My stomach flipped and flopped around.

Maybe I shouldn’t have had those pre-drink drinks. I was feeling a little too loose, mainly in the leg area.

Stacey approached the other man I’d failed to notice, pulling me up by her side. But I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of the brooding security guy.

I vaguely heard Stacey say, “We’re vouched for. Party of four. Stacey Voors.”

The security guys looked over at me.

I smiled and mouthed, “Hi,” lifting my hand in a two finger wave.

He looked momentarily confused, then he looked away.

The other guy said, “Voors. I can’t see a Voors here. Who vouched for you?”

Stacey swallowed hard. “C–Christopher Robin.”

Still looking at the gorgeous man in front of me, I heard the other guy utter a confused, “Christopher Robin? The kid from Winnie the Pooh.”

A laugh burst out of me, hard, spooking my crush. “Ha!” I turned to the other guy and stated, “I said the same thing!” Then I looked back at the security guy who now looked at me like I’d done gone and lost my mind and repeated more mildly through flaming cheeks, “I–I said the same thing.”

But the other guy shook his head. “Sorry ladies, you’re not on here. Back of the line.”

I piped up then and only God knew why. “But he vouched for us. We’re vouched!”

The other guy shrugged. “Maybe you got your wires mixed. Maybe it wasn’t for tonight.”

I placed a hand on my hip. “Of course it was for tonight. He vouched for us. Hell, I’d vouch for us! Look at us!” I waved my hand out to my friends… who looked like a bunch of cowering kittens in a dark alley.

Nice job, guys. Nailed it.

The other guy opened his mouth to speak, and then I suddenly remembered. “Tina Leokov vouches for us too.”

Hot security guy asked through narrowed eyes, “You know the Leokovs?”

I shook my head. “No. Just Tina.” I didn’t know why, but I decided to curtsey. “She helped me find this dress. I shop at her store.”

The security guy’s eyes slid down my body. He rumbled, “It’s a nice dress.” And I felt my heart race.

Whoa. Finding it hard to breathe over here.

I stuttered, “Th- thank you.” I relay what Tina told me. “While I was there, she told me if I needed someone to vouch for me, she’d do it. She also told me she and Nik own part of Frost and that she even helped name it.”

I felt all eyes on me.

My friends looked at me through wide eyes.

“What?” They gaped at me. I blurted out, “I know people!”

Although the other guy looked torn, he held up his ledger. “If you’re not on the list, I can’t let you in. Sorry, ladies. Maybe Tina can vouch for you next weekend.”

My face fell.

I smiled sadly and muttered, “That’s okay. I know you’re just doing your job.” As we turned to walk away, I lifted my hand to the security guy and mouthed, “Bye,” forcing a smile.

A rough, “Wait,” stopped us.

Snatching the ledger from the other guy, the security guy looked over the page. “Wouldn’t you know it? You’re on the list.”

The other guy and all the girls asked a confused, “What?”

Security guy nodded. “Yep. Right here. Welcome to Frost.”

The other guy argued, “I looked. Twice. They’re not on-”

Security guy pinned him with a glare so fierce that he stopped talking mid-sentence. When he looked back up at us, he smiled a thin smile, “I was wrong, apparently. You’re on the list.”

Stacey let out a long breath. “See? I told you! Let’s go.”

But I couldn’t take my eyes off of the security guy, and from the way he looked back at me, I knew something was happening here.

Something big.

While the girls headed inside, I stuck my hand out without a thought. “I’m Emma.”

Security guy looked down at my extended hand a moment before taking it in the giant mitt he called a hand. “Bastien.”

I shook his hand and smiled softly in a daze. “Hi Bastien. I’m Emma.”

At that, his lips twitched. “Hi Emma. I’m Bastien.”

Still shaking his hand, I told him, “Bastien is a badass name. Which makes sense, because you seem like a badass with all your muscles and broodiness and such.”

He didn’t release my hand. Just responded, “I’ll have to tell my parents they did good.”

My smile widened. “Yes. You do that.”

His body shook in silent laughter. “I will.”

A hand pulled at me. Stacey stood there looking at me with an expression that said ‘I’m not sure what the hell you’re doing’. “Come on, Em. Let the nice man go before he changes his mind.”

I barked out another laugh, spooking Bastien once again. I looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I should let go now.”

But as I moved to pull away, he held me firm. “I like you, Emma.”

My heart fluttered. I blinked a moment before I responded quietly, “I like you too Bastien. I think.”

Finally, we parted but it was only as I walked inside that I realised a piece of paper was in my hand.

A piece of paper with a phone number on it.

* * *

The very next day, I sent Bastien a message.

Me: Hi Bastien. It’s Emma.

I wasn’t sure what else to write so I left it at that.

Bastien: Hi Emma. It’s Bastien.

I laughed through my response.

Me: Ha! It’s funny because that’s what we did last night.

My phone chimed a second later.

Bastien: I know. I was there.

Oh dear lord, I wanted to see him again. Now. Right now. Before I lost my nerve, I asked him out.

Me: If you’re free, I’d love to meet you for lunch? On me:)

His response was immediate.

Bastien: I can’t do lunch. Sorry.

My heart fell. That sucked.

Maybe I only imagined the chemistry from last night.

My phone chimed once more.

Bastien: Dinner tonight?

I bit my lip and typed as fast as I could.

Me: I’d love that! What time?

He told me he’d pick me up at nine. We exchanged details, he picked me up and took me to a nice little Sushi bar. We ate, talked and laughed. A lot.

Bastien was funny. He had a dry sense of humour I loved, and I was comfortable with him from the second he picked me up. There was no awkwardness. As soon as I opened the door, he smiled down at me, took my hands and tugged me to him, pulling me close and hugging me. While he squeezed me, I kissed him on the cheek and told him how handsome he looked (and he did). He told me I looked exquisite.

He used that word.

Exquisite.

Can you imagine?

Swoon.

As soon as we left my apartment, I took his hand, entwining our fingers together like we had done it a hundred times before. We held hands all night, and if we had to separate for any reason, Bastien made sure he had a hand on me at all times.

It was so sweet, and super hot.

I would imagine Bastien would be a possessive male. And I had no problem with that.

When our date ended, we took ourselves back to my apartment where we talked some more about work, friends and family.

Bastien’s family were originally from France. No wonder. He looked like he had culture.

I told him my family were All-American, and he didn’t cringe. Point for me.

He told me he was thirty-four, that he had two sisters and a brother, both parents still alive and kicking.

I told him I was twenty-nine, an only child with my parents both alive and happily married. I told him about Stacey being my best friend since forever and our other two stooge friends, Laura and Ally.

He told me about ‘the other guy’, Stu, his cousin and more about his close friendship with the Leokovs. Turns out he knows Tina personally.

And wouldn’t you know it? She vouched for me.

Two points for me.

We stayed up way past midnight chatting while subtly touching. Eventually, he stood up to leave. As I walked him through the door, my chest began to ache.

I was starting to feel depressed. And as though he felt the same way, he pulled me into a warm hug, cradling the back of my head in consolation. “I want to see you again.”

As I buried my face into the crook of his neck, I whispered, “Okay.”

He asked, “Tomorrow too soon?”

I sighed. “Heck no.”

As he pulled away, he took my hands in his and explained that because of the late nights he works, he normally sleeps till late afternoon so he’d be free after dark.

I could understand that.

My dad worked shift work so I knew how it could be to deal with someone deprived of sleep.

It was like trying to wake the dead.

His green eyes searched my face. He lowered his face to mine and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, we kissed. Long and slow.

I felt that kiss.

I felt it everywhere.

It was electric and I didn’t want it to end.

He kissed me deeper, making love to my lips. When we parted, he pecked my lips repeatedly and whispered against them, “You make my heart beat.”

And I knew what he meant.

Not being able to stop myself, I lifted my hands, cupped his cheeks and brought him forward to my flushed face, lowering his lips to mine.

He tasted sweet and cool, like mint chocolate.

I could get used to that. I loved mint chocolate.

I wanted more of it.

Bastien Lee was a drug.

And I was addicted.

* * *

Three months had passed and Bastien was still my drug of choice.

Early in our relationship we worked on seeing each other as often as possible. This was made possible by the fact that we were committed to making that happen. Even on the nights he worked at the club, he would take a break, come down to my apartment, break in and shower me with kisses and affection for a solid hour then go back to work.

I had never had a man treat me like this before, like I was his everything.

It was confusing, and exhilarating, and scary as hell.

What was I to do with this?

The only thing I could.

Give as good as I got.

A month into our relationship, I told Bastien I was falling in love with him while watching The Price is Right. Face blank, he toyed with my fingers and asked, “Just now?”

Okay, so it had been a lot earlier that I had discovered my love for Bastien, but I wasn’t bat-shit crazy enough to tell him that.

I responded, “I don’t know exactly when but I know it now. For sure.”

He lowered his face to mine, curled a hand behind my neck and pulled me close till our noses touched. He roughly admitted, “I fell in love with you the second you forced an introduction. I wasn’t letting you get away. Even if you never called, I would’ve made it my mission to find you again and convince you to go out with me.”

This admission shook me.

Being who I am, I teased, “Oh yeah? And what if I said no.”

He pressed a light kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I would’ve worn you down, baby.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes closed tight. “This is going to sound crazy. I mean, it sounds crazy to me. But sometimes I think I was meant to- I don’t know- find you or something. Like-” I opened my eyes, pleading with him to understand. I whispered, “Like we were-”

I faded out, knowing it was crazy. And guys didn’t dig crazy on a lady.

So when he continued where I left off and uttered, “Like we were meant to be.”

I begged my mouth to stop saying things then. Thankfully, I didn’t say another word.

Instead, Bastien made it his turn to speak. “Never believed in that shit.”

And my heart sank.

Stupid mouth with the saying things and such!

I pretended to watch TV while suffering from the biggest heart palpitations known to man, otherwise known as a broken heart.

When he kissed my temple, I leaned into it. He added low enough for me to hear, “Never believed in that shit…till now.”

My heart kick-started with a vengeance.

I lowered my head to his chest, closed my eyes and basked in the silence around us.

Really.

That should’ve been my first clue.

* * *

Two months into our relationship, Bastien came. And he never left.

We never discussed moving in together, it just sort of happened.

Stacey, Laura and Ally wholly approved. They loved Bastien as much as I did. Mainly because Frost was now open to us every weekend if we chose to attend and Bastien always made sure me and my girls were looked after. He checked on us, made sure our drinks were filled and at the end of the night, he’d have Stu drive us home to save us taxi fare.

The girls loved him.

They’d said it once, they’d said it a thousand times.

The guy is too good to be true.

I agreed wholeheartedly.

And when they say something is too good to be true…

They’re usually right.

* * *

On our third month anniversary, I came home to find Bastien asleep.

This was not unusual. He was a night owl, and that didn’t bother me. I didn’t run on ten hours sleep so when I got home from work, I’d make us dinner and soon after dark, he’d wake. We would talk about my day as well as what him night would entail, eat and drink, make sweet, sweet love then Bastien would hold me as I fell asleep.

The worst part about Bastien’s work was that his weekends were shot. The best part about Bastien’s work was that he was working three nights a week and earning the same amount most people would for two weeks. He was kind of well off. He knew I wasn’t. That didn’t bother him, but he knew it bothered me when he paid for things that were my responsibility.

And the sneaky shit would do it all after I’d fallen asleep.

After a heated argument, Bastien gave in. And to say I was pleased was an understatement. “Fine,” he said. “I won’t use my money to pay for things anymore.”

That was when he pulled out a ring box and placed it on the table right in front of me.

That surely wasn’t what I thought it could be. I mean, come on! It was too soon. We had only known each other three months!

Face void, he opened the box. And I gasped. “Oh my God.”

Taking the box, he moved to kneel in front of me. “Been carrying this around for two months.” He took my left hand, slid the antique sapphire ring onto my ring finger and muttered, “If you like it then you gotta put a ring on it.”

Did he really just say that?

A hysterical laugh broke out of me. “Oh Jesus, you are such a dork.”

He grinned and I realised — again — how in love I was. He lost his usual confidence as he looked up at me and uttered, “Let me take care of you, Em. Forever.”

Tears prickled my eyes. I returned, “Only if I can take care of you too.”

He couldn’t contain his beaming smile. “Deal.”

And that was how Bastien and I got engaged.

* * *

We decided on a long engagement. Which, of course, meant we got married a month later.

Our parents and friends weren’t thrilled about our rush wedding but somehow, we managed to get our loved ones into a room long enough to say our ‘I do’s’. It was a small ceremony and by the end of it, every person was smiling. I hoped they could all feel the love Bastien and I felt for each other.

It was only my grandmother who asked, “So, is she pregnant or what?”

I should’ve been offended, but I wasn’t. I’d love to have Bastien’s children. Heck, I’d love an army of them!

I was simply overwhelmed by the fact that I was no longer Emma Stanford, but Emma Lee.

* * *

Two more months had passed and Bastien and I were living a comfortable routine.

I never got to see him during the day unless it was to lie next to him while he slept — like a log, I’ll add — but it never bothered me. It wasn’t like I didn’t spent most of my days at work. So what if he slept his Saturdays and Sundays away?

It gave me time to catch up on trashy reality TV and get some cleaning done.

All in all, our opposite routine was working for us.

As soon as he woke, he kissed me senseless, worshipped me and made me feel like a goddess. He bought me flowers for no reason, got me gifts simply because he thought they reminded him of me and told me he loved me all the time.

I was a lucky woman to have a man like Bastien Lee, and I knew it.

Bastien had never given me reason to worry about another woman coming in and taking my place, so when I walked in on him making out with another guy, you could say I was kind of surprised.

The Conflict

Gross

Tonight is going to be amazing.

My plan in place, I set out to Frost dressed only in thigh high stockings with lace trim, my red pumps, new steaming-hot lingerie and a trench coat. I’ve done all I need to get ready for this occasion. My makeup is subtle but sexy, I smell fresh as a daisy and I am hair-free where I need to be.

I’m ready.

I giggle to myself.

This is so naughty!

Today was our six-month anniversary, our two-month wedding anniversary and even though we’ve never celebrated anything big before, I’ve decided to bring the party to Bastien. Even if it’ll only be for an hour of mind-blowing sex.

Is there anything better than sharing a perfect celebration with the person you love most in the world?

I think not.

Tina helped me set the whole thing up. Who knew she had it in her to be a saucy little wench?

I thought I was bad, but apparently Tina has been known to call emergency meetings with her husband, Nik, at his office.

The emergency being that Tina is horny.

She’s become such a good friend. I’m so glad to know her better.

I woke this morning to a brand new platinum diamond bracelet on my wrist. It had one pendant attached. A simple love heart with a ruby on one side and a sapphire on the other.

Bastien doesn’t do cards. He never has. But with a gift like that, who needs a card?

I knew what it meant.

We were two halves of a whole. And nothing could make me happier.

Maybe one day I’d add a diamond at the bottom of that pendant.

It’s no secret that I want children. I want enough to have my own soccer team. I love kids and from seeing Bastien interact with his nieces and nephews, he loves them just as much as I do.

I stopped taking birth control a month ago. My doctor told me getting pregnant is easy for some but with others can take months. I’m in no rush. I’m happy to wait. Sure, I’m helping the process by jumping Bastien every spare chance I get, but other than that, I’m happy to let nature take its course.

The taxi drops me off right outside the club and as I step out, more of my thigh shows than I’m used to. I smirk, feeling sexy as hell when a club bystander whistles at me.

An ego boost I needed. Thank you, kind sir!

Stu spots me and I kiss his cheek. He smiles down at me, “Hey cuz. He’s on a break. Happy anniversary, Em.”

“Thanks, Stu. You’re sweet.”

Just as I walk inside, Stu takes my hand, stopping me. “You know, I’m really glad you ended up being on the list.”

My smile softens. “Me too, Stu. Me too.”

I make my way inside, hiding in a corner. I pull out my cell to text Tina who couldn’t be here tonight but is instead at the club she and Nik own downtown, The White Rabbit.

Me: I’m freaking out, dude!

Tina: Relax, Max! You’re offering yourself up on a platter to a man who loves you. You’re going to be fine!

She is not wrong. Bastien does love me. And he loves freaky time with me.

What am I worried about?

Me: Okay. You’re right. I’m going in! Wish me luck x

I laugh at her response.

Tina: Luck!!! Knock his penis dead! X

Everything is going to plan. Bastien is on a break, now I just have to find him. I approach the bar to find my favourite bar bitch there, a young, tattooed Asian woman named Lana. I wave enthusiastically and she motions me over. “Happy anniversary, Em. He’s in the first bunk. I’m sure it’ll be locked so I asked Tina to get me this.” She pulls out a key and hands it to me.

I look up at her in awe. “You’re amazing. Like a female, Asian double-oh-seven.”

She tilts her head, brows bunched. “Surprising as hell but it’s not the first time I’ve been called that.”

“You’re awesome, lady. Thank you so much. I don’t think I could’ve done this without all your help.”

She smiles softly. “You’re welcome. It’s nice to see Bastien smile.”

I wave as I walk over to the ‘staff only’ side doors. I’ve been in the back many a time, whether it was just to see my man or to have a short break from the blaring music when I’ve had a headache. Thankfully, I know where the first bunk is. The bunks are rooms that aren’t really rooms at all. They’re the size of a small walk-in closet.

The first bunk is a rest area with a cot in it. The second bunk an almost identical rest area with a TV inside.

As I approach the first bunk, I slowly test the handle and just as Lana predicted, the door is locked. Stepping back, I take in a deep breath, calming myself in order to seduce my husband.

I’m ready.

Sliding the key in, I unlock the door, step in and close the door behind me. “Happy Anniversary, baby.”

I slide the trench coat down my back and onto the floor.

When I lift my head, my breath leaves me in a whoosh.

There stands Bastien, wide eyes on me, mouth attached to another man’s neck.

This can’t be what it looks like. Surely there’s an explanation for this.

I blink. Bastien has still to remove his mouth from the unknown man’s neck. I blink some more. “You- are you- I don’t understand. You-” My voice weakens to a hush. “You like men?”

With eyes so green they near glow, he finally detaches himself from the man, panting. “Em, baby, what are you doing here?”

The man my husband is cheating on me with simply stands there, looking like a droid. I look into his empty eyes but answer my husband. “I came to surprise you with dirty anniversary sex. I don’t understand, Bastien. I thought we were happy.”

He steps around the man and moves closer to me. “We are happy. I’m happy. I had no idea you were coming here.” His eyes flash as he fixates on my barely there lingerie. He swallows hard, “Jesus, Em. You’re fucking gorgeous.”

The bridge of my nose tingles. I lean down to pick up my coat, wrapping it around me. A single tear falls down my cheek. “How long has this been going on?”

He takes a step closer, reaching out for me. “I swear this is not what it looked like. I can explain.”

I look into his eyes. He doesn’t look embarrassed or caught out, just tired. Bastien has never given me a reason to question him before. Why should I start now?

“Okay, so explain.” The unknown man still unmoved, I ask quietly, “Is he okay?”

Bastien looks back. “Shit. Hold on, babe. Let me take care of him.”

Take care of him?

I rush forward, grip his shirt and whisper hiss, “You are not going to kill him!”

Bastien rolls his eyes at me before turning to the man, looking into his eyes and speaking in a firm but neutral tone. “You were a great help.”

The man responds a robotic. “I was a great help.”

Bastien tells him, “You should go home and get some rest.”

The man nods slowly. “I should go home and get some rest.”

Bastien helps the man to the door, uttering his agreement. “You should, man. Thank you.”

The man responds. “You’re welcome,” then putters down the hall and out of sight.

Looking around, Bastien closes the door behind him, locking it and leaning against it. “Shit, Em, I’m sorry. I ruined our anniversary.”

Why isn’t he acting like he’s done something wrong? What the heck is going on?

He steps forward, directly under the down light. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I have. But I-”

Red at the corner of his lip has me stepping forward. “Honey, you’re bleeding.”

Bastien swipes at his lips, looking down at the blood smeared across his fingers. He looks me in the eye before responding carefully. “It’s not mine.”

Confusion mars my face. “Were you-” I shake my head. “Did you bite him?”

He swallows hard then looks away. He shrugs lightly. “A man’s gotta eat.”

I force a harsh laugh at the statement. “That’s crazy! What are you saying? That you’re a vampire or something?”

I expect him to laugh and deny it. I expect him to react. But he does nothing. Just stares at me with an expression I’ve never seen Bastien wear.

For the first time since I’ve known him, Bastien looks afraid. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

He can’t be serious.

Suddenly, I’m pissed. “You seriously want me to believe that bullshit?” I roll my eyes as I tighten the belt on my coat. “I don’t care if you have issues. We can work through anything. I love you enough to let you explain what I saw happening here instead of running off into the night and dumping all your stuff out into the street, and that’s what you go with?”

Running his hands down his face, he lifts a hand to scratch at his head. “I know it’s hard to believe but if you’d just listen-”

Now I’m not even pissed at him. I’m just pissed at myself. I start lecturing myself. “Fuck a duck! You know when they say a guy is too good to be true, they aren’t kidding. He’s got it all. The looks, a heart of gold, he loves me to the ends of the earth, but wait! He’s bat-shit crazy. Of course, he is! That’s life, doll.”

Pushing passed Bastien, I unlock the door and walk out, clomping my heels as I go.

“Emma, honey! Wait! I can explain!”

Unshed tears sting my eyes. I sniffle as I make my way out the door and onto the street, hailing a taxi. I manage to get one in seconds and in less than ten minutes, I’m home again.

I don’t allow myself to cry until I reach the deserted elevators. As soon as the doors close, I let my tears fall freely.

I love Bastien, but it’s obvious that he needs help. He’s clearly delusional. Regardless of that fact, he is my husband and I will do whatever it takes to see him well again. I love him. He’s everything to me.

The elevator door opens and I swipe away stray tears.

I unlock my apartment door, step inside and switch on the light.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, Em.”

Spinning around, I hold a hand to my now-heaving chest and stare wide eyed at Bastien, sitting on his manly armchair.

How the hell? “How did you get here so quick?”

Instead of answering me, he stands and steps closer to me. “It’s not like it makes me a different person or anything. I can’t help being this way. Believe me, I’ve tried. I tried to tell you before the wedding,” he sighs, “but you looked so damn beautiful and I didn’t want to ruin our day with my bullshit, so I thought I’d wait till we got home. But then we got home and every time I tried to do it, I bit my tongue because,” his voice turns quiet, “because I didn’t want to lose you.”

He really believes this.

What am I supposed to do here?

I do the only thing I can think of. I play along.

I take a step closer to him, holding my hand out. “It’s okay, honey. You won’t lose me. I love you.”

Placing his hand in mine, he pulls me closer to him, wrapping me in a bear hug. He sighs in relief. “Oh shit. I was so fucking scared when you walked in on me feeding. I thought you’d run screaming but I knew deep inside that if I just got to talk to you, you’d understand.” He pauses a moment. “We were meant to be, Em. You’re my soul mate.”

My mind singsongs, “Psycho.”

I rub his back. “Of course I get it. And we are meant to be. Come Monday, we’re going to talk to someone about this. We’ll make sure the vampires never bother you again.”

His body stills. He pulls away from me. “You think I’m crazy.”

I shake my head emphatically. “No, I don’t. I think you’re a good man. My good man. A good man who sees vampires.”

He rubs the back of his neck in restlessness. “I’m not fucking crazy, Em!”

I shush him. “I know, honey. I know. But we’re still going to see the good Docto-”

That’s when Bastien jumps.

He jumps high enough to touch the ceiling. In fact, he does touch the ceiling.

And he doesn’t come down.

Glaring down at me, he calls out to me. “There? Believe me now? I’m not crazy, Em.”

Staring up at him, mouth gaping, I pull out a chair from the dining table and sit. I can’t think right now. I don’t believe what I’m seeing.

Maybe Bastien is right.

He’s not crazy.

I am.

My gaze falls to the floor. I stare down at my pumps.

A hand on my shoulder lifts me from my many thoughts. “Em? Honey? Talk to me.”

I swallow hard, blinking up at him. “I need help, Bas. I’m going crazy.”

He chuckles humorlessly then talks to himself. “Tell her, they said. She’ll understand, they said.”

I’m suddenly parched. “I need water.”

Bastien disappears from my side. In less than a blink of an eye, he’s by my side, holding a full glass of water.

Jumping back, the chair topples behind me. “How- how are you doing that?”

Holding his hands out in a placating gesture, he places the water on the table and steps towards me. “Baby, I know this is hard to understand, and I promise I will answer any questions you want answers to, but you were right the first time.” He breathes in deep and utters on an exhale. “I’m a vampire.”

Oh yeah. I’ve gone bananas.

I mutter under my breath. “Right, right. Okay.”

He lifts the fallen chair and sits me down. He takes a seat across from me. “Ask me anything.”

My first question is dumb. In my defense, I believe myself to be borderline high at this point in time. “Are you going to kill me?”

His face screws up as he hollers, “What? No, I’m not going to kill you, Em. Shit! I love you!”

I nod. “Okay. That’s good.”

Taking my hand in his, he holds it tight and vows, “I will never hurt you. Never. I’m still the same guy.”

The same guy. Just now he drinks blood.

The second question comes easier. “So you drink blood?”

He seems relieved by this question and answers immediately, “Yes. I don’t need it often but I still need it at least once a month to replace my lack of red blood cells.”

“Did that man know what you were doing to him?”

He shakes his head. “No. Vampires can hypnotize a person before feeding. It’s easier this way. It’s cleaner and faster.”

Okay. “Did you hurt him?”

His eyes soften, as does his tone. “No, baby. I release venom into the bloodstream that acts as an anesthetic. He didn’t feel a thing, and I never take too much.”

I’m not sure I want to ask, but curiosity gets the better of me. “Have you ever fed from me?”

His hand squeezes mine. “Never. I would never do that to you. Never without permission.”

I think about all the vampire lore I’ve read about. “Are you going to live forever?”

He sniffs a laugh. “No, baby. Immortality is a choice. When I met you, I gave it up.”

Confused much? “How?”

He explains in perfect calm, “I can slow down the aging process by feeding every day. And I did feed every day for a while but when I met you, I made the decision to stop feeding and start aging again.” He smiles down at me lovingly, “Why would I want to live without you?”

My heart warms as I get a glimpse of my Bastien. Pre-vampire Bastien, that is.

I blurt out, “That’s so sweet. I think. In a creepy I don’t know what’s going on way, I guess.” I stand and begin to pace. “But you eat food. We eat together all the time.”

He nods. “I do eat food but my venom dissolves it into nothing.” He looks me in the eye. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll explain all the things I think you’ll want to ask.”

Pausing mid-step, I look my husband in the eye and whisper, “You’re not joking, are you?”

He softly shakes his head. It’s then that I realize my life has suddenly changed in a big way.

Bastien Lee — my husband, my lover, and my best friend — is a vampire.

More of the Story

And the world still turns

He watches me closely then asks carefully, “Are you going to freak out?”

I lift my head in thought. I think hard about this.

Has Bastien given me a real reason to freak out?

No. He hasn’t.

He’s been patient and calm regardless of my treating him like a leper slash nutcase.

Body slumping, I slowly walk over to him till we’re almost toe-to-toe. I look up into his bright green eyes and reach up to cup his cheek. “No. I don’t think so. But you’re going to tell me why I shouldn’t have to, right?”

His eyes close, he lifts his hand to hold mine in place on his cheek and responds roughly, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Taking his hand in mine, I lead us over to the sofa. He sits and pulls me down with him. Sprawled over his lap, I turn to the side so I can look at his face while he speaks. “I never planned on meeting a girl. It was too hard what with my… condition. I didn’t count on meeting you.” He kisses my knuckles. “I don’t know any other woman who would be completely fine with not being able to see her boyfriend during the day. I’ve dated before. They all thought I was cheating on them. I couldn’t tell them I had to sleep. As in, had to. They’d think I was a freak. But you just accepted it, like it was nothing.”

I’m confused. “Does your family know?”

He smiles. “Yeah, Em. They’re like me too.” His smile turns to a grin. “We all got turned on the same night.”

My mouth gapes. “No way. They all look so nor-” I spot the ginormous grin on his face and fade out. “What I mean to say is that I never would’ve been able to te-”

His rough chuckle slides over me. “Go on, you can say it. We all look so normal.” He nods, “We know. That’s kind of the point.”

Holy shit.

Holy shit!

This is real. I have a real live vampire in my house.

Oh my God. I’ve been having sex with a vampire!

Is that why it’s been so good?

I have to dig further. “Whoa, wait! Do you have some sexual voodoo going on? Is that why the sex is so good? Because, if so, I’m not complaining.”

He tips his head back and laughs. “No, Em. That’s just you and me. Believe me, I wish I could take credit. It’s just what you do to me.”

A smile plays at my lips. “So what of the stories? Are they fact or myth? Super speed is obviously a tick but what about the other stuff. I didn’t know you could do the Spider-Man thing.”

He sighs softly. “A lot of the stories aren’t true. In fact, it’s been rumoured that vampires started the stories to throw people off. As you know, I have a reflection. Holy water is just water to me. Hell, I’m catholic. I’m not evil. I eat and drink but don’t actually go to the toilet. I-”

I cut him off in protest, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute! What the heck do you do in the bathroom when you go in there? Sometimes you take forever!”

He grins sheepishly. “Um. Candy Crush.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “Oh my God, that is funny!” I chuckle to myself and prompt him. “Okay, sorry. Tell me more.”

“Yes, we have super speed. I can walk up walls but that is a trait only I have. Mom can move things with her mind. Dad can fly.” Holy cow! “We have extremely sensitive hearing and-”

My stomach coils as my eyes almost pop out of my head. I jump up off the sofa and cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh no.”

A look of alarm crosses Bastien’s face. “What is it, Em?”

“Have you-” Oh God, I don’t want to ask but I have to know. I just have to! I whisper in horror, “Have you ever heard me fart?”

He winces.

I gasp as my face heats. “Oh my God, you have. This isn’t happening!”

Bastien has the gall the smile. “Honey, you just found out I’m a vampire. And this is your main concern?”

I sit on the edge of the sofa, face drawn. I talk to myself. “I’m no longer the perfect wife. Perfect wives don’t fart.”

He takes my hand in his. “You are, Em. You are perfect to me.”

I am so sad right now.

This is my life, people.

Bastien suddenly stands. “You want me to fart? ‘Cause I’ll do it. Right here, right now. I’ll tear a goddamn hole in my slacks if you want me to, princess!”

I mumble a flat, “I’ve never heard you fart.” A thoughtful look crosses my face. “Can you fart?”

He tilts his head in thought. “I don’t even know. I think dust might come out of me.”

Damn him. Damn him to heck for his funniness.

I try to hide my smile but fail miserably. “You’re a dork.”

I don’t even see him move but I’m suddenly lifted high in the air. Geez, he’s strong. He smiles up at me. “So, we’re okay?”

My smile is soft and loving. “I love you, Bastien. It’ll take a little more than you being a vampire to change that.”

He lowers me back to my feet. His lips come down on mine, feather soft. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m going to love you till forever.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you. We were meant to be. Forever and always.”

He pulls me to him, his arms wrapping me tight. Warmth spreads through me and I realise something.

Everything was going to be fine.

Lights Out

by Jodie Beau

A single mom. A single dad. A common enemy. Will their feelings come to light on Halloween?

Copyright © Jodie Beau 2014, All rights reserved.

eBook edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Jodie Beau

First Digital Edition October 2014

Part One — Cora

Friday, October 31, 2014

7:03 A.M.

“Would you like to come in for some coffee?” he asks, waving an open hand toward his front door in a welcoming gesture.

If coffee is a euphemism for being fucked until I can’t remember my own name, then yes, I’d love some. Thank you.

As if reading my mind, he wastes no time on awkward, neighborly small talk. He pushes me through the front door of his home, and has his lips on mine before the door closes behind us. He tastes like cherry Kool-Aid, just the way I remember.

Without taking his lips off mine, he waves his arm behind us, and sweeps the contents of his dining room table onto the floor. I hear glass break as a candle holder hits the hardwood. Pieces of mail flutter to the floor behind it.

I’ve never seen that move done in real life — definitely not in my life. No one has ever wanted me enough to make a huge mess in his own house. I can’t help but wonder who is going to clean it up. Maybe he hires a maid service.

He gets a good grip on my ass, lifts me up, and nearly slams me onto the table.

I stop thinking about the mess.

“I like this aggression,” I say, trying out my best sexy voice and hoping I pull it off. It’s been a long time.

With his hands on my shoulders, he pushes me down onto the table. It’s a heavy wooden table, the kind I imagine Beauty and The Beast having in their castle.

In another act I’ve never seen outside of internet porn, he grabs hold of my white button-up shirt at my chest, pulls it up until my back arches, and then rips it open. The pearlescent white buttons sound like raindrops as they hit the table around us.

It’s okay. I can live without the shirt. It was just a boring button-up from Target. It wasn’t even that white anymore. I have the worst time keeping my whites bright.

He leans over me and bites my neck — not vampire style, just a tiny bite — as his hands creep up my black pencil skirt.

He stands up again and raises my legs straight up in the air until my ankles rest on his shoulder. I feel the stretch burn behind my knees, but I don’t mind the pain. He digs his fingers under the waistband of my pink lace panties and starts to remove them. For a moment I wonder if he’s taking the aggression a little too far for our first time. But then I realize I don’t care. I just want him. I’ve been waiting for this since I was fifteen-years-old. If my body has to take a little beating, I’m okay with it — as long as my G-spot gets one, too.

He has a dark, intense stare in his eyes as he slides my panties over my thighs, across my knees, and past my calves. He twists them around his wrist as he tugs, tighter and tighter. Without breaking eye contact, he twists until his wrist, and the knot of pink lace, rests at my ankles.

I look up at him, at his dark eyes and hair, and the neatly-trimmed beard he’s been sporting this fall. He looks more like a man than I’ve ever seen him. He’s not the teenager I remember — which is good, or I’d end up on Nancy Grace. He’s grown up and sexier than ever.

I take in the sight of my stiletto-ed feet on his shoulder and I’m glad I decided to walk Lucie to school this morning in heels. There’s something seriously hot about lace panties and stilettos. This image wouldn’t be nearly as nice if I’d worn my Skechers today.

He closes his eyes before he runs his panty-covered wrist under his nose and inhales. I think he just smelled my underwear. Is that creepy or sexy? I decide on sexy because creepy would be a mood killer, and I’m not letting anything ruin this moment for me. Not even that Winnie-the-Pooh stuffed toy on the couch. I swear that thing is staring at me.

I don’t have time to worry about Winnie because the man who just tied my legs together gives me a cocky grin. Without breaking his stare, he slowly unwinds the panties from his wrist. When he pulls his hand free, he places the lace between his teeth to keep my ankles tightly together. Then he unbuttons his pants.

* * *

“Go-od morn-ing,” I heard, in a woman’s singsong voice.

“I hate you,” I muttered, as I leaned over and grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand. I hurried to swipe my finger across the snooze button before the annoying troll could say another word. What a rude awakening.

I set my phone back on the nightstand, closed my eyes, and snuggled closer into my pillow. I wanted that dream back. I wanted to see him again. I had nine more minutes to finally see what he had in his pants. We could get a lot done in nine minutes.

I didn’t usually snooze on Friday mornings. Don’t get me wrong. I was a devoted snoozer. On Mondays through Thursdays I hit snooze at least three times before I dragged myself out of bed to get Lucie ready for school. I then walked her there in the same yoga pants and t-shirt I slept in the night before, my face greasy with night cream, and my hair looking like it hadn’t seen a comb since Prince was referred to by a symbol. And I was totally okay being a mess — on Mondays through Thursdays.

Today was Friday. Fridays were different. Fridays were the days Ben Ogea walked his daughter to school. Ben Ogea was the reason I didn’t snooze on Fridays. He was also the reason I’d woken up with my panties in a twist this morning.

Oh shit. I sat up in bed when I remembered. This wasn’t an ordinary Friday. It was Halloween. I needed extra time to get Lucie into her Frozen costume and braid her hair like a princess. There was no chance of finishing that dream this morning.

I sighed and reached into the drawer of my nightstand for my bullet. Thanks to a brand new set of batteries in my boy-toy, I was ready to start my day in approximately twenty seconds.

* * *

7:32 A.M.

I had spent the last five nights watching blog tutorials and playing with Lucie’s American Girl doll trying to master the princess crown braid. I wanted to surprise her with my newfound hair skills, and maybe earn the Best Mom of the Week award. Turned out this wasn’t my week. (Last week wasn’t either.)

After a few failed attempts and tangles, we ran out of time. Lucie had to settle for an ordinary French braid pulled across her shoulder. Sometimes, when I thought too much about it, I felt like Lucie had to settle for a lot.

I realized that most of the girls in Lucie’s class would be dressed as Elsa from Frozen. I’d tried to talk her out of the costume. I’d tried to get her to choose something more unique. One thing I should note about my six-year-old is that she didn’t mind being like everyone else. Another thing I should note is that she didn’t mind being different either, when she wanted to be. She hadn’t yet learned to care what other people thought, and that made me feel like I’d gotten at least one thing right with her. Me, I was still trying to unlearn this — a revelation that grew clearer to me every day.

There was a competition that took place every morning outside Lucie’s elementary school by a group of moms I’d dubbed The Fucker Mothers. You’ve seen the movie Mean Girls, right? Imagine those girls growing up, having children, and spending a little too much time on Pinterest. Then imagine their kids going to school with yours.

Here, let me introduce you: There’s Shauna— blonde, shapely, goes to (insert some kind of exercise class) four times a week, married to a (insert occupation of a person who works a lot), drives a (insert designer car), and is the mother of the smartest, brightest, most athletic student in the school, who also happens to be a (insert word for a child who has been raised to believe he/she can do no wrong).

I’d introduce you to Melissa, Tabitha, and Vanessa, too, but I’d only be repeating myself. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Just fill in the blanks with an appropriate word, and you’ve got the picture.

Last year, on Lucie’s first day of kindergarten, they’d tried to befriend me with their morning chitchat. It went something like this: Omigod! She’s got that baby forward-facing already? Doesn’t she know the dangers? I heard she uses a leash on her kid. Where’d she get that skirt? The Family Dollar? You know her son had to have a cavity filled. A cavity at five years old? And don’t even get me started on that kid’s name. I feel like we’re living in a trailer park every time I hear it. And did you hear her husband finally got a new job after being laid off? He’s only making five figures. She might have to get a job herself, though I don’t know how she will. I mean, she clearly has no skills of any kind. Is that little girl really wearing that shirt again? What is this? The third time this week? You know, I heard she uses boxed hair color. NO! Yes! And guess what her daughter brought for snack time yesterday — Goldfish crackers. How can anyone let their child eat such poison? Doesn’t she read anything she sees on the internet? Doesn’t she pay attention in her Weight Watchers class? I mean, assuming she is in Weight Watchers. If she’s not, she should be. So … who wants to get a margarita for breakfast? It’s noon somewhere, right, girls? (Insert evil giggle.)

I was not able to join them for margaritas before their Pilates class, because I was one of those poor schmucks who had to work. Because my husband died young. My husband died two years ago, at the age of twenty-eight, in a fork-lift accident at work. He left behind a four-year-old daughter who loved Goldfish crackers, and sometimes asked to wear the same shirt three times in one week. He also left behind a wife who didn’t know how to live without him, and had a hard enough time getting out of bed in the morning, let alone listening to this bullshit before nine A.M. And guess what else, bitches? This is boxed color on my hair. (Gasp.)

I didn’t say any of that out loud though. I smiled and politely declined the invite instead. I didn’t usually tell people what I really thought about them. That kind of shit would just get me into trouble. And without Will, I wouldn’t know how to get out of it.

Will had been my partner-in-crime since junior year of high school. Both introverts, the two of us — plus Lucie once she was born — had lived happily and quietly in our own private cocoon. Until death did us part.

You know how you’re supposed to make every moment count because you never knew when it would be your last? I can’t say we made every moment count. I would bet most people didn’t live that way. If we said goodbye every day as if it were the last time we’d ever see each other, imagine how tragic and intense life would be. Sometimes we just had to have faith that the person we loved would be coming home from work that day, and that we would get a lot more chances to perfect our goodbyes.

The last time I saw Will alive, he was standing in the hallway outside our bedroom door. I still remembered what he was wearing — khaki shorts and an old Budweiser t-shirt he’d gotten at a club when we were twenty-two. Will had taken very good care of his clothes. He was the stain-removing and ironing mastermind of our household.

“Have you seen my ______?” he asked.

His what? I couldn’t remember. It drove me crazy that I couldn’t remember. His keys? His shoes? His wallet? What did he ask me for that morning?

“No,” I said, as I knelt on the floor to put on Lucie’s sandals — the pink jelly ones. I did remember that detail.

With Lucie’s backpack and my purse on one shoulder, I picked up Lucie to carry her out to the car.

“Shit,” Will said. He stood still, his finger on his chin, trying to remember where he’d put his ______. Then he’d shrugged and walked over to the front door. “All right. Love you. See you later.”

“Love you,” I said.

“WUV YOU!” Lucie yelled. “Kiss and hug!”

He gave us each a kiss, gave Lucie the hug she always demanded, and we walked out the door.

As far as forever goodbyes went, we could have done a lot worse. It was what happened the night before he died that had nearly crippled me.

As I’d driven to the hospital that morning, my knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, and my heart beat so fast I felt dizzy, like I was living in fog. I prayed for Will to be okay. He had to be okay. Because the eggplant parmesan I’d made for dinner the night before had been terrible. I couldn’t live the rest of my life knowing the last meal I’d made for my husband had been an embarrassing disaster. Yeah. My husband was dead, and I was thinking about eggplant.

That eggplant remained in focus for the entire first year. I acted like the eggplant was directly responsible. I avoided the produce section of the grocery store. I felt sick to my stomach when I saw an eggplant entrée listed on a restaurant’s menu. I couldn’t even stand to see that shade of purple. It made my eyes burn, and my fists clench in anger.

By the time Lucie started kindergarten, I was beginning my second year as a widow. I had set up a trust fund for Lucie with the settlement, cleaned out most of Will’s things from the home, and even started brushing my box-colored hair once in awhile. It was around that time when I stopped hating the eggplant. That was when the eggplant started to make me cry instead.

Because, you see, Will had eaten it. He had somehow chewed and swallowed two whole bites of that garbage. He wasn’t even going to tell me how bad it was. It wasn’t until I tried it myself, spit it out, and said, “This is disgusting,” that he laughed and asked if I wanted him to order Chinese.

I was now starting my third year, and I felt like I was really turning a corner. Just a few days ago I’d thought about that eggplant and laughed. I had learned to appreciate our easy-going relationship, and the moments we always made the best of. I was trying to find a way to live the same kind of life without him, and I thought I was doing a better job of it every day. Just in the past few weeks I had been to a salon for a professional color, started wearing makeup again, and even got a pedicure.

The Fucker Mothers had also turned some kind of corner since the previous year — they’d gotten more vicious. This was, apparently, the year of the Bento Box Battles. Every morning was the same routine — the four lined up and opened up their kid’s lunchboxes to show the other mothers how much better theirs was. Every morning it was a challenge for these ladies to beat the box (not like that, you pervs). It was a one-up-a-thon of designer foods — hard boiled eggs and lunch meat sculptures, mini sandwiches in seasonal shapes, cheese chunks shaped like moons and stars, fruits and veggies carved into popular cartoon characters — and my personal favorites — desserts made to look like sushi rolls. Seriously. One food made to look like another. Who had the time for that? Not this girl. You want to know what Lucie got in her lunchbox? A sandwich in the shape of a sandwich. A banana in the shape of a banana. And sometimes even a juice box.

The Fucker Mothers hated me. When I didn’t have anything to add to their conversation last year, and didn’t join them for drinks, I think they felt slighted. By snubbing them I had pinned a bulls-eye on my chest. Now I was the mother for them to judge and belittle every morning. I tended to give them a ton of ammunition. If showing up at school looking like a train wreck four times a week hadn’t earned me a permanent spot on the neighborhood blacklist, I was pretty sure the fruit roll-up I’d sent for Lucie’s snack time yesterday had pushed me off the ledge. We were going to be eaten alive today. But really, was a fruit roll-up all that different from their pretentious fruit leather? I thought not.

* * *

7:49 A.M

Fall was gorgeous and colorful in the Midwest. I admired the colors of the leaves under our feet. It was the perfect kind of weather for Halloween — not warm enough that I was sweating in my blazer, but not cold enough that Lucie needed to wear a jacket over her costume.

As we walked to school, her in her store-bought Elsa costume, and me in a pencil skirt with black heels (just in case), I could imagine the kind of snark I was going to hear from The Fucker Mothers. They would say something about how nice I cleaned up when I knew there was going to be an eligible bachelor around. They would mumble about how “cute” it was that I thought I had a chance with him. They would also make sure I knew what a loser I was for putting my child in a costume bought at a store.

I guess I was just a sucky mom. A custom-made costume wasn’t in our budget. I knew some mothers could go to the fabric store and whip up a costume in a jiffy, but I wouldn’t even be able to pick a sewing machine out of a lineup. #momfail #isuck.

At least I had a little something else on my mind today other than The Fucker Mothers.

Ben Ogea.

TGIF.

Every Friday since the first week of school, at some point around 7:56 am, Lucie and I arrived at the corner of Elm and Oak Streets at approximately the same time as Ben and his daughter, Olive. Olive was in Lucie’s first-grade class.

I’d done a little bit of sleuthing and discovered that Ben and his wife divorced when Olive was three. As part of their custody agreement, he got every Thursday through Saturday with Olive. The girls were in different kindergarten time slots last year, so we didn’t run into them. I didn’t see Ben much last year at all, except at a few special events and ceremonies, like the kindergarten graduation (which, by the way, I thought was incredibly gratuitous. But that was a story for another day).

On the few occasions I’d seen Ben last year, I’d gone out of my way to avoid him. It was pretty easy to avoid someone in a crowd. It was generally pretty easy to avoid people altogether, and I kind of preferred it.

It was less easy to avoid Ben and Olive on the first Friday in September when we approached the corner from opposite directions; they were headed east, we were headed west, and all of us needed to head north. We were walking to the same place at the same time on the same street. There was no way around it.

I’d maintained my composure, and acted like my stomach wasn’t somewhere around my knees. Just some guy walking his kid to school. No big thing. Nothing to see here. Move along. I gave him what I hoped was a confident smile. He gave me a friendly nod.

To him, I was just some chick walking her kid to school. No big thing.

We now had a Friday morning routine. Whoever got to the intersection first waited for the others. We gave each other a quick nod or smile, sometimes even a “Good morning,” and as the girls chitchatted about princesses and nail polish, the four of us walked the last block to school together.

We didn’t talk much, the two of us. We listened to the girls instead, occasionally exchanging knowing looks when they got excited about a TV show or a friend from class. But I preferred a comfortable silence over gauche small talk anyhow.

The few things I knew about Ben Ogea could be listed on one hand. I knew his ex-wife was gorgeous, smart, and successful — even The FMs were intimidated by her. I knew he lived somewhere close enough to the school to walk. I knew he worked for a TV station, but not in front of the camera. I also knew The Fucker Mothers panted and salivated when he walked by, like a bunch of desperate housewives.

What nobody else knew was that we had once shared a night together in a dark room.

* * *

October 22, 1999

Hope Jameson had lived around the block from me all our lives. We’d been best friends since kindergarten; a fact that baffled most people, nobody more than ourselves. She was a social butterfly who loved shopping, makeup, and boys. I was the quiet and bashful type who preferred fictional characters to real people. Real people, especially boys, terrified me.

When we were in the ninth grade, Hope’s parents retired from their desk jobs, and bought themselves a dive bar a few towns over. They never came home from work before three A.M. on the weekends. My girlfriends and I (I mean, Hope’s other friends — I didn’t have any) would hang out in her basement, steal from her parents’ liquor cabinet, and invite some boys over to flirt with. By the time her parents would get home from work, the boys would be gone, the mess cleaned up, and us girls passed out on the floor of Hope’s enormous basement bedroom.

In October of our sophomore year, Hope decided to play a game. Had I known about this game beforehand, I would have stayed far away from Hope’s that night. But she would have known that, which explains why I was not given a warning.

There were twelve of us in the basement that night, six guys and six girls. A few were sprawled on the couch, some were on the bed, the rest, myself included, were lounging on the floor on giant pillows and beanbags. We were drinking cheap vodka mixed with cherry Kool-Aid, and watching a Halloween marathon on TV.

Suddenly, Hope stood up from the couch. She used the remote to turn off the TV, held her red plastic cup up in the air like she was about to toast, and yelled, “LIGHTS OUT! Grab the person closest to you and make out!”

She clapped her hands twice and the lights went out. The small basement windows were covered in black sheets, so we were in complete darkness. Just like that. No warning. I hadn’t even had a chance to look around and see which guys were near me on the floor.

I heard a bunch of scuffling as people began to pair up, but I stayed frozen in place. I really, really wished Hope had warned me of this plan. This was totally not my thing.

I had very limited experiences with guys, and each one seemed to get more clumsy, awkward, and embarrassing than the last — they were nothing at all like the steamy romantic scenes I’d read in books or seen in movies.

I thought having a guy’s tongue in my mouth was disgusting. Slimy and wet, and probably filled with a billion contagious bacteria, and just, ick. And the one time a guy had unzipped my pants and slid his hand in my underwear, I’d been even more sickened. Long fingernails, dirty hands filled with a day’s worth of germs. Gross. I thought this was supposed to be fun. I shouldn’t be thinking of germs. I should be gasping and panting and tearing off his clothes in an animalistic rage. But I wasn’t.

Being in complete darkness, I was more aware of the sounds around me. They weren’t pleasant. Kissing noises. Gross. Everyone else seemed to fall into Hope’s plan with ease and enthusiasm.

I wished there was a way out of this. Being chased around a neighborhood by Michael Myers seemed less scary than this stupid game. I contemplated staying still and pretending I wasn’t there. Hope’s game would eventually be over and the lights would turn on and I could just pretend I’d been making out with someone. How would anyone know? Well, except the guy who I was supposed to be making out with. Since there was an even number of us, we’d both have to sit this one out. Hey, that was perfectly fine with me. I’d stay where I was, he could stay where he was, and no one would ever have to know.

I felt a hand reach out and gently touch my hip in the darkness. There was someone lying on the floor next to my pillow. I tried to remember who had been sitting there before the lights went out, but couldn’t. Let’s see… who could it be? There was Travis, Luke, Sam, Ben, David… They were all good-looking, popular guys. Nobody who would want anything to do with me. I was just a normal girl, nothing special.

I wondered, self-consciously, if I was the last girl picked. If, whoever this hand belonged to, was disappointed that I was the closest one to him and he wasn’t able to get to one of the hotter girls in time.

I bit my lip, feeling nervous as his arms timidly wrapped around my waist. He gently pulled me off my giant pillow and I landed next to him on the carpet. My back leaned against the pillow and my chest pressed against his. I could feel the nervous tension between us. If ever there was a time I wanted the world to open up and swallow me whole, yep — right there.

But then something happened that changed my mood. He kissed me. Even in the darkness, his mouth found mine on the first try. It felt like our lips were drawn to each other by magnetic force. When his tongue touched mine, I wasn’t grossed out. My body felt like it was melting into his like ice cream. He tasted like cherry Kool-Aid and smelled like Hugo Boss. This guy knew what he was doing. And I liked what he was doing.

I didn’t know who he was, but I knew I liked kissing him. It was different than the other guys somehow. It was neater, slower, more determined, but less frantic. And when he rolled us over so that he was on top of me, I felt something, and I sort of wanted to tear his clothes off in an animalistic rage.

He was hard in his pants. I could feel it when he pressed into me. It made me dizzy and I was surprised how hard it felt. When we learned about erections in sex-ed classes, I thought they got sort of plump, like a bratwurst off the grill. I wasn’t expecting it to feel this hard. This felt like steel. And if there was any truth to the romance novels I’d bought from a used book store over the summer, that piece of steel was probably as smooth as velvet. I’d have to wait to find out though. It would take more than a few sips of vodka to give me the courage I’d need for direct penile contact.

I pushed the sounds of the others out of my mind and pretended we were the only two in the room. When he slid his hands under my shirt, I didn’t even mind. When he pushed my shirt up, pulled the cup of my bra down, and slid his tongue across my nipple, I really didn’t mind it. Maybe I could rethink that part about courage and try to find out what was in his pants.

I slid my hand between us and under the waistband of his jeans, and he did the same to me. I didn’t think about germs at all. And when he hit the right spot, I wished I knew who he was so I could yell out his name in appreciation.

That was when Hope had had enough. “I’m clapping my hands in five,” she announced, and began to count down.

He froze for a second, and then quickly removed his hand. I zipped and buttoned my jeans and was back up on my pillow just as the countdown landed on one.

Clap, clap. The lights went on. I avoided the eyes of everyone else. I chipped at my nail polish. Hope turned the movie back on, but I was afraid to look around at the others. Their silence made it all that much worse. I couldn’t stand to be in that basement another second.

I grabbed my plastic cup off the floor and stood up. “I’m going to get a refill,” I mumbled as I headed for the basement steps. I walked up to the kitchen to pour myself another drink. A strong one. I needed it.

I was standing at the counter, with my back to the basement steps, when I heard someone coming up. Too embarrassed to face anyone in the harsh lights of the kitchen, I drank my Kool-Aid right there at the counter without turning around.

I heard the footsteps, slow and deliberate, come up behind me, and then a hand on my ass encouraged me to turn around and face my mystery make-out man. So I did.

Ben. Ben Ogea stood before me. I was too afraid to look up at his face, but I knew it was him from the Jim Morrison quote on his t-shirt. “This is the strangest life I’ve ever known.”

I looked down at his black Chuck Taylor shoes. Someone had used an ink pen to draw chemical symbols on the white part of the shoes. Ben was the smartest guy in our class. He was a year younger than us because he’d skipped the second grade. But he wasn’t one of those geeky pocket protector carrying kind of smart people who made everyone else around him feel stupid. He made getting a 4.0 look cool.

Ben didn’t usually hang out with us and I couldn’t remember us ever having had a conversation in the past. But I knew who he was. Everybody did.

I glanced up at him shyly while still keeping my head down. He smiled. Jim Morrison had a strange life, and Ben Ogea had a wicked smile, wicked sexy. I returned his smile with a shy one of my own. Then he put his finger up to his mouth and… and he licked it. Uhhh… what?

With a hand on each one of my hips, he leaned down and kissed me one last time. Then he walked backwards away from me until he reached the stairs, before he turned and walked out the back door.

We never spoke to each other that night. And we never spoke after it. But I’d wanted to finish what we’d started ever since.

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2014

7:47 A.M.

“I guess we have two Elsas in first grade today,” Ben said when they arrived at our corner. Lucie and Olive were both wearing the exact same turquoise store-bought costume.

I knew there would be a whole lot more than two Elsas in the first grade, and in every other grade, but I didn’t correct him.

“I like your braid,” Olive said to Lucie. Her own dark hair was in a high ponytail. “My daddy doesn’t know how to braid.”

I looked up at Ben and he shrugged ruefully.

I looked at my watch. We had a few minutes to spare. “Do you want a braid like Lucie’s?” I asked Olive.

She nodded shyly.

I knelt down on the sidewalk and pulled a brush from my purse. She stood still as I quickly braided her hair over to the side like Lucie’s.

A few minutes earlier I’d felt like I failure when I couldn’t get Lucie’s crown braid to look red-carpet-ready. The way Olive looked at me when I finished with her braid, it made me feel like a hero instead.

Ben looked at me the same way and I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t give my belly the squirmies.

“Thanks,” he muttered when we continued walking. “I watched some videos online, but my fingers just don’t coordinate right.”

He had actually tried to learn how to braid? I didn’t personally know any other single fathers with young daughters, but I didn’t imagine most of them braided hair.

I didn’t reply. I just smiled and nodded and hoped he had no idea how I’d woken up this morning.

I wasn’t sure if Ben remembered Lights Out, but I suspected he didn’t. He’d never called me by my name, which made me believe he didn’t know it. I wasn’t sure he knew we went to high school together at all. I seriously doubted he remembered a twenty-minute make-out session from fifteen years ago. You could bet your ass I wouldn’t ever ask him either.

“You guys going to the Hurrah tonight?” he asked.

The Merriam Elementary School’s annual Halloween Hurrah was a fundraising event held every Halloween evening after trick-or-treating. It was a night of games and food and costume contests. Last year’s Hurrah had been tons of fun, and I’d been looking forward to going again. I’d be a lying shit if I said I hadn’t wondered if Ben and Olive would be there, too. And I may have fantasized about being accidentally locked in a dark closet with him, but the fantasy was always ruined when I wondered who was watching our kids while we had some fun in the dark. Oh, the troubles of being a single parent.

“Yes,” I answered. The girls were skipping together about four feet ahead of us. They had become fast friends when we started these walks together. “We’ll be there after trick-or-treating. You guys going?”

He put a hand to his chin and rubbed his beard. I’d never had a thing for bearded men before. When the look started to come back in style, I’d had my reservations about it. But he pulled off the beard about as well as Justin Timberlake did. And that was really, really well.

“Yeah, I was planning on it. Are you trick-or-treating close by?”

This was already like four sentences past our norm. He must have been feeling extra chatty today. “We live on Orchard. We usually do about three blocks up and down. It’s a good street. Lots of full-size candy bars usually.”

“Oh. Full size. That’s impressive,” he said, and rubbed his beard again. “Hey, um, maybe the girls would like to trick-or-treat together?” It was a suggestion, but he said it like it was a question.

He probably had a date and wanted me to take Olive with us so he didn’t need to look for a babysitter. Whatever. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t like I really had a chance with the guy anyway. I wasn’t even sure I wanted a chance.

I’d thought about it, dating. A lot. But it had been so many years since I’d been with anyone but Will, and I didn’t think I was ready for that. I thought that might be the reason I’d developed a crush on someone so far out of my league — because I knew there was no chance of anything coming of it. For me, it was just a past time, just a crush, a reason to do my hair and put on some makeup before school once a week. That was it.

“Sure,” I said. “Lucie will love that. I don’t mind taking Olive with us.”

“Oh, um, okay. I was thinking I could come, too. Do you mind taking me with you?”

He smiled at me then. It was a playful smile, the kind usually exchanged between people who knew each other, people who teased each other. Had we become friends somehow through all of these silent walks?

“Oh!” I said, feeling embarrassed. “Yeah. I just thought, I mean. I thought you maybe had something else to do.”

“Nothing other than trick-or-treating and bobbing for apples.”

I cringed and hoped he didn’t notice. Bobbing for apples, AKA bobbing for bacteria, was the most disgusting thing at the Halloween Hurrah. Dozens of people sticking their mouths into the same tub of water? During flu season no less? And people thought this was okay?

Ben lowered his voice and nodded his head toward Olive. “I only get her half the week. I won’t miss out on that time for anything.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. I mean, of course you wouldn’t.” Geez. Could I form a complete sentence sometime today? P.S. I was totally swooning right now over this doting-daddy. And he was totally forgiven for mentioning the bobbing of apples.

“So it’s set then,” he said. “We’ll take the girls trick-or-treating. Then we’ll head to the Hurrah together. Sound good?”

We? Was this a date? Or a playdate? Did he just ask me out? Was I ready for that? I knew Will wouldn’t want me to waste too much time being the girl with the dead husband. I knew he would have wanted me to move on much sooner if he had a choice.

“Sounds good. The corner of Orchard and Pine at five-thirty then?”

“Deal. But why don’t you give me your number in case I get lost?”

If I was thirteen, I would have squealed and jumped up and down right on the spot. But I was thirty, so I would wait until I got home.

* * *

7:58 A.M.

Just as I expected, the school was a sea of purple and turquoise when we arrived. I waited for an ice pond to crystallize before me, and the students to start ice skating across it to the tune of a catchy song.

And just as I expected, the Fucker Mothers’ daughters were all in expensive, custom-made Elsa costumes, including lots and lots of tulle, glitter, and rhinestones. Vanessa’s daughter had a perfect crown braid in her blonde hair. Shauna had gone even further and mastered the waterfall braid for her daughter’s hair. Show off. I tried not to feel unworthy.

And just as I expected, the Halloween-themed Bento Boxes were filled with candy corn colors and spooky-shaped foods. Oh, and sushi shaped like pumpkins. If it wasn’t a food being shaped like sushi, it was sushi being shaped like another food.

And just as I expected, I heard nastiness coming from their mouths as the four of us walked past them.

“Oh, look who decided to brush her hair this morning.”

“She walked to school in four-inch heels? Who does that?”

“Someone desperate for attention. It’s no different than the woman who wears heels to the grocery store.”

“Does she wear heels to the grocery store?”

“Nah. I bet she wears those faded yoga pants with the stretched-out waistband. She wouldn’t bother dressing up unless Mister Joint Custody was going to be there.”

“Ha. So cute.”

* * *

9:04 A.M.

I had just sat down in my cubicle and logged in to my computer when my cube-neighbor, Nancy, popped up and stuck her head over the wall between us. This kind of behavior was not acceptable in rest rooms, and I wished the rule would carry over to work time, also — if only for their own benefit. I mean, nobody looked good from such a high angle.

“Happy Halloween,” she said, as she handed me a little tulle sack tied with orange and black ribbons. It was filled with Hershey’s Kisses and reminded me of the kind of favor you’d see at a bridal shower filled with butter mints. Mmm, butter mints. Why were showers the only time we were treated to such goodness?

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the sack of candy with gratitude. Bad angle or not, it was chocolate.

“And this,” she said, handing me the lottery kit. Once a week someone from the office went to the convenience store and bought a bunch of lottery tickets. We all threw $2 into an envelope for our chance to win.

Look, I knew the odds, okay? I knew I was probably more likely to fall off a cliff while taking a selfie, than winning millions of dollars in a multi-state lottery. But, in the slim, slim chance that one of those tickets was a winner, I couldn’t bear to be the only asshole left working here. So I put in my two bucks, just like every Friday.

Then I looked at the digital clock on my desk and counted how many minutes of suffering between now and trick-or-treating. I knew I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself. We could have a great time tonight. But that didn’t mean I had any kind of future with him — or that I even wanted one. Yeah, he was sexy, smart, responsible, and a good dad by all appearances. But there were other, very important, things I didn’t know about him. And I needed to get some answers before I started embroidering towels with our initials. For all I knew he could be the kind of person who went to the grocery store without a list. Or a guy who sprayed Febreeze on his bedding and considered it clean. Maybe he went to a tanning booth and took selfies in the bathroom mirror. I knew there were many things that could break this deal. But when I thought about that night in the dark, all I wanted him to do was make it.

* * *

10:22 A.M.

I couldn’t stop staring at the sack of Hershey’s Kisses on my desk. There were two kinds of people who had time to wrap Halloween candy in tulle and ribbon for their coworkers: single people and overachievers. I could breathe easy knowing I would never need to worry about the latter. Overachieving would never be a hindrance for me.

But this little sack was troubling me when I thought about the other option. Did I want to be the kind of person, fifteen years from now, who wrapped candy in tulle for a bunch of people who made fun of me behind my back? Was that where I was headed by being the girl with the dead husband who wasn’t ready for dating? I had Lucie for now, and she deserved all of my attention after all she’d been through. But twelve more years and she’d be off to college, and I’d be … what?

* * *

11:16 A.M.

“Shut the fuck up.” Hope called me at work every morning while she drank her coffee on the balcony of her Manhattan apartment. Sometimes she photographed the coffee and the view and texted it to me. This morning’s photo showed her sweater-covered hands cradling the hot mug. Her thumbs stuck out of little holes at the end of the sleeves. Her nails were perfectly polished in olive green, and her calves were up on the bistro table in the background, covered in cozy, knitted knee-high socks. I didn’t send her a text of my view. It definitely wasn’t as cool as hers. Maybe what I really needed in my life was a pair of knitted knee-high socks.

“Seriously. Shut the fuck up,” she repeated.

I didn’t respond. I never knew what to say to that remark.

“What are you gonna wear?” she asked. She had a deep voice for a woman. If she was big and butchy, she’d frighten people. But she was about 110 lbs and blonde, so she was revered for it instead.

See, this was a problem. Not Hope’s voice, but my clothing options. I was planning on wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a hoodie. Now that I sort-of had a date, I wondered if I should wear something sexy. But I wasn’t sure if I had the ability to look sexy, even if I tried. I’d probably end up looking like a desperate mom who was trying too hard to play MILF.

“I don’t know. It’s going to be cold. I was thinking of a hoodie and jeans.”

“No. Not on a date with Ben Ogea.”

“It’s not really a date. I don’t think.”

“I don’t care. You’re not wearing a hoodie. This isn’t a football game.”

“I could go in costume,” I said, hoping that option would make the hoodie look like the lesser of the evils.

“I think skinny jeans, boots, and a sweater will be perfect. And no ponytail, Cora. At least use a flat iron. You don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. But you don’t want to look like you just don’t give a shit either. You need a happy balance.”

A happy balance. Kind of like the gazpacho I was eating for lunch. On a positive note, it was low-cal and made of superfoods. On a less positive note, I’d just spent $8 to basically eat salsa with a spoon.

“And don’t forget to pencil in your eyebrows,” she said.

* * *

12:16 P.M.

I left work before noon so I could be there for Lucie’s Halloween parade. I stood on the sidewalk around the school and tried to pick her out from all the other Elsas. I waved to her when I found her and took clumsy pictures with my phone when she walked by.

Tabitha took pictures of The Fuckers with a Canon Rebel. I didn’t know anything about cameras, but I overheard the FMs talking one morning about who had the best camera, and Tabitha insisted her Canon Rebel was the best on the market. I guess that explained why she was the designated Fucker Photographer of the day. There was no sign of the Fucker Fathers. That didn’t surprise me. They never showed up for anything. I wouldn’t show up if I was married to them either.

Ben was standing next to his ex-wife on the other side of the playground. They both went giddy when Olive walked by. I did my best to avoid looking in their direction. I was now certain this was not going to be a date tonight. There was no way he could want anything to do with me after being married to her. Look at her with her leather jacket and all of her bracelets and belt.

You want to know how many belts I owned? Two. You want to know when I wore those belts? When my pants felt a little loose — and that didn’t happen often enough.

How was it that some women knew exactly how to accessorize, and others, like me, were clueless? Were they born with a natural instinct, or was this something our mothers were supposed to teach us? I wondered if this meant my mom failed me. And did that also mean I would fail Lucie and she would grow up feeling inferior to any girl whose handbag matched her shoes?

I made a mental note to start buying her accessories immediately. Like today.

And that bun in her hair. It was perfectly poofy and nearly the diameter of her head. When I tried to put a bun in my own hair once, it looked like I had an acorn sticking out the back of my head.

“Cora.” I looked up to find Ben and the perfect ex-wife standing in front of me. He knew my name. “Cora,” he said again, “I want you to meet Olive’s mom.”

Oh. Fabulous.

He turned to the could-be-supermodel. “This is Cora, Lucie’s mom. I went to high school with her.”

He remembered. He fucking remembered.

“She’s the one who braided Olive’s hair,” he continued. “We’re going to take the girls trick-or-treating together tonight.”

She gave me a coy smile with a downward head-tilt, the kind of look that was seen in every Victoria’s Secret catalog ever printed— the I-know-I’m-hot look. She reminded me of Tom Brady’s wife, the model, Gisele.

“Cora, this is Olive’s mom, Eliza.”

Eliza. What an exotic name. Ordinarily I would have spent a good ten minutes imagining a future with Ben and wondering how Eliza’s presence would affect our lives together. Birthday parties, holidays, vacations. When is Eliza bringing Olive back? Will Eliza be at dinner? Should we invite Eliza to the party?

But I didn’t have time for that neurotic shit right now because — he knew my name! And he knew we went to school together! He remembered!

When the kids started to head back inside for class, I left quickly. I didn’t need to run into any of those buzzkill bitches.

* * *

5:30 P.M.

Per Hope’s advice, I wore dark skinny jeans and brown cowboy boots with fringe. The boots were a bold move on my part. I’d gone to the mall after the parade to buy Lucie some bracelets at Claire’s, and decided to up my accessories ante as well. Shouldn’t every girl have a pair of cowboy boots? Absolutely. I bought Lucie a pair, too. I also bought myself some cute knee-high socks, which I was sure would act as a life-changing domino — the socks that would take me from girl-with-dead-husband to girl-with-her-shit-together.

Instead of a hoodie or a sweater, I’d picked out a plaid button-up that hung low on my hips. I felt kind of country, but confident in a way I wasn’t used to. See? It was all about the socks.

Ben showed up at the corner wearing a hoodie. Figures.

We set off down the block similar to the way we walked to school together — quietly. I got out my phone to take pics of the girls. I loved the look of surprise Lucie had on her face every time another neighbor dropped a piece of candy in her plastic pumpkin. I loved it that my daughter was still appreciative of others’ generosity, rather than expecting it like it was owed to her.

Ben got out his phone and started scrolling over the screen like he was texting. I felt a wave of disappointment cloud over me. So much for doting daddy. I knew this was a generation of multi-taskers, and that it was hard to put down our phones for anything these days. But we’d only just started trick-or-treating. He could have at least paid attention for a couple of houses.

Ding.

I had a text. I exited the camera screen to check it. Who would be texting me? Everyone in the world knew it was trick-or-treating time.

BEN: You look great in those boots.

You know that feeling you get when you’ve just reached the top of the hill on the roller coaster and you’re about to head down? I was there.

We stood on the sidewalk, dozens and dozens of children and parents rushing past us, but I felt like the two of us were frozen, just standing there while the leaves fell around our feet — like the only two people standing still in a time-lapse video.

I glanced up shyly and caught him looking at me. He bit his lip and gave me a small, hopeful smile.

I smiled back at him above my phone and texted back. It had gotten on my nerves when I thought he was texting someone else while we were trick-or-treating. But if he was texting me — different story. We’d already been to at least five houses. We were good.

ME: Thanks. I wish I had worn a hoodie.

BEN: You can wear mine.

And there I went, down the hill. I only hoped there was another one behind it.

Part Two — Ben

7:08 P.M.

Cora. Still driving me crazy after all these years. I loved how she acted like she didn’t have a clue how beautiful she was. Maybe it wasn’t even an act. Maybe she really had no idea. I kind of loved that idea even more. Not that I wanted someone with low self-esteem. She was just … normal. Down to earth. A little bit of modesty could go a long way.

Even back in high school I had no interest in the girls who flashed their shit around like they should be hanging from a pole. But they were there, and they were willing and eager. I spent so much time back then trying to keep up my GPA, I’d had to take what was right in front of me. I didn’t have the time to work on the quiet girls like Cora.

That night at Hope’s, I couldn’t believe my luck being next to her. She was different than the other girls. She was authentic. She was legit. Her body responded to me in natural ways, not the phony I-wonder-if-there’s-a-hidden-camera-in-his-room, porn-star-wannabe kind of stuff I’d become too familiar with. The way she’d touched me, the way she’d tasted, had given me material that still made my pants feel a little tighter when she was around.

I’d meant to find her at school one day, or ask around for her number. But I just got busy, and the next thing I knew, she was with Will.

I saw her last year a few times. She never looked my way. Sometimes I thought it was on purpose. And every time I thought it was for the best.

I knew Will had died. That kind of baggage scared the shit out of me. Not that I thought I’d ever find a baggage-free single woman at my age. But ex-spouses and baby-daddies were easier to deal with. They weren’t together anymore by choice.

Like Eliza and I. We were friends. We had a mutual respect for one another. And I had love for her. I just wasn’t in love with her. I kind of thought a lot of married couples probably felt the same way. I bet a lot of them stayed together because it was convenient and peaceful, and they felt like it was too late to fall in love for real anyway. I probably would have done the same thing and stayed with Eliza forever, especially after Olive was born. Because that was the easy thing to do. But Eliza was a brave chick. She told me she was tired of taking the easy way all the time. She said we had married too young and too soon, and she wanted to try to make a go of it on her own. She said she would only do it if I was okay with it. I didn’t even put up a fight. I hated having to share Olive, and the first year was hard. But we settled into a nice routine. I missed being part of a couple, but I was glad she’d had the courage to do something for the both of us that I never would have done for myself.

Cora’s story was different. She didn’t choose to be brave. She’d been forced. When I’d found out Will had died, about a year after my divorce, I thought about reaching out to her. But in the end, I let it go. What could I offer her? I had no idea what it was like to lose the love of my life. I didn’t even know what it was like to have a love of my life.

And then we’d walked up on that intersection a few weeks ago. Same place, same time, again and again. What were the chances of walking up on my high school crush a dozen years after graduation? We were both single. We’d both been single for long enough to start dating again. I mean, if destiny was a real thing, it couldn’t have made its wishes any clearer.

But I resisted. A relationship with someone who’d been dealt such a shitty hand wouldn’t be easy. It would take work, time, and a ton of patience. I wasn’t sure I’d have enough. I didn’t know if I’d be enough.

But they said the best things never were easy. I’d gone for easy before, and I’d ended up alone. How many times would I let this girl slip through my hands? It was time for me to step out of my comfort zone, stop screwing around, and take a chance on something. I knew that. But knowing something, and acting on it, were two very different things.

Any day now. That’s what I told myself every Friday. Just ask her out. It wasn’t like I had to marry the girl. I didn’t even know her. She could be one of those people who thought eating fruit on pizza was disgusting. She could prefer cats to dogs. Or worse, she could use there, they’re, and their incorrectly.

Or she could be everything I thought she was all those years ago — smart, kind, funny, loyal.

I needed to find out. If she was a cat lady or used improper grammar, I could just start driving Olive to school, or even send her to a private academy. But I needed to know either way. I couldn’t keep thinking about this girl without acting on it.

It was adorable this morning when she thought I was asking her to babysit. And tonight, the way she shyly glanced up from her phone after reading my texts, made me want to take her home. Tonight. I didn’t know texting someone who was standing right next to me could be so stimulating.

Remember, patience.

After ninety minutes of trick-or-treating and secret texting, we were more than ready to head to the Hurrah. We rode over in Cora’s SUV. You could tell a lot about a person by the interior of their car. It was almost as personal as being in their bedroom. All signs pointed to good. It was clean, smelled like the Yankee Candle apple air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, and there was a pack of Trident gum sitting in the cup holder.

As she drove us over, I hoped we’d run into those Mean Moms at the Hurrah. I knew they gave Cora a hard time. They were like adult versions of the bully in A Christmas Story. Oh, I better find out if Cora is an A Christmas Story person or not. Nobody seemed to have mediocre feelings regarding that movie. They either loved it or hated it. If she didn’t love it, that could seriously impede our chances of a solid relationship.

We pulled up right next to Mean Mom #3, Tabitha, as she and her demon children were getting out of their ostentatious Hummer. I didn’t understand why these chicks thought they lived in Beverly Hills. This was a suburban, middle-class neighborhood, and they acted like it was the damn Hollywood Hills.

Ah, how nice it was that they would be able to see the four of us at the Hurrah together. Being here with Cora was great in and of itself. But having the opportunity to piss off those lunatics was a real nice cherry on top.

Cora grabbed Lucie by the hand, I grabbed Olive by the hand, and we walked towards the door to the gymnasium. Tabitha watched with her mouth hanging open.

* * *

7:48 P.M.

“Oh no,” Cora said, as she shook her head subtly. “We’ll sit this one out.”

“What?” I asked. “Do you have something against apples?”

We’d already been to the pumpkin bowling lane, the eyeball bounce, and the candy corn relay race.

She shrugged and gave me that shy look again — the one that made me nuts. “No, I have something against sharing germs with a bunch of strangers.”

How could I argue with that? To tell you the truth, I didn’t care if she bobbed for an apple. I just wanted her to take off her clothes.

“Eh, you’re right. Let’s move on,” I said, and we headed toward the Pin the Hat on the Witch booth.

“Yoo-hoo.”

I recognized that voice. It was a sound that made me grind my teeth. By the look of annoyance on Cora’s usually-sweet face, I knew she felt the same way.

Shauna.

“Yoo-hoo, you two.” Who said yoo-hoo? Really? “We’re about ready to start the first grade treasure hunt. You guys are going to enter, right?”

A treasure hunt? Why was I just now hearing about this?

My competitive blood started to boil immediately. They thought they were competitive. Ha.

It. Was. On.

* * *

8:00 P.M.

I wish I’d known about this sooner. I would have made us team t-shirts and water bottles.

“Each team will get an envelope,” Mrs. Lewis, one of the first grade teachers explained to all of us. “Inside you will find a list of ten items for you to take pictures of this evening. All pictures must be on the same phone or camera, and each picture must include at least one of your team members. When your team arrives back here with all ten photos, you will receive a map to help you find the treasure chest. Everyone understand?”

We all nodded and Miss Mater, another first grade teacher, started handing out envelopes.

“On the count of one, you may all open your envelopes. Five…”

There were about fifty of us standing in the corner of the gymnasium and we all started shouting the numbers out loud.

“Four, three, two, one!”

“Good luck!” the teachers yelled as the teams tore into our envelopes like animals.

I was glad to see that Cora and Lucie had the same competitive fervor as Olive and me.

I read the list quietly to our team and everyone started shouting out at once.

“The library!”

“The playground!”

“The science lab!”

I put my hand up to silence them. “Wait. We need a plan. We need organization.”

While the other teams scrambled off in chaos, I sat the four of us down at one of the lunch tables and mapped out a plan. We needed to hit many areas of the school, but we were going to do them in geographical order, instead of going back and forth six times. I went to this elementary school. I knew my way around.

“All right, team,” I said, when I was done mapping out our hunt, “we can get some of these done in this room. Like a photo with a skeleton.”

“The science lab upstairs,” Lucie said.

I shook my head and pointed to a skeleton decoration taped to the wall in the gym. “Nope. Right there. Cora, you’ll take the pictures.”

We ran over to the skeleton and took a picture of Lucie standing next to it. We got Olive with a jack-o-lantern near the bowling area, and a picture of both girls wearing witch hats from the pin-the-hat game. I didn’t see any of the other teams in the gym. I had a feeling they were making this harder than it needed to be.

“A book about ghosts,” Cora read over my shoulder. “We need to go to the library.”

The four of us exited the gymnasium doors. I expected to find the other teams scrambling around and tripping over each other out there. There was nothing, no one. We walked from a crowded gym and into a dark and quiet school. Maybe it was the fact that it was Halloween, but it gave me the creeps. I had an eerie feeling as we climbed the marble staircase to get to the library. Where was everyone? There were nine or ten teams in this scavenger hunt. Where were they? And why hadn’t anyone bothered to turn on a light?

We opened the wooden door to the library. It was dark in there, too. The school had moved on from the card catalog system since I’d been there. The monitors of the computer systems glowed in the room. We headed toward them. Cora used the light from her phone to see the keyboard. She typed the word ghosts into the search bar with her free hand.

I was drawn to the way her face was lit by the light of the screen, and I studied her profile. Her little nose, her lips. Then I saw a figure move out of the corner of my eye. We weren’t the only ones in this room.

My skin filled with goose bumps instantly. I knew it was ridiculous for a grown man to be creeped out, but I sort of was. If someone else was here, why were they so quiet? Wouldn’t they be looking for ghost books, too? I shrugged it off and tried to concentrate on Cora’s lips again. I’d seen too many episodes of 48 Hours Mystery. I should start watching more sports.

“Got it,” Cora said quietly. She looked up at me with innocent, non-freaking-out eyes. She hadn’t seen the shadows moving in the stacks. The girls hadn’t either. “This way,” she said, and nodded towards the back of the library.

I held up my phone to use as a flashlight as Cora led us to the aisle of ghost stories. Just then I saw a figure dart from one aisle to another. I turned around quickly to catch the person, but I wasn’t quick enough.

“What’s wrong?” Cora asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

She led us down the aisle and swept her fingers across the spines of the books on the eye-level shelf. She found the one she wanted, pulled it off the shelf, and handed it to me. I put it next to my face and gave her a huge, goofy grin as she snapped a pic.

“Oh shoot,” she said, looking down at the phone. “It’s too dark. I need to turn on the flash.”

She pressed a few buttons on the touch-screen and then held it up to try again.

I held the book next to my head and she took another picture, this time with the flash.

Then she gasped.

“What is it?” I asked, even though I kind of knew.

She silently handed me the phone and I looked at the picture on the screen. There was something, or someone, standing behind me in the photo. The figure had a pumpkin on its head. I turned and looked behind me, but the person was gone.

She shook her head in what looked like annoyance. I could tell she didn’t want to show any fear and scare the girls. She was clearly braver than I was. She probably killed spiders in her house all by herself.

She placed the ghost story back on the shelf. “Where to next?”

“The art room,” I answered. We needed a picture of one of us with an easel showing a pumpkin drawn on it. “Let’s go.”

The art room was empty and dim just like everything else around. There was one light pointing at the art easel in the middle of the room. The easel held a large pad of paper, but the pages were blank.

“I guess we need to draw our own,” I said, looking around for crayons or markers. There were none in sight. The last team had probably hidden them. Ha. Good idea.

Cora dug around in her purse just as I saw a fifth shadow appear on the floor in front of us. Someone was standing behind us! I whipped my head around quickly. There was no one there.

I tried to shake it off as Cora pulled a pen out of her purse. She drew a pumpkin in about ten seconds. She was so self-sufficient.

“Nice!” I commented. I held up my hand for a high-five. She slapped it with zest.

I loved being part of a team. It was that kind of adrenaline that had led me to a career in live TV. Having her there with me, on my team, was such a turn on. I didn’t care about a treasure chest that was probably filled with cheap candy like Smarties and Dum Dums. But I loved it that we had a common goal and a common enemy. The four of us, I had a feeling we could go places. I mean, metaphorically. We could be something.

“A picture of a team member on stage,” she read off the sheet. “The auditorium.”

We jogged down the dark halls toward the auditorium. It was on the opposite end of the school from the gym where we’d started. We were making our way down the hall when I heard a loud bang, like someone was banging on the door of one of the classrooms.

“What is that?” Lucie asked.

“Nothing. Just keep moving,” Cora told her.

A few doors down we heard another bang. Someone was inside the classrooms banging on the doors. Wow. Someone had really gone above and beyond to make this scavenger hunt scary. I wished haunted houses and hayrides put in this much effort.

We walked into the doors of the auditorium and walked past the rows of seats to get to the stage. I lifted Olive up, set her on the stage, and Cora snapped a picture.

We all turned around at once to go. The girls screamed.

There was a person sitting in one of the seats of the auditorium. He or she was wearing black clothes and the Ghostface mask from the movie Scream. The person didn’t move. I would have thought it was a prop if not for the fact that it was not there a minute ago when we came in.

“Just run,” I mumbled to the girls, taking their hands. These people were starting to piss me off. We had six-year-olds with us. They could be seriously scarred by these pranks.

We held hands and ran up the aisle, past Ghostface, and out the doors.

“To the playground,” I ordered as we ran down the hall.

I was sure someone was just trying to trip us up. It wasn’t like there was a serial killer in the auditorium. But that didn’t mean I wanted to sit around and chit chat with the weirdo either. We had a treasure chest to win.

The playground was also pretty dark and empty. I was starting to wonder if we had been given a different list than everyone else. Or maybe every team had a different list.

We took pictures of the girls on the swing set and slide. When we turned to head back toward to school, Pumpkinhead, Ghostface, and a girl with long blonde hair who had on a mask from the movie, The Strangers, were all standing in front of the school. They each stood still with their hands clasped in front of them.

The girls screamed again.

“It’s just a joke,” I said to them quietly as we walked past them. “We have one more picture to get, and then we can go home.”

The last thing on the list was a picture of a team member with a scarecrow.

“There was a scarecrow outside the front door where we first walked in,” Cora whispered.

“Good thing my girls are all so observant,” I said, without thinking first.

She raised her eyebrows.

I could have taken it back. But the truth was I didn’t want to. I liked this foursome we had. I liked thinking of them, both of them, as my girls.

I smiled and hoped she got all that.

We ran around to the front of the school to find the scarecrow dressed in overalls and tied around a pillar. With a quick snap, we got our picture. Then we ran back into the gym.

“Are we going to win this, Daddy?” Olive asked as we ran.

I knew my train of thinking would probably have my man card suspended indefinitely, but I didn’t care if we won this game or not. I already felt like a winner. The most beautiful girls in this place were all on my team. I couldn’t lose.

“We might,” I told her.

We were not the first team to arrive back. We received our treasure map just moments after Vanessa’s team. At this point it was anyone’s game.

We unfolded the map the principal handed to us, and our four heads leaned in to look at it together. The hand-drawn, photocopied map showed the school’s layout. The X was near the front of the school, but it didn’t say which floor. It was either in the welcome office, or upstairs in the auditorium. When I saw Vanessa’s team running towards the office, we had no choice but to face the auditorium again to see if our treasure was there. Nobody argued with me as we ran up the staircase. We wanted to win this thing.

The plastic treasure chest was on the stage — right behind the three tormenters of ours who stood guarding it. Instead of hands clasped, they had arms crossed. It was pretty intimidating. Until one of them started laughing. It was an evil feminine laugh. I recognized it as a sound I heard nearly every time I dropped Olive off at school in the morning. The Mean Moms.

They all three started laughing and removed their masks to reveal their constipated faces. It was Shauna, Tabitha, and Melissa. I felt like I was in a real-life episode of Scooby Doo.

“It’s not as scary if you laugh,” I told them.

“I bet you guys were nearly shitting your pants,” Shauna said, her arms crossed against her chest again.

“Potty mouth!” Olive accused, pointing her finger at them.

There was about to be a standoff. I held up my arms in resignation.

“Thanks for the theatrics, ladies,” I told them. “You really added a nice haunting element to our scavenger hunt.”

“No. Thank you,” Shauna said. “Your pity-date gave us more entertainment than all of the games downstairs. It was so kind of you to take her out tonight.”

“The only people I pity around here are the three of you,” I said.

I heard the pounding of footsteps making their way up the stairs, and I knew we needed to get to the prize before Vanessa’s team arrived. It might turn into a bouquet-toss kind of brawl otherwise.

“I mean the four of you,” I said, gesturing behind me. “Now get out of our way.”

“It’s just a bunch of dollar store candy,” Melissa said with a roll of her eyes. “Have at it.”

I took a girl’s hand in each of mine and we approached the stage.

The Mean Moms scowled in the most exaggerated ways as they scooted over to let us by. I hoped their faces would get stuck that way. Or maybe they already were.

“Does this mean we won?” Lucie asked.

I shrugged. “I guess so,” I said. “Go on,” I told the girls. “Open it up.”

They opened it to find, as I expected, a bunch of candy. They also pulled out some things I wasn’t expecting: a restaurant gift card and a movie theatre gift card. When Olive handed me the cards, I stuck them in my back pocket.

“Should we take this to the car?” I asked.

“Yes!” the girls answered.

I carried the treasure chest as the four of us held our heads high and marched our way past the snotty faces of the Mean Moms. Their cat-eyes turned into angry slits.

“Boots with fringe? That’s funny. Didn’t fringe go out of style like two decades ago?”

“Those poor girls. Someone should seriously introduce them to Etsy before they are forced to wear store-bought costumes another year.”

“Nah. I just donated a bunch of my shoes to the Salvation Army last week. I think that’s enough charity for this year.”

“Oh, snap.”

Speaking of things that were out of style, I was pretty sure no one said, “Oh snap,” anymore.

I looked at Cora to see if she’d heard them. I knew by the expression on her face that she had. I would have taken her hand then, or touched her in some way to comfort her, but both hands were carrying the treasure chest. I did the next best thing and hip-checked her.

* * *

9:06 P.M.

The girls insisted that the treasure chest be strapped into the back seat of the SUV with a seatbelt. Once it was secure, I looked at my watch. It was after nine, late for six-year-olds. We should probably call it a night. But I didn’t want to be away from Cora yet. And wasn’t it okay for kids to stay up a little later on special occasions?

I didn’t want to mention it in front of the kids in case she said no. I pulled out my phone and texted her.

BEN: Pizza?

She checked the phone and nodded. “Sounds great. I’m starving. We forgot to stop by the snack booths inside.”

“Let’s pick up a pizza and then head to my house to eat and divide up our treasure.”

“YAY!” Lucie yelled.

“PIZZA!” I heard from Olive.

“All right girls,” Cora said, “get in and buckle up if you want pizza.”

When I sat down in the passenger seat, I scrolled through the numbers in my phone to find my favorite pizzeria. Yes, I had it saved in my phone. I was a single dad who only knew how to cook about three meals. I had more restaurants than people in my phone’s contacts.

I leaned my head back on the headrest and turned to face Cora. “I have to ask you an important question.”

“Yes?”

“Do you like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Of course.”

“Does Lucie?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

* * *

9:45 P.M.

The four of us sat at my dining room table to eat and sort the candy. The pizza disappeared quickly. We’d all been so hungry after our treasure hunt.

We divided all of the candy into two even piles. When we had an odd number, we compromised with no arguing. We took an extra KitKat, but they got an extra Almond Joy. Everyone was happy and full, and probably pretty candied out since we’d been eating some as we sorted.

When the candy was in order, Olive asked Lucie if she wanted to watch Frozen. Of course she did. The two girls went into the living room. My guess was they’d both be asleep in less than ten minutes.

We were alone. Sort of. But Cora couldn’t seem to look at me. She’d been acting really shy since we’d gotten to my house.

“So,” I asked cautiously, “is there a reason you‘re having a hard time looking at me?”

She looked alarmed at first. Then she just laughed. “No reason,” she answered with a slight smirk.

“You sure?”

She shrugged. “It’s possible that I had a dream about your dining room table once.”

Okay. I wasn’t expecting something that good. But I wasn’t going to complain about it. “Did you want to tell me more about this dream?”

She shook her head and pursed her lips together tightly, probably to keep them from blurting anything out. It was probably for the best. If she said anything naughty I was going to want to bend her over the table. Who was I kidding? I already wanted to. Oh shit. Change of subject needed immediately if I ever wanted to be able to stand up from this table.

“Maybe some other time?” I asked, hopefully.

She nodded firmly. “Yes. Definitely.”

I pulled the two gift cards from my back pocket and held them up. “What about these?” I asked.

“What are they?” Cora asked. “I didn’t get to see them at the school.”

“A restaurant gift card and a movie gift card.”

I was hoping she’d say we should use them together. She didn’t.

“We could each take one,” I suggested. “We could even draw them out of a hat to make it fair.”

She shrugged. “Sure. Whatever you want. We will be fine with either one.”

“What I want… is for us to use them … together.”

She smiled. “We could do that.”

“When?” I asked eagerly. “We could go tomorrow night before I take Olive to her mom’s. Or we could wait until Thursday when she comes back over.”

“Tomorrow is perfect.”

“Good. I really didn’t want to wait until Thursday to see you guys again.”

I heard music coming from the TV in the living room. “For the First Time in Forever.” I could relate.

The kids were asleep. I could hear Olive snoring. Cora got up from the table and took our glasses to the sink to rinse out the Sprite we drank with our pizza. I got up, too, and took the paper plates and napkins to the trash. I set the empty pizza box on the counter and leaned against the stove.

I didn’t want her to go yet.

“Hey, Cora,” I said timidly.

She turned around from the sink. It reminded me of that night, when I came upstairs to find her in the kitchen.

“If you want to stay and hang out for a little while,” I said, “I’ve got some cherry Kool-Aid in the fridge.”

She narrowed her eyes at me for a moment. First I thought she might be pissed, then I realized she was just trying to figure me out.

“You remember,” she said quietly.

I stepped closer to her. I stopped when I our chests were just an inch or two from touching. “Remember?” I repeated. “How could I forget?”

She tried to back away before she remembered her back was already against the counter. “I need to ask you something, Ben.”

That didn’t sound good. It sounded like the beginning of a very serious talk, one that I didn’t think was necessary this early into the game. But it was the first time I’d heard her say my name, and it gave me a chill in the best way. I was curious to hear this question. “What’s that?”

With her hands on the counter behind her, her guard was down, and her body was completely open to me. She didn’t look down the way she had that night long ago, but looked right into my eyes instead. “When you go to the grocery store, do you take a list?”

I smiled, surprised at how flippant the question was after all. “Are there people who don’t?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I laughed at her serious face. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

She nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

I slid my hand under her hair and wrapped it behind her neck. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” I said, “I’m going to kiss you.”

Cora

Halloween 2019

Feed the kids a healthy breakfast — Check.

Get Jamin in his Yoda costume without a tantrum — Check.

Look over Lucie’s costume to make sure she isn’t showing too much skin or looking too risqué — Check. P.S. She’s only eleven! Why is this even an issue already? I’m really not ready for this…

Drop Jamin off at preschool — Check.

Get Lucie to school on time — Check.

Get dressed — Check.

Put the turkey chili ingredients into the crock pot — Check.

Make the caramel-dipped green grapes — Check.

Make the seven-layer spider web dip — Check.

Get the spiced cider in the fridge — Check.

Get Jamin from preschool — Check.

Get to the school in time for the Halloween parade — Check.

Get a really nice picture of all three of our kids together — Check.

Go home and get Jamin down for a nap without a tantrum — Check.

Wrap Ben’s anniversary gift — Check.

Get girls from school — Check.

Remind Olive to text her mom to confirm I’ve picked her up — Check.

Feed kids a healthy after-school snack — Check. It really was healthy that time.

Whoa. This wasn’t on my list, I thought, as I was pulled into our bedroom by my husband an hour before he was supposed to be home from work.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He shrugged and gave me a sneaky grin. “I got off early. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished.”

He unzipped his coat, took it off, and threw it onto the hardwood floor. His t-shirt said, “This is the strangest life I’ve ever known.” He smirked.

“You do not still have that t-shirt.”

“No. I ordered it online. I thought we could recreate a moment.”

“Hmm,” I said, playing along, “I’m pretty sure that moment took place in the dark, and not at four in the afternoon.”

He pushed my t-shirt up, pulled the cup of my bra down, and slid his tongue over my nipple — just like he had that night.

I yelped in surprise. I guess he wasn’t going to waste any time.

He unbuttoned my pants next, slid his hand in my underwear, and leaned in to me so he could whisper in my ear, “This moment will be taking place in the dark. I just wanted to give you something to look forward to.”

He removed his hand, licked his finger, and smirked at me again.

“What? You can’t do that,” I said.

“I can,” he said, smiling. “I did. Happy Anniversary, baby.”

He tried to leave the room, but I grabbed his hand, pushed his body up against our bed, and dropped to my knees.

Give my husband a tiny bit of something that will have him wanting more for the rest of the night — Check. Paybacks are a bitch, Ben.

Put the leaf in the table and set seven settings for our post-trick-or-treat dinner — Check.

I heard the doorbell. They were here. Everything was ready. The kids were in their costumes. Dinner, including drinks and hors d'oeuvres, was prepared. My day off of work was well utilized.

I opened the door to greet our guests — Eliza and her boyfriend, Dan.

I took the apple pie from her hands. The bottom was still warm. I licked my lips. Some might say, and there have been jokes about it in the past, that the reason we invited Eliza over for dinner on holidays and special occasions, was because of her apple pie. I won’t confirm or deny that.

“Happy Anniversary,” Eliza said to me with a sly grin, like she knew there was something else I was waiting for tonight besides her pie. Oh gosh, that didn’t come out right at all.

“Thanks,” I said, as I handed the warm pie to Ben. “Happy Halloween!”

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m a full-time waitress, Chapstick-addict, make-up junkie, and Justin Timberlake fan for life. I’ve been a book nerd since I was a child, and grew up with The Baby-Sitter’s Club and The Sweet Valley Twins. I'm a sucker for the boy-next-door type, and still believe in happy endings. Writing (about the boy-next-door and happy endings) is what I do when I'm avoiding other things… like cleaning.

I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Media Arts, and once had big dreams of being a Hollywood screenwriter. But then I met a boy and got distracted. A few years later, we met another boy, this one even cuter. The three of us are now living (happily ever after!) in the Detroit area. And our house is kind of a mess.

CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR

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Email me at: booksbyjodiebeau@gmail.com

OTHER WORKS BY THE AUTHOR

Cora and Ben are new characters and do not appear in any of my previous books. But if you liked their story (and I hope you did), check out the two books in my romantic comedy series:

The Good Life

A second-chance romance.

“"I highly recommend this book. I laughed, cried, sighed, gasped, smiled REALLY BIG and truly loved it." — Melissa Brown, author of Wife Number 7

All Good Things

A summer romance.

"If Dawson's Creek and Felicity had a wild night with American Pie while watching John Hughes movies." — Ashley Pullo, author of The Album

Spandex is for Superheroes

by Ruth Clampett

Beware the horror of your Halloween costume not fitting!

Copyright © Ruth Clampett 2014, All rights reserved.

eBook edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Edited by Angela Borda

Cover Design: Jada d’Lee

Chapter One

“So Brooke, I have an idea,” Nathan says as he pulls a coffee mug out of the cupboard.

One thing I adore about my boyfriend is that he’s an animator and comic artist with a wild imagination so he always has interesting ideas. I figure this one really must be a doozy if he’s avoiding looking me in the eye.

“Uh oh, an idea?” I tease. “Is this one I need to gird my loins for?”

“Nah. No girding required. It’s an awesome idea…I bet you’re going to love it!”

Still no eye contact…I’m not hedging my bets. “Okay. Hit me with it.”

He finally turns toward me and grins. “I thought we could throw a Halloween party this year!” His voice is unnaturally high and his cheeks color as he waits for my reaction. When I don’t respond he pushes his glasses further up his nose and clears his throat. “Nothing extravagant…just a few of our friends.”

Nothing extravagant? Who’s he kidding? Nathan never does things half way. I know a big party would be a major undertaking and I can’t imagine how we’d fit it into our insane schedule.

“What are you thinking? What about your deadlines? You’re working seven days a week right now as it is.”

He plops down on the chair across from me and bobs his head. “I know, but I have an idea. I’m going to job out the inking and coloring for the B-Girl issue due first week in November.”

Whoa…he must really want to do this party if he’s finally agreeing to job out his precious comic book work. I immediately recognize the potential this provides for future weekend getaways. “…and you know I hate Halloween, handsome.”

“But I thought you liked the decorations and giving out candy to the kids.”

“I do but I always pay a price for the fun. You know my history with those huge Costco bags of mini candy bars when I hand out the treats: one for little Cinderella, one for me, one each for the two pirates, two for me.”

Apparently I have a problem.

He nods. “See that’s another good reason why we should have a party. We’ll be too busy to hand out candy. I’ll pay the neighbor kid to do it for us. He’s too old to trick or treat.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” My smile gives him a false sense of encouragement and he pulls a sketchbook out of the drawer.

“I have! Let me show you.” He flips several pages in and points to an elaborate drawing. “We can convert the garage into the Batcave.”

I lift the drawing up to examine it more closely. It’s got every detail I’d expect from Nathan including a glass case holding a full Batman costume to a simulated mission control desk, and Batphone. “And why a Batcave?”

His eyes grow wide with an expression you’d expect from a six year old. “Because it’d be so cool.”

“Indeed.” Overcome with curiosity I turn the page of the book and the next illustration has the Metropolis tower complete with a globe, rising out of the center of our roof. “Good lord. How are you going to do that?”

“I’ve already talked to Nick’s cousin about it. He does carpentry stuff and can build anything.”

Wow. He’s not joking around. I point to a drawing of what I assume was once our guest bathroom. There are spider webs everywhere. “Is this Spiderman’s bathroom?”

He nods, tapping his fingers on the tabletop as he watches me study the pages.

“I’m seeing a theme here.”

“Yeah. It’s a Superhero party!” His tapping speeds up until he finally stops and grips the edge of the table.

My stomach falls. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Everyone has to come dressed as a Superhero!” He says it like it’s the most epic idea ever.

“Even me?” I ask with an arched brow. “Is this some elaborate theme to get me back in that Wonder Woman outfit?”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches, giving him that incredibly irresistible sexy look. He gazes longingly at me like he wishes I was wearing that outfit right now. It’s been a while since I’ve worn it and the last time I had it on it didn’t stay on long. We were making Superhero love in record time. I smile at the memory but then snap back to reality. With all the stress eating lately I’m doubtful I’d even fit into that tiny costume now.

I fold my arms across my chest and shake my head. “I think I’ve developed an allergy to spandex.”

I know my man when he gets his mind set on something so I’m not surprised that he immediately disputes my claim. “No you haven’t! You practically live in those yoga pants and I know they have spandex in them.” He grins with a lascivious look. “That’s why they fit so perfectly.”

Busted. I try another tact. “You really want all your animation-comic friends to see me in that outfit? Do you remember how low cut that bustier is?”

He purses his lips together and scratches his head. “Good point.”

“I don’t really think I can take a whole evening of Andy ogling me.”

Nathan’s eyes light up. “But he has a big crush on another girl now. So she’ll be dressed up too for him to ogle! Everyone will be dressed up.”

I frown. That gives me zero comfort. Just imagining all the lumpy body shapes without the camouflaging comfort of clothes makes me want to reinstate my gym membership and share it with the others.

“Please, Brooke, please….will you do it for me?”

He asks me for so little and gives me so much. How can I not do this one thing that means so much to him? Certainly one of my friends can give me a Xanax or something to get me through the party.

“Okay,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear. But then I wink at him to seal the deal.

He leaps out of his chair and rushes over, pulling me out of my seat. Next thing I know he’s holding me tightly as his hands wander the last places I would expect them to be early on a workday morning. I lean into him enjoying every touch.

“As for that revealing costume…I have to warn you, I’m a little curvier these days.” I slide his hand over my hip and then up to cup my breast, hoping he thinks the idea of that isn’t all bad.

“Are you kidding me? You know how much I love your curves. You’re going to be the sexiest Wonder Woman ever,” he says with a happy sigh. There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes me love him even more.

I lean my cheek against his chest and listen to his heart pound. I love that after all this time I can still get him worked up so easily.

When his hand slides down to my ass and he squeezes it lovingly, I cringe that he has so much to grab onto.

There’s no way around it… Zumba class, here I come.

* * *

Several weeks later I’m returning from my Saturday afternoon errands and grocery run when I notice a collection of neighbors in front of our house. I stop my car and lean my head out the window hoping to see what several of them are pointing at. When my gaze settles on the addition to our roofline I let out a long sigh. Metropolis. I forgot it was being installed today.

I park the car and get out, planning how I’m going to do damage control. Is there some kind of big-brother community policy against adding weird stuff to our house that we didn’t know about? It’s not like we painted the house hot pink or something. I stop and study the addition more thoughtfully. It’s handsome, rather art deco and design-y. Maybe we’ll just leave it up after the party. That’ll show ‘em.

Mr. UCLA guy with his poodle on a leash is scowling. This from the man who hangs school banners all over his house when there’s a big game. I pull back my shoulders and prepare for battle.

When I step up to the group, our next door neighbor Brian grins. “Is someone visiting from Planet Krypton?”

“How’d you guess?” I tease back.

“Planet what?” asks Mrs. Rogerson, the sweet old lady from across the street who now looks a little alarmed.

I give her a warm smile. “He’s joking, Mrs. Rogerson. It’s a reference to Superman.”

“Dearie, is that why there’s a doll hanging off of it?” she asks.

I cup my hand over my brow to shield the sun and look up at the structure. “What doll?”

She hands me her binoculars and points to the right. “The one dangling off the thing in the back.”

I take the binoculars and hold them up, wondering the entire time what else Mrs. Rogerson watches through these things. I have to scan and focus before I see what she’s referring to. A Superman doll the size of a Ken doll is extended from a wire off the main structure. Wow. Nathan isn’t holding back with the decorations…not even a little bit.

“That’s Superman. He’s flying around Metropolis,” I say as I hand the binoculars back.

“I told you!” Brian says, smirking at Mr. UCLA.

“Cool,” says Derek, our teenage neighbor who’s going to pass out the candy at our house Halloween night if he can part from his video games long enough.

I turn to the group. “This is part of our Halloween decorations. We’re having a Superhero party and you’re all invited.” I assume none of them will come but a little goodwill goes a long way.

“How cute,” Mrs. Rogerson says.

“I hope you don’t mind that Nathan got the decorations up a little early.”

“Not at all,” says Brian.

Mr. UCLA walks away with a resigned mutter.

The crowd breaks up. I let out a sigh. Crisis averted. Now let me go find my man.

“Nathan,” I call out after setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counters.

I hear his muffled voice from the garage. “In here.”

I find him sponging paint on crumpled oversized pieces of paper.

“Do I dare ask what you’re doing?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose carefully so he doesn’t get paint on his face. “I’m creating the stone texture so the cave looks more realistic.”

I give him a puzzled look. “The cave? Oh, you mean the Batcave?”

He gives me a bewildered look back.

“Of course the Batcave, Brooke. What other cave would it be?”

“Sorry. I guess I was distracted by the pow-wow of neighbors I found in front of our house when I got home.”

“What were they doing?”

“Looking at the addition to our house.”

He grins widely. “Did they love it?”

My heart melts for the young boy in my grown man who assumes everyone would love having Metropolis on top of their house.

“They were very impressed.”

“I bet! Just wait until they see the Batcave!”

A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Hey you know that package that arrived from that expensive collector doll company? What character was that you bought?”

He turns back and starts sponging the section of construction paper in front of him and mumbles something under his breath.

I put my hands on my hips. “What was that?”

“Superman,” he says quietly.

“And is that Superman now dangling off our roof?”

He huffs and looks up at me with a determined expression. “He’s not dangling! He’s flying!”

I roll my eyes. “How silly of me. Of course he’s flying. We have a two-hundred dollar collectible Superman flying around our roof. Why couldn’t you have used a twenty dollar one? Remember the Superman dolls we saw at Target not long ago?”

He gives me a horrified look like I slapped him in the face. “Are you serious? Brooke, that was the Henry Cavill Superman in that bogus grey blue uniform. I could never have him with our perfectly adapted Metropolis! It had to be an authentic Silver Age Superman and that was the best one I could find.”

“Oh geez, Nathan.”

“What?”

“I guess this is what I get for falling in love with a purist.”

He steps up to me and takes my hand. “But sweetheart, would you really want it any other way?”

I smile at him. “No. I guess not.”

“Okay then. Now that we’ve got that settled let me show you the best part.” He grabs a remote control off the garage counter and pulls me outside to the street just past our yard.

He’s clutching the remote tightly as he waits for me to look up. “Ready?”

“I sure am.”

“It’s going to be hard to tell the effect during the day but I assure you it will be amazing at night. Here we go!” He clicks a button and I notice that the world globe on top of the structure has taken on a glow and slowly turns. Meanwhile the wire holding Superman starts to move the opposite direction. “Look Brooke!”

I gasp and turn toward Nathan. “He’s flying! I seriously can’t believe you!”

“How clever I am?” he asks with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, how clever and how awesomely amazing!”

He pulls me into his arms and we watch Superman circle Metropolis a number of times before finally shutting him off. “I better get back to my painting.”

As we walk back into the house I ask about lunch. “What kind of sandwich would you like?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you’re having. By the way, how are the food and drink plans coming for the party?”

“Did you know that Billie used to be a bartender? She’s agreed to come up with the themed drinks for us. And I had another cute idea for food.”

“Better than the Catwoman catnip salad? Or the Clark Kent Oreo cookies where you take the top cookie off and the frosting inside has the Superman shield?”

“Well, I was thinking of pizza ideas, and you know that Batman villain Two-Face?”

“Sure.”

“We’re going to have Two-Face pizzas…one half of the pizza is perfectly smooth with cheese and the other is a mess of ingredients.”

“Just like Two-Face! Brilliant!” Nathan beams.

“I’m working on dip ideas next.”

He nods and lets out a satisfied sigh. “This is going to be the best Halloween party ever.”

Chapter Two

It seems like there are endless details for this party, and not all of them are fun ones. Nathan arches his brow when I dump a collection of shopping bags on the couch. “What’s all that?”

“It’s part of my costume for the party. The most important part really.”

He tips his head to the side. “But you already have the costume.”

I scowl and plop down on the sofa next to the bags.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well you know all those Zumba classes I missed because of all my production and merchandising meetings? And failed diet attempts the last few weeks?” I look down at the floor and shake my head.

“But Brooke, you’ve been so busy…”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “I know! But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t fit into my costume.”

His expression falls and he rubs his chin with his hand. “Oh I see. So is it another costume in those bags?”

“No. It’s reinforcement. It’s the latest state-of-the-art undergarments designed to tighten up everything so I look sleek as a seal.”

Nathan’s face scrunches up. “That sounds uncomfortable.”

I nod. “You have no idea.”

“I’ve always wondered, when everything gets tightened up…exactly where does it go?”

Leave it to my creative boyfriend to wonder such things. “I don’t know handsome, it goes inward I guess.”

“That can’t be. I mean what about your internal organs. It has to go somewhere else.”

I reach into the bag and pull out the package and point to the illustration on the front. “See with this one it sucks in everything below my waist and my thighs.”

“But what if when you put it on the stuff squeezes out and gives you massive calves?”

Is he serious? I give him a bug-eyed look. “Well then I can go to the party dressed as the Hulk. Or I can resort to the most extreme.”

His wide eyes actually look full of fear. “And that would be?”

I fish around in the bag and pull out the largest package. “The full body suit.”

“Head to toe?” he asks with a gasp.

“Yes. Even my toes will look thinner.”

“Surely this isn’t necessary,” he insists as he steps away from the package. “Are you sure your costume doesn’t fit?”

“Abundantly. But at least I’ll look presentable for your party…our party.” I quickly correct myself.

He reaches out for me with an empathetic look. “Oh baby, don’t do this to yourself. We’ll figure something else out.”

I’m so disappointed in myself and I throw my hands over my eyes and start to cry. He pushes the packages on the floor and sits down and pulls me into his arms.

“Don’t cry, Brooke. Please don’t cry.”

I sniffle into his shoulder.

“If it makes you feel any better I’m having costume issues too.”

I lift my head up and face him. “You are? You don’t like your Superman costume? It was the nicest one I could find.”

He shakes his head. “No it’s not that.”

I watch the blush move across his cheeks. “It’s just too…revealing.”

I blush too knowing how well-endowed Nathan is. “Oh…that.”

He nods somberly. “I’m pretty sure I’d never hear the end of it from the guys.”

“But doesn’t that make you look even more like a Superhero?” I grin widely.

He kisses the top of my head and sighs. “To you it does.”

I pull away from him and gently nudge him forward. “I want to see. Can you try it on for me?”

“Oh God. Now?” he asks with a horrified look.

“Yes, I insist.”

He lifts off the couch slowly like he’s still trying to figure out how to get out of it. I push him on the ass. “Go on now. I’m waiting.”

I’ve scrolled through my entire Facebook feed before I realize how long this is taking. “Nathan?” I call out.

“Coming.” His voice is very tentative.

When he steps into the living room I frown. “No fair!”

He shrugs. “It’s authentic.” He looks down and unbuttons his white dress shirt one more notch and pulls it open further to expose the Superman S shield on his chest.

I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re not wearing a Clark Kent suit over your uniform, Nathan!”

He gives me a guilty look. “I know — it’s cheating.”

“Is that fair to your guests? If Andy is brave enough to wear spandex tights among his peers you have to be brave too.”

“But I’m pretty sure Andy doesn’t have a package like I do.”

“I’d rather not think about that.” I wave him over. “Here, I want to see.”

With resignation he steps forward and holds his arms up, letting out a sigh. “If you must.”

I start by pushing the jacket off his shoulders and pulling it off. The shirt comes next. But when I trace my fingers along his waistband and start to unzip the fly, I look up at him and see fire in his eyes. I slowly pull his slacks down.

“Oh my,” I whisper before biting my lip. I look up at him with desire in my eyes too.

“The way you’re looking at me is only going to make this worse,” he says gesturing at a situation that is going to test the very spandex stretch limits of his costume.

I look up at him with a guilty smile. “Sorry about that.”

He looks over at my purchases. “Hey, what if I wore one of those things under my costume. Do you have one that’s just the panty area?”

My mouth gapes open. “I do — I got every kind, but won’t that hurt to have your manly parts pushed inward?”

He shrugs. “If you’re willing to suffer for our party I will too. I’m the one that got us into this mess.”

I search through the package and then pull out what he’s looking for. “Okay…here you go. I can’t wait to see this.”

He looks pale and a little scared when he takes the package, but still turns and heads toward the bedroom.

Several minutes pass and there’s no sign of him. Maybe he needs my help. I knock softly on the bedroom door. “You okay in there?”

“I don’t know. This is disturbing.” His voice sounds tight.

“Can I see? I promise to be good.”

“No laughing?”

“I promise.” When he doesn’t respond I slowly push the door open. He’s standing in the corner on the far side of the room.

He slowly lifts his arms up. “I don’t know about this, Brooke.”

“You’re too far away — I can’t see. Come here, handsome.”

I have to press my mouth shut tight as he walks toward me. He’s moving like he has a stick up his ass. I’ve never seen him move so awkwardly.

When he gets close I can’t help clapping my hand over my mouth and gasping. My free hand gestures to his crotch.

“What?” he asks with an alarmed expression.

“Where did it go? How tight was that girdle?”

He brushes the sheen of sweat off his forehead. “It’s not just that. I did that tucking thing that I heard drag queens do. That’s not easy to do. Nathan junior is wedged between my legs and let me tell you, he isn’t happy about it.”

“I bet.” I can’t take my eyes away from the miracle of spandex and tucking.

“What?”

I hold back a giggle. “You look like a eunuch.”

“Gee, thanks. But do you think this will work?”

I shake my head fiercely. “No way. It’s false advertising of the most unflattering kind. Besides you wouldn’t make it through an hour, let alone a whole night.” I sit down on the edge of the bed and reach out to him. “Come here. Let’s set the beast free.”

He waddles over to me and takes a deep breath as I push the blue fabric over his broad shoulders and start peeling downward.

He looks at me with gratitude brimming in his big green eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

When the Superman costume is pushed down past his thighs I run my fingertips over the flesh colored fabric where his cock used to be. “This is so wrong.”

I hear him whimper and look up to see his eyes wedged shut. “Don’t touch me Brooke. You’re getting me all worked up…and it hurts so bad!” He’s taking quick short breath like a pregnant woman in her Lamaze class.

“Okay!” I say as I quickly peel away the tight garment. I have to shove all the fabric down to his ankles before he can part his thighs enough for me to slide my fingers up between his legs.

He starts to moan loudly when I gently take hold of his cock and start to pull it forward to where it’s meant to be. I feel him swell inside my grasp. I tenderly slide my other hand under his balls to set them free as well.

I look up at Nathan and smile. “Better?”

He runs his hand through my hair and lets out a sigh. “So much better.”

“I bet. That was just so wrong in every way.” I keep fondling him, admiring his sheer perfection now that’s he’s rock hard.

The relief in Nathan’s eyes turns into a scorching expression as I continue to stroke him.

I feel inspired to make him feel better after all his suffering. “God, I love doing this.” I kiss the tip of his swollen head.

“I’m so glad you do.” His gazed is fixed on me as I run my tongue along his length. “Oh Brooke,” he whispers when he realizes I’m not going to stop.

I smile inwardly. I’d be smiling outwardly too but it’s pretty much impossible when a cock this size is in your mouth. I slowly circle the head with my tongue while I moan.

He cups his hands over my jaws, his thumbs stroking my cheeks as I suck down his length. He swallows hard. “I love it when you do that…so much.”

I graze my teeth lightly back up his shaft and then work my way back down. I know exactly how to drive him crazy. It doesn’t take much with Nathan, every long lick and trail of kisses, until he’s in my mouth again, unravels him that much more.

He’s glorious with his heated expression and gently rocking hips. He watches my every move and the way his gaze skims over my body suggests that as soon as I’m done he’s going to worship me back. I may have been his first partner to experience mind-blowing sex with but I’m going to make sure I’m also his last.

I show him with every swirl of the tongue and sexy moan how much I love pleasuring him. When I take him in deep he throws his head back and passionately surrenders with a Superhero worthy climax.

After he floats back down to earth, he struggles to catch his breath. As he pulls me into his arms, I give him a warning. “Never again hide yourself from me.”

He gives me a lazy, satiated smile, and shakes his head slowly. “Never.”

Chapter Three

Morgan eyes me skeptically as she holds up the bodysuit. “Are you sure about this?”

I chew on my thumbnail as I examine the garment. Now that it’s out of the package it looks even smaller than I imagined. “I think I’m sure.”

She waves the spandex suit at me. “This looks like supermodel sized…not…”

I wag my finger at her. “Don’t call me chubby or there will be consequences.”

“Nah, I was going to say real-woman-sized, Brooke. I swear.”

“Thank you for that. But there’s got to be a way to get this on, right? I mean they wouldn’t be selling so many otherwise.”

Morgan shrugs. “I guess so. How should we start?”

“I’m thinking the first part should be easy, like putting on a pair of tights.”

“Okaaaay,” Morgan says as she tries to pull the opening at the top of the garment open wider. Right now it’s the size of doughnut. I could use a doughnut about now, but that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.

I start to untie my robe and Morgan holds up her hand. “Wait a minute, tell me you’re wearing underwear because I’m pretty sure my job description as your assistant doesn’t involve me touching you when you’re naked. The goods need to be covered.”

“You’re so uptight.”

“Says the woman wearing a body stocking to conceal her real curves.”

I smile at her. You can’t out-tease Morgan. Ever.

“Actually I thought ahead about this. So to answer your question, no, I’m not wearing underwear. I’m pretty sure that my body, or at the very least my girly parts would suffocate if I did, and no stinking Halloween party is worth that risk. But I’m happy to report that I thought ahead about this issue.”

I ceremoniously untie and pull off my robe while Morgan covers her eyes squealing. “I’m wearing a string bikini.”

She parts her fingers and lets out a long sigh before dropping her hands.

I wiggle the strings at my hips. “See when we pull the thing up past my girly parts I can untie this and pull it off.”

“That works for me.” She glances at the clock on the nightstand. “We better get started.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, take the first leg of the thing and grab my way down to the foot part before wedging my foot inside. I hold my leg up and rotate my ankle in victory. “Yay!”

Morgan scratches her head. “Why do you need skinny feet?”

I shake my head. “I think they do this to keep it from riding up your legs. Thus the tagline…sleek from head to toe.”

“Okay then, as long as we’re on a roll let’s move on to foot two.”

The second foot goes on easily as well. “Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.”

Morgan rolls her eyes before dropping to her knees to help me yank the thing up my calves. When we get all the way up to my knees I feel a surge of optimism until I realize that the crotch for the bodysuit is at my knees as well. This would be great if I were three feet tall with stumpy legs, but that’s not the case.

To add to my frustration, my thighs are pressed so tightly together from the spandex binding that I’m losing feeling in my hoo-hah.

Thank God Morgan has a determined spirit because she goes at it like a champ, pinching bits of the slick fabric and yanking upwards. I don’t even cry out when she pinches some of my skin as well since I don’t want her to lose her focus.

I look down at her as we work together. Her face is red and her brow damp with perspiration. We’re getting close to our goal of a crotch-to-crotch connection when after a particularly tough yank she tumbles backward on the floor.

“Holy hell, this is worse than Chinese foot-binding. It’s full-body binding!”

I nod in agreement. “Obviously a man who hated women designed this.”

“Or a really skinny girl who never has to wear it.”

“To hell with them all,” I pronounce as I wiggle my toes, hoping to regain feeling in them. I look over at Morgan still sprawled on the floor. She appears to be breathing normally now. I study her red costume that shows off her figure in a very flattering way.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. Who are you dressed as?”

“Electra. Girl, you need to study up on your Superheroes!”

I sigh. “I know. So many Superheroes, so little time. That’s one sexy outfit. You look awesome.”

“Thanks. And lucky for you Electra is a ninja…cause it’s going to take ninja skills to finish this job.”

We get back to work and after a tugging session equivalent to a full upper body, gym workout we get the thing over the edge of where my ass starts. I take a moment to untie the bikini and yank it out giving myself the equivalent of a pussy burn. I wince in pain. Morgan suddenly goes pale. “What?” I ask.

“How will you go to the bathroom once this thing is fully on?”

“There’s a hole built into the crotch. Didn’t you notice it?”

“I’ve been trying not to notice the crotch. Remember? Well at least that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about — a pee hole. Wow! They really thought of everything, didn’t they?”

She moves to my right hip while I work on my left but after several minutes we’ve succeeded in only getting the damn thing up another inch. She looks down at me and giggles.

“What?”

She pokes at the overspill. “This gives new meaning to muffin top.”

“That’s lovely, thank you.”

Morgan pokes me again. “Well, you’ve got to admit…”

“Can we move on?”

We tug some more before she stops and throws her hands up in the air. “Are you sure you got the right size here?”

“I swear!” I say, my humiliation reaching new heights.

“It’s your hips,” she says shaking her head. “We’re going to need reinforcement.”

I drop my head and moan. “Billie. Go find Billie. She’s the strongest woman I know.”

“Is she here yet?”

“Yeah, she should be in the kitchen. Last time I looked she was hot-gluing plastic spiders to the radioactive punch glasses.”

When Morgan slips out of the bedroom I fall back on the bed and pull the robe over my body that now resembles a sausage whose casing has come undone. I tip my head up and look down at my legs. They’re unrecognizable. I tap my finger over my thighs and marvel. They’ve never felt so firm.

I hear a soft knock on the door and Nathan sticks his head inside. I pull my robe all the way up until it’s tucked under my chin. He frowns and his eyes cloud over with a look of concern. “Why are you in bed, sweetheart? Is something wrong?”

I feel my cheeks get hot. “No, nothing’s wrong. Just a bit of a costume challenge. Morgan’s getting Billie to help. Did you finish the Iron Man thing?”

He ignores my question. “Costume challenge?”

Suddenly Billie and Morgan burst into the room. Morgan’s eyes light up. “Oh good, Nathan can help too!”

I shake my head wildly at her.

“Help with what?”

“Getting her bodysuit on,” Morgan says.

I make a face at her.

Nathan’s expression shifts to one of horror as he walks to the edge of the bed and peers down at me. “It takes three people to get on your body suit?”

“Four if you count Brooke,” Morgan adds.

Thank you so much, Morgan.

I give Nathan the sweetest smile I can muster under the circumstances. “No handsome, we’re fine. You go on and do your Superhero thing.”

He looks relieved as he nods and walks to the door. “Good luck, girls.”

When the door closes Billie, who looks fierce in her Harley Quinn bodysuit, pushes her hands down over her hips. “So what’s this nonsense about you buying a bodysuit three sizes too small?”

I glare at Morgan. “I told you — I bought the right size!”

“Sure you did,” she says with just a bit of sarcasm.

Billie waves her hands in the air to motion me off the bed. “Whatever. Let’s get this shit done. I haven’t even started on the Kryptonite margarita mix yet.”

I waddle myself off the bed like a beached sea lion. When I’m finally upright Billie shakes her head as she bites her lip. “Well, that’s attractive.”

“Gives new meaning to muffin top, right?” Morgan says to her.

“Would you friggin’ cut it with the muffin top stuff! If we can just get this thing up higher it won’t be an issue.”

“Calm down Princess,” Billie says. “We’ve got this.”

She instructs Morgan to get on one side and she gets on the other before addressing me. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and then you suck it in as hard as you can, and Morgan you yank up with everything you’ve got.”

I nod, and Morgan spreads her legs planting her feet like a weightlifter about to lift oversized barbells.

They dig their fingers under the fabric and curl their fingers tightly around it. I’m pretty sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow in those exact spots. I take short quick breaths to work through the pain.

“One, two…three!” Billie booms.

I suck in my tummy so hard I’m pretty sure my belly button makes contact with my spine. The girls both grunt and snap their arms up like champs. We all stumble back from the effort.

I look down to study the miracle. The muffin top is gone, replaced by a sleek slope of spandex creating flat planes in places that previously had rolling hills. The effect of such body misplacement is that my breasts are now up under my chin. That’s okay. I can work with overly perky breasts. That’s expected in female Superheroes anyway.

“Whoa,” says Morgan, apparently admiring her handiwork’s effect.

Billie purses her lips. “You look like an android. I like you better curvy.”

I step over to the mirror and barely recognize my body. I have a moment where I’m inclined to agree with Billie but then I remember my mission. “Well, at least I’ll fit into my costume now.”

Billie heads back to the kitchen while Morgan helps me get the actual costume on. That part is easy with the only challenge getting my tits to stay in Wonder Woman’s bustier. They seem determined to be set free, but it’s nothing a little double-sided foam tape can’t take care of.

When we head out to the hallway Nathan’s waiting for me. A smile breaks out on his face like he’s just seen the sun after a storm. He steps up to me and puts his hands on my now narrow waist. “Oh Brooke. You did it! You’re my Wonder Woman.”

“A smaller version of her,” I say with a grin.

His hands slide down to my hips. “Well, honestly, I miss your hips. But you do look dreamy.”

Morgan punches him in the arm. “Good thing you like it, Nathan. Cause you’ll be the one taking it off later.” She gives him a wicked grin before moving on.

As Nathan and I walk to the front of the house I lean in close to him. “And how’s your costume situation working out?”

He looks down and adjusts the waist of his red panties. “So far so good. Obviously not using the tucking technique makes a huge difference, but just going up one size with the spandex thing helps too. Now I’m just dealing with compression, not elimination.”

He puts his hand on his hip and the other he waves towards his crotch. “What do you think?”

I nod. “That works. Your true Superhero skills are our secret. And if you don’t mind me saying so, you make a super hot Superman.”

He grins and pulls me forward. “Thanks Wonder Woman…and now it’s time to party.”

Chapter Four

The DJ Nathan hired is set-up on the edge of the Batcave. To create the cave Nathan spent many of his free hours over the past six weeks sponge-painting and crumpling rolls of granite textured paper then stapling them to every surface in the garage. Tonight it’s up-lit with purple and blue lights. The glass case with Batman’s uniform and mission control board light up too. I’ve got to hand it to Nathan… this Batcave is really cool.

When we get to the kitchen, Curtis, who’s dressed as the Joker, is harassing Billie at the bar.

“Don’t wimp out on the punch, Harley! It needs a lot more vodka if it’s really going to be radioactive.”

She smirks at him and tips the bottle so that it guzzles into the mysterious lime green concoction.

Meanwhile Nick slams his camping lantern with the green bulb down on the counter and turns to Nathan. “Hey, why does Curtis get to be a cool villain in a sharp suit while the rest of us look like idiots in our spandex tights? I thought we had to dress as Superheroes.”

Dani sidles up to him, “But baby I think you’re hot in your tights and your Green Lantern costume shows off your amazing body.”

Thank you, I mouth to Dani while Nathan responds. “Sorry Nick. He said it was the only way he’d come.”

“Damn straight,” Curtis agrees. “Hey Dani, who are you supposed to be?”

“The Invisible Woman, and no jokes please about how you can still see me. I’ve heard it a few too many times already.”

“Well, then why’d you pick her?” Billie asks.

Dani shrugs. “Cause I loved her outfit. Teal is my best color.”

Billie narrows her eyes and turns back to the bar. “Amateur,” she huffs.

Joel and Laura join us in the kitchen looking sharp as Captain America and Supergirl. They immediately head over to the punch bowl.

“Ack! Laura squeals. “There’s a spider on my glass!”

Billie rolls her eyes dramatically while holding up an empty glass and flicking the spider with her finger. “They’re glued on super girly.”

“Why would you glue a spider to a glass?”

“It’s a Spiderman reference, sweetheart,” Joel explains patiently. “The whole party is themed with Superhero stuff, not just our costumes.”

Her cheeks turn pink and Joel gives us a warning look not to make fun of her. We sometimes forget she works in a dental office and is not from our world.

“Speaking of which, thanks for the cupcakes Laura! I’ve already had one and they’re yummy.”

She smiles warmly at me. “You’re welcome.”

“You. Ate. A. Cupcake?” Billie asks me as she folds her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?” I challenge her.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just can’t imagine where you put it with that spandex bondage situation you had me helping with…”

I cut her off as she starts gesturing toward my bodysuit. “Is the punch really ready?”

“Spandex bondage?” Curtis asks wagging his tongue.

“Keep your shorts on, Joker. It’s not the kind of bondage you like.”

Curtis huffs. “Well then never mind.”

I quickly exit the kitchen before any more is said about my situation. As the house fills I stop paying attention to the shape of people’s bodies in spandex and instead focus on the creativity of their costumes. Andy is the Hulk, or at least a short, soft version of the massive Marvel character. He got Dani to do his green makeup and it’s quite impressive.

“I made him wax his torso first,” she assures me.

“Ouch! I can’t believe he agreed to do that.”

“How else was I going to paint on those fake abs? It’s bad enough he has a big, soft belly, but hair too? I don’t think so. I’m not a Rembrandt with body paint.”

I’m happy to see that the food is a hit. People plow through my Mojo Jojo monkey munch and my lightning bolt-shaped Flash fries. The Professor’s Lab with wide mouth beakers labeled Chemical X, Y and Z of avocado dip, onion dip and salsa is a popular hang-out place. Nathan looks so proud as people compliment us on our efforts.

Once the party is in full swing we insist that everyone model, and explain their costume for our costume contest. Some people have worn pre-made costumes, most the higher-end kinds from serious fan websites but there are people that went all out to create something unique.

Kevin is initially a standout as The Thing with his cracked rock texture over his entire body. He explains to us that he cut up Styrofoam into pieces, glued each surface with a dirt and sand combination, and then adhered it in pieces to his bodysuit.

The effect is impressive, especially considering the amount of time he put into the costume, but as the party goes on I start finding pieces of him all over the house. I’m pretty sure I’ll be vacuuming up dirt and sand for weeks.

Nathan’s inker, Hugh, is equally impressive as Wolverine but those finger blades make me nervous. I end up following him around to make sure he doesn’t scratch up the furniture. He makes a big show of offering to cut the pizza up with his claws but then mutilates one of the Two-Face pizzas into a big mess. He’s banned from the kitchen after that.

But there’s no question when first prize goes to Andy’s buddy, Vladimir, who spent weeks constructing an impressive costume for Napoleon, one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. The turtle shell strapped to his back is sculpted out of dense prop foam and intricately painted to achieve the most realism. He also applied a weird green coating to all his exposed skin to complete the turtle effect. These comic book guys don’t mess around.

* * *

“Why is Superman on your roof?” Genna asks me when she joins the party.

I look at her startled, and then realize she must be talking about the Superman doll circling the Daily Globe. “Oh, you must mean the flying doll?”

“Well, if that’s a doll it’s a life size one with impressive automaton abilities.”

My mouth drops open. “What the heck!” I rush out the front door and down the driveway before spinning around and looking up to the roof. My fear is confirmed.

“Nathan!”

He’s crouched by the Daily Planet globe and when he hears my cry he stands up and scans the yard until he sees me waving my arm. He misinterprets my gesture and waves back. “Hi Brooke!”

I step closer and half yell up at him, “Are you crazy? What are you doing up on the roof in the middle of our party?”

He holds up the Superman doll with a look of despair. “He was dangling by the edge of his cape. Thank goodness I got to him in time.”

“Before he flew away?” I ask with an arched brow.

“Brooke! This is serious. Who knows what would’ve happened to him.”

“What about what’s going to happen to you if you fall? It’s dark out here and this is dangerous!”

He doesn’t respond to me and instead turns back to the Daily Globe and starts fiddling with the wire contraption.

“We have a house full of people with no host. Get off the damn roof, Nathan!”

“Almost done, sweetheart!”

My blood’s boiling. “Do I need to come up and get you?”

He stands back up tall and turns toward me, just then a breeze blows and his cape flutters dramatically behind him. The full moon almost looks like it’s resting on his right shoulder. He puts his fists on his hips and nods. In this moment he really does look like Superman. It makes me wish I were Lois Lane. All she had to wear was a business suit.

“Done!” he says with a grin. He turns and slowly works his way back down the ladder. When he’s back on flat ground he pulls me under his arm. “You’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

“Nathan Evans!” I say with a mock fury. How can I stay mad at him when he’s so charming?

He gets a devilish look in his eyes. “Who is this Nathan of whom you speak, Wonder Woman? I’m Superman!”

When we walk back into the house Nick turns to Nathan. “Did you get him wired up again?”

Nathan nods, makes a fist and straightens his arm into the air. “Superman flies again!”

There’s applause and a few whoops and hollers, before he grins and gives me a big kiss on the cheek.

* * *

Several hours and punch bowls later we all end up in the Batcave with everyone just standing around in a drunken stupor while the DJ tries every kind of music to see if he can get people dancing. In the corner two of the Batmans are comparing their utility belts, and the girl from accounting that’s dressed like a Powerpuff Girl is taking selfies at the mission control desk.

Billie decides to take charge and after talking to the DJ she swaggers over to Laura aka Supergirl and grabs her. Next thing I know, Brickhouse is blasting on the speakers with a base beat so throbbing I can feel it all the way down to my spandex tightened toes. I glance over to Nathan, a little alarmed about what the neighbors might do but he shrugs so I focus back on Billie who is now doing a semi-erotic dance with our demure little Supergirl.

Dani steps up next to me and shakes her head. “Nothing Billie does surprises me, but I gotta say, give that Laura a few glasses of radioactive punch and she really gets going.”

“It’s always the ones with the conservative jobs that have a wild streak,” I say.

“Oh my God, did Billie just grab her boob?”

“Probably. If you give her a chance I bet she’ll grab yours too.”

We both watch the show with a lot of spandex-on-spandex grinding. Billie is very theatrical, wrapping herself up in Supergirl’s cape and then unwinding again.

Dani, never one to be side-lined, grabs me and drags me to the center of the cave where her pelvic thrusting renders her about as far from being invisible as one can be.

While we dance, I wink at Nathan and gesture for him to join us but he shakes his head and declines, looking perfectly happy to stand back and watch the show.

Dani is in her full dance mode and does this disco move where she criss-crosses her hands up and down my body and grazes my breasts on several passes. I arch my brow at her after one slip that seems especially intentional but she ignores me. When I look over at Nathan to make sure he’s not upset, he has a huge grin on his face. He’s such a guy.

Off to the side, shy Genna has joined in but she doesn’t seem shy tonight. The Powerpuff Girl is giving her twerking lessons and her butt’s working it so hard that some of the vines hot glued to her Poison Ivy costume have fallen off. Kevin is watching so intently he looks hypnotized.

Knowing that Nathan and others are watching us I keep my moves fairly smooth as I’m not ready to test the true adhesive power of this double-stick tape that’s keeping the girls from flying free. There’ll be no twerking for me.

As I sway my hips to the beat of the music I realize that the punch has hit me harder than I realized. Everything is slightly soft around the edges so when Billie steps up behind me and runs her hands over my hips and down my thighs I don’t even flinch. Instead I gyrate against her.

I look over and notice that Nathan’s eyes are now wide as saucers. He looks a little uncomfortable, but I’m pretty sure it’s that kind of uncomfortable that guys enjoy.

The more attention we get the more provocative our ringleader, Billie, gets. She pulls Morgan into the circle by the collar and kisses her. Morgan doesn’t even fight her off. My gaze jumps to Curtis who looks like he’s just won the lottery. I realize that there hasn’t been a single complaint by a boyfriend, there’s just a Batcave full of men standing to the side watching with bugged-out eyes and gaping mouths while holding their drinks in strategic positions.

When the long funk medley finally finishes and pretty much every guy has stored up enough fantasy material for many long shower sessions, there’s a quick exit by most of the couples. Nathan all but chases the few that linger out of the house. Even the DJ gets the hint and packs up in record time.

When the front door finally closes for the last time I find myself pinned up against it. Superman is apparently very worked up.

“What was that?” He whispers, his lips on my neck.

“What was what?” I ask, noting as he presses against me that the compression panty can’t really fight off Superman’s secret Superhero skills.

He looks down at me drunk with lust. “You girls all rubbing against each other, all the touching, I mean…geez. Did you see how Harley kissed Electra? There was tongue involved.”

I grab onto his yellow belt and pull him closer. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“It was so hot,” he says. “I mean they’re not even from the same comic universe but it was still really sexy.”

I smile. Nathan can be so literal at times.

“Brooke,” he whispers.

“Yes.”

He bites my earlobe before whispering in ear, “Did Dani really touch your breasts.”

“I believe she did.”

“Did you like it?”

“I liked that you liked it. I saw your reaction.”

“Is it weird that I think it was hot?”

“No, I think that’s what we were all going for. Getting you guys all worked up.”

He grinds against me. “Well, it worked. I need you, Wonder Woman. Right now.”

He lifts me into his arms and I wrap my legs around him. Never mind that I keep losing traction and slipping down with our slippery spandex-to-spandex connection. We still make it to the bedroom in record time.

He stumbles a bit when we step into our boudoir and I’m airborne for a second before landing on the bed. I purse my lips and look up at him. “How many glasses of punch did you drink anyway?”

He gives me a sheepish look. “I dunno. I lost count.”

Awesome. Let’s hope that punch isn’t his kryptonite. I’m counting on some epic sex tonight.

He looks at me with his brows knit together. “Do you mind if we get me undressed first? This panty girdle thing is getting really, really uncomfortable.”

“By all means,” I say, gesturing across his torso. “But take it slow and sexy, I want to have time to admire every part of you in your Superhero glory.”

He grins widely. “Okay slow and sexy.” He carefully pulls the costume’s neck wide and starts to ease one side down his broad shoulders. When he’s finally pulled his hand and arm completely out of the garment he looks at me with a blank stare as if he’s not sure what to do next. “How do I undress sexy? That’s your department.”

I lift up on my elbows so I can see better. “Remember when I forced you to see Magic Mike with me?”

He looks a little scared as he nods.

“Give me some of that…Superman style!” The edges of my lips curl up as he hesitates. But then he spreads his legs hip-width apart and forces his fists onto where his hips would be if men had hips. It’s a little bit like the disco band, The Village People, in attitude but the effect flexes all his arm muscles. At least Nathan never stopped working out and his body is all the sexier for it.

He grins at me. “Like that? That’s how Superman poses.”

I lick my lips as he watches amused. “Yes! More!”

He peels the uniform off the other arm until it’s revealed, then shimmies the body suit half way down his chest. He turns around and lifts one arm into the flying pose and flexes the other. I see hard, defined muscles in his back that I didn’t even know were there.

I clap wildly and whoop and holler from the bed. “More!”

After an awkward moment of him fumbling with his yellow belt, he turns around and slowly drags the suit just below his ass. Whoa! He must’ve really had a lot of punch.

I prop a pillow behind my head and grin. “Sexy man!” I moan.

He shoves the costume further down and when he turns around his thumbs are looped under what I recognize to be the compression panties.

“Are you ready for the big reveal?” he asks. He’s blushing like a kid but seems to be pushing himself to keep it going.

“I want everything,” I groan.

As the spandex is pulled down, I get to see how excited Nathan really is. He looks down and then up at me anxiously.

An intense wave of desire crawls up my spine and I reach out for him. “Forget Magic Mike! Let’s get this show on the road!”

With a look of relief Nathan makes quick work of getting his boots and the rest of his outfit off. I’ve never seen him so happy to be naked. He crawls up on the bed next to me.

“Okay, Wonder Woman — your turn. Shall we start with the boots?”

Suddenly I’m not sure this bodysuit has enough give for me to curl all the way over and undo the boots myself. “Could you take them off for me?” I ask with doe eyes.

When the boots tumble to the floor he moves closer and tugs on the edge of the bustier. “This next. Your breasts have been making me crazy all night.”

I sit up and turn my back to him. “See the million hooks? They all need to be undone.”

“Wow! Okay.” He has nimble fingers so he seems undaunted by his task. “Hey I thought you said this was really tight? It’s feels kind of loose to me.”

“It wouldn’t hook up pre-bodysuit.”

“Oh,” he whispers as his eyebrows shoot up. Maybe he’s finally understanding the magnitude of my situation.

When the last hook is undone I attempt to wedge my fingers between the foam tape along the front cups and my breasts but there’s no give. That tape must be stronger than I thought.

“What?” he asks as he sees me trying to poke inside.

“This thing is taped on.” I scrunch my face up as he attempts to peek inside my cleavage.

“Why taped?”

“Because my tits kept trying to set themselves free.”

“Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d glue myself in here for any other reason?”

“Good point. So what’s the plan?”

“There’s only one thing to do and it requires both of us to be brave.”

He goes pale.

“We’re going to have to rip it off. Or more likely, you’ll have to rip it off of me.”

“Oh God, I can’t do that Brooke.”

“You’re going to have to. Haven’t you ever ripped off a Band-aid?”

“Of course, but we’re talking about something infinitely more precious here than a skinned knee.”

“Well if you really don’t want to do it I can try soaking in a hot tub to see if the adhesive loosens. But I’ve got to warn you, it could take a while.” I give him the single arched brow look with a sexy pout.

Suddenly he looks really anxious. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try pulling the thing off first.”

“That-a-boy!” I steel myself by fisting the sheets on either side of me and nodding for him to grab the hem of the bustier.

There’s a distinct look of terror in his eyes.

“Go on now, Nathan.” I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch and clench my fists even tighter.

He pulls with a firm tug but all it does is jostle my boobs. I open my eyes and blink. “That isn’t going to work. You’ve got to pull much harder than that. Why don’t you just rip it off sideways?”

Nathan winces.

“Well maybe it’s time to ask…what would Superman do?”

He nods, fired up with new determination.

“He wouldn’t let a little bit of tape stop him. Would he?”

Nathan narrows his eye. “No he wouldn’t.”

Before I can even fist the sheets again, he grabs the upper edge of the bustier and rips with such force that the thing goes flying across the room. I’m so shocked by the surprise combined with the pain that I let out a blood curdling scream and wedge my eyes shut.

The next thing I know he’s on all fours crotched over me. “Brooke, baby…are you alright?”

“It hurts,” I whimper. I open one eye to see his stricken expression. “Maybe you could kiss it and make it all better.”

He nods and gets to work trailing kisses along the red line on my cleavage where the tape was. “Is that better?” he whispers.

I nod and point down to my breast. “I think you need to kiss it better here too.”

He smiles and gently kisses my nipple before swirling his tongue over it and taking it in his mouth. I quickly forget the tape pain.

Considering the fact that my body is still so tightly compressed in spandex, you’d think that I wouldn’t notice my insides clench as he moves to the other nipple, but I do. I notice so intently that I start pushing my star spangled panties off while he focuses on the task at hand…driving me wild.

As he continues I look down and notice the little Superman curl on his forehead I made with styling gel. His eyes are hooded and when I moan his smoldering gaze travels up to meet mine.

I start to squirm so I snap the spandex at the top of my body suit. He understands my direction. He rises up and wedges his fingers under the top band of the body suit and yanks hard.

Nothing. It’s like the damn thing is glued to my skin.

“Good God,” he gasps after another powerful yank. He lifts his hands in the air as if he’s cursing the spandex gods. “What more do we have to go through? I’m in pain here!” He gestures down to his erection.

He sounds pitiful. And in my desperation I spread my legs and run my hand over my crotch. “Look Nathan, there’s a hole in the bodysuit!”

It may be the low light in the room but I could swear his complexion goes green. “Your bodysuit has a hole for sex?”

“Well not so much for sex, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work. Come on and try! It’ll be kinky like those people that wear head-to-toe vinyl when they do it.”

He leans over to peer between my legs and he pulls on the spandex opening with his fingers. When he straightens up he shakes his head firmly. “There’s no way.”

I reach down and try to stretch the hole open wider but his mind seems made up.

He leaps off the bed. “I have another idea.” He storms down the hall and returns a minute later with something in his hand. I see the glint of metal. He gets back on the bed and lifts up my large pair of scissors and snaps them open and closed.

I hold my hands up. “Do you know how much this thing cost?” I ask horrified.

“I don’t care what it cost. You’re never wearing it again. Ever.”

I hold my breath as he perches over me and slowly works the bottom blade under the garment right under my breasts. Despite the discomfort of the fear, and the pressure on my skin…the startling sensation of the metal feels surprisingly erotic. When he completes the first snip of the blades the relief of the fabric parting and cool air on my skin is palatable. Nathan kisses the exposed skin as I hold him close.

“Ohhh,” I sigh as I watch.

Nathan gets back to work and his eyes narrow as he slides the blade closer to my belly button and carefully snips again. He sets the scissors down and uses his hands to separate the cut fabric further. His mouth is parted and his eyes full of lust as he skims his fingers across my skin. I can feel the weight of his erection against my thigh.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, do it again.”

He licks his lips. “This is turning you on, huh?”

I nod and trail my fingers over his wrist.

He gives me a crooked smile. “Weird, right? Cause it’s turning me on too.”

I notice how his breath is ragged as he pushes his hand under the spandex and over my soft flesh to protect me from the blade. I feel the metal slide across my belly and my back arches up in response. I can feel the sound of the fabric slicing reverberate between my legs. My thighs part as I wait for him.

“Super…man,” I moan.

Nathan gasps. I feel his hand cup my breast and his thumb slide over my nipple. A moment later the blade moves lower as he snips again.

I look up at him as I bite my lip. “Be careful. Okay?”

He nods and when I see his laser focus I relax as the blade slides a path further down. This snip causes the good kind of throbbing to ache between my legs.

I reach down and grab the edges of the fabric and pull it further apart. “Again,” I whisper.

The sound of the scissor’s blades meeting is music to my ears. My hips are suddenly unbound and I slide my fingers between my legs and back up my belly reveling in the feeling of being exposed for him.

There’s fire in his eyes as he watches me touch myself. His hand follows the path mine just traveled but settles between my legs as he strokes me slowly. My heart is pounding as his touch becomes tight circles just where I need it most. He has me so worked up I can barely see straight.

“Better?” he asks.

“So much,” I groan. I push my hands over the tops of my thighs. “Just here and we can do the rest.”

He nods, takes the scissors and carefully snips as if I’m the most precious package he’s ever had to unwrap. The thigh he’s just freed falls further open. He anxiously focuses on the other. “Last cut,” he whispers.

In our silence the sound of the fabric parting is amplified. I feel his lips against my skin right where the scissors had been. He scrambles to his feet and pulls hard on the fabric as it slides away from underneath my ass. By the time he gets to my knees it’s quick work until he’s yanked the entire suit off.

Our eyes meet in a frantic moment. Every bit of restraint has been pulled away from me and I feel reborn. I think I’d go through the spandex ordeal all over again just to repeat this feeling. Well, not really but it is pretty awesome.

Nathan strokes me, his fingers across my breasts and down my belly, over my hips and between my legs. “Your body is so beautiful, Brooke. You don’t need to wear that stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper as I study the genuine look of admiration in his eyes. This man loves me so much, every curve and dimple. I reach out for him needing to feel his weight on me.

He pushes inside me slowly, panting with restraint. He looks like he wasn’t sure we’d ever get to this point and he wants to enjoy every moment of it. I think he burned off all the booze with his heroic effort to get me naked. His gaze is alert and steadfast as he completely fills me again and again.

My cries as he thrusts are no longer for pain, but pleasure at how amazing he makes me feel. He sweeps me up in his arms as he makes love to me, kissing me deeply and touching me in all the places he knows so well. I marvel at his skills to undo me as we soar to the moon and beyond.

Chapter Five

The next morning I bring him breakfast in bed and it takes two extra-large mugs of coffee before we’re ready to go face the rest of the house. Luckily in the light of day it’s not as bad as we feared. Most of the spilled booze is in the Batcave, which will only require a hose-down after the cave walls come down. Other than that and vacuuming up remnants of The Thing, it will be pretty quick to finish cleaning up.

“Do we really have to take the walls down?” He asks, forlorn as he runs his hands over the paper.

I arch a brow and don’t even answer.

“Please, Brooke.”

I shake my head firmly. “We have to access the storage cabinets. It’s got to go down. But I’ll tell you what. If you can figure out a way to take it down and roll it up, we can use it again next year.”

A huge grin spreads across his face. “Next year? Does this mean…?”

“Yes, I do believe a tradition has been established. We’re Superhero Halloween central, and with all the time to plan, I’ll be in prime spandex shape by next year.”

He grabs me and twirls me around in his arms. “You’re the best!”

When he sets me down he strokes my cheek as he gazes deep in my eyes. “It was pretty awesome wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, the party was great but the way the evening ended was especially epic. It was so erotic how you set me free last night — and it wasn’t just with the scissors, Nathan.”

He sets his hands on my sides and with a look of longing, slowly slides them down over my bondage-free, curvy hips. When he gets to my thighs he slips his hands under my skirt and slides them back up my bare skin, ending with his hands holding my ass. “Do you feel how perfect you are when I touch you? Do you know that when I see you all naked and gorgeous in our bed I only crave you more?”

“I think I’d forgotten, but believe me, I’ll remember now.”

“Do that, sweetheart. You made me feel incredible last night. I hope I did the same for you.”

“You sure did.”

He lets out a long sigh. “It was out of this world, wasn’t it? Damn, at one point it felt like we were flying.”

I gaze at him thinking about where we were long ago when he started showing up in my office at Sketch Republic with hand-drawn coffee cups — and where we are now. This man, with his gentle soul and fierce love, is my everything.

I take his hand. “You know you may have felt like Clark Kent when I first met you, Nathan, but you’re all Superman now.”

The End

About the Author, Ruth Clampett:

I grew up in a cartoon world with a father who was an animation director and my mother, a cartoon producer. That upbringing inspired me to write about animators and share with the world why I love them so much. I’m also a fine art publisher by day and obsessed writer late at night, all while being a mother to a snarky teenager who loves comics and cartoons too.

While visiting my blog www.RuthClampettWrites.com also check out Mr. 365, a love story about Sophia, a reality television producer, and Will, an irresistible man who goes a little overboard with Christmas decorating.

You’ll also find information about my upcoming release that I’m wildly excited about, book one of the trilogy, Work of Art.

Author’s Note: Ruth Clampett

I hope you’ve had as much fun reading Spandex is for Superheroes as I had writing it (which was a lot!). If you’re inspired now to learn more about Nathan and Brooke’s auspicious beginnings I encourage you to check out their story: Animate Me. You can find purchase links and an unbelievable cute (and short!) trailer on my blog: www.RuthClampettWrites.com

You can also connect with me at:

https://www.facebook.com/RuthClampettWrites

https://twitter.com/Ruthywrites

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4115217.Ruth_Clampett

instagram.com/Ruth_Clampett

I’d like to thank the terrific authors on the Shiver team who included me in this anthology…and you, the awesome readers who are doing something really good for St. Jude Children’s Hospital with your purchase of this book. Thank you.

Macabre Magic

by L.H. Cosway

Halloween. A bet. One spooky magic trick.

Part One: The Bet

“Scary movies have never really done it for me,” I said with a shrug.

I lay stretched out on the bed in the gigantic hotel suite. Jay and I were spending our honeymoon in a five-star resort in Miami. Having lived in rainy Ireland my entire life, it was a whole other world from what I was used to. I could definitely learn to appreciate all the sunlight. You’d never find yourself suffering from seasonal affective disorder in this part of the world. The sun was everywhere; it infiltrated every nook and cranny.

“Not even The Ring?” Jay asked in a curious voice as he lazily traced circles on my arm. “Everybody gets freaked out by The Ring, especially the original.”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s like when it comes to horror films, I have this inability to suspend my disbelief. I just burst out laughing when the scary bits start. Plus, the title of The Ring is comical in itself. I feel like the person who came up with it was having their own little private joke at everyone else’s expense.”

Jay gave me a wry but amused look, and shook his head. “One week as my wife, Matilda, and already you’re making ass jokes. I must be a bad influence.” Despite his tone, he seemed pleased by that fact.

I grinned. Every chance he got these days, he was reminding me we were now married. Our wedding was a small affair; it took place in Las Vegas (which to me was glamorous with a capital “G”), and I got to wear a swanktastic dress. In comparison to the women on that Bridezilla show, I was particularly easy to please.

“Well, you’ve hardly let me put mine away since we got to this ritzy place. I’ve almost forgotten there’s such a thing as clothing.”

He feigned a confused look and put on a haughty voice. “Clothing? What is this sorcery of which you speak?”

I giggled, because my husband looked like the ultimate cool dude when you saw him on the street, but behind the bad boy façade lay a bit of an oddball.

His hand slid from my neck and down the center of my chest to rest on my belly. I could tell from the heated stare he was giving me that he was getting turned on, and we’d just had sex a half hour ago. This was verging on the ridiculous. I knew we were on our honeymoon and everything, but I did want to leave the hotel room and take a look around at least once. We were flying back to Vegas tomorrow. Since Jay had a full run of shows booked and our wedding was something of a spontaneous affair, we only had a three-day window in which to honeymoon.

Before my next thought could enter my head, Jay was parting my legs and climbing between them. For a moment I was mesmerized by the way his muscles moved and flexed as he held himself above me, the way his tattoos came to life as though dancing on his skin.

“Jay,” I half sighed, half whimpered, and leveled my hands on his shoulders. “We’re not having sex again. I’m going to be walking funny as it is.”

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow and tilted his head. “I don’t mind you walking funny, Watson. Besides, we’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day, so it’s a nonissue.”

He started to push inside me, and I couldn’t help the moan that came out. Still, I clenched my thighs around his waist to hinder any further movement. He bit his lip and groaned. “Man, you’ve got strong thighs. Must be all that cycling. My wife is sexy as fuck.”

I shivered at him mentioning the words “wife” and “fuck” in the same sentence in that husky Boston accent of his. But I stayed firm; he wasn’t getting around me on this.

“I’m being serious, Jay. I think we should take a breather. And anyway, I’m starving.”

Bringing his mouth to my neck, he licked a long line from my throat to my jaw, and my pulse ratcheted up a notch. “Hmm, me too.”

My momentary distraction caused me to loosen my thighs, and his hips thrust forward, filling me up in one smooth motion.

“Ah! Jay, stop,” I gasped, my protest weak, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

His deep, satisfied chuckle did all sorts of wonderful butterfly-like things to my stomach. He slowly withdrew and flopped over onto his pillow, his arms thrown up above his head. Then he reached for the phone and quickly dialed room service, ordering enough food to feed a small country.

“What about The Exorcist?” he asked once he’d hung up, returning to our earlier topic of conversation.

“Hilarious, especially when the girl’s head starts to twist around.”

Jay’s mouth formed a flat line as he studied me, perplexed, and I could tell he was thinking real hard. “I bet I could scare you,” he murmured low, his voice giving me momentary shivers.

I rubbed absently at the gooseflesh on my arms. The thing about Jay was that even though he was laid bare to me and all his secrets revealed, there was always a hint of mystery beneath the surface, always the idea that he could be thinking of something far beyond the realms of my paltry imagination. His mind was a kaleidoscope of trickery, and I was still learning how to navigate the terrain.

“That sounds ominous. Do you mean you could scare me because you’re in fact a psycho killer, or scare me with a magic trick?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and there was mischief in his gaze. “The latter, obviously.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Your tricks are cool and everything, but they mostly astound and amaze me rather than scare me.”

I loved that Jay was an illusionist. It was so incredibly exciting to live with someone who was constantly coming up with new ways to surprise people. It was also incredibly sexy when he was on stage. However, I was now accustomed to strange things happening, so the fact that I knew it wasn’t real made it hard for me to believe I’d be frightened. If something out of the ordinary occurred, my husband was usually behind it.

“Halloween’s in a few days, too. I think I’m gonna have to come up with a spooky trick just for you.”

“Go ahead,” I told him breezily, “but it will be a waste of time.”

His grin spread wide, and devilry played on his features. “Oh, yeah? Care to make a wager on that?”

“That I won’t be scared? Sure,” I said, and presented my hand. He took it in his, his thumb brushing along my pulse as he pulled me closer. “What do I get if I win?”

Jay’s eyes went dark, his voice low as he asked, “What do you want?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking about it. Finally, I responded, “How about if I win, you have to let me choose your stage outfits for a whole week, and you can’t argue with my choices?”

I managed the wardrobe for Jay’s magic shows in Las Vegas, which was where we’d usually be if we weren’t currently honeymooning, and he was often difficult when it came to what I chose for him. I wanted to put him in designer suits and those sexy V-neck shirts, but he always wanted to wear plain old combats and vests. He said a V-neck was a man vag, and he wasn’t going to be caught dead in one. I could wrangle him into a suit on occasion, but those occasions were few and far between. Apparently, you sweat like a motherfucker in a suit on a stage (his words, not mine.) I was also dying to get him into a Dixie bow. Don’t ask why — it just needed to happen.

He looked amused yet indulgent, giving me a tickle. “That’s what you want, you little weirdo?”

I gave him an expression that was half scowl, half ambiguous smile. “We both know dressing you is a secret pleasure of mine. Remember the suit I was making for you when you proposed? It was probably the thrill of seeing you put it on that made me say yes,” I teased.

Jay smirked and knelt on the bed, his hands braced on his knees as he stared down at me, his eyes smoldering. “You would have said yes regardless, but back to this bet. What do I get if I win?”

“I don’t know. What have you got in mind?”

It barely took him a second to answer, so I knew he’d already been thinking his prize up as we had our conversation. “You naked for twenty-four hours.”

Oh, typical.

“Jason!” I scolded jokingly. “What would the neighbors say?” Technically, we didn’t have neighbors, since we were living in a hotel until he finished his string of shows, but that was neither here nor there.

“Fuck the neighbors,” he swore, and gave me a hot look. “Anyway, we wouldn’t be leaving the suite for the entire twenty-four hours, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, so your prize is basically sex for twenty-four hours. You were simply trying to dress it up all fancy-like.”

His eyes flashed at me, and I knew he was enjoying the way I baited him. “More like strip it down.”

I smirked. “Was that a pun?”

“It might have been.”

Stroking my chin, I affected a thoughtful expression. “Hmm. Okay, I’ll agree, on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“If you win, you get your day-long sexathon, but until the bet is over, which would be Halloween, there can be no more bedroom action.”

Jay shook his head ever so slightly, his disagreement simple. “Nope.”

“Hey, hear me out. If we don’t have sex for the next few days, it’ll make the prize that much sweeter, don’t you think? Otherwise, you’ll just be getting something you already have. My prize is something I don’t have, so I think your prize should be, too.”

A breath escaped him as he eyed me for a prolonged moment. “This is presuming I win.”

“Of course.”

He narrowed his gaze, trying suppress a smile. “You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Fields.”

I held my hand out so that we could shake on it, and finally he took it. “I guess this means we have ourselves a bet,” I declared. “I’m confident you won’t be able to frighten me, but how do we measure it? How will you know if I’m covering up my fear?”

One eyebrow rose again, and I guessed it was a silly question. Jay had studied behavioral science for years, knew all sorts of mentalist tricks and ways to read people, so I presumed he’d be able to tell whether or not I was scared pretty easily.

“I have my methods,” he replied enigmatically.

“I know that. But we need to make a checklist. Break my fear down into a science so that the end result can’t be refuted.”

He considered me a moment. “People show fear in different ways. The most common symptoms are a widening of the eyes, raised brows, increased heart rate, flared nostrils, dilated pupils, tensing in the muscles, a dry mouth, sweating, trembling, and, of course, screaming.” He reached out and stroked a hand down my face. “A lot of these reactions are similar to arousal, when you think about it. Fear and sex create the same extremes in humans, although only one brings pleasure.”

I swallowed and tried not to blush. “Well, that sounds fairly extensive.”

We might have been married, but I still got goose bumps whenever he was suggestive. It was bizarre that I could still get shy around him, but there it was. In the grand scheme of things, we hadn’t really been together for very long. Still, I knew that I loved him, knew he was the only one for me.

“I’m nothing if not thorough,” he murmured, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on my mouth before climbing off the bed. He went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower come on. When he emerged fifteen minutes later, he was fully dressed, where usually he’d come out wearing a towel around his waist, hair wet, droplets of water still on his skin….

He must have seen the dreamy look on my face, because he chuckled. “What are you thinking about, darlin’?”

“Huh?” I bit on my lip, paused, then answered, “Just about how you normally come out of the shower wearing a lot less.”

More chuckling. “Well, I don’t want to go tempting you, now, do I? It’d be a sorry reflection on the both of us if we couldn’t stick to our sex embargo for more than thirty minutes.”

Oh, he was enjoying this. I had a feeling he was going to do his best to torture me for the next few days. I was, after all, the one to come up with the no-sex rule. A minute later, the room service arrived, and I decided to console myself with spaghetti carbonara. Carbonara consoling, I liked to call it.

After we were done eating, Jay retreated to the desk in the living area with his laptop. I got the feeling he was already researching his trick for the bet, and I began to wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. It was true that I never really got frightened of horror films, but that was because I was sitting safely on my couch, watching them through the medium of a TV screen. Jay’s trick would be a trick, but there would be no safety blanket, no distance.

It would be happening to me in real time.

The idea made my skin prickle. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to scare me after all.

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Jay had gone into “the zone,” as I often referred to it, when he was so consumed by an idea that he barely noticed the world passing around him. You could almost feel the air thickening, crackling with energy, could sense that something special was happening as he scribbled down notes unreadable to anyone but him and furiously looked for information in books or on his computer.

He was like that in most things.

Intense.

Obstinate.

Perilous.

It was a heady combination, and probably the reason why I was so fascinated by him. Often it felt like his energy consumed me to the point it was hard to focus. That was why I liked having my sewing. It didn’t take too much brainpower to stitch by hand, which was what I’d been doing while we were here, since I didn’t have my machine with me. It was a good way to distract myself from the man in my life and gain some focus. When I had nothing else to do, my hands always seemed to itch for a needle and thread.

After a while, I threw on a summery maxi dress and some sandals, and decided to take a walk around the resort. I ended up at the bar, where a handsome and flirty bartender mixed me a Sex on the Beach. He had suggested it, if you must know. Women who order sexily named cocktails while sitting alone at bars are just asking for trouble, especially when being served by young, available, flirty-mouthed males.

Can I have an Angel’s Tit?

You can if you show me your tits, angel.

How about a Screaming Orgasm?

Oh, those are my specialty.

I’m in the mood for a Bend Over Shirley.

I’d be happy to bend you over any time, Shirley, dear.

I could go on and on. Sometimes I wonder if some sneaky perverted barman invented all those drinks for his own personal enjoyment. Or for furthering his own personal sex life. Anyway, I was oblivious to the fact that this particular barman might find me attractive, until I went to take some money from my purse and he informed the drink was on the house while giving me a saucy wink. I was about to insist on paying, but he quickly turned around and went to serve two women sitting on the other side of the bar.

Oh, well, I might as well enjoy the free drink, I thought to myself. I sipped on it while staring around at the patrons. This wasn’t a family resort; it seemed to cater to rich people living lives of leisure, or business types. I had a fanciful notion that the barman thought I was some rich young heiress who whiled away her evenings drinking overpriced cocktails and pondering the emptiness of her existence. The idea made me giddy, so I decided to play along with the role for a minute, running my finger along the edge of my glass and trying to affect a demeanor of jaded privilege.

Perhaps he thought he could butter me up with free drinks and then wheedle his way into my bank account. My real-life bank account was nothing to write home about, but my imaginary heiress bank account could keep him in Rolexes and designer underpants for the rest of his days.

Now that I was watching him, he did strike me as the type who could sail through life on his looks if it so pleased him. Jay was attractive in a rough around the edges, battle-scarred sort of way. The bartender was a pretty boy. I doubted he had a single scar on his tanned, muscular form.

Once he was finished with the ladies, he sidled his way back over to me and began wiping down the bar top.

“Is the cocktail to your liking, honey?” he asked, and I gave him a polite smile. I was beginning to tense up now, because the way he looked at me was like he’d already stripped me of my dress and was pleased by what he saw. Actually, it was kind of irritating.

“It’s great, thanks,” I said, stiff.

He leaned slightly closer. “I love your accent. Where are you from?”

I inwardly snorted at the idea of my accent being anything other than common and mundane. The romance languages were the ones that had the enviable accents. “Ireland,” I answered finally.

“Oh, yeah? I’m a fifth Irish on my mother’s side, you know,” he said, and winked. “What brings you to this part of the world?”

Before I could tell him that I was on my honeymoon, another voice did it for me. That voice was one part amused and another part seriously pissed off, and it came from the stool to the left of me. A stool that I was sure only seconds ago had been empty.

“She’s on her honeymoon,” said Jay, and I turned to him. He was frowning.

The whole randomly appearing thing was a bit of a habit of his, something of an occupational hazard for magicians, you could call it. One of these days he was going to give me a heart attack. It usually goes something like this: I walk into the empty kitchen, open the fridge, pull out some orange juice, take a sip, look to the previous vacant table, and there sits Jay, sending my heart racing. It’s similar to when you think you see a person standing in a darkened room, but it turns out to be a coat rack…or a cardboard cutout of Harry Styles. Only in my case, the person often turns out to be Jay.

The bartender quickly took in the dynamic, eyebrows shooting up into his forehead, nodded, and suddenly looked like he had a very important task to complete elsewhere. A second later, he was gone.

Jay took my hand in his and leaned down to sniff at my cocktail. “As if he didn’t see the ring. Prick was trying his luck,” he muttered. “What are you drinking, darlin’?”

“A Sex on the Beach,” I said wryly. “The barman suggested it.”

“I bet he did. I can’t leave you alone for a minute before the vultures start circling.”

I laughed loudly. “But of course. I might as well be Pamela Anderson in the ’90s. The menfolk just can’t get enough of me.”

“That is a weird analogy, Watson. Why wouldn’t you just say Megan Fox? Or Mila Kunis?”

Trying to keep a straight face, I replied, “They didn’t come to mind. But I’m very interested by how quickly they came to yours. Do you have a celebrity crush, Jason?”

He pulled my hand up to his mouth, turned it, and kissed the inside of my wrist, murmuring, “The only crush I have is you. The only person I see is you.”

He made some intense eye contact with me that had me burning up and wishing I’d never had the genius idea to make sex off limits. In that moment, I wanted him to show me with his body the things he was doing to me with his eyes.

“That’s….” I cleared my throat. “That’s a very good answer. So what brings you down here and out of your crazy magician cave?”

“I went to take a piss and saw you were gone. It’s a good thing I came after you, too. Otherwise, the pervy fuck of a barman might have tried to spike your drink.” His words dripped with possession…and I kind of liked it. “I also have a question for you about our bet,” he went on, piquing my interest.

“Oh, yes?”

His gaze darkened roguishly. “I need to know what your limits are. Do you want me just to scare you, or are you giving me permission to mindfuck the shit out of you?”

Well, the second option sounded both frightening and sexy as hell, which was exactly why I swallowed and answered, “The latter. Yes, definitely the latter.”

Jay grinned in approval and brought his arms around my waist, his fingers kneading my hips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Part Two: The Tease

Arriving back in Vegas was a whirlwind of activity. Jay had to get back to doing his show five nights a week, which meant I had to return to work, too. Since I hadn’t won our bet yet, I was still confined to the usual (boring) man choices of the wardrobe world. My artistic freedom was going to come at a price, and that price would be fooling my husband into believing he couldn’t frighten me.

I spent our first afternoon home secretly Googling techniques for staying calm in times of crisis. If I knew anything about Jay, he was going to go all out, so I needed every advantage I could get.

In other news, we’d been invited to a Halloween party being thrown by Tina, the girl who worked as Jay’s assistant. Don’t get me wrong — he didn’t have those sexy magician’s assistants who wore sparkly outfits that showed lots of leg and/or cleavage, but he did have a PA. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t like her much, and I rarely disliked people.

This was probably due to the fact that she showed a lot of leg and/or cleavage anyway.

I could tell she fancied the pants off Jay and was secretly biding her time. It was ridiculous; I mean, we’d just gotten married, for Christ’s sake. And really, it was so unclassy to have designs on someone else’s man. It wasn’t as if there weren’t thousands of other eligible bachelors in the city for her to set her sights on. No, she wanted mine. I knew Jay was aware of her affections and a little discombobulated over what to do about it. He was trying to be a gentleman, but I thought maybe he was going to put in for a new assistant soon.

I was hoping that was what he’d do, because I was one step away from making a voodoo doll, and since I was a dab hand at crafts, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that I would….

Anyway, I was holding my head high and not succumbing to the urge to trip Tina and her too-tight jeans over, and I had agreed to go to the party. It was fancy dress, which meant I needed to find a suitable outfit. I kind of felt like going down the comedic route by dressing as a beer bottle or a stop sign, but that wouldn’t do. All of the women would be going as sexy angels, witches, nurses, vampires…llamas. No? Okay, then.

The point was, I needed to come up with something that was fancy dress but also provocative. It was shallow, but I wanted to look better than Tina. I would have designed and made something myself, but I was too rushed off my feet. That meant I had to go to a costume shop and buy an outfit. Unable to decide, I ended up buying three and bringing them back to the hotel with me to try on. They were as follows:

1.) Black pleather cat suit with spider-web netting over the boobage. Indecently tight.

2.) Sexy cop outfit complete with handcuffs and a bare midriff.

3.) Another black cat suit, this one for an actual cat, with cute ears and stick-on whiskers. Again, indecently tight. I thought I might have to be sewn into it like Olivia Newton John in the “You’re the One That I Want” scene from Grease.

And you know what? I kind of hated all three. I just wanted to wear a nice dress, do something cool with my hair, and be done with it.

It had been three days since we made the bet, and I was dying to give in and call it off. In terms of our relationship, everything was still very new, and I had a hunger for Jay that simply wouldn’t abate. It was torture to watch him doing stage rehearsals, which could be very rigorous, and hence he would work up quite the sweat. Yesterday he pulled off his T-shirt, balled it up, and used it to dab his forehead. It almost felt like it was happening in slow motion, like a Diet Coke ad or something. I mean, how was I supposed to resist that? Tina almost spontaneously combusted with an eye orgasm.

I coughed loudly, and her gaze slid to me, momentarily widening in shock to be caught ogling. It was funny. I was having a hard time with all this jealous/possessive business. Before I met Jay, I was always the sort of girl to back off and let the sassy go-getter chicks have the guy. But with him I felt like doing bodily harm when other women so much as glanced at him, going all Vampire Bill and proclaiming Jason is mine!! It was a strange new feeling for me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

Back to the present, I was trying unsuccessfully to zip myself into Halloween costume number one, the spider-web cat suit. I stood in front of the mirror in the lounge area of our suite, twisting my body as I tried to pull the zipper all the way up, but the lady was not for turning. I had way too much hip, belly, and tit going on for a surprisingly unstretchy material. I should have gotten one made out of spandex or something.

Finally, with a lot of wriggling around, I managed to get the zip done up the entire way. I felt like my ribs were being crushed, but I was triumphant, pumping my fist up into the air in victory. Unfortunately, my fist pump exerted a little too much action, and I heard a rip. I froze, eyes widening, as I turned and looked at my backside through the mirror.

I thought these kinds of things only happened in cheesy physical comedies, but no, it seemed the arses of pants that were too tight could split in real life, too. It was at that wonderfully opportune moment that the door to the suite opened, and Jay walked in. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at him through the glass, caught with my pants down (or should I say, torn at the seam.) I had half a mind to run and hide in shame, but it was too late. He’d already seen the damage, as it were.

I could tell he was trying not to laugh when he plastered on a bland expression. “Hey, you want some dinner?”

Bless him, he knew I was embarrassed and had chosen not to capitalize on the moment.

“Yes,” I sighed. “And you can go ahead and get a few jokes in. You know you want to.”

His mouth twitched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Watson.”

“I bought the wrong size, okay. And the shop was about to close, so I didn’t have time to stay and try it on.”

He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and took a long gulp before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If it’s any consolation, your tits look great in it,” he said, smirking.

I gave him a tiny grin. “Ever the charmer.”

He winked at me, and I went about relieving myself of the awful cat suit. The material made some rather unsexy noises as I pulled on it, heaving heavily when I finally got it off. I sat on the floor in my bra and knickers, trying to catch my breath after such a vigorous ordeal. Jay walked out of the bedroom, where he’d somehow managed to procure an energy bar. He had it halfway to his mouth when he paused midstride, piercing me with his gaze.

“Oh, no, you don’t, you’re not allowed to give me bedroom eyes. That’s against the rules,” I said, quickly standing up and hurrying to throw on a T-shirt and some yoga pants.

He took a bite out of the bar then and began to chew. In my sex-deprived state, even seeing him chew was like pornography.

“I wasn’t giving you bedroom eyes, Matilda. They were more ‘I want to tear your panties off and bend you over the couch’ eyes, and I didn’t happen to see anything about those sorts of eyes in the rulebook.” He gave me a very smug grin.

“All carnal looks are prohibited,” I said. I had been heading for the couch, but I stopped, turned, and went to perch on a pouf instead.

“It’s been three days. I have no censorship control over my eyes at this point, so you’ll just have to deal with them. Now, what are you going to do about your Halloween costume? It saddens me to say it, but it looks like whatever you were supposed to be in the cat suit is out of the question. A damn shame, too.”

“I have some other options.” I waved away his concerns. “What about you? What are you going as?”

He smiled, flashing his teeth at me, but didn’t reply.

I didn’t bother pushing him, because if I knew anything about Jay by now, it was that he never told a secret he didn’t want to tell. We ate dinner, and then it was time for his show. He performed in the hotel’s venue downstairs, so we only had to take the elevator down to get there.

The next day he was working out a few kinks in his choreography. And when I say “choreography,” I don’t mean dancing. In a magic show, it’s all about placement on the stage and standing in exactly the right spot at exactly the right time.

I was mending a cape Jay used in the disappearing part of his act. It was probably one of the few “old school” tricks he performed. Anyway, the cape had gotten torn on one of its edges. I suggested simply buying a new one, but he was adamantly against it. Apparently, some old guy he knew back in Boston who mentored him in magic for a while had given it to him, so it had sentimental value. That was why I was taking extra care to make it good as new.

Practice was an everyday thing for Jay. His show was a thrill ride when you were watching it from the audience, but the little details that sometimes took days or even weeks to perfect were tedious. Saying that, I still loved hanging out while he practiced. I was sitting by my sewing machine in the small room devoted to wardrobe with the door open. It was at just the right angle to be able to watch him. He had a small notepad in his hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear as he paced. He’d take three steps, stop, scribble something down on the notepad, then take another three steps.

Tina came in then, carrying a brown paper bag and a tray of takeaway coffee cups. I drew my lips into a tight line when I saw how short her skirt was. In terms of looks, she was the exact opposite of me. Tall, lithe, blonde, and graceful. She could have been a ballerina in another life. And sadly, I noted how Jay never had to bend down to speak to her. If they were kissing, their bodies would be perfectly proportioned for their mouths to meet.

I didn’t know why my brain came up with these horrible thoughts; it seemed it got a sick pleasure out of torturing me. Or perhaps I got a sick pleasure out of torturing myself, since technically speaking, I was my brain.

Jay barely gave her a second glance as he thanked her for collecting lunch, and took the proffered sandwich and beverage. She placed a hand on her hip and said something, but I was too far away to hear. Still, I imagined it was something saucy and flirtatious. My fears were totally unwarranted; Jay would never cheat on me, but I still couldn’t help having them. I quickly looked away and focused on my task when Jay’s head turned in my direction.

I wasn’t a crazy, jealous fool. I was so cool I was oblivious to all of my husband’s admirers. Ha, yeah, right.

“Yo! Watson!” he called, hands clasped around his mouth. “Lunch is here. Come eat with me.”

I suppressed my smile when a tiny scowl flittered across Tina’s face. She hadn’t known I was there. Perhaps she’d been hoping Jay would invite her to have lunch with him. I set my work aside and made my way out. Jay was already sitting on the floor of the stage, his legs dangling off the edge as he dug into his sandwich. Tina glanced at me, then held out the remaining sandwich and my requested tea.

“I guess this is yours,” she said as I took them from her.

I swallowed and glanced away. “Um, yes, thank you, Tina.”

You see, this was my problem. I couldn’t help but be polite to people, even when they didn’t deserve it. Her first day on the job, Tina had shown up in loose jeans and a very respectable shirt/cardigan combo. However, after she saw who she was going to be working for, i.e. Jay, she began showing up in low-cut dresses, short skirts, and painted-on jeans. What? I was a designer. The sorts of clothes people chose to wear was something I noticed more than the average person. And Tina’s outfits were clearly chosen to catch the eye of any that-way-inclined gentleman in the vicinity.

Tina also giggled unnecessarily whenever Jay said anything even remotely funny and fingered the silver moon pendant that hung around her neck a lot. Having read one or two of Jay’s books, I knew a good deal about body language tells, and Tina’s fingering of her pendant was a move designed to draw my husband’s eyes to her chest. She wasn’t as well-endowed as I was, but still, breasts were breasts, and men liked to look.

I sat down beside Jay, and Tina walked off. Deciding this was as good a time as any to broach the subject that she was attracted to him, I dived right in.

“Your assistant fancies you, if you hadn’t noticed,” I said absently, and took a bite out of my sandwich, which was surprisingly good. I just hoped Tina hadn’t spit in it or anything.

Jay let out a long breath. “Yeah. Bit of a problem. She’s great at her job, though.”

My initial instinct was to say no more, but I wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t allow myself to. “I don’t like it.”

Jay took a slug of his coffee and set it down. I could see he was smiling already before he turned to look at me. He seemed entirely too gratified by my jealousy.

“Well, you don’t have to look so pleased about it.”

“Hey, I have a right to be pleased. It only took you a goddamn month to actually come out and admit you had a problem with her. I was beginning to think you didn’t give a shit.”

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. I was indignant. “You were waiting for me to say something! Was this all a little game for you?”

He shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich, nonchalant. I hated that I still found his chewing sexy. “What? A man needs to know his woman will fight for him,” he teased me.

“I’m not sure I’d win that fight. Tina’s bigger than me.”

He nudged me with his shoulder and winked. “Oh, I beg to differ. You’re a scrappy little thing, Watson. You could take her.”

Despite everything, his reply made me laugh. “I can’t believe you were baiting me with this. That’s sneaky, Jay, very sneaky.”

“You love it,” he said, voice growly. “I’ll get rid of her if you want. It’s unnecessary, since she could walk right in here wearing nothing but a thong and a smile, and I’d still be looking at you, darlin’. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, you only have to say the word.”

I chuckled against my will at his use of the phrase “a thong and a smile,” and then considered his offer. For some reason, I didn’t enjoy being the one to make the decision about someone else’s livelihood. Even if she was making a play for my husband, it felt selfish and low to have her fired just to assuage my own jealous insecurities.

Letting out a long sigh, I finally replied, “No, don’t fire her. Just…maybe I should talk to her or something. Tell her she needs to back off, you know, woman to woman.”

Jay pulled me to him then and began to massage some of the tension out of my neck. “Standing up for your man. I like it,” he murmured, and I melted into his touch. “You look gorgeous today.”

I had to stifle a moan, because his hands felt so good on me. Jay had been pulling late nights after his shows all week, staying up to do research, so most of the time I was asleep before he came to bed. It was good in terms of us sticking to the rules of our bet, but at the same time, I was hungry for his touch. His hands. God, I loved his hands.

I sank into him, my back to his front, and his lips whispered over the shell of my ear. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered weakly. His lips at my ear made a shudder pleasantly trickle down my spine.

He didn’t say anything, but his hands went to my hips as he pulled me in closer so I could feel just how much he’d been missing me, too. His cock was like a steel pipe pressing into my back, and I desperately wanted to reach around and feel him, but there were people still milling about, so I couldn’t. I was confined to the secret thrill of knowing we both wanted each other, but there was nothing we could do about it for the moment.

“You have no idea the things I’m gonna do to you after I win this bet,” he threatened, and I squirmed, clenching my thighs together. I wanted him to do those things right now.

His hand moved to my stomach, then dipped down so it was tantalisingly close to my nether regions. Daringly, I asked, “What kind of things?”

Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could practically feel his satisfied grin. “I’ll grip your hair as I sink myself into you from behind, pulling just a little, because I know how much you like that,” he said, and his words were torture. I was instantly wet and aching.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, biting my lip.

“Then I’ll make you come with my cock still inside you. I can’t wait to feel you pulse around me.” He paused and took a breath as one of the hotel workers walked by. To the ordinary bystander, nothing lewd was going on. Little did they know the things my husband was whispering in my ear.

“I’ll have a taste of you then, maybe make you come on my face this time.”

“Jay,” I pleaded, gripping onto his hand, which had started to move down between my legs. I managed to stop him just in time. “You need to quit talking now.”

His chest shook with quiet laughter. “You’re the one who asked.”

“Yes, well, I hadn’t expected that onslaught.”

He tutted. “My dear Watson, do you know me at all?”

Part Three: The Ruse

The next day was Halloween. Jay had an afternoon show to perform, and then he was off duty for the night. I’d caught the tail end of a conversation between him and Tina that morning, with Tina asking if he was still coming to her party. He’d replied that yes, he was, and that he’d be bringing his wife. I enjoyed the extra emphasis he put on the word.

Still, Tina hadn’t seemed too deterred, and there was even a bit of an extra swing in her step all day. I absently wondered what she had up her sleeve. I was making my way back to the hotel suite that evening, my mind full of Tina and her scheming. It had just gotten dark, and we were supposed to be leaving for the party in an hour. I planned on taking a quick shower and then throwing on my costume. I’d done a bit of improvising, deciding to use the cat ears and whiskers, but instead of wearing the indecently tight cat suit, I’d wear a pretty black lace dress.

Tonight I was going to get Tina alone and have a woman-to-woman chat. I was all inside my own head, psyching myself up for it, as I stepped into the suite and dropped my bag down onto an end table. A warm breeze brushed past me, and I saw that someone had left the balcony doors open. It must have been the housekeeping staff because I knew Jay had been downstairs all day.

I walked across the room, intending to close them, when something caught my eye. A necklace of mine was sitting on the ledge, and I didn’t remember leaving it out there. Stepping outside, I went to retrieve it, and the moment I picked it up, the balcony doors slammed closed behind me, making a loud clatter. Gripping the necklace, I whipped back around and went to open the doors, but they wouldn’t budge.

What the hell?

I pulled at them, but there was nothing for it. They’d been locked. I was almost certain that there was no automatic lock on them, either. Peering in through the glass, I saw that the suite was empty, exactly as it had been moments ago. Nothing was out of place, no sign that anyone had entered and locked me outside for whatever bizarre reason. My heart began to thrum as my mind raced. What if a thief had broken into the suite to steal our valuables and locked me out here so I wouldn’t get in the way?

The breeze blew my hair over my shoulder, and with it I was one hundred percent certain I felt a cold hand slide across my neck. I had definitely felt it. Turning around again, I found no one. I was all alone, and goose bumps began to break out on my skin. I started to get anxious, because I hadn’t imagined the hand. It had felt oh, so very real.

“Murder,” came a strange whisper in my ear. It echoed as though coming from an electronic speaker, but that couldn’t be right. There was nothing out here. All of a sudden, I remembered the bet. I couldn’t believe it had slipped my mind, but I’d been so busy with work and fretting over Tina.

The hand slid across my neck again, but this time I was fast, grabbing it before it could disappear again, as weird as that sounded. Nothing was too out of the realm of possibility when it came to Jason Fields.

When I did turn around, I startled for just a moment as he came toward me, backing me up into the glass door. The thing about Jay was that he was almost as good an actor as he was an illusionist. Even though you knew it was him, he could be so absorbed in his character he made you believe it, too, made you question if you actually knew the real him at all. I clutched at my heart. He was wearing zombie makeup, a torn white shirt complete with fake blood stains, and torn black trousers.

I almost didn’t recognize him.

“Raised eyebrows, eyes wide, heartbeat accelerating. Yep, I think I managed to frighten you, Matilda,” he declared triumphantly.

I scowled. “You gave me a fright, that’s all. You didn’t frighten me.”

“Now, now, you know you can’t lie to me. You were scared, admit it.”

“I was more confused than scared. I couldn’t figure out how the doors became locked.” Walking to them, I pulled on the handle. They still wouldn’t open. I turned back to him. “Okay, how the hell did you get out here? Were you hanging off the edge of the balcony or something?” If he had been, it wouldn’t be the first time, but that was a whole other story.

He simply gave me an enigmatic smile in response. He rarely revealed his trade secrets to people, even his own wife. I stared at him, brows furrowed. This had been a good trick and all, but I found it difficult to believe he had spent all his time planning something so small-scale. Jay liked to think big. His usual stunts were the Taj Mahal. This was a one-room cottage on the side of the road.

“So that was it? That was your attempt at scaring me?”

“Yep. And it worked,” he said, reaching past me for the door handle. Annoyingly, it opened quite easily when he tried. “I can’t wait to collect my winnings.”

“No way. If anybody’s going to be collecting winnings, it’ll be me. I wasn’t scared. You took me by surprise. It’s not the same thing as fear.”

Jay shrugged and walked into the suite. “Fine. Have it your way.”

I followed him, grinning. “Oh, I will. I’ll have a great time having it my way, and the first thing I’m going to make you wear is a red Dickie bow. Get ready for some style, Inspector Holmes.”

He winced and flopped down onto the couch. “A Dickie bow? Not happening. Okay, I still have until the end of the night to frighten you. The bet hasn’t been won yet.”

I gave him a confident look and folded my arms across my chest. “Fine. Bring it.”

“I love it when you sass me. You won’t be sassing me when I win, though. You’ll be bending over and begging for more.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Studying him as I went to gather my things for the shower, I got the distinct feeling that the little show out on the balcony was all a ruse and that he had something much bigger planned. It was so like him to lull me into a false sense of security and then bamboozle me with a grand finale. I decided a five-minute shower was all I had time for. Our bathroom here was huge, and there was even a bench inside the shower that you could sit down on if it so pleased you.

So I sat there, lathering up my hair with shampoo and trying to think of what my devious husband could be planning. I was fresh out of clues. I had just finished washing and was about to get out when the door to the shower opened, and in stepped Jay wearing nothing but a smile. Yeah, there wasn’t even a thong to speak of. I threw one hand across my chest and the other over my downstairs business.

“Get out! You’re breaking the rules,” I protested. I was annoyed now, because I was so close to winning our bet and he was throwing a spanner in the works. Plus, I had some sexy lingerie set aside to wear tonight, and whether he won our bet or not, I had been hoping to surprise him with it. It had been a week since we’d been intimate. I didn’t want him ruining my surprise with shower shenanigans.

“I have to wash off all this zombie makeup,” he explained teasingly. “Not everything is about sex, Matilda.”

“Aren’t you dressing up for the party?”

He shrugged.

I watched as the water hit him and his cock stood proudly to attention. “Not everything is about sex,” my arse. I think I might have drooled a little. That plus the sight of his wet abs was enough to tempt even a nun into handing over her celibacy.

I stood there, yep, still drooling, as he squirted some shower gel onto his hand and began rubbing it all over himself. I had no words. None. The smile never left his face as he brought his eyes to mine and ran a hand from his chest down his abs to his groin. He looked…lickable. And he was using dirty tactics.

“You’re playing dirty,” I whispered, my voice completely devoid of all strength.

His eyes went soft, sort of sexy hazy, as his hand went to his cock and fisted it. “On the contrary. I think you’ll find I’m playing clean.”

Eating me up with his gaze, he pumped himself up and down, and I had to get out of there before I attacked him. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and put one foot in front of the other. They were the hardest three steps I’d ever taken in my life. I didn’t know why I was so determined to keep from having sex with him; I guess in some messed-up way I wanted to prove to myself that I could resist him, even if I was on a knife’s edge.

I summoned all my reserves of calm. I knew he was jerking himself off in the shower and wished I could be there to witness it, if not to join in. Trying to keep busy, I blow-dried my hair and set about putting on my costume. I used some black face paint to draw on a cat’s nose and then stuck the whiskers on my cheeks. I was done.

To my delight, Jay wore a black suit with a white shirt and a black tie that I’d designed for him, and even though it wasn’t fancy dress, I didn’t mind. I took a strange pleasure out of seeing him in clothes I’d made. He whistled appreciatively when he saw me, and I smiled happily.

“That was a low move you pulled in the shower,” I said as I took his hand and he led me outside and into a waiting taxi.

“You loved it, and you make a very pretty cat, by the way,” he said, dipping his head down and capturing my mouth in a quick, tender kiss. His tongue briefly slid past the seam of my lips and dipped inside, but then it was gone. He could be such a tease sometimes.

Tina lived in an apartment in a stylish part of town. Her place was small, but maybe it just seemed that way because there were so many people. She pouted when she answered the door — yes, that’s right, pouted. Her hair was up in a twist, and she was wearing a pink Playboy bunny outfit. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. This was obviously the thing she had up her sleeve. I was almost offended on Jay’s behalf that she thought a sexy bunny outfit would be enough to tempt him.

“Jay, you didn’t dress up,” she said, trying to look all cute and disappointed. She barely gave me a second glance, even though I had gone to the trouble of dressing up.

Jay wrapped his arm around my waist as he led me inside. “Oh, I beg to differ. I thought my Alfred Hitchcock vibe was obvious,” he said, winking.

“You could be anyone in that suit,” said Tina, still feigning disappointment, like he had to make it up to her or something.

God, this woman needed to get a clue.

A somewhat awkward silence ensued.

“Oh, well, make yourselves at home, and feel free to have some drinks and food,” she said, and then went to talk to a group of other people. I saw her briefly touch Jay’s hand before walking away, and he broke the contact immediately, giving me an apologetic look. I knew there was nothing going on between them, but it was getting on my last nerve how she kept trying to get his attention.

Jay led me over to a counter full of drinks and poured me a glass of white wine. He knew my tipple of choice by now. His was usually a whiskey or sometimes a beer.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” I said, heavy on the sarcasm. “She obviously wore that outfit for your benefit. Perhaps you should fire her.”

Jay gave me a pleased smile. “You sound bitter, Watson. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re just as bad. Remember the barman from our honeymoon? I swear, if looks could kill, the guy would have dropped dead on the spot the moment you set your eyes on him.”

He massaged my hip as he placed a wine glass in my hand. Just my mention of the barman brought on a frown, and I enjoyed it. “Let’s not talk about that,” he said, and then some people we knew from Jay’s show came over to make chitchat. About an hour passed, and despite Tina making fuck-me eyes at my husband all night, I was having a decent time. I’d had a couple glasses of wine in me when I saw her make her way toward the bathroom. With alcohol-fuelled courage, I decided this was my time to set her straight.

Just before she had the chance to close the door, I pushed it open with my hand and stepped in after her.

“What the hell?” she said, giving me a dirty look.

“We need to talk,” I stated firmly, and closed the door behind me.

“I was just about to take a piss…um, what was your name again?” she asked bitchily.

Oh, she knew exactly what my name was. I laughed as I imagined her cutting my head out of photographs of me and Jay, and then supergluing her own head onto my body.

“My name is Matilda,” I enunciated. “Matilda Fields, and I’d like to politely request that you stop making a play for my husband. It isn’t proper.”

She stared at me, eyes squinted in annoyance. Then she folded her arms and cocked her head. “Jay is my boss. I work for him, so I’m certainly not making a play. I think you might be imagining things.” She paused and let out a long sigh. “Some women, God, so insecure and jealous.”

My eyebrows practically shot right up to the ceiling. “If you weren’t interested in him, then you wouldn’t have just said that. But anyway, I don’t want to drag this out. I just wanted to tell you to back off. We just got married, and I’d like to enjoy being a newlywed for a while without having to deal with women like you.”

She huffed. “Women like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave her a wry look. “I bet you always wanted your friends’ Barbie dolls, didn’t you? You couldn’t just go get your own — you had to have somebody else’s.”

“This is my apartment, and I think you need to leave now,” she hissed, and took a threatening step toward me. I backed up, because despite Jay’s opinion that I could take her, I didn’t think I was tough enough to win a cat fight, even though, strangely enough, I was dressed up as a cat.

This was a weird night, and as I turned to leave, I discovered that it was about to get even weirder. I opened the door and stepped out, and there on the floor lay Jay’s black cape, the one I’d been repairing for him the other day. I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things, because the cape was huge, and I definitely hadn’t remembered him bringing it with him.

Kneeling down, I gathered it up and went to find my husband. He wasn’t in the party, but when I asked around, I was told he’d gone outside to have a smoke. Stepping out onto the terrace, I saw him bring a cigarette to his lips and take a drag. He turned, a welcoming look on his face, like he’d been expecting me. Stepping closer, he exhaled the smoke, blowing it over my face. For some reason, it made me feel sleepy.

“Hey, Watson, I want you to relax now. You’re going to go to sleep for a little while,” he said, his voice a flat monotone. Less than a second later, I was falling, and I felt Jay catch me just before I lost consciousness.

Part Four: The Trick

My head felt foggy when I woke up, and I was cold, so cold my skin was prickling. It was strange, because I hadn’t felt this kind of cold since I’d arrived in Vegas. It was forever hot and humid here unless you were somewhere that was air-conditioned. It got a little colder at night, but not this much, not in my experience, anyway. I could also hear rain pounding down on the roof of wherever I was; a roll of thunder rang out, causing me to shudder. When I was little, I’d always been scared of thunder.

My body was sore because I’d been lying flat on dirty wooden floorboards. It was dark, and I didn’t know where I was, couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there.

I searched my memory for clues, but the last thing I could remember was having lunch with Jay on the stage after I’d been mending his cape. For some reason, I felt like there was a gap, like there were things that had been blanked out. They were just within my grasp, but when I tried to reach for them, they disappeared like wisps of smoke. The imagery of smoke triggered something, but my brain couldn’t work to comprehend what that something was.

Pushing myself up onto my knees, I looked around. I could hardly see a thing until a fluorescent light bulb began to flicker in the distance.

It blinked on and off, providing me with the opportunity to take in my surroundings. When I did, my gut sank. I was in a gigantic, rundown, grotty old room in what felt like an abandoned factory or warehouse. There was rusty old equipment scattered about, but I couldn’t tell what it might be for. I was shivering hard, because this felt like a kidnapping to me. There was no way I’d set foot in a place like this of my own choosing.

“Gah!” I yelped as I felt somebody tap me on the shoulder. I turned, startled, but there was no one. Then I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. Oddly, there was a large mirror on the wall at the other end of the room. It was large, with an antique frame, and completely out of place for the setting. Feeling compelled, I walked toward it, and when I got near enough, I gasped because there was a figure standing there, still as a statue, looking at me through the glass: a tall male form wearing all black with a white mask over his face. The mask had a single black question mark on one cheek, which for some reason I found highly disturbing.

I glanced all about frantically, trying to figure out where the reflection was coming from, because I was standing right in front of it and I couldn’t see myself, only the man. It was almost as though he were trapped inside the mirror.

He was still staring at me.

“Who are you?” I called out, and the moment I said it, the glass cracked, causing me to jump. More thunder rang out, this time followed by the loud wailing of a woman who sounded like she was in extreme pain. I was trembling all over now; the wail was foreboding, and it made my skin crawl. Seeming uninterested in my fear, the man within the glass turned and walked away. Then he was gone, but I still couldn’t see my own reflection.

It was eerie. I was only wearing a thin lacy dress, and I was freezing now as I rubbed at my arms. Freezing and terrified.

“Help!” I cried. “Please, somebody help me!”

My voice echoed around the empty space. I ran to one of the windows, trying to see outside, but it was so coated with dirt that I couldn’t make out a thing. When I noticed the open door at the end of the room where I had originally woken up, I ran for it. If I could at least get out of the building, then I could figure out where I was and perhaps get to safety. Before I reached the door, a strange hissing sound filled the room and I froze.

It started out low and soft, but rose in volume little by little. It was a horrible sound, and it made my skin crawl, like somebody had crossbred a snake with a vampire. A vampire! For crying out loud, I was being ridiculous. This was rapist territory, not horror movie territory. Still, the imagery of the man in the mask had my mind conjuring up all sorts of macabre ideas. Someone was trying to fuck with my head. I tried to will myself to believe I’d imagined him because it was the only way I knew how to carry on.

I felt something move by my foot and looked down to see a massive snake slithering through my legs. My mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and then I heard a whisper echo in my ears. A single word.

“Murder.”

When I looked back down, the snake was gone, but now I could feel a new presence advancing behind me. I didn’t want to turn around to see what it was, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. For some reason, my brain wanted to see what it was frightened of. I could hear footsteps advancing behind me, and when I looked, I saw the man in the mask. Now he wasn’t trapped inside the mirror, he was real and coming straight at me. He wasn’t wearing the mask anymore; it had been pulled down and hung around his neck, but I wished he’d kept it on. His face was deathly pale, like a corpse, and his eyes were blood red. There was no white at all, just red. He was holding a knife in his hand and it was covered in blood.

His movements sped up once he saw me looking, and I sprang into action, screaming as I ran for the door. I made it and discovered a narrow staircase, practically tripping over myself as I scurried down the steps. All the while I could hear the red-eyed man coming after me, hissing and grunting. Luckily, I was a fast runner. My entire body broke out into a sweat, and my every pore was pulsing with pure, undiluted fear, adrenaline rushing through my system. I had never felt anything quite like it. Had never felt the imminence of death so strongly, because something deep down in my bones told me that if the man caught me, I was done for.

It didn’t even bear thinking about where the bloody knife had come from and whose blood it was. My muscles were drawn tight, and my mouth was dry and rough like sandpaper. If this was a dream, then I desperately wanted to wake up. Tears were streaming down my face as I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered another room, this one almost identical to the first. I hated it. I felt like I was in a labyrinth that never ended. But then I scanned the space and realised it was worse, because lining the far wall were about twenty people standing there, still as stone, all replicas of the man in the mask, like their clothing was a uniform or something.

Who the hell were these people?

The hissing got close again, so I knew Mr. Red Eyes had caught up with me. I was penned in. No escape. Arms came around my middle, gripping me tight like a vice, and I whimpered. This was it. I was done for. All at once the line of identically dressed people started to move, marching toward me, their movements strange and staccato, their footsteps ringing loud and harsh as I was held in place. I struggled to break free, but it was no use — my captor’s strength was far superior to my own.

“Please! Please let me go,” I begged.

When the line of people was just two feet away, they stopped, and the tall one right in the centre stepped forward. My chest rose and fell frantically in terror, and then he pulled off his mask, revealing a familiar face. The face of my husband.

My breath escaped me all at once, and I felt like I might faint.

Confusion washed over me as Jay came and took me from the man and into his own arms.

“Hush now, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to my face. He clicked his fingers, and the sound reverberated in my ears. Then I was out again.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of an engine running. I was lying down, this time in the back of a car. Jay’s car. I’d recognise his smell anywhere. My head was in his lap, and he was stroking my hair away from my face in a soothing manner. The windows were down, and the fresh night air flowed in. I swallowed down deep gulps of it, my heart still going ninety as the events leading up to this moment rushed into my head all at once.

Now I remembered the party, Halloween, and our bet. While I’d been inside that strange nightmarish scene, I’d forgotten about all of it. I guess that had been the point. Jay had hypnotised me, somehow made me forget everything so that I’d believe what was happening was one hundred percent real. For a brief moment in time, very specific things had been wiped from my memory. It was incredible and infuriating in equal measures.

“Where are we?” I asked, my voice a little raspy as I tried to sit up.

“We’re in a parking lot, darlin’. Lie back down. You need to relax.”

He was right; I did need to relax. For now. Once I’d recovered from my fake near-murder experience, I was planning on giving him the tongue lashing of his life. And not the sexy kind. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to summon some calm.

“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered, and he chuckled in response.

He continued stroking my hair. “You gave me permission to do this, Matilda. I gave you a choice, and you asked for a mind fuck. You can’t complain that I gave you what you asked for. If you’d chosen a simple scare, my zombie routine back at the hotel would have been it.”

I reached out and slapped him hard on the arm. “I was terrified, Jason! Some scary Halloween fun is fine, but that felt too real. I could have fallen down those stairs and really hurt myself.”

“You wouldn’t have. I was with you the entire time. You just couldn’t see me.”

“Are you going to tell me where all that took place and who all those people were?”

Jay gestured to the tall building in front of us. “It’s a film studio. The whole thing happened on a specially designed, climate-controlled set, and those people wearing the masks were all actors. They’re in a drama group that meets in a center near our hotel.”

“You took it too far,” I complained, some of my anger dissipating. Jay was right — after all, I had given him permission to do this.

He leaned in and kissed me softly. “I’m sorry. You know that when I set my mind to something I can get a little…extreme. But you felt fear. I saw it. That was the whole point. You wanted me to scare you, and I did.”

“You didn’t just scare me, you terrified me, Jay,” I said, and began to massage my aching temples. This whole thing was bringing on a migraine. “Seriously, if you ever get tired of magic, you should start making horror films for a living.”

“Nah, movies aren’t my thing. But I did have an idea to make this a whole experience next Halloween. You know, have people pay for me to scare the shit out of them. Could be fun.” He grinned playfully.

“You have a very warped idea of what fun entails.” I scowled. “And anyone who’d sign up for that needs to have their head examined. I can’t believe you hypnotized me! I mean, I’ve seen you do it to other people lots of times, but I didn’t think I’d be susceptible to it.”

“Most people are susceptible — you just have to tailor the technique to the individual. The cape was the trigger, and my voice was what put you under.”

I slapped him again, this time more in surprise than in anger. “I knew there was a reason why you were having me repair that old thing. That was sneaky!”

He grabbed my hand right after I slapped him and used it to pull me closer. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

I sighed. “You won the bet.”

He nodded and brought his lips to mine, tasting me leisurely. “I won the bet. But since you’ve been such a good sport, I’ll give you one concession and let you choose my outfit for tomorrow night’s show. I’ll give you carte blanche, wear whatever you want.”

A big smile spread across my face, all annoyance from his elaborate horror stunt wiped clean. “You will?”

“I will for you. Only for you, Watson, because I love you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted kisses all over his face. “You’re the best. And I love you, too.”

The next night I was still smiling as I straightened out Jay’s Dickie bow. I’d paired it with a dark brown three-piece suit and a pair of Italian leather shoes. He hated it, and I adored it. After our confrontation at her party, Tina was skulking around, giving me the evil eye and then plastering on a sweet-as-pie expression whenever Jay was looking.

She sauntered by, swinging her hips as though hoping he’d check her out, even though I was standing right there in front of him. The woman was shameless.

“You know, I’d been hoping her behavior was something to do with your trick, like maybe I had to be pissed off in order for your hypnosis to work, but seemingly I don’t have that kind of luck,” I griped, and stood back to admire my work. Jay looked absolutely dashing. I needed to take a picture before he went on stage, because I knew by the end of his show, half the buttons would be undone and he’d have stripped down to the waistcoat at the very least.

He ran a hand down my arm and leveled his eyes on me. “Ignore her. She might as well be wallpaper to me, and besides, we’re stronger than that. Nobody else can touch us. I told you before — all I see is you.”

His words made me breathless. I ran my hands over the lapels of the suit, acting like I was dusting it off when really I was just taking any excuse to feel him up.

His mouth hovered over my ear when he whispered, “Hold that thought. After tonight, I have two days off. As soon as we get back to the suite, I’m cashing in on my winnings.”

Trust him to be able to read my desire. I wanted him badly. I’d been too exhausted for anything when we got back last night, so our week of abstinence was still going strong. I trembled with anticipation, licking my lips. He bent down for a quick, hot kiss full of promise, and then the house lights were dimming and it was time for him to take to the stage. I stood and watched him perform. Even though I’d seen the act dozens of times before, there was always some new detail that fascinated me.

After his show, we took the elevator up to our suite. The car was empty when we stepped inside, and the moment the doors closed, he was on me.

“I should get a fucking trophy for sticking to this sex ban,” he growled as he backed me up into the wall and brought his mouth to my neck.

I giggled and then moaned when his hand went between my legs and cupped me hard. Immediately, I was aching. “Oh, indeed, a medal at the very least,” I replied, my voice raspy.

He chuckled, and the deep sound reverberated through me, making me shiver. It felt like it had only been seconds when the door pinged open, and Jay was scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to our door. It seemed he didn’t have the patience for walking. I almost regretted putting him in the suit tonight, because it felt like it took forever for me to get his shirt off. Since it was tailor-made for him, it went against everything I believed in to tear open the buttons, so I summoned some willpower and forced myself to unbutton it carefully. He watched me the entire time, a wry, knowing smile on his lips.

When I had him topless, I ran my hands over his body, and he allowed me a moment to savor him. I loved that about him; even though he was desperate for me, too, he held back, letting me go first. He didn’t hold back for long, because the next thing I knew, he was scooping me up in his arms again and carrying me into the bedroom. I bounced when I hit the mattress, and Jay made short work of pulling my dress up over my head and off me in one fell swoop.

His mouth went instantly to my breasts, yanking down the cups of my bra so he could lavish my nipples with attention. I squirmed beneath him, and my hands fumbled for his belt buckle. We had all weekend to have our fill of one another. But it had been a while, and right then I just needed him inside me.

He seemed to sense what I wanted, because he came up for air. “No foreplay?”

I shook my head. “Later. Right now I need to feel you.”

His eyes darkened, and he practically growled in approval. Before I knew it, his pants were off, and he was plunging all of his hot, hard, silky flesh into my needy core. I cried out when I felt him, my walls clenching tight around him.

Our eyes locked, held, as he moved his hips, thrusting in and out, slowly building up a pace. Then he was out and out fucking me, giving me everything, not holding back an inch, and I took everything he had to give. We were frenzied, lost to each other. There was so much love in his eyes that I became breathless and hot all over. In that moment, I knew I’d been silly to think that anybody could ever threaten what we had together. Jay and I existed in our own little bubble, and we always would. We’d been through so much. He had fought hard to get us where we were right now, and I knew he’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

The revelation warmed my heart.

And then I was so overtaken by lust that I couldn’t form coherent thoughts any longer. Hours later, our bodies spent, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Perhaps I’d make a bet with him every Halloween, because if this was where betting with my husband got me, I was quite happy to take a gamble.

END

Want to read Jay & Matilda’s story from the beginning? Check out L.H. Cosway’s contemporary romance, Six of Hearts.

Step right up and meet Jay Fields: Illusionist. Mentalist. Trickster.

I think in triangles. You think in straight lines.

I show you a table and make you believe it’s a chair.

Smoke and mirrors, sleight of hand, misdirection. I trick and deceive.

But most of all, I put on a good show.

The world thinks I killed a man, but I didn’t. Bear with me. It’s all a part of the plan.

Revenge is what I want. I want it for me and I want it for her.

I want it for all six of us.

She doesn’t remember me, but she’s the reason for everything. She’ll be my prize at the end of all this — if I can hold onto my willpower, that is. Maybe I’ll slip up a little, have a taste, just a small one.

So go ahead and pick a card. Come inside and see the show. Look at my hands, look so closely that you can’t see what’s happening while you’re so focused on looking. I’ll be destroying your world from right here in the spotlight.

You’ll never see me coming until it’s too late.

I’ve only got one heart, and after I’ve pulled off my grand deception I’ll hand it right to her.

So, sit back, relax, and let my girl tell you our story. You’re in for one hell of a ride.

Praise for Six of Hearts

"This book was sexy. Man was it hot! Cosway writes sexual tension so that it practically sizzles off the page." — A. Meredith Walters, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author.

"There is a way that certain authors write that just grips me by the throat because I can see the world, I can smell the sounds, I can hear the voices, and I can feel their hearts." — Marie Hall, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author.

"I loved the twist at the end. I loved how sexy it was. (DAMN IT WAS SEXY!!)" — Penny Reid, Author of Neanderthal Seeks Human.

"Six of Hearts is a book that will absorb you with its electric and all-consuming atmosphere." — Lucia, Reading is my Breathing.

"There is so much "swoonage" in these pages that romance readers will want to hold this book close and not let go." — Katie, Babbling About Books.

About the Author

L.H. Cosway has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books.

She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.

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Candy, Dentures, and Way Too Much Spandex

by R.S. Grey

…or My Night Chaperoning a Nursing Home Halloween Party

“There’s been a murder in Paradise Springs!” Sandy exclaimed, clapping her hands wildly in the front row of the residents’ meeting.

“Well there will be,” I clarified, trying to calm the outburst that was sure to ensue.

Sandy’s grin gave away the fact that the theme for the Paradise Springs’ Halloween party had been decided in her favor. The small living room erupted into shouts as other residents clamored to be heard. As the head of the party planning committee, it was my job to make sure these meetings ran smoothly.

“I don’t think a murder mystery party will be fun for everyone,” a resident shouted.

“What’s wrong with doing the Hawaiian Halloween party again?” someone else yelled from the back. “Why does Sandy always get the final say in these things?”

I was standing at the front of the room, surrounded by drapes that hadn’t been updated since the 1950s and couches that always had a certain stench to them. I tried to get everyone’s attention, but it was no use.

I thought being a nurse would be glamorous. While I studied on nights and weekends in nursing school, I’d picture myself walking through the halls of a hospital in perfectly fitted scrubs. There’d always been an imaginary fan blowing my hair back, and I’d point to someone and wink as I walked by them in slow motion.

Sadly, reality hadn’t worked out that way. I’d graduated from nursing school during a year where the job market was flooded with new applications. As a mediocre human being with average grades and of average height, I’d wound up as a nurse at Paradise Springs, a premiere retirement community, or so it was described on the information packet.

“Everyone, calm down!” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the group.

There was no use in even trying. It was the start of October, and we’d just voted on what the theme would be for Paradise Springs’ Annual Halloween Party. And no, apparently “Halloween” isn’t a theme in and of itself. I’d had my head chewed off for suggesting such a ludicrous idea when I first started my job two years ago.

Last year’s theme was “Christmas in October”, and our Jewish residents had protested outside of the party with signs and tastefully done sugar cookies that involved decapitated Santa Clauses. For dramatic effect, they separated the heads and the bodies onto two plates. The year before that, it was a “Hawaiian” Halloween. They’d tried to stuff a live pig, but it escaped and ran around the community for two days before Animal Services had finally come in to catch it.

So you can imagine my surprise when the residents voted on a theme for this year’s party and it actually made sense.

This year we would do a Murder Mystery Halloween Party.

“How much does it even cost to hire one of those fancy party crews?” one of our residents asked. “You know, the ones who come in and set up the murder mystery for you.”

I glanced down at my clipboard where I’d circled the party’s total budget in red pen three times. I wouldn’t let them sweet-talk me into breaking it again this year. Last time it ended up coming out of my paycheck.

“Guys, we have $100 to spend on the entire party. That includes food, drinks, and decorations. I don’t think we can hire a party crew to come in and host the event.”

“What about having George write a script for us?” Anne asked from the front row. I smiled down at her, glad to have an ally during these monthly resident meetings.

“Oh please,” Sandy responded haughtily.

“What? I think he could do a great job,” Anne insisted, swiveling around in her chair to turn her green eyes on Sandy. The two did not get along very well, but I was team Anne all the way. You would have been too. She looked like a cooler version of Queen Elizabeth, and she was my best friend.

George, who had remained silent until that moment, stood up and straightened his black-framed glasses on the tip of his nose.

“I accept the role and will gladly write a murder mystery! The likes of which could grace the Broadway stage,” he said, holding his chin up high and exiting the room while we all watched him, confused as to why he was leaving considering the meeting wasn’t over yet.

“Are you kidding me? Him?” Sandy asked, pointing to the doorway that George had just exited.

“He’s worked in theater his whole life, and it’s not like we have any other options,” Anne protested.

I glanced around the room, toward the other silent residents, but no one seemed to want to volunteer to argue with Anne or Sandy.

“Okay,” I sighed. “It’s decided. We’ll have a murder mystery Halloween Party,” I said, setting the clipboard down on the table behind me. “I’ll talk to George about the script and make sure it’s ready in time.”

“Now, let’s talk about the food,” Sandy said, rubbing her hands together like she was planning something diabolical.

That was the point where I pretty much tuned out. It’s strange that nowhere in my nursing training had they discussed proper party planning techniques. Oh yeah, because they’d assumed I’d actually be a nurse. I mean, I did do some nursing duties, but when I first started at Paradise Springs, they’d been majorly understaffed. Management had asked me to help coordinate a few things, and I agreed without a second thought. As the months passed, and they continued to be understaffed, I fell even more into my “jack of all trades” role.

“No! No! I said Halloween Chic, do you think marshmallows made to look like spiders is chic, Mary Joe?” Sandy’s harsh words pulled me out of my daydream.

“Okay, alright.” I held my hands up in the air like an orchestra conductor. “Let’s settle down, everyone.”

Thirty minutes, one pair of missing dentures, and one hysterical Mary Joe later, I finally walked out of the meeting with Anne by my side.

“Boy, I tell you, that Sandy is a piece of work,” Anne said, taking her glasses off so that they hung limply from the lanyard around her neck.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, though. The party will be a hit, and George will make a good script,” I said as we rounded the corner toward Anne’s room.

“I hope so. My grandson will probably be attending the party,” she said, sliding her gaze to me from beneath her lashes. I knew what she was doing, and still, I was helpless to stop the blush that always crept onto my cheeks whenever she mentioned her grandson, Sawyer. A vision of his handsome appearance popped into my head before I could tamp it out.

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably have a date, so we can introduce them,” I said, flailing for a response and landing on one that had no basis in reality.

* * *

October 31st arrived much faster than I had hoped it would. My plan had been to transform into a cooler, sexier version of myself before the Halloween party so that I could impress Sawyer, but as I stared at the mirror inside the employee bathroom of Paradise Springs, I decided I hadn’t even come close.

My pale blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut, and my brown eyes were rimmed by lightly mascaraed lashes. I mostly looked like a grown-up version of Tinker Bell, which I knew from experience, was not every adult male’s fantasy. On a scale of one to Kim Kardashian, my curves and sex appeal fell at about a one.

I sighed and exited the bathroom, knowing I was already ten minutes late starting my rounds. I had a few residents who were assigned to me as patients. Most of them didn’t need constant supervision, but it was still policy that at the start of my nursing shift I was supposed to check-in with all of the residents on my watch.

First up was always Sandy. I made it a point to get her over with at the very beginning.

“Sandy, are you done getting ready for the Halloween party?” I asked, knocking gently on the cheap chipboard doors that dotted the hallways of Paradise Springs. I didn’t want to knock. Given the choice, I would have walked right on by Sandy’s door, but I had no choice.

Let me warn you. Sandy is the opposite of a fine wine. Instead of getting better with age, she’s only become crabbier. And don’t you dare pity her. She wasn’t like some of the patients here who were irritable because they were experiencing chronic pain or some other serious illness. No, Sandy was fit as a whistle and was the resident ringleader at Paradise Springs. She ruled that nursing home cafeteria with an iron fist, and she even scared me a little bit.

“Oh yes, I’m ready,” she sang with her shrill voice.

I wish I could go back in time and throw bleach on my eyes before opening that door, but alas, time travel hasn’t yet been invented. So instead, I opened the door to see Sandy standing in a head-to-toe black spandex jumpsuit that was only half zipped in the front.

You know who shouldn’t wear spandex? 80-year-old women.

“AHHHHhhhhhh.” I couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from me, but midway through I felt bad so I tried to turn it down a notch.

“I know! Have you seen a cat woman this sexy before?” she asked, staring at herself in the mirror.

I couldn’t answer that question because my eyes were trying to retract into my brain. She spun around in a circle for emphasis, and I just stood there, too shocked to comment.

“Sandy, are you going to zip it the rest of the way?” I asked, trying to sound gentle and not judgmental, but, I mean, her left boob was just hanging there, flapping in the wind. And while I see a lot of body parts in this job, usually they aren’t just out there for anyone to see.

She glanced down. “Damnit, the left one keeps popping out.”

Andddd, my life is now complete.

“Alright, well you tuck that back in there… and I’ll see… go… the party starts in thirty minutes!” I dashed out of that room like my life depended on it, not bothering to form a complete sentence prior to my departure.

I know what you’re thinking and, yes, my job as a nurse in a “retirement community” is pretty glamorous. What twenty-three-year-old wouldn’t want to spend their Halloween night supervising a bunch of crazy old people? I didn’t need friends or a boyfriend when I had these guys to keep me company.

I kept walking down the hallway in pursuit of my next resident, trying to scrape the image of Sandy’s boob out of my mind. Before I could turn the corner toward Anne’s room, I saw Gertie— one of Sandy’s side-kicks— walking straight toward me with a friend. She was a small woman, seemingly even tinier every time I saw her. Her back hunched over at a chirp angle, but she wore bright colored muumuus and always had her hair styled into cute, white curls.

“Oh Ruby, you look like a prostitute in that outfit,” Gertie hissed as she passed me in the hallway with her walker.

I glanced down at my navy blue scrubs and Nikes. “Gertie, these are my work clothes… I’m not even dressed up for Halloween.”

Gertie’s friend, who was walking beside her with a walker of her own, patted her on the back. “If she wants to dress up like a slutty nurse, let her. She’s young. These kids are so reckless these days.”

They kept walking off in a tizzy, shaking their heads at how deplorable I was dressed.

“I’m literally in my normal work scrubs!” I yelled after them, only then realizing that they couldn’t even hear me anymore.

I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, repeating the phrase “I love this job, I love this job,” over and over again in my mind.

This was going to be a long shift. I had actually been looking forward to a quiet night at home in my apartment. I was going to make some popcorn and talk myself into buying Halloween candy for kids, but then eat it all myself since no one trick-or-treats in an apartment complex. It would have been perfect.

Instead, I’d picked the short straw at the beginning of October and had landed Halloween duty. But, I’d come prepared this time. I had two years of Paradise Springs under my belt, which is why I had the following items inside the pockets of my scrubs:

— Band-aids

— a roll of butterscotch Lifesavers

— a pair of small latex gloves

— two condoms

— a small bottle of disinfectant

One couldn’t be too prepared during the Halloween shift at Paradise Springs. I was running through the possible outcomes of the night in my head when I knocked on Anne’s door. Anne was always my favorite stop during my rounds. I’d camp out in her room during my shifts, explaining that she needed some extra TLC. In reality, we would sit on her bed flipping through rag magazines and gossiping together.

When I knocked and entered her room that day, she was sitting at her small vanity getting ready for the party. I breathed a sigh of relief as I pushed through the door and closed it behind me. Her vanity was small and old, a relic from her house. It didn’t seem to belong in the sterile room when she’d first moved in, but we’d decorated her room for months, making it feel homey and comfortable. Now there were a series of framed photos that hung on the wall beside her vanity: her and her late husband, her and her grandchildren, and even one of her and me together.

“Hot mama alert!” I said as her gaze met mine in the mirror.

“I thought you said you were going to dress up,” she frowned.

I reached to grab the pair of ears out of the back pocket of my scrubs. The moment I positioned them on top of my short pixie cut, Anne smiled.

“There, much better. Those mouse ears really suit you,” she said, adding a bit of blush to her cheeks. If I had any say in how I aged, I hoped I would look like Anne. She was beautiful with emerald green eyes (just like her grandson), white hair that she always spun into artfully done up-dos, and just enough wrinkles to give her a wise appearance.

“Are you saying I’m mousy?” I joked, narrowing my eyes on her as I moved to take a seat on the end of her quilted bed.

She laughed. “No. You’re cute, like a little mouse.”

“Whatever you say,” I smiled. “What are you supposed to be anyway?”

I glanced down her royal blue dress that wrapped around her in tight folds. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t place it as any costume I’d seen before. A gold statement necklace wrapped around her neck and hung down her chest.

“I’m not dressed up as anything. I wasn’t sure what we were supposed to do since George will be giving us characters to play in the murder mystery. I thought it’d be too confusing if I was in costume as well.”

I nodded. “That’s a good point. Too bad Sandy is already dressed up as Catwoman.”

Anne’s mouth dropped open. “Is she really?”

“Yes, and Gertie called me a whore in the hallway.”

Anne started laughing then, and the skin around her eyes crinkled as her grin overtook her features. When she finally took a deep breath, I asked her a question.

“Hey Anne, is it really a good idea to do a murder mystery in a nursing home?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

I pressed my lips together as I tried to work out the precise way I should word the next sentence.

“It’s just that… some of you are older… not you, Anne, but you know.” I was flailing around like a fish on a hook.

She laughed and clapped her hands together. “You mean because one of us could actually die!?”

Well at least she thought I was a hoot. You see what I just did? “A hoot.” When you work with old people for two years, you start to adopt their language. I would have never said “hoot” before becoming best friends with Anne. Yes, I am friends with an eighty-two-year-old. But, let me tell you, she can kick my ass. They did a self-defense class one time at Paradise Springs right after I was hired. Apparently, there’d been a break-in and they wanted to make sure everyone knew some basic skills on how to defend themselves. (Seriously, who breaks into a retirement home? Apparently, the criminals didn’t take anything except for some chocolate pudding from the kitchen. And I’ll admit, if I no longer worked at Paradise Springs, I’d break in for that chocolate pudding, too.)

Anyway, yeah, Anne was my partner for the self-defense class. She was putting me in a choke-hold, and when I thought I was going to pass-out, I tried tapping out like the instructor had shown us. Anne wasn’t listening during that part, so she thought I was just encouraging her to strangle me harder. No, yeah, please keep going. I want to die at the hands of an eighty-two-year-old today.

And that’s the story of how Anne almost killed me.

After that, we’d become inseparable.

“Well, I for one, think it’d be hilarious if someone keeled over today. It would make the murder mystery feel real.”

I burst out in laughter, holding my hand over my mouth.

“Anne, if you’re killed,” I began in a mock serious tone, “I swear I will avenge your death and find your murderer.”

She laughed, and then turned around on her chair to face me.

“You’ll have Sawyer to help you solve the mystery. He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

My heart rate picked up at the mention of her grandson, but I tried to sound casual as I asked my next question.

“Oh, is Sawyer going to be here tonight?” I glanced down at my hands spinning circles on her hand-made quilt. I didn’t think I was fooling anyone, least of all, Anne. Even still, something kept me from admitting my serious crush on him.

“Yes. He promised me he’d stop by before he went to another Halloween party. I thought I had already mentioned this to you?”

She had, but I didn’t want to appear too obsessed with him. “Do you think he’s bringing a date?”

The edge of Anne’s mouth tipped up. “You know, I’m not sure. He broke up with that Lisa girl. Did I tell you that?”

My eyes practically bulged out of my head. “What?! No, you didn’t tell me that!”

She smiled. “Surprise.”

* * *

The first time I saw Sawyer, I’d only been working at Paradise Springs for two weeks and I had urine in my hair. Not my urine. No. I was going through rounds during my shift and making sure that everyone was doing okay. I’d just left Mr. Tennon’s room, where he’d thrown a fit about getting a sponge bath. He was one of the high maintenance residents, and I was still learning how to handle him (I’d learn six months later that if you enticed him with the promise of an episode of Baywatch, the man would do anything you wanted).

Anyway, I was helping Mr. Tennon take off his clothes and as I dipped down to pull his pants over his ankles— I felt it. Urine seeping into my hair and running down the side of my face. I tried my best to stay calm, it’s not like he meant to pee on me. I knew incontinence was something that came with the territory, but it was a low blow to my self-esteem either way.

Becoming a nurse seemed so much more heroic and adventurous when I was studying in school. I thought I’d be caring for gunshot victims and yelling things like “10 ccs stat!” and “We’re going to have to intubate!”

Instead, I was standing in Mr. Tennon’s bathroom with my head under the sink faucet, taking deep breaths and trying to calm my anger.

My hair was still wet and I was patting my face with some scratchy paper towels when I finally stepped out into the hallway to check on my next resident. But, the moment I shut his door behind me, I wished I’d just stayed under the urine stream.

Because he was right there. The man that I would pine after for the next two years:

Sawyer.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, gripping either side of my shoulders to steady me. I’d almost walked directly into him when I’d exited Mr. Tennon’s room.

His hands dropped back to his sides as I turned to take him in. He was tall, taller than me by a couple inches, so I had to tilt my head back to look up into his emerald green eyes. Those eyes were connected to a face that was friendly, open, and handsome. It wasn’t perfect in the traditional movie star sense, but it made me pause all the same. His brown hair was a little too long on top, and his thin layer of facial hair made him look older than he was.

“I… have to get urine out of my hair,” I stammered like a simpleton before staring at him for two more seconds and then turning to bound down the hallway.

After that first day, I chopped my long hair off into a pixie cut and wore a shower cap whenever I was undressing Mr. Tennon.

The second time I saw Sawyer, I was sitting in Anne’s room during my lunch break. We were sharing a chicken salad sandwich and watching daytime television when there was a knock at the door. Anne told the person to come in, and as the door opened and Sawyer walked in, my mind froze.

I hadn’t known he was at Paradise Springs for Anne the first time I bumped into him, so to suddenly glance up and see him standing in her doorway really threw me for a loop.

“Oh, Sawyer! I wasn’t expecting you so soon!” Anne pushed up off her bed and went to greet him as I sat in complete shock. Their hug gave me a quick second to take him in without them noticing, and boy, did I take him in. He was wearing black converse, jeans, and a soft-looking t-shirt that fit him well. He looked to be a little older than me, but it was hard to tell.

“Yeah, I was able to cut out from work early,” he said, dipping to kiss her cheek. It wasn’t until he pulled away that his gaze finally settled on me.

The normal reaction would have been to keep eye contact and smile or wave. Instead, I dropped my gaze to Anne’s quilt and ignored his presence all together.

Did he remember me as urine girl?

“You got a haircut,” he said, drawing my attention back up to him. He was smiling as he crossed his arms, not in a rude way, but in a relaxed, easy-going sort of way.

“Yes,” I answered meekly.

“You know Ruby, Sawyer?” Anne asked, glancing back and forth between us.

I pushed off the bed and straightened my scrubs.

“No, I ran into her a few weeks ago, but we didn’t get the chance to meet,” Sawyer explained. “She ran off too fast.”

At that fact, Anne turned toward me with a look like she was about to reprimand me.

I squirmed in my shoes. “That was the day that Mr. Tennon had an accident on me, so I was in a rush,” I explained, knowing she’d recall that sordid tale.

Her brows nearly shot up to meet her hairline and her laughter rang out around the room. “What an interesting first encounter,” she said between laughs.

Interesting didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Well, I have to get back to work,” I said quickly, brushing past them and out of the door before anyone could continue the embarrassing conversation.

The third time Sawyer came to visit Anne, I finally got the chance to talk to him. I was down in the kitchen fixing a meal to bring up to Sandy, who didn’t “take her lunch in the dining halls” like everyone else. I was preparing her plate with all the specific things she’d requested (“I like a little bit of mustard on my sandwich, but not too much, and make sure the mustard is touching the turkey and not the cheese or I won’t be able to eat it”). Sawyer had come into the cafeteria to get some frozen yogurt for him and Anne.

I saw him out of my periphery, but I didn’t work up the courage to look at him.

“Ruby?” he asked with a confident half-smile.

I peered up at him as if shocked to see him. “Oh, hello!” I said, my voice an octave higher than it usually was.

He smiled wider. “Hi, I’m Sawyer, Anne’s grandson,” he reminded me.

He even reached his hand out to shake mine, that’s how polite and adorable he was. I was completely out of my element.

“Oh, yeah, I remember,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand and cringing when I saw a bit of mustard on my thumb. I pulled back just before our hands touched. “Mustard,” I said, reaching for a napkin and wiping it away.

He laughed as I held my hand out again.

“Want to try it one more time?” I asked, mostly because I just really wanted to touch him.

We shook hands, bouncing them up and down for what felt like five minutes before either one of us thought to pull away.

“I was going to tell you that I liked your new haircut the other day, but you ran off too quick,” he said as he put his hands in his back pockets.

“What — me? This — hair?” I could apparently say words, but stringing them into a coherent sentence was another thing all together.

Sawyer laughed and glanced down to his feet before turning back to the frozen yogurt machine.

“Well, I better go get some yogurt for my grandma or she’ll kill me.”

I cleared my throat and turned back to Sandy’s sandwich. “Okay, I’ll see ya.”

He gave me one more smile before leaving.

And that’s how it went for the whole first year that I knew him. He’d visit Anne at least once a week, usually on Thursdays. So for one year, every Thursday, I put on a little bit more mascara and made sure I didn’t have anything embarrassing in my teeth in the hopes of running into him. I’d try to bring him up to Anne as casually as possible and try to plans subjects we could talk about if he came to visit so that I wouldn’t look like a blubbering idiot.

Then one year after I first met him in the hallway, Anne broke the news to me that he had a girlfriend and my school-girl crush started to crack. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter that he had a girlfriend since we hardly knew each other. But most days I’d wander through my shift at work and think about what it would be like if he suddenly appeared in front of me, single and ready to mingle.

It wasn’t easy to push him out of my mine, and I hated to admit that my crush had grown even more in the last year, but I’d kept it to myself.

It was hard to face him when he came to visit Anne. Every time I saw him, I feared his girlfriend would be by his side, but she never was. The whole time they dated, he never brought her to Paradise Springs.

But apparently now he was SINGLE again, and Anne decided to break that news to me three seconds before his arrival for the Halloween party.

Just great. I had no planned conversations, I hadn’t practiced talking to myself in the mirror in months, and I could have at least stashed my mouse ears under Anne’s bed.

I was going to have to kick some grandma ass.

Or yeah, maybe she’d kick my ass again. I wouldn’t test her.

* * *

I stood at the top of a ladder trying to hang balloons from the ceiling in the dining hall. The party was due to start in an hour, but no one had signed up for the decoration committee, which had left me as the only back-up available. I’d already blown up two dozen balloons and was feeling the effects of depleting all of my oxygen stores, but the old people needed balloons, because y’know maybe this would be their last Halloween and who was I to stand in the way of their death and one last night of geriatric partying.

My head felt woozy, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to catch my bearings.

“Sweetie, you don’t look so good up there,” Anne called as she held the ladder for me. I was a good ten feet off the ground, and the longer I hovered in the air, the more I realized that I should have blown the balloons up on the ground.

“I’m fine, I just feel lightheaded,” I assured her as I tied off the balloon and reached up on my tiptoes to tape it to the ceiling. You know what looks like crap? Balloons stuck to the ceiling in random spots. Once again, I thought of how strange it was that my nursing curriculum had failed to teach me party decorating considering it made up 50 % of my job. The other 50 % consisted of urine. So much urine.

“Grandma, they have you on ladder duty?” A deep voice asked from a few feet behind me. I twisted around with enough force to cause the ladder to twist out of Anne’s grip.

“Ahhhhhhhhh,” I screamed as I tried to grab onto anything around me, but I was only coming up with empty air. My life was flashing before my eyes as that ladder slowly toppled toward the ground.

“Byyyyeeee Annneeeeee,” I said in what felt like slow motion speech, just as I fell into strong arms.

“Whoa,” Sawyer said as he steadied the two of us. “Are you okay?”

AM I OKAY?!

I am in the arms of my lover. My unknowing lover. I’ve never been more okay.

“I fell,” I said lamely.

A smile broke out across his face, and I caught an up close view of straight, white teeth. “You did, and then I caught you.”

I nodded, connecting the dots.

“You’re really strong,” I pointed out, appreciating his physique. “Like the hulk.”

He laughed and then slowly set me back onto my own two feet. If I had thought faster, I would have feigned injury to stay in his arms. Oh weird, my leg just fell off, so why don’t you just carry me around all day? That would have worked like a charm.

“Sawyer! You made it!” Anne sang as she swooped in and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I took the moment to take him in, appreciating his soccer jersey and jeans.

“Hey grandma,” he said before meeting my eye. “Hey Ruby. Cute ears.”

I instinctively reached up to feel the fuzzy, gray mouse ears. I’d forgotten I still had them on.

“Oh hi — thanks,” I said.

“What’s with the jersey?” Anne asked, eyeing his choice of clothing with an air of judgment.

Sawyer reached down to hold the loose material between his fingers. “It’s the only thing I had at my apartment that would work as a costume.”

“So — you’re a soccer player?” she asked, trying to connect the pieces.

He shrugged. “I guess. This is Liam Wilder’s jersey. He’s a forward for the LA Stars.”

Anne narrowed her eyes on him. “That doesn’t count as a costume!”

“I think it does,” I protested. The words were out before I could stop them. Anne shifted her gaze to me and raised her brow, shocked that I actually contributed to the conversation. Sawyer gave me a wide grin.

“There you have it. You’ve been outvoted, Grams,” he said, patting her shoulder.

It was always about this time in my encounters with Sawyer that I would excuse myself to get back to work, so I took a slow step backward, hoping Anne wouldn’t notice.

“No. No, don’t even think about,” Anne said, holding up her hand.

“What? I have to get back to my shift.”

“Bullshit.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows shot up. “Grandma! Let her get back to work.”

Anne shook her head, staring at me with narrowed eyes. “If Sawyer hadn’t just walked in here, you would have stayed and continued to decorate with me for another thirty minutes. You always just skiddadle as soon as he arrives.”

My mouth fell open in shock. No she did not just call me out.

“Grandma,” Sawyer warned again.

I couldn’t even look his way at that point because the old ho-bag had essentially just spilled all the beans for me.

“Oh, what’s that?” I said, cupping my ear and pretending to hear something. “Yup, I think Mr. Jenkins is calling for me down the hall. Oh, yup, he just broke his hip. Oh wow, no, both hips. I better go check on him.”

“Ruby!” Anne called as walked to the door.

I stuck my tongue out at her when Sawyer turned around. She and I would have a major discussion later, and I’d be sure to stay at least a few feet away from her so she couldn’t put me in another choke-hold.

When I cleared the door to the dining hall, I stood there for a moment, wondering how long Anne had known about my crush on her grandson. I thought I’d been so sly; I’d never directly asked her about him. I’d wait for her to bring him up and then just piggy-back off of her discussion. I thought I’d covered my tracks flawlessly, but apparently not.

I leaned against the wall, trying to collect my thoughts.

Okay, Sawyer is here and you will have to talk to him, I told myself.

Sure, most of my encounters with Sawyer had been terrible in the past, but I was going to change all of that. Today, we would have an actual conversation that didn’t consist of me slurring my words as I shuffled past him. I’d speak slowly and clearly and be the most charming version of myself. Which might only be about one-fourth as charming as anyone else, but it was the best I could do.

* * *

“Come in, take a packet,” I said, standing at the door of the dining hall beside George as residents started to trickle in. “Come in and grab a packet.”

“Thank you,” Sandy said with a touch of attitude as she strolled in wearing her spandex costume.

Gertie walked in a second later, taking a packet and giving my work scrubs another tsk tsk. I groaned and tried to ignore her, continuing to pass out packets as people strolled in.

I’d done my best to transform the dining hall into a Murder Mystery set, but since I didn’t really know what that meant, I just went with orange and black streamers, balloons, and a bowl of punch with plastic spiders floating on top. As I finished up decorating (once I was sure Sawyer and Anne were gone), George was in a tizzy about how his script would play out. He paced around the dining hall while I set up, repeating the same concerns over and over again.

“What if no one is committed to their characters?” he asked as I dropped spiders in the punch bowl.

“They will be,” I’d replied, taking a step back and slipping on some of the punch that I’d spilled on the floor by accident. I landed flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling while I caught my breath. George didn’t even notice.

“I just want everyone to immerse themselves in the story. If they don’t, this will just be a train-wreck,” he said with a dramatic flare of his hand. All the while I was lying on the ground.

I’d been lucky to survive the afternoon, and I was still trying to console George as Anne and Sawyer walked through the doorway. Sawyer smiled at me as he walked by. Anne paused, watching him take a seat in the middle of the room, before turning to me.

“Are there enough packets left for everyone to participate?” she asked, glancing between me and George.

I looked down at the packets in my hand. There were still four left. Which meant out of the twenty people who’d already arrived, only two of them decided they wanted to participate in the game.

“Why yes, Anne, there is enough,” I said, holding her eye contact as I passed her a packet.

The edge of her mouth lifted in a smirk. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?” Her tone gave her away. She knew I was annoyed with her and she was playing the innocent old woman card. It wouldn’t work on me.

“Nooooo.” I exaggerated the o’s until I knew that she knew she was in deep shit.

She leaned in closer and whispered so that only I could hear. “I’ve lived on this earth for a very long time and I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to cut the shit. You’ve been eyeing my grandson for the past two years and both of you are too scared to do anything about it.”

I scoffed, even holding my hand over my heart for emphasis. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhm,” she mumbled as she pulled away from me. “George, make sure Ruby gets a packet. She’s sure good at acting today.”

Had she not been my best friend and eighty-something years old, I would have flipped her off. Damn that, Anne. I couldn’t ever stay mad at her.

The rest of the attendees finally strolled into the dining hall, and by 7:30 P.M., George and I were standing in front of the room with two packets remaining.

“We need two more resident volunteers before we can start,” I said, waving the packets out in front of me like I was trying to auction them off.

The sea of residents stared at one another, waiting for someone else to volunteer. Out of twenty of them, there’d only been four volunteers so far: Anne, Sandy, Gertie, and Mr. Tennon. George would have volunteered, but he was out since he knew the plot.

“Seriously, someone has to volunteer or we’ll all just sit here,” I said, trying to get the ball rolling.

Sawyer glanced around the room before he finally shrugged and stood up.

“If it’s okay with everyone, I’ll play,” he said.

Anne clapped wildly, but no one else cared to comment as Sawyer stepped toward me.

“You should play, too,” he said with a devious smile as he slid the packet out of my hand.

I didn’t want to be a part of the murder mystery. I think I even specifically opted out of it on numerous occasions, but we were still down one player and if no one wanted to volunteer, I didn’t really have a choice.

I glanced around the room one more time, even holding eye contact with a few residents to make them squirm in their seats.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be the last person. Let’s do this,” I said, opening up my packet and peeking inside to find a script, a small description card, and a few props.

George clapped his hands and shouted, “Players, go read your cards and put on anything provided for you in your packet. We’ll meet back here in five minutes to start the game.”

As I made my way toward the bathroom, Sawyer caught up to me.

“Who are you?” he asked with a small smile.

“Detective Maverick,” I said, reading the front of the packet.

He nodded. “Apparently I’m Jim Fitzpatrick, the son of Gwyneth Fitzpatrick.”

I laughed at the silly expression he was making. “Thanks for volunteering by the way. I thought we were just going to sit there all night.”

“Yeah, no worries. I have a Halloween party to go to, but it doesn’t start until later,” he said with a shrug.

I thought about what I had planned for later. The options were: reading, watching a scary movie, and eating enough candy to go into a coma. I’d most likely do all of the above. Of course, I didn’t dare tell Sawyer that.

“Oh yeah, me too.” I nodded with what I hoped was a cool, nonchalant expression.

He smiled as we turned a corner toward the bathrooms near the dining hall. “Well then, let’s solve this mystery.”

Ten minutes later, the five of us were standing up at the front of the dining hall with our scripts in hand and our props attached to various parts of our bodies. George strolled across the stage in front of us, announcing the players to the crowd of on-lookers who would be helping us solve the mystery. I browsed over my script as he read aloud.

SETTING: An old estate in the heart of Savannah, Georgia.

THE PLAYERS

Gwyneth Fitzpatrick: An eighty-year-old woman who has oil money from generations past. She owns an estate in Savannah and has invited a few close friends over for a dinner party. She has two children, Jim and Hannah Fitzpatrick, who are both attending the party.

Gwyneth was played by Sandy in her latex Catwoman suit. Seemed appropriate.

Jim Fitzpatrick: Gwyneth’s eldest child. He’s a prominent lawyer in downtown Savannah. He was married to a young debutante when he was younger, but she died in a horrible lipstick accident the year before.

Jim was played by Sawyer. He still had his soccer jersey on, but now he’d added a cane, pipe, and monocle as well. Jim Fitzpatrick was apparently very stylish.

Hannah Fitzpatrick: Gwyneth’s youngest child. A struggling artist who doesn’t get along with her older brother. She has a lover named Antonio Ricardo.

Hannah was played by Anne, who was carrying a paint palette and a paint brush. She’d added a few streaks of paint to her hair which I thought was a cute touch.

Antonio Ricardo: Hannah Fitzpatrick’s lover. He’s a Latin underwear model currently between jobs. He’s never gotten along with Hannah’s brother, Jim.

Antonio was played by Mr. Tennon, who I knew from experience was probably sporting some whitey-tighties beneath his suspendered pants. Meow.

Izzie Jenkins: Gwyneth’s maid of ten years. She’s a young girl who grew up in a bad neighborhood in Savannah. Gwyneth took Izzie under her wing and provided her with a job when she had no other prospects.

Izzie was played by Gertie,who did not look pleased to be wearing a skimpy maid’s outfit over her pants and blouse. She had her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to conceal the feather duster in her hand.

Detective Maverick: A no-nonsense Savannah police officer that has never had a case he couldn’t solve. He has a thick Scottish accent and a serious drinking problem.

Detective Maverick was played by me. That’s right. I opened up that packet to find a thick mustache stuck to a gold police badge, a pair of aviators, and some plastic handcuffs. I’d stood in the women’s bathroom after sticking the mustache on, trying to find any sort of humor in the entire situation. It was so thick, and brown, and did I mention thick? I waggled my eyebrows for emphasis. That’s right, Sawyer. I hope you like your girls with big ol’ mustaches. I’ll admit, once I put the aviators and badge on, I’d fallen into my character. Heck, I even started walking with a bit more swagger.

Anne couldn’t look at me without cracking up, but that might have been because I kept telling her she had the right to remain silent as we walked back to the dining hall.

“You look like an 80s porn star,” Gertie said to me with her lips pressed together and her head shaking back and forth.

I wanted to ask her how she knew what an 80s porn looked like, but Sawyer walked out of the bathroom right then and I didn’t think we were close enough yet for me to say the word “porn” in front of him. At least not while looking like a male porn star. That might have been overkill.

“Okay! Does everyone understand who is playing whom?” George asked, walking in front of us and going through the names again.

“I’m confused,” one resident said, raising his hand. “Why is Sandy in a cat woman outfit if she’s supposed to be hosting a dinner party?”

George crinkled his paper and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah — this is confusing,” a few other residents chimed in until George had to go through and explain the scenario again to everyone.

“Pretend that everyone is in proper costume and that they aren’t your friends. They are now characters in a murder mystery.”

While George rambled on, Sawyer leaned closer to me and pulled the pipe out of his mouth. “I think you should wear a mustache all the time. It looks really good,” he joked with a sly smile.

I stared straight ahead. Sawyer is joking with you. Be funny. Be funny or so help me.

I stroked the fake hair above my lip and turned to him. “That monocle doesn’t look so bad either.”

“How long did it take you to grow that cool ‘stache?” he asked.

“About ten seconds,” I joked. “What’s in the pipe?”

“Just some manly tobacco or something,” he said, repositioning his monocle so that it wasn’t poking him in the eye.

We were joking, right? So why did it actually feel like we were flirting with each other?

“Are you the murderer?” I asked with a smile.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Wow, Detective, you’re really straight forward. There hasn’t even been a murder yet.”

Oh right, I’d forgotten how the game actually worked. Maybe I should have been paying attention to George after all.

“Okay!” George said, clapping his hands and walking over to the doorway of dining hall. “I’m going to flip this light switch and then the game will begin. Does everyone understand the rules?”

There were still a few murmurs in the crowd, and a few random words were thrown around, like “dentures” and “fiber”, clearly indicating the level of confusion felt throughout the room (were we all still on the same topic?), but George chose to ignore them and flipped the light switch anyway.

When the lights cut out, Sawyer’s hand brushed mine and I glanced over to try to see him in the darkness. There was no use; my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet.

“This monocle doesn’t have night vision,” he whispered next to my ear.

I burst out laughing, ruining the seriousness of the scene.

“Get into your characters!” George bellowed across the room before flipping the light switch back on a moment later.

When he did, we found not one, but two bodies, lying on the ground.

The game had taken a dark turn.

Gwyneth Fitzgerald, aka Catwoman Sandy, was lying on the ground with her limbs artfully spread out around her. She’d been murdered and we were supposed to be concerned about that, but everyone was focused on the fact that a random audience member, Beatriz, was also lying on the ground, blinking her eyes and staring up at the ceiling.

“Uh, Beatriz?” I asked, stepping forward.

“What’s going on? Were there two murders? This is confusing,” Anne asked, glancing back and forth between the bodies.

George flew into action, practically fuming. “Beatriz, why are you lying on the ground? You aren’t supposed to be dead. You aren’t even a character in the game.”

Beatriz propped herself up on her elbows, her dyed red hair now sticking up all over the place.

“Oh, I was confused about the rules,” Beatriz began to explain in an old, scraggly voice. “I played a game once when there were random murders and then we had to guess—”

George cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Beatriz! This is not that game and there was only one murder tonight.”

“Stop trying to steal my thunder, Beatriz,” Sandy said, temporarily breaking her character.

Even in death, Sandy was a bully.

“People! Let’s focus. Beatriz, please take a seat and we’ll keep going as planned,” George said, dabbing the sweat from his forehead. He was losing control of his cast, and I could tell it was stressing him out. “Everyone take our your cue cards and read what you’re supposed to do first.”

I pulled out a note card that had a #1 printed at the top, and read the first instruction: Detective Maverick, you arrive on the scene after Hannah Fitzgerald calls you. Make sure you examine the body for clues.

I turned to Anne, Hannah Fitzgerald, and waited for her to read her cue card.

“Oh dear,” Anne began, with mock seriousness, as she read straight from the card. “Gwyneth Fitzgerald has been murdered in her own home during her own dinner party. We have to call the police!”

I had to bite my hand to keep from laughing while she read the words. But when Sawyer nudged me forward, I realized everyone was waiting for me to start reading from my card, considering I was the police.

“Don’t worry, I’ve arrived!” I said, only remembering that my character was supposed to have a thick Scottish accent after I started, so I quickly worked it in. “Don’t fret, lads and lassies. I’m here to solve the case!”

“I couldn’t understand any of that,” Sawyer said with a laugh.

“You didn’t sound Scottish, Ruby, you sounded like you were from the Middle East,” George said, rolling his eyes.

I pressed my mustache back into place and tried again.

“Heeelllooo evverryonnee, I’m Deteccttivvee Mavverriickkk.” I mostly, sounded like a drunk version of Shrek.

“Nope. No. Now you’re just talking really slow, Ruby,” George said, interrupting me. “Damnit, just scratch the accent all together!”

I shrugged and stepped forward to examine Sandy’s body. It was kind of awkward since she wasn’t actually a dead person and she was blinking up at me while I circled around her. Her character’s blonde wig was still on straight, a strand of pearls hung around her neck, and a big fake, diamond ring hung on her bony finger. Nothing seemed out of the place except for the fake knife lying directly next to her head with blood on it. At least, I thought it was blood. It smelled like ketchup. I pretended to be horrified either way.

“No!” I gasped, pulling out the gloves that I’d spied in my packet earlier and slipping them on so I could pick up the knife and hold it up for everyone. “She’s been stabbed to death!”

Everyone gasped and Sawyer even screamed “Nooooooooooo,” for emphasis. George applauded him for being committed to his character. I laughed until our eyes met, and then I quickly looked away like a nervous school girl. You’d think my badass detective outfit would have helped with my nerves. I really thought I was pulling off the mustache look rather well, but still, one look from Sawyer and I was like a shy three-year-old.

After I confirmed that there weren’t any more clues surrounding Sandy (Gwyneth), we all looked to George for our next piece of instruction. He shoved his hands into his argyle sweater and sighed. “You’re supposed to put together the clues and figure out where to go next.”

“Oh right,” I said, glancing back down at the knife in my gloved hand.

I frowned at my lack of intuition about where to go next. I wasn’t an actual detective, people.

“Is there a card that tells us where to go next?” Sawyer asked, stepping toward me and kneeling down so that I caught a whiff of his cologne. Let me tell you, it was not that cheap stuff that makes your nose fall off. It was light and masculine and it made me forget that we were in the middle of a nursing home.

“No! You have to think,” George replied, enunciating “think” like we were a couple of simpletons.

“Alright well, we have a knife, and…” my sentence trailed off as I realized I had nothing else to contribute.

“And where do you get knifes from?” George gestured in a circle with his arms, trying to get us to fill in the answer.

“The kitchen!” Sawyer and I yelled in unison, smiling at each other as we got to our feet.

“Okay, let’s go check the kitchen for clues,” I said to the other characters in the game.

“How about you two go check it out and we’ll all hang back here and search for more clues,” Anne suggested. I glanced toward her, trying to decide if she was being sly in trying to get Sawyer and I alone.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Sawyer said, looking toward me to lead the way.

I nodded silently, heading toward the kitchen, but not before looking back at Anne. The little devil winked at me.

Sawyer caught up to me as I exited the dining hall. “This is better,” he said. “They’d just slow us down anyway and we’re on the trail of a murder.”

I laughed. “A made-up murder.”

Sawyer guffawed. “You’re Detective Maverick. You’ve never had a case you couldn’t solve.”

I thought for a moment, wondering if I was going to shy away or if I was going to show him my true personality. I decided there was no point in trying to be cool. I was still wearing my mouse ears, after all, let’s not try to kid ourselves.

I stopped walking and turned to him, pointing toward his chest. “You’re damn right, and this one won’t be my first!”

Just before we pushed open the shiny, swinging door that led to the massive kitchen of Paradise Springs, Sawyer put his hand on my shoulder.

“I have a confession to make,” he said.

My heart rate picked up at his serious tone. Was he about to confess his love for me? Right here in the doorway to the kitchen with the smell of potato salad in the air?

I cleared my throat. “What do you have to confess?” I asked, purposely keeping my gaze on the metal door in front of us.

“I think I know who the murderer is,” he said.

“What? No! Don’t tell me,” I said, holding my hands up to my ears to block out his voice.

He laughed and reached over to pull my hands away. “I won’t tell you, and anyway, I don’t know for sure.”

“Maybe you should have been the detective,” I joked.

He thought for a second, narrowing one eye on me before announcing, “Nah. You make a cute detective.”

Cue internal breakdown. Sound the trumpets. Open the gates. He thought I was cute!

“Desserts going out!” a voice shouted behind me just as the metal door leading to the kitchen swung forward. I didn’t have time to move before the door slammed into me so hard that my face smashed into Sawyer’s chest and he had to reach forward and catch me.

“Oh no! Sorry! Sorry! I just hit you, didn’t I?” The cook was overly enthusiastic with his apologies, and Sawyer’s hands were a little too tight as he attempted to steady me.

“Are you okay?” Sawyer asked, bending low so that his eyes were level with mine. The entire situation was almost too endearing to handle.

I nodded, wishing he’d pull his hands away before I did something weird, like bend down and lick them.

“Your mustache is all crooked,” he said with a smile, reaching up to straighten it on my face. Oh great, his fingers just accidentally brushed my lips. I was practically salivating in the hallway with a random cook looking on.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? You really shouldn’t just stand behind that door. That’s a safety hazard,” the cook said, starting to ramble on like I was a complete idiot for idling behind a swinging metal door.

I shook my head clear of thoughts about sexing Sawyer in the hallway and turned to the chef.

“We were on our way into the kitchen for the murder mystery game,” I explained.

The chef glanced over our costumes, as if seeing them for the first time. Before that moment, he probably just thought I was a girl wearing a mouse ears, aviators, and a fake mustache for fun.

“Oh, right, right. You can go on in, just don’t get in anyone’s way,” he warned before stepping around us to deliver the platter of food that he was carrying.

I watched him walk away for another second before Sawyer pressed his hand to my lower back and gently nudged me forward.

“Let’s go, Detective,” he said.

The sounds coming from the kitchen made me assume that it was packed inside, but when we stepped in, it looked like most of the staff had gone home for the day, probably to celebrate Halloween with their families. The kitchen was large and industrial with clean, metal surfaces and a few oversized refrigerators. Along the back wall there was a massive assembly line of dishes being run through a machine to wash and dry them. A man stood at the very end overseeing the process. He nodded his head in greeting at us before going back to his task.

“Where should we look?” I asked, continuing to glance around the space. Shouldn’t the clue have been obvious considering we weren’t actual detectives and this was just a game? I wanted to ask one of the men in the kitchen, but the man had warned us to stay out of everyone’s way.

“You take that half,” Sawyer said, pointing toward the industrial washer. “And I’ll take this half.”

Before he could even finish his instructions, my eyes landed on a large knife block sitting in one corner of the kitchen. It held dozens of kitchen knives, but there was one slot notoriously empty at the very bottom of the block.

“Ah-hah!” I said, pointing toward it, at once proud of myself for being an actual sleuth, but also concerned that George had incorporated an actual knife into our murder mystery game.

“What is it?” Sawyer asked, his gaze following my outstretched finger.

I didn’t bother responding. I headed toward the knife block like a detective on the trail. Which I guess I actually was. Hah.

From across the kitchen I’d only seen the knife block and the empty slot, but as I stepped closer to the chromed surface, I noticed a folded note stuck beneath the heavy wooden block. I twisted around, unsure of whether or not the letter belonged to a staff member in the kitchen or if I had actually found another clue for the murder mystery game.

“Do you think we should touch it?” Sawyer asked from behind me. I jumped at his voice, not realizing how close he was to me. When I glanced over my shoulder, our mouths were only a few inches away from one another and my shoulder hit his chest.

“I think it’s our next clue,” I said, feeling more confident about it once I peered back around and saw that the handwriting on the front looked like George’s.

Sawyer reached forward and tilted the block back so that I could slide the letter out.

I read it aloud as Sawyer searched around the area for any more clues.

“Dear Mrs. Fitzgerald,

I am very busy with clients for the next few days, but I do have a few spare moments to help you update your will. However, I will need you to come down to my office at your earliest convenience, as you will need to sign off on the changes you requested in person.

Sincerely,

Jerry P. Lane, Esq. Office 113”

I flipped the note over, looking for more hints, but the back of the paper was blank.

“Who is Jerry P. Lane?” Sawyer asked, resting his hip against the chrome countertop after concluding his search for more clues. The letter was the only thing we had to go on.

“I don’t know, but he’s a lawyer and he was going to update Gwyneth’s will. Maybe the will had something to do with her murder.”

Sawyer’s lips split into a shit-eating grin. “Of course it does. I think every murder ever has had to do with a will.”

I laughed and shook my head, rereading the letter once more.

“Where should we go next?” I asked.

He thought for a moment. “We can either go back to the room and tell everyone what we found, or we can try and find office 113.”

Office 113. I liked that idea. It meant I got more alone time with Sawyer, and I also didn’t have to stare at Sandy in a Catwoman outfit any longer than necessary.

“Okay. George might have just meant the office at Paradise Springs, so we can head there,” I said.

Sawyer nodded and put his hand on my lower back again to guide me toward the kitchen door.

“We make a good team,” he said with a confident tone.

I tried to concentrate on walking through the door to the kitchen without having the metal chrome smack me in the face, but there was a question nagging me, and before I thought better of it, I decided to bring up the subject while I was feeling ballsy.

“So, Anne told me you and your girlfriend broke up?” The second the question was out, I instantly paled. Could I have asked that in a smoother way? Or should I have just kept my mouth shut? We weren’t on a date, or even hanging out as friends. No, instead we were walking around a nursing home solving a pretend murder. Oh wait, I’m sorry, retirement community.

Sawyer’s face twisted into a funny expression before he answered. “Does my grandma blab about my love life to everyone?”

“No! She’s not like, ‘Hey everyone, Sawyer is single and ready to mingle.’ She and I just talk a lot,” I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

Sawyer laughed. “Ah, well she always talks about you to me, so I figured it probably worked both ways.”

I smiled, imagining all of the insane things Anne probably told Sawyer about me.

“But yes, I’m single,” he added as we turned down the corridor that led to the main office for Paradise Springs. It would probably be locked since it was after hours, but maybe there was something waiting for us on the door. “What about you?”

My heart stopped. “Me?”

He nudged my shoulder, playfully. “Yeah, are you seeing anyone? My grandma never gives me any details when I ask about you.”

My heart stopped again. Am I dead?

“You ask Anne about me?”

“You’re really good at answering questions with more questions,” he laughed, his eyes locked on me for a moment before they drifted to something behind my head and his brows tugged together.

I spun around to see what he was looking at, and that’s when I saw a small piece of paper taped to a janitor’s closet. On it, someone had scribbled “Office 113”.

* * *

The hallway surrounding the janitor’s closet was dead quiet. The normal sounds that accompanied life at Paradise Springs were absent.

“Why does it feel like an actual murder has happened?” I asked, stepping up to the brass-handled door, suddenly too nervous to open it.

“Are you scared?” Sawyer asked, stepping beside me to reach for the handle so that our arms brushed together. Goosebumps bloomed across my skin as I nodded.

“A little. George is a bit out there, and I have no clue how serious he took this whole game,” I admitted. “I feel like something is going to jump out at me as soon as we open the door.”

Sawyer took a pretend puff of his pipe, studying the door. “I’ll check it out first then.”

His tone was confident, as if he was taking the game as seriously as I was.

“Step back, Detective,” he said, the slight upturn of his mouth pulling him out of character.

When he turned the handle and pulled open the door, the small space was pitch black. The scent of cleaning products and cardboard storage boxes stung my nostrils as he pulled the door open even wider.

I reached out to touch his shoulder just before he stepped inside. He turned to look back at me, his green eyes catching hold of mine.

“Be careful,” I mocked in the same tone a wife would use when she sent her husband off to war.

Sawyer dipped his head and stepped inside, his shoes hitting the tiled floor with a soft clap. He dipped out of site for a moment, and then his head popped back into view when he pulled the long cord to turn on the overhead light.

“Oh,” I sighed, a bit disappointed with the contents surrounding him.

Brooms and buckets and boxes were piled up high in the corner. Not a decaying dead body or a spooky ghost like I’d been anticipating.

Sawyer turned in a circle, inspecting his surroundings, before his eyes fell to something at his feet. He squatted down to grab it and I leaned forward, trying to see what it was. When he stood back up, he had a piece of silky material in one hand and what I recognized to be a tube of lipstick in the other. I reached forward for the tube, opening up the lid to see a bright red color. When I glanced back to Sawyer, he’d unfolded the silky material and was holding it between his thumb and pointer finger with both hands.

“Oh my god.”

It was a banana hammock, a bright yellow banana hammock, and when our eyes met on top of the material, we both completely lost it in a fit of hysterics.

“Don’t touch it! What if that isn’t even a clue and you’re just touching some random janitor’s underwear!” By that point I was practically on the ground laughing so hard. Sawyer instantly dropped the material and it fell the ground, still splayed out enough for me to read what was on the front: Sexy Thang. Yes it said “thang” as in “thing”, but with an A instead of a I. Oh boy, I really hoped it was a clue for our murder mystery game or I wouldn’t be able to make contact with any of the janitors for a few months at the very least.

“You still have your gloves on,” Sawyer pointed out. “You carry the underwear back and I’ll take the lipstick.”

I groaned, but reached down for the thong anyway.

“What if it belongs to George,” Sawyer asked, making the disturbing images playing in my mind even more disgusting than before.

“No! Stop,” I groaned, closing my eyes as if that would help.

Sawyer laughed, enjoying my misery far too much.

* * *

We were almost back to the room when Sawyer glanced over to me. “You never answered my question from earlier,” he pointed out.

“What question?” I asked, even though I knew what question he was referring to.

“Are you single? Or are you seeing someone?”

I blew out a puff of air and decided to give him a straight answer. “Single. Super single. I don’t think people get more single than me. Your grandmother is my best friend and the last person she tried to set me up with was forty years older than me and was getting fitted for dentures.”

Sawyer burst out laughing, forcing me to crack a smile. If I couldn’t laugh at my sorry excuse for a dating life, then who could? Oh right, everyone.

“Well, once you solve this case, you’ll have people banging down your door for dates.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Yeah, but no one will be able to understand my life as a detective. They’ll want to pin me down and force me to start a family. They won’t understand my craving to get out there and clean up the streets.”

Sawyer nodded. “Ah, yes. The life of a detective.”

“I didn’t choose the detective life. The detective life chose me.”

His smile widened. “Maybe when you get tired of the grind, you can come see me.”

We were skirting toward dangerous territory, and I wasn’t sure where our jokes ended and our true feelings began.

“You’re too young to wait for me. You deserve to have someone who can be there for you now,” I mocked with a serious tone.

“Don’t you tell me what I need,” Sawyer quipped.

I couldn’t keep it together after that. I cracked up and shook my head as we turned the corner into the dining hall.

“Finally!” George called.

“There you guys are,” Anne sang.

“We’ve been sitting here for an hour waiting for you guys,” Sandy groaned, still sitting on the floor, but looking less like a corpse than she had when we’d left.

Everyone was talking over one another as we walked in, clearly annoyed with how long we’d been gone.

“I’m sorry! We were on the trail and we couldn’t stop. But we found some clues,” I said, gesturing to Sawyer to lay them down on the table in the front of the room.

In a perfect row they all sat there together: the bloody knife, the letter from the lawyer about the will, the tube of red lipstick, and the awesomely out-of-place banana hammock.

“What? What is this thing on the end? It looks like a headband or something,” Anne said, reaching down to pick it up and already aiming it for her head.

“No!” I yelled, stepping forward to yank it out of her hand. “Anne, that goes on someone’s butt. It’s underwear.”

Her eyes grew two sizes as she realized her mistake. Sawyer couldn’t stop laughing for a solid minute.

“There’s still something missing,” I said as I strolled up and down the table, eyeing the evidence and mulling it all over in my head. Someone wanted Gwyneth dead so that they could reap the benefits of her will, but who? I ran through the evidence in my head again.

“Yeah, I have nothing,” I said, throwing up my hands in defeat and turning around to look around the room. No one else seemed to know what was going on either, and a part of me, a very big part, suspected that maybe George hadn’t actually made it so the case could be solved anyway. He probably just wanted to lead us on a wild goose chase to teach us the art of acting or some bullshit like that.

“Has she had that purse the whole time?” Sawyer asked, drawing my attention over to Sandy, aka Gwyneth, who was still sitting on the floor. Directly next to her there was a small brown leather purse. I’d noticed it earlier, but I hadn’t realized that it was part of the game. I thought she’d just brought her purse with her.

I glanced over to George to see his eyes light up, and I knew that Sawyer was on the right track.

“Get the purse!” I shouted dramatically. Sawyer grabbed it and flipped it open as I watched over his shoulder. The only thing inside was a small folded piece of paper. The contents of which were the final clue we needed to solve the mystery.

The letter inside of Gwyneth’s purse was short and straight to the point.

“Dear Mrs. Fitzgerald,

Per your request and signature, we’ve adjusted the funds in your will. Ms. Izzie Jenkins will now be the sole heir to your fortune effective immediately.

Sincerely,

Jerry P. Lane, Esq.”

“Oh my god! Gertie you are such a hussie! Or rather, your character is,” I said, pointing to the older woman who was wearing a sly smile. Our suspicions were confirmed even more when we saw that Gertie was wearing bright red lipstick in the exact shade that we’d found inside of the lawyer’s office, aka the janitor’s closet.

But still, the underwear didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the evidence.

Not until I ran through the character cards again inside of our packets.

Antonio Ricardo: Hannah Fitzpatrick’s lover. He’s a Latin underwear model currently between jobs.

“Latin underwear model!” I read aloud, watching as Sawyer connected the pieces at the precise moment I did. “They were in on it together!”

Gertie threw her head back dramatically and rested the back of her hand on her forehead like a bad soap opera actress. Her maid’s outfit only made her appearance even better.

“You have no proof!” Gertie protested with a dramatic flare. “Antonio is my lover, not Hannah’s and we’re going to run away together! There’s nothing you can do to stop us!”

“That’s what you think.”

I reached into my packet to pull out the very last item: a pair of plastic handcuffs. I circled one around Mr. Tennon’s wrist (Antonio Ricardo) and one around Gertie’s wrist (Izzie Jenkins).

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be used against you in the court of law.” I paused and looked up at Sawyer. “Is that how it goes? I really want to sound like a detective.”

He laughed, pretending to puff on his pipe. “I honestly don’t know, but we solved the murder and I think it’s time to celebrate.”

* * *

After we took a group picture with big cheesy grins, everyone stuffed their props back into the packets and headed toward a table of refreshments set up along the back wall of the dining room. There was lemonade and coffee on one side and little finger sandwiches, cookies, and bite sized candy on the other.

I tossed a few things on my plate and then went to sit down, ravenous from all of my detective work.

I didn’t notice Sawyer approaching me until he sat down across from me at the table.

When I glanced up, he feigned shock. “You were a girl this entire time?!”

I laughed and shook my head as if he were ridiculous. Which he kind of was. “I know. It’s scary how well I can pull off looking like a dude.”

He winked and then took a bite of his cookie, and by bite, I mean he ate half the cookie and then wolfed down the other half immediately after. I would eat cookies like that too if I could have gotten away with it. Sandy would have called me a lesbian if I ate that quickly. Which made me think, Sandy probably didn’t even know the definition of a lesbian.

“So are you going to head to that party of yours soon, Sawyer?” Anne asked as she sat down on the empty seat beside me at the table.

I purposely kept my eyes trained on my plate while he answered. He would have seen the hope in my sad, non-aviatored eyes.

“Um, actually, I thought I’d hang out here for a little while longer. I wasn’t really looking forward to that party anyway.”

“Oh, is that right?” Anne asked with a curious tone. “I’m sure Ruby would love that.”

I cleared my throat, shoved half a cookie inside of my mouth, and then just shrugged as if I didn’t understand English and therefore couldn’t contribute to their conversation.

“I think I finally won Ruby over tonight. She avoided me like the plague for two years, but you bond really quickly with someone when you’re holding janitor’s underwear and hunting down murderers.”

I laughed and swallowed down a sip of lemonade before clarifying. “I thought they were janitor panties, but it turns out they’re just part of George’s collection.”

He grinned at that and took a bite of his tiny sandwich.

“Is that true, Ruby? Did you finally bond with Sawyer?”

The way she said the word “bond” made it sound like we were having weird cult sex together. So, I decided to play along.

“Yes, Anne, I bonded with your grandson. Does that make you happy?” I could tell from the mischief in her eyes that she had caught onto my sarcasm.

“Well, I’m really tired, so I’m going to head to bed, but you guys should bond for however long you want,” she quipped, pushing up out of her seat and kissing each of our heads before heading off toward the exit. The party wasn’t even close to ending, but Anne had probably had her fair share of Sandy and Gertie for the day. I can’t say I blamed her.

Sawyer caught my eye. “Were you just talking to my grandma about sex? It really felt like it, and I’m not sure if I need to go purge that from my memory or not.”

I laughed and kept the truth to myself, taking another sip of lemonade without answering his question.

The shrill ring of a microphone pulled my attention to the stage just as George began speaking to the crowd lingering around for refreshments.

“It’s time to start the next phase of our party,” he announced, taking off his thin glasses and placing them in the front pocket of his argyle vest. Oh no, shit was about to go down.

And boy, did it.

It started innocently enough, some music played over the loud speaker in the dining hall. Just a little jazz at first. A few couples started to stand up and slow dance, shifting their weight back and forth to the smooth beat. But then someone turned on a local radio station that played everything from rap to Taylor Swift.

That changed everything.

For the next hour, I was on official “grind-prevention” duty. As soon as Jay-Z started playing over the speaker system, the space between dance partners lessened more and more.

“Okay, alright, let’s leave room for Jesus and for Muhammad and for Buddha and whoever else we can shove in there,” I said, stepping between Mr. Tennon and Gertie. I’m all for bootie dancing, but I draw the line when Mr. Tennon started spanking her on the ass.

“So does your job mostly consist of preventing public intercourse?” Sawyer laughed as I joined him at the punch bowl.

I cracked up. “Yes, and I don’t even do a very good job of it,” I said.

Sawyer turned to me, pinning me to the spot with his green gaze. “Do you mean to tell me—”

His question drifted off as I started nodding my head. “Apparently sexual prowess peaks at around eighty-five,” I joked.

Sawyer tipped forward, holding his stomach as he laughed. “So we have a really long way to go then.”

I smiled with the edge of my mouth, surveying the sea of people around me. “A long way.” Just as I finished speaking, I saw Mr. Buchanan sit down at the piano.

“Oh no,” I murmured under my breath and turned to set my cup of punch on the table behind me.

“What’s wrong?” Sawyer asked, trying to follow the path of my gaze.

How do I explain this as quickly as possible?

“Do you see that man that just sat down at the piano?” I asked. Sawyer nodded. “Well, he’s lost all of his hearing. For some reason, within the last year, he’s gotten it in his head that he’s a piano prodigy.”

Sawyer nodded. “Is he any good?”

As if on cue, Mr. Buchanan pressed down on a couple of piano keys will all his might so that a loud “wompppppp” was heard over the rap music.

“Oh,” Sawyer said, seeming to find his own answer as Mr. Buchanan continued to thud awkwardly on the keys, creating a tune that made me want to claw my ears off.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Sawyer before walking over to the piano and waving to get Mr. Buchanan’s attention.

He couldn’t read lips very well, so I spoke slowly and used my hands to help him figure out what I was saying. “Do you want to go dance with me?” That’s the only thing I could think of to get him away from the piano without hurting his feelings.

I had to ask him the same thing three times, eventually even reenacting a little waltz before it clicked for him. He beamed up at me, shut the lid of the piano and then reached out to lead me toward the dance floor. He held one of my hands confidently in his and then gently placed the other hand at my hip. I glanced up at his eyebrows, white, bushy, and overgrown, but beneath them there were crystal blue eyes with smile lines around them.

He led me around the dance floor at his own pace since he couldn’t hear the music anyway. It was kind of hilarious doing a waltz to a Nicky Manaj song, but Mr. Buchanan didn’t care, so neither did I.

Just as he was about to dip me down for our grand finale, I saw Sawyer approach us out of the corner of my eye.

He tapped Mr. Buchanan on the shoulder and then did the universal gesture for, “May I cut in?”

Mr. Buchanan nodded and handed me off with one last warm smile. Sawyer held me the same way Mr. Buchanan had, but he stood a little closer to me, his grip a little more warm and possessive.

“I’ll dance with you, but I’ll warn you, there’s no way you’ll be better than Mr. Buchanan,” I said with a smile.

As if to prove me wrong, Sawyer spun me out quickly and then twirled me back against his chest.

“Challenge accepted.”

* * *

An hour later, after some truly terrible dance moves and two more glasses of punch, we stood at my car, encased in the moonlight surrounding us. Usually I tried to get in my car as fast as possible after a late shift, but I wanted linger as long as possible with Sawyer.

“Thanks for helping me clean up,” I said with a small smile, trying not to look up into his eyes.

“Thanks for putting another murderer behind bars tonight, Detective.”

I laughed and glanced down at the cup of punch in my hand.

“Here’s to a night of getting to know each other, pulling apart gyrating geriatrics, and handling banana hammocks. I can’t say I would have wanted to do it with anyone else,” he said, holding out his cup of punch for a toast.

I laughed and clinked the lip of my cup with his before meeting his eye and taking a long sip.

“I liked that toast,” I said.

He smiled.

“Well I guess I should get going,” I replied, conscious of the awkwardness surrounding us.

“I have one last thing to ask you before you go,” he continued, taking a step closer.

“Oh?” I asked, tilting my head back to meet his eyes.

“Would you rather have me kiss you right now or when I come back to visit my grandma on Thursday? You get to pick.”

My heart kicked up a notch as his words sank in. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the matter of a day. I’d had a crush on this man for two years. TWO LONG YEARS. And now he was just casually talking about kissing me.

I must have drifted into my own thoughts for a moment because Sawyer asked, “Is it that hard of a decision?”

I laughed and shook my head, letting my empty cup fall to the ground at my feet.

“Easiest decision I’ve ever made,” I said before lifting up onto my tiptoes and placing a kiss directly on his lips.

(And don’t worry, I picked my cup up later. I’m not a litter bug, jeez.)

END

About the Author

I am a lover of books, chocolate, reality TV, black labs, and cold weather. Seriously, if I had it my way I would be curled up on the couch with all of those things…Every day. I live in Texas where I spend my free time writing and reading. My favorite authors are Mindy Kaling & Jonathan Safran Foer. I’m a comedy geek and love all things ‘funny’. Women like Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Mindy Kaling are definitely the biggest inspirations for my writing, though I think my work tends to skew a bit smuttier than theirs.

Connect with RS. Grey

Website: www.RSGrey.com

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Other Books by R.S. Grey

Scoring Wilder

With This Heart

Behind His Lens

The Duet (Due out November 10th)

Mystery, Matzo Balls and Moxie

by Z.B. Heller

A mystery weekend gets steamy and stuffed… with food

*Warning: This story contains panty-melting sex and a woman who cannot contain her swearing. No matzo balls were harmed in the creation of this story.

Chapter 1

I sat in the teachers’ lounge of Montgomery Elementary School enjoying my hot cup of disastrous coffee. It tasted like what I imagine tar mixed with gravel would taste like. We needed to dethrone the school secretary, Mrs. Kramer, and lobby Dunkin Donuts to build a store in the school. Good coffee and tasty donuts every morning would make teaching more bearable. Especially when I had to deal with evil-spawn children on a daily basis.

I’d been teaching at the school since graduating college and had been upgraded this year to first grade instead of kindergarten. Okay, it wasn’t that much of an upgrade, but I didn’t think I could handle teaching fifth grade considering my math skills ended with simple addition and subtraction. And that was usually with the help of a calculator.

My name, Moxie Summers, meant determined or vigor. And I was determined… determined to drink something better than the battery acid Mrs. Kramer called coffee.

“Hey, Triple Titties. What’s up?” my best friend and co-worker Renee said as she entered the teachers’ lounge.

“Don’t be hating on the girls.” I motioned to my chest. “You’re just jealous because God didn’t bestow unto you the greatness of plump breasts, even though you have Miss America good looks.”

“Moxie, your breasts aren’t plump; they take up and entire football field.”

“Perfect. Better for guys to put their balls onto.” I laughed and took another sip of coffee.

Okay, so maybe my name should have meant bigmouthed and crass instead.

Yes, my breasts were big, but they balanced out my size sixteen frame. I thought Renee secretly admired my long red hair and the junk in my trunk. I loved my best friend, but if you blew air on her she’d tip over. However, Renee’s long brown hair, green eyes, and stick thin body weren’t exactly a deterrent for keeping men at bay. Renee and I met my first day teaching and we quickly became best friends. I was the only child and Renee was the closest thing I had to a sister. What other person would pretend to be your lesbian lover just to ward off nasty guys who were trying to hit on you? Renee was also a good yin to my yang as we balanced out each other’s personalities.

“And I wonder on a daily basis how Miles puts up with you.” She snickered while pouring herself a cup of crap coffee.

“The beautiful Adonis has no complaints when this Jewish princess rides him like a stallion.”

Renee rolled her eyes and joined me at the table. “It’s because you give him great head.”

“Well there’s that, too.” I smirked.

“I give the man a lot of credit. After emptying the contents of your stomach on him and asking him about hairy testicles, he still wanted to cuddle up to your Pound Puppy.”

Renee loved that I could conjure up different names for the female genitalia. Pound Puppy, cooch canoe, triangle of heaven, and my favorite, putang.

“Excuse me, but the tall hunk of Miles meat couldn’t resist my charm. Plus, I have a complete weakness for brown-haired, blue-eyed guys. It was meant to be that I upchucked on him. I was marking my territory.”

I did have a heavy thing for dark hair and light eyes. I dated a couple of blonds in my time and was freaked out when I saw the lack of pubes they had going on down south. I really lost it when I dated a fellow red head. I mean my drapes matched the color of my rug, but on a guy it just seemed wrong.

“I thought you peed on something to mark your territory.” Renee smiled.

“Listen, bitch, it was only the one time and the guy was about to run off with my new bike. I had to protect my property. Not to mention the fact I desperately had to piss, and it saved me from going up to my apartment.”

Renee took a sip of coffee and winced. “But your bike smelled like piss for weeks afterward. Who took a shit in the coffee maker this morning?”

“Mrs. Kramer and her fantastic barista skills.” I gave her a thumbs-up in jest.

“Does she not understand teachers need a healthy dose of caffeine if they are expected to deal with insubordinate students?”

“Put it on the list of gripes for the staff meeting.”

“Right,” Renee scoffed. “Like we’re allowed to say anything at those meetings. Not with the hoochie bitch Amber leading the meeting.”

“It’s like we have our own personal Stalin running the meetings.”

Amber was my elementary school arch nemesis. Scratch that. She was my life nemesis. The bleach blond, orange spray tan, hoebag tried to scheme and plot her way into breaking Miles and I up earlier this year. She used my insecurity about my weight to conspire her way into Miles’s bed. It didn’t work, and I am convinced the bleach she used on her hair must have seeped into her brain and destroyed the few brain cells she had left.

My phone buzzed on the table and I checked the caller ID. It was Ryan, my other best friend. Ryan and I became tight after I’d shamelessly hit on him at a New Year’s Eve party. I was smashed and could have blamed it on the alcohol, but I took a chance only to find out he preferred large sausages. Another beautiful man unobtainable to females because he played for the other team. It was a sad day for women everywhere.

“Hey, salami sucker.”

“Hey, beautiful Moxie girl.”

Ryan and I had a thing about insulting each other during our greeting. It was a sign of love rather than of malice. His voice had a sickening sweet tone he used only when it benefited him the most.

“What do you want?” I said with an edge to my voice.

“What? Can’t a guy compliment a beautiful lady?”

“Maybe if I had a big beautiful penis, then yes, I would believe you. But since I’m not a gay man, I would say the compliment means you want something, so spill.”

“You know me too well.” He sighed.

“It's a good thing your boyfriend and I put up with your shit, or you'd be left to die in a Michael Kors dressing room.”

“That isn’t a necessarily bad way to go. Although, it would be in the Top Shop dressing room, not Kors. Listen, I’ve got these tickets for a weekend getaway, and I wanted to invite you, Renee, and your respected loved ones to join Tom and me.”

“Amazing! Where to?”

“It’s a weekend at Sullivan Manor just over into the Wisconsin border. They do a mystery whodunit weekend over Halloween. We all get characters to play, and we have to solve a murder mystery.

I rolled my eyes at Renee as she scooted in closer so she could listen to Ryan’s end of the conversation. “A murder mystery… so it’s all right if I kill you for including me in this stupid idea.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get new identities for the weekend and be all sleuthy.” Ryan whined like a two-year-old when he didn’t get his way.

“Is sleuthy even a word?”

“Probably not. But I need a break from the TV station, and so does my co-worker aka your boyfriend. Plus, it will give Tom the opportunity to bitch about someone else’s cleaning habits.”

“I’ll chat with Renee and get back to you. What’s the theme for the mystery anyway?”

“Murder at a High School Reunion.”

“Ryan, I hated high school the first time around. Why the hell would I want to relive it?”

“Just because you were the antisocial Goth girl in high school doesn’t mean you have to be one at the party.”

“I wasn’t Goth! I just wore a lot of black. It was slimming.” And with that I ended the call, making sure to press the end button with extra oomph.

I wish I could forever erase my time in high school. Memories of braces, perms, and Tommy Sullivan trying to get to second base behind the bleachers clouded my mind. I had been excited a boy was into me. Until I found out Steven Sanders bet him ten bucks and a Twinkie to touch my boobs. If he were smart he would have asked for the Ding Dongs and the Twinkies.

Renee looked at me with curious eyes.

“Ryan wants us to go to one of those murder mystery parties for Halloween.”

“I’ve always wanted to do one of those!” she said with a squeal.

It reminded me of an Orca whale and a feral cat, and I groaned.

“I guess it’s a whole weekend event at Sullivan’s Mansion in Wisconsin.”

“Oh, I hear it’s totally haunted.”

“I don’t think it’s haunted, but I’m still scared the shit of it. It’s Wisconsin for God sake.”

“Why is Wisconsin scary?”

“A state that has too many cows means someone has to slaughter them all, which means there are ghost cows mooing in the fields.”

Renee stared at me for a moment. “Did you talk to your therapist today?”

I flipped her off just before our principal, Mrs. James, came in.

“Good morning, girls. Where’s the coffee?”

“Mrs. James, since I think you’re the coolest principal out there, I’ll save you from drinking the sludge they consider coffee.”

“Mrs. Kramer made it again, didn’t she?” She sighed.

Both Renee and I nodded.

“Damn,” Mrs. James hissed. “The woman can organize files like no other, but when it comes to making coffee it’s like she dug up a dead body and ground it into a pot. Anyways, are both of you ready for the school Halloween party?”

I was not a fan of Halloween parties. I think it’s because I was traumatized by Rachael McCoy’s Halloween party in the third grade. She made everyone play this game where we had to stick our hands in bags that were labeled things like “brains” and “eyeballs,” when it was just food. I was caught eating the “intestines,” which were licorice rope. The other kids made fun of me for days after.

“Yeah, about that, Mrs. James. I feel like I’m coming down with typhoid fever. I might have to take a sick day.” I moaned and put my hand on my forehead for emphasis.

“Moxie, If you were on your death bed, I would still get you for the Halloween party even if I had to tape your body upright to a pole,” she said.

“But Mrs. James—” I whined.

“Moxie it’s the party or you’re on bus duty all winter.”

“Morning or afternoon shift?”

“Both.”

“You don’t play fair, Mrs. James, but”—I pointed my finger at her—“you’re a worthy opponent.”

“See you ladies later. I need to see about getting Starbucks delivered,” she said, walking out the door.

“See…” I turned back to Renee. “Even our fearless leader needs quality caffeine.”

“Again, good luck bringing that up in the staff meeting,” Renee said.

“I’m not afraid.” I stood and gathered my things. “Amber is like a monkey. I’m sure she’s used to shit being thrown at her.”

Chapter 2

I pulled up into Miles’s driveway about two hours after I left school. Miles moved out of the city a few months ago so his son Dilion could have more room to run around and “be a boy.” Miles had moved with Dilion from Maine after his wife was killed in a car accident two years ago. After I vomited on Miles at our unusual first meeting at the bar, I had been surprised to see Miles again, this time as the widower father of my new student Dilion. I went on to form a great relationship with Dilion who was much smarter than his seven years gave him credit for. The boy knew more than I did. Okay, sometimes a flea knew more than I did, so I supposed that wouldn’t be the best comparison.

I loathed driving from the city into the suburbs. Taking the train would be better, but then I’d be stuck without a car and places were too far apart to walk. The grocery store was a mile away, for crying out loud. That was like when my ancestors walked from Egypt to the Holy Land, forty days and forty nights. Therefore, I’d been stuck in traffic, looking at the guy in the car next over as he picked his teeth. I swore he picked his entire lunch out of there.

I pulled my house keys out of my purse and let myself in. Yes, I had my own set of keys to Miles’s house. After a night of hot sex, he presented me the keys and said I had all access to his dick anytime I wanted. After kneeing him in the nuts for that comment, he apologized by going out at three in the morning to buy Funky Monkey ice cream for me. Good man.

“Moxie!” Dilion ran up for a hug.

“Hey, bud, how was school?” I kissed the top of his floppy brown hair.

“Good, but Mrs. Washington didn’t believe me when I told her you consume one tenth of a calorie when you lick a stamp.”

“And did you do what I told you to do when Mrs. Washington disagrees with you?”

“Moxie…” Dilion whined. “I can’t throat punch a teacher. Plus she’s too tall.”

“Then take her knees out like Tanya Harding.”

“Who?” Dilion scrunched his face up in confusion.

“Never mind,” said a much deeper voice from the kitchen.

I bent down so only Dilion could hear me. “Next time, tell that crotchety old woman her breath smells like banana peels after being left out on the pavement on a hundred-degree day.”

He laughed and skipped back to the family room couch to resume his game on his tablet. I walked into the kitchen to see my beautiful Adonis chopping vegetables, and I snaked my arms around his waist. Miles was tall and sturdy. Not like a football player, but the man definitely had some muscle. I pressed at kiss to his back and he craned his neck sideways to look at me.

“Trying to corrupt the young one again, I hear,” he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

I unhooked my arms and popped a piece of red pepper from the cutting board into my mouth. “I’m teaching him how to defend his argument. He’ll need to learn how to do it when he joins the debate team in high school.

“I don’t think taking your opponent out by shattering their kneecaps is part of the debate team.” He put down the knife and turned to face me.

“I disagree. I was on the debate team in high school. Mike Cameron tried to defend his argument of whether they should put vending machines in the cafeteria.”

“And what was your defensive?”

“I argued that you shouldn’t pay girls to give you blow jobs in a bathroom during math.”

“Who won?”

“I can safely say, I had Cheetos and a Snickers every day for lunch my sophomore year.”

“That’s my girl,” Miles said, embracing me.

I buried my head in his gray shirt, which was one of my favorites because it outlined his torso just enough to make me crave what was underneath. His cologne wafted into my nose, and I felt a tingle south in my Bermuda Triangle. Scent had always been a hot zone for me. Miles’s scent turned me on faster than a meth head running from an exploding lab.

I couldn’t help myself as cupped his massive cock. He was already halfway hard.

“Someone is happy I’m here.” I nuzzled my face in the crook of his neck. I loved that Miles was tall. His six-foot-four-inch frame easily encompassed me at five seven.

“He’s very happy you’re here. Maybe you should give him a kiss… with tongue.” He palmed his cock and gave me a wink.

I backed away and slapped his shoulder. “Your son is in the next room, you fiend.”

“Hasn’t exactly stopped you before. Remember the time Dilion and I were playing Wii, and you said you had a problem in the bathroom? If I recall, the problem was that my dick wasn’t inside you.”

“It was a problem. A very large and thick problem.” I winked. “What are we having for dinner, chef?”

“Stir-fry and rice.”

I reached for another pepper, stopped, and looked at Miles. “Oh God. That’s not that quinoa shit, is it?”

He laughed. “No, it’s regular white rice.”

“Oh, thank God! Quinoa is like eating gravel.”

I went to the cabinet and grabbed some plates to set the table. Being at Miles’s place felt like being home. As much as it sucked commuting into the city for work, it would be nice to actually live with the two boys I loved beyond words. It wasn’t the same as going home to an empty apartment and a vibrator that needed new batteries.

“I got a call from Ryan today. He’s invited us to a murder mystery getaway for Halloween weekend,” I said.

“He told me at the station today. I think it would be fun.”

“Seriously? How about instead of the getaway, I create my own mystery. I kidnap my obnoxious Girl Scout student Katie and have a trail of Thin Mints leading in different directions to throw people off.”

Katie had the perfect technique down for selling her Girl Scout cookies — blackmail. One might be surprised at how cunning a seven-year-old could be, but she knew what she was doing. One time I told her I wouldn’t buy any cookies, and her response was she would tell the other kids in class that I secretly ate chocolate behind my desk while they worked on their assignments. I’m convinced she is the child of the devil.

Miles looked up from the stir-fry. “It wouldn’t be a mystery, then. Everyone would know it’s you because of the trail of Thin Mint crumbs from your desk to the woods.”

Putting the final utensil on the table, I turned and put my hands on my hips. “Hey, murdering someone is hard work, and maybe I got hungry from exerting myself and nibbled on a couple of cookies.”

“Anyway, you can’t do it unless you want the entire Girl Scout troop coming after you with pitchforks and torches,” he added, taking a fork from the drawer and poking me lightly with it.

I started laughing. “I can see it now. They will lower Katie’s casket into the ground while singing “Kumbaya,” and instead of throwing flowers into the grave, they would throw assorted cookies.”

“As long as we get conjugal visits while you’re in jail for murder, I’m all good with the plan.”

“I’ll have to clear it with my prison wife. I don’t want to cheat on those bitches or else I’ll get shanked in the middle of the night.”

Dilion came into the kitchen holding a hand written sign which said: Will not eat vegetables. Hunger Strike in progress.

“Sticking it to the man again I see,” I said, pumping my fist in the air to show him my alliance.

“Dad buys stuff with GMOs in them, and I demand all organic vegetables and other products in this house.”

I looked to Miles. “Why can’t this kid be dumb as rocks and make fart jokes like other kids his age?”

“Because he insists on watching the Nightly News with Brian Williams instead of depleting his brain cells watching SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Dilion and I sat at the table while Miles brought over the stir-fry and rice from the stove. I loved it when we all ate together. It was a peaceful time where we shared the daily happenings of our lives. This meal was so unlike when I grew up. My stepmother would measure out my portions of food while my dad took his plate and eat in front of the television. Apparently Wheel of Fortune took precedent in our house.

“So, Dilion, any thoughts on what you’re going to be for Halloween this year?” Hoping he would choose something others understood. I heard last year he had to explain his Alexander Graham Bell costume to every house he went to.

“I was thinking either Gandhi or some other Nobel Prize winner.”

“What, Spiderman and Darth Vader costumes out of stock?” I asked.

“Everyone dresses up as those guys. I want to be something different.”

“But you’ll have to explain what you are to every house you go to.”

“No, I’ll just tell them I’ll break their knee caps if they don’t give me candy like you taught me.”

Miles froze with a fork full of stir fry and his eyes shifted to me. I gave him a cat-swallowed-the-carney smile.

“Kelly will have to take you trick-or-treating this year because Moxie and I are going away.”

“Yay! Aunt Kelly is awesome, and she lets me stay up late. Where are you guys going?” Dilion shot out of his seating and started bouncing up and down while clapping. I was a little disappointed he didn’t want Miles and I to take him. I wanted to see him dressed up and collecting candy from neighbors. Then I might have snuck some candy out of his bag when he wasn’t looking.

“We’ve been invited to a haunted mystery weekend,” Miles said.

“Aww man! I want to go to that.”

“Trust me, Dilion. If I could give you my spot, I would. But I don’t think you’ll look good in a red wig, and we would have to stuff pillows in your pants to make it look like you have my same butt,” I added.

“I’ve heard Dad say your butt looks bootylicious, whatever that means. Do you guys get to dress up?” Dilion asked.

“We all get parts to play for the weekend. So I think we have a dress up like our characters would dress,” Miles answered.

I raised my glass. “Well, here’s to hoping I get to play the school tramp.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Miles smiled as he clinked his glass with mine.

Chapter 3

It was the Friday before Halloween weekend and our getaway. But first, I had to survive the Halloween party at school with my students. Every Halloween the Girl Scouts put on a spooky carnival for the students and teachers to enjoy. The only thing spooky about this carnival was Mrs. Simmons, Katie’s mom. She was the head troop leader at the school and the PTO president which meant the Girl Scouts where taking over the school much like when the Nazis took over Germany. Trust me, there isn’t much of a difference between the two.

Mrs. Simmons was like Martha Stewart on speed. She was always perfectly dressed with her blond hair tied up in a twisty bun. Her makeup was flawless, her teeth were impeccably white, and she wore a rock the size of Russia on her wedding finger. Her husband did something with hedge funds or hedgehogs or something of that nature. Whatever the case, Mrs. Simmons had a lot of extra time on her hands to make my life a nightmare.

If matters weren’t bad enough, students and staff had to dress up for the event. Since I couldn’t put the dirty devil costume I wore for Miles to use, I came up with something family friendly. As a special nod to our classroom pet, Chloe, I decided to dress up as a bunny. It also helped that it was a low-cost costume, and I could use it again with a bow tie and be a Playboy bunny for Miles at another time. I wore a pink long sleeve shirt, bunny ears, and pink yoga pants with a puffy tail pinned to my ass.

I sat at my desk, checking my e-mail before the kids came in for the day, and saw I had something from Ryan.

To: Moxiebun86@ibsglobal.com

From: Rystheguy@ibsglobal.com

7:38 a.m. CST

Subject: Questionnaire

Hey Mox,

Here’s a questionnaire you need to fill out. The party host likes to give out characters that are similar to our own personalities. When we get there they will give us character information cards with everything we need to know. Sounds like fun, right? RIGHT?

Love,

The Always Fashionable BFF

Homework was involved with this weekend, and it irritated me even further. I wanted this weekend to be a show up, get drunk, get laid, and go home kind of weekend. Maybe get laid and then get drunk. I’d have to feel out my mood.

To: Rystheguy@ibsglobal.com

From: Moxiebun86@ibsglobal.com

8:03 a.m. CST

Subject: Can’t I go naked?

Stud Muffin,

There’s a scary idea.

Love,

The only one you can’t live without

I downloaded the attachment Ryan sent and figured I had some time before the kids came in. If Ryan wanted me to have fun, then that’s what I was going to do.

I read the first question: How would you describe your personality? Really? They needed my personality traits. I felt like I was applying for a job and they were checking to see if I played well with others. I thought it was time to make this questionnaire fun.

1. How would you describe your personality? I would say I’m a deep thinker. I spend most of my time reading The Economist and eating brie cheese. Some people might say I’m antisocial. But they wouldn’t know because I don’t talk to them. I have a sunny disposition, but then again, I never go out to see the sun since I’m agoraphobic.

2. What do you do for fun? I enjoy spelunking in dark caves. I find it extra exciting to find a bat so I can bite its head off like Ozzy Osbourne. However, I prefer the lighter colored bats. The darker ones taste a touch to gamey. I also enjoy cow tipping and betting on giraffes fighting each other to the death. I won five thousand dollars on Betty the giraffe. No one thought she had it in her, but I saw a special look in her eyes.

3. What is your favorite kind of food? Fava beans and a nice Chianti.

4. If you had to describe your worst enemy, who would it be? Wait, is this questionnaire from the government? I told those rat bastards I didn’t know anything about the release of monkeys from the medical testing facility. They’re watching me, aren’t they? I’ll have to check my phone for bugs. I will not fall over for the Man.

5. What is your favorite color? Chartreuse.

6. Who is your favorite actor or actress? The robot from Lost in Space. His talents were highly underused. How many places were the words “Danger, Will Robinson” appropriate. I tell you… many.

Kids started piling into the classroom as I sent back the e-mail and shut my laptop. All my students were dressed in a variety of outfits including feathers, sparkles, gory masks, and more.

“Okay, everyone put your stuff away and come to the meeting circle.”

I put my bunny ears on my head. I even went as far as painting my nose pink and drawing on whiskers. I was a very serious actress, and I dedicated myself to the role I was playing. But instead of carrots, I ate Twinkies for breakfast.

A few minutes later I sat down in my chair and scanned the room to make sure none of my students were goofing off by the cubbies. “Good Morning, everyone! Is everyone excited for the Halloween carnival?”

The kids screamed in their loudest voices. It’s a good thing I kept Tylenol in my desk drawer because sometimes those screeches were enough to give anyone a migraine.

“Why don’t we go around the circle and tell each other about our costumes?”

Olivia, who was dressed up as Cinderella, raised her hand.

“Yes, Olivia?” I said.

“Miss Summers, what kind of cat are you supposed to be?”

“I’m not a cat; I’m a bunny like Chloe, our class pet.”

“So does that mean you poop in a litter box, too?”

“Umm, no, Olivia. I use the potty like everyone else.”

Another boy, Ethan, pointed his finger at me. “You said potty!”

All the kids laughed like hyenas while I realized the next generation was completely screwed and had no chance for producing intelligent people. In an effort to change subject, I pointed at Quinn who was dressed in what looked like a woman’s suit.

“Quinn, what did you dress up as?”

“I’m the next president of the United States.”

Finally, someone with wonderful career aspirations. “That’s a great costume, Quinn. What would you do differently if you were president?”

“I would make sure my brother learns how to put the toilet seat down after he pees and learns how to aim his dingle berry.”

Another round of laughter filled the room and my dreams of having at least one intelligent student went out the window.

“Miss Summers, aren’t you going to ask me what I am?”

“Well, Katie, it looks like you’re a Girl Scout. Didn’t you want to dress up as something different for Halloween? You get to wear your uniform throughout the year.”

“Miss Summers, I’m not just a regular Girl Scout; I’m a Girl Scout Ambassador. That’s the highest Scout you can be. See, I’m wearing a khaki vest instead of my blue Daisy one.”“

“And how many cookies do you have to sell to become an Ambassador?”

Katie glared at me. “We do more than sell cookies, Miss Summers. We help old people like you walk across the street.”

At that point, I was wondering how to make a noose out of Katie’s Daisy apron and have her accidently trip into it when Mrs. James’s voice over the loud speaker interrupted my thoughts.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope everyone is excited for today’s festivities. We will all meet in the gym in ten minutes. Teachers please make sure all your students are accounted for and lunch money has been collected. I hope everyone has a spooktacular time.”

I rolled my eyes and told my kids to line up at the door so we could make a bathroom run before heading to the gym. I wasn’t sure why I even bothered. At least one student would swear they didn’t need to go, but then as soon as we’d get to our destination, they’d ask to go the bathroom.

After everyone’s potty and drink break, we shuffled into the gym, which has been transformed into a Halloween fun house. I prayed there weren’t going to be any clowns at this thing because I hated clowns. I was a true believer clowns had secret motives behind the creepy makeup. Seriously, who decided it was fun to be crammed in a tiny car with ten other clowns and a dog? I’ll bet there was a clown orgy happening in there.

My students were like rabid dogs trying to scatter in every direction. Luckily, I had some parent volunteers helping me out. We had the kids break into small groups so everyone would get a chance to see everything. I, however, just wanted to stand next to popcorn balls on the treat table. Now, if a guy’s balls tasted like popcorn, a lot more girls would spend some quality time down there.

“Well, well, Miss Summers, were you not able to fit into your Shamu costume this year?” Amber blew up her cheeks and waved her arms back and forth like a whale.

I moved away from my students so they couldn’t hear me. Amber was dressed as Malibu Barbie, which was completely appropriate considering the fact she looked like she was made of plastic.

“Amber I didn’t think anyone at the school ordered a sex doll. And if they did, I would highly suggest they ask for their money back. I’m guessing their dicks fall out of your pussy that’s been stretched out from overuse.”

The thought of Amber having sex at all was nauseating. It fit into the same category as knowing your parents or your siblings had sex. As far as you were concerned, they were all celibate and all their babies came from the stork. But in Amber’s case, any babies who came to her rose from the depths of hell.

“Tell me, Moxie, does Miles put an apple in your mouth instead of a ball gag since he’s fucking a pig?”

“Do the men who are with you wear a biohazard suit because your crotch is toxic?”

“Girls!”

The clicking of high heels announced Mrs. Simmons as she approached. “Thank you so much for making this carnival possible. I have gift baskets for all of you in the teachers’ lounge.”

“Wow, that’s so generous of you, Mrs. Simmons,” I said, plastering on a fake smile.

“Oh, it was the least I could do. I understand it’s Halloween, and you have so many yummy treats, I thought a nice basket of assorted Girl Scout cookies would complement that,” she said, clasping her hands together.

Well, at least the feral cats will have a hearty meal when I get home tonight. Shit, whom was I kidding? I’ll probably eat them all before I even get home. Damn voodoo Thin Mints. Amber gave me a tiny snarl and walked back with her group. I saw Renee standing by the inflatable bouncy house and steered my group in her direction.

“What they hell are you wearing?” I asked when I approached her. She was wearing a red dress, green and white knee-highs, and a red baseball cap.”

“I’m Strawberry Shortcake.”

“Umm, doesn’t Strawberry Shortcake have red hair and a big poufy hat?

“Do bunnies wear white Lulu Lemon yoga pants after Labor Day?

“Touché.”

“Are you ready for this weekend? I think it’s going to be a blast.” Renee grabbed my shoulders and shook me with excitement.

“If there are liquor and sex swings, I’m sure it will be fun.”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

“Come on. Where is your sense of adventure? And we are not going to a swinger party.”

“Thank God! I don’t want to see Raj’s uncut earthworm.”

“The uncut earthworm of which you speak gives me multiple orgasms each night, thank you very much.”

I’ve always tried being a good friend by listening to Renee’s sexcapade details. However, she knew an uncircumcised penis completely creeped me out. She would tell me vividly grotesque stories about pulling on Raj’s foreskin during a blow job.

“Do you ever role play like you’re calling for computer help, and he’s the tech support in India?” I said with a sly grin.

“Moxie just because Raj is Indian does not mean he has perfected an Indian accent. Plus he lived with his family in London for so long his British accent is more predominate.”

“So do you role play you’re the queen and he’s your English butler?” I offered an amused grin.

“Fuck off! We’ll pick you guys up tonight at six thirty.”

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath. And I’ll make sure to pack my knife, rope, and candlestick.”

Renee chuckled as she walked away. I placed one hand on the bouncy house and crossed one foot over another. I had a feeling my weekend was going to be like the fun house at the carnival. Annoying and full of surprises.

Chapter 4

Renee and Raj pulled up to my apartment at precisely six thirty. God forbid Renee were a second late for this weekend’s festivities. She was probably worried the murder would happen without her there and she’d be clueless. I loved my best friend, but she was anal when it came to playing games and the rules.

A few weeks ago everyone was at Miles’s place for game night. It ended in Renee walking out because someone embezzled money in Monopoly. I tried to explain we were playing real life rules and that assholes at Boardwalk Place here knocking down the slums of Baltic Avenue and putting in million-dollar high rises. I could only imagine how serious Renee would be over this murder mystery game.

Miles was already at my place since he had to drop Dilion at his sister Kelly’s house, which was also in the city. Raj was driving his BMW S series, which was rather impressive. One of the things Raj and Renee had in common was his their love of cars and how they treated them like they were perfect children.

“Raj, you do understand we drive on the right side of the road, right?” I liked ribbing him since he grew up in England.

“Really?” he asked in a sexy British accent. “Someone might want to tell the cab drivers around here that.”

Have I mentioned another reason he and Renee got along so well? They’re both road Nazis. You were on your own if one of them saw you make a turn without your blinker on.

“Are you guys excited?” Renee turned and flashed and beauty queen smile.

“I can’t wait!” I said with too much zeal. There was only so much sarcasm I could throw at this weekend. But it was kind of fun just to annoy Renee because I loved how her nose crinkled up whenever she would get pissed.

“Moxie, don’t be a party pooper,” she chided.

Everyone in the car, including myself, laughed at Renee’s rebuttal.

We got out of the city and headed north to Wisconsin. The mansion wasn’t too far across the border, so the drive wasn’t long. Since it was Halloween weekend and Chicago traffic played a factor, we’d be lucky if we arrived next week. About a half hour into our drive, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from the man sitting next to me.

Hi.

I looked up from my phone and to the beautiful man next to me. He was focused on his phone and acted as if he hadn’t just texted the person sitting next to him.

You realize I’m sitting right next to you.

I saw a hint of a smile tug at his lips. Within seconds his fingers where flying over the keyboard of his phone. I didn’t think you wanted me announcing to the entire car that your tits look great in that shirt.

I smiled at him, but he was still focused on his phone. Miles was a filthy talker, and I loved every dirty word that slipped from his mouth.

I thought about not wearing a bra, but everyone would see my nipples. I knew the comment would get a rise out of him. He loved all aspects of my body, but my nipples had a special place in his heart… and dick.

He growled low under his breath and typed, If anyone else saw your nipples, I’d shove their eyeballs up their asses. Those beautiful buds are mine and mine alone to suck and bite.

I crossed my legs and shifted in my seat to relieve some of the sexual ache Miles was inflicting on me. But two could play at this game. You know, I love those jeans you have on, but I like them even more when they are wrapped around your ankles while I’m sucking you off.

Miles cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and typed, I’m fucking pissed at you.

What??

Miles continued typing. You’re not wearing a skirt so I can’t slide my fingers under your panties and make you scream in the back of this car.

I pouted. The thought of Miles taking me in the back seat of a car was hot. However, I would have to take lessons from a contortionist because the space was so small.

Well, I’m pretty pissed at you, I typed.

Oh, really?

There is no room in this car for me to get on my knees and suck on your cock until your come slides down my throat.

Miles let out a strangled cough and now it was his turn to readjust himself. Well, wouldn’t that be the car’s fault, then?

Fuck off.

Miles’s eyes went from looking at his phone to scanning my body. He licked his bottom lip and returned to texting. Trust me, there is nothing I’m rather be doing in the back of this car besides having you straddled on my lap fucking the shit out of you.

I was about to text back something equally as filthy when I received text from Renee.

You two are awfully quite back there. Everything okay?

I snapped my head up, forgetting there were other people in the car. Yep. I’m just looking out for ghost cows.

She replied quickly, What are you doing back there? Giving Miles a silent hand job?

There is nothing silent when I give this man a hand job. He screams like a banshee.

Renee giggled in the front seat while she continued to text. Oh, nice Halloween tie in there.

A text from Miles interrupted our exchange. Who are you texting? I tell you I want to fuck you senseless, and you’re texting someone else.

It’s Renee asking if everything is okay.

Miles looked like I’d just killed his dog. I lost the text-off?

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at Mile’s overreaction. Renee was worried. I couldn’t let her think we stopped breathing, could I?

You’ve been a bad girl, Moxie. Do you know what I do to bad girls?

I sat up a little straighter, eager to read his response. Oh, do tell.

Just before Miles could send a return text, Renee screeched, “Eek, we’re here!”

Raj parked the car on the street in front of a beautiful Victorian mansion. Even though it was dark outside, there were spotlights showcasing its beauty. The siding was painted a pinkish peach color while the cornices where painted green and white. There was a large round turret and windows in all shapes and sizes.

We exited the car and grabbed our luggage from the trunk. Miles, being the stud he was, carried my bag up the stairs and placed it on the gorgeous wraparound porch.

“This is so exciting.” Renee bounced up and down while clapping her hands. You would have thought she was a kid in a candy store.

“Okay, can you tone it down about three notches? You’ll scare off the ghosts,” I said.

“Oh my God. Do you think it’s haunted?”

I rolled my eyes, walked past her, and rang the doorbell. Someone inside opened the door and greeted us with a generous smile.

“Hello, welcome. You’re our first guests! I’m Sean, the innkeeper and your host for this weekend.” He held his arms out wide as if he were going to hug us all at once.

Sean was somewhere in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair. He had brown welcoming eyes and a long face that reminded me of a horse. His jaw had a few days of gray stubble. Sean was tall and lanky, maybe two hundred pounds soaking wet.

“Please, come on in. Let me help you with those bags.” He took our bags and set them in the entry. “Like I said, you’re the first ones here. Let me get my wife, Marie, and we can do some introductions.”

This gave me a minute to look around the room. It looked like a florist had a bad case of the flu and vomited flowers all over the place. Everywhere I turned I saw flowers — on the wallpaper, the rugs, and in vases all over the room. Looking at it made me dizzy. Although if I did puke, I’m sure no one would notice since the perfume from the flowers would mask the stench perfectly.

“Wow,” Miles whispered to me. “This is very—”

“Art Deco?” I added as I looked around and took in all the intricate designs.

“I was going with mortuary.”

“Welcome, welcome, welcome.” A female trotted from another room into the entryway. “I’m Marie, Sean’s wife, and your hostess for the weekend. We are so excited to have you here for a murderistic weekend.”

Marie hugged each one as if she had known us for years. It felt awkward to have that kind of intimacy with someone you didn’t know. It kind of reminded me of when my Aunt Beatrice, who I hadn’t seen in ten years, hugged me and told me I’d developed into a beautiful woman.

I leaned into Renee and said, “Is murderistic a word?”

“I wouldn’t know, I only teach the fifth grade. I believe it’s a high school word.”

Marie was a short middle-aged woman, maybe five three with heels. She had mousy brown hair that was somewhat curly and brown eyes to match. Marie wore an apron over her red top and floral ankle length skirt. Great, more floral.

“Well, I’m Raj, this is my girlfriend, Renee, and our friends Miles and Moxie.”

Marie looked at me as if I’d just grown three heads. “Moxie? Well, isn’t that a usual name.”

“My parents were hippies and continually high. They thought they put Margaret on the birth certificate,” I replied. Miles bumped me with his hip, and I decided I could behave for a while.

“Well, let me show you to your rooms while we wait for the others to get here. One of the gentleman called, saying he was lost, so hopefully it won’t be too much longer,” Marie said.

“Was the gentleman named Ryan?” I asked.

“I wasn’t quite sure. Another gentleman was screaming at him, calling him obscenities, so I couldn’t quite hear.”

“That would be Ryan and Tom,” I confirmed.

Marie led us up a squeaky wooden staircase to the bedrooms. After depositing Raj and Renee at their room, she led Miles and I down the hall to ours. Marie opened a door that could have used some WD40 in its hinges. Miles walked into the room first and I followed. The room was a decent size, but held a small four poster bed. This posed as a problem, considering Miles said I were bed hogs.

The room was decorated in shades of deep crimson The wallpaper was scarlet with shiny red imprints of flowers. The carpet was also red, but instead of flowers, it had specks of gold woven in. The portraits on the wall were of people from the nineteenth century. I doubted they were relatives of the owners, but instead purchased at Frames R Us. Next to the bed there was an antique oil lamp, probably a replica.

“I’ll let you two get comfortable and unpack. Sean or I will alert you when the other guests arrive, and we’ll meet in the sitting room,” Marie said before closing the door behind her.

I turned to Miles to say something sarcastic about the room, but he grabbed me so fast it almost knocked the wind of out me. He scooped me up in his arms and walked us over to the bed were he proceeded to throw me onto the mattress. The mattress made a loud squeaking sound when I landed; it was probably as old as the house.

Miles hovered over me and braced his arms on each side of my head. I could feel some growth when his groin rubbed against me.

“Miles, there’s no need to be afraid. I’ll hold your hand during the scary parts,” I said with a sly smile.”

“Oh the only person who should be scared here is you. You were very naughty in the car and need a good spanking.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Dane?” I tried to do my best southern belle impersonation, even pretending to fan myself for extra effect.

Miles rolled us over so I was on top of him. He gripped my ass in both hands and squeezed hard. But then he surprised me and slapped one of my ass cheeks. Maybe I should have been pissed, but holy hell, it was such a turn on. Before I could retaliate there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Miles and Mox, we’re wanted in the sitting room,” Renee called.

I dropped my head into the crook of Miles’s neck and whined, “Can’t we just have sex all weekend? We can role-play. You be Hannibal Lector, and I’ll be the woman you want to eat… You can start with my pussy.”

Miles chuckled as he rolled out from under me and pulled me up from the bed. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Miss Summers. I’ll get you, my pretty.”

“And my little pussy, too,” I cackled as we left the room to join the other guests.

Chapter 5

Miles and I walked down the wooden staircase met Ryan and Tom at the bottom. Ryan look devilishly handsome as always, reminding me of the time I hit on him and subsequently found out he was gay. The dark jeans and V-neck sweater did it for me every time. Tom had a few years on Ryan when it came to age and was starting to gray at the temples. He said Ryan was making him go gray from all the shit he caused, like leaving dirty dishes out on the table.

When Miles and I approached them, they were still amid the argument from the car.

“I told you we should have turned at Spruce Street, but you insisted on going straight. And now we’re late.” Tom huffed.

“I would never insist on anyone going straight,” Ryan said, winking.

“If you kept your damn hands out of my crotch then I could have paid attention to the damn road.”

“Right. ‘Please don’t give me a hand job’ said no man ever,” Ryan said in a mocking voice.

“I don’t like to do shit like that in the car. It makes a mess everywhere,” Tom continued to argue.

“Ah yes, how can I forget my OCD boyfriend and his frantic need to keep everything in order.”

Ryan turned to Miles and I. “I would have taken it in the mouth anyway.”

Miles coughed at Ryan’s statement. “Okay, then. On that happy note, let’s we meet Raj and Renee in the sitting room.

“Good, I need a drink.” Ryan sped past Miles and I into the sitting room.

I whispered close to Miles, “Seems like everything isn’t kosher under the rainbow.”

“Seems to be a love-hate relationship,” he said.

“Yeah, Ryan loves Tom, and Tom hates all the crumbs Ryan makes.” I laughed.

In the sitting room Sean and Marie served wine and appetizers, and my heart started to pound and I started to shake.

“Moxie, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Renee said. “When she gets into a room full of appetizers, she goes into a seizure-like state because she doesn’t know which one to try first.”

“It’s just so… overwhelming. Pigs in blankets, assorted cheese. Is that a relish tray? Get the defibrillator, stat!”

“We always said if we quit teaching, we would start a restaurant that only served appetizers. We’d call it Appiteasers,” Renee continued.

“Can you imagine? A restaurant that had jalapeño poppers, egg rolls, and spinach artichoke dip? It’s like an orgasmic smorgasbord,” I added.

The doorbell rang, and we all looked toward the entryway as Sean moved to open the door.

“Welcome!” Sean greeted the new guests. “You’re just in time to mingle.”

A woman missing ninety percent of her clothing and didn’t look a day over twelve walked in. She wore booty shorts, although they showed more booty then shorts. On top of her nice-sized breast she wore a Clash T-shirt under a leather motorcycle jacket. The outfit was completed by cowboy boots and a straw cowboy hat. She had, from what I could tell, dark brown hair that lightened to blond at the tips.

Next to her was, what I assumed, her date for the weekend. He looked like he’d just crawled out of the cradle too. He wore a wife-beater and jeans that sagged way past his ass. He was probably five eleven and wore a White Sox hat with the shiny MBL sticker firmly attached to the visor.

“I didn’t realize we were babysitting this weekend,” I whispered to Renee.

“If I ever have a daughter walk out of the house looking like that, I’ll shoot her.”

“It will be too late because I would have already shot you for raising a daughter like that. That would be something from my loins, not yours.”

I peeked at Miles to see if he was enjoying the bootyful view, but he was deeply engrossed in conversation with Raj about the Cubs. Good man I had there.

Sean walked over with our newest guest. “Everyone, I would like to introduce Destiny and Sam.”

All six of us waved to our new arrivals as the doorbell rang once again.

“That must be our last arrival, excuse me,” Sean said as he darted back to open the door.

Meanwhile Sam left Destiny’s side and sauntered up to me. “Hey, I’m Sam. And what is your name, fair maiden.”

I looked around to see if there was a girl dressed in a princess costume with one of those tall cone hats and streamers coming out. But Sam’s gaze was directed at me.

“I’m taken,” I said with a rush.

“I would only assume,” he said with a wink.

“My boyfriend Miles is over there talking with the British Indian guy. He’s very tall and fierce. Oh, and he’s territorial. Likes to mark me with pee and all,” I added. I usually didn’t get nervous around anyone, unless they were threatening to discontinue Snicker bars, but there was something about Sam that made my skin crawl. Maybe it was because he looked like he hadn’t washed his hair since the extinction of the dinosaurs.

“Mmm, kinky. I like it.”

“Umm, isn’t that you’re girlfriend.” I pointed to Destiny.

“We don’t use labels. We are always opened to new adventures,” he said, eyeing me as if I were a piece of prime rib and he were a lion.

“Yo, dipshit,” Destiny called to Sam. “Stop waving your dick around and help me get the bags upstairs.”

“Dipshit is her nickname for me,” he said, giving me a toothy grin. He did a full body scan of me before helping Destiny carry their stuff to their room.

Renee looked at me, “What was that?”

“That was an uncomfortable moment.”

“Kind of like when you have to take a crap and the only place around is McDonald’s? And then you plug up the toilet and don’t tell anyone because you’re utterly embarrassed?”

I turned to her. “Did that happen?”

“Totally hypothetical,” she replied.

“Well, howdy, y’all!”

Renee and I turned our attention to our newest arrivals. A stunning raven-haired beauty came prancing into the room. She was dressed in a cream, silk shirt that was buttoned low showing her ta-tas, which were too perky to be considered natural. This was paired with black straight-leg pants and fuck-me shoes. That wasn’t what caught my eye, though. This woman was dripping in jewels. I had to snap my mouth shut because my mouth hung open so big I could have caught hundreds flies in it. I seriously considered getting my sunglasses because all her bling was making my eyes hurt.

Walking in behind her was a white-haired man who had to be double, if not triple her age. He was dressed in a tweed sports coat, slacks, and white button down shirt. He too had a very interesting accessory: something that looked like a furball a cat threw up. The object moved in the man’s arms and let out a bark, which sounded more like a shriek. Fantastic!

“I’m Debbie and this is my husband, Bob.” Then Debbie reached toward Bob’s arms and pulled the rugrat into her arms. “And this is Ruby, our shih-poo.”

I will not comment, I will not comment, I chanted to myself. But Renee had it covered for me.

“What’s a shih-poo?” Renee tilted her head and scratched her chin in confusion.

“It’s a shih tzu poodle mix,” Debbie said with a very strong southern drawl.

“I thought that was something that happened after you eat a lot of Arby’s in on sitting,” I muttered to Renee.

Miles, Raj, and a now harmonious Tom and Ryan joined in our small gathering and offered introductions since I seemed to be focused on Debbie’s assortment of fine gems.

“Hi, I’m Miles. This is my girlfriend Moxie and our friend Renee, Raj, Tom, and Ryan.”

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet y’all.”

“I like your puppy,” I said, reaching to pet the ball of fur. But the crapper growled and bared its teeth.

“Oh, Ruby. Stop that nonsense,” Bob scolded from behind is wife and placed his hands on her shoulders. “He’s very sweet, just a little territorial when it comes to my Debbie.”

“You’ve got quite the southern drawl. I can’t imagine you’d be from anywhere around here,” Ryan said.

“Oh no.” Bob shook his head. “We’re from Dallas. I own several farms up in this area, and we heard about this adventure and thought it would be fun. It’s nice to get out amongst every day folk instead of dealing with the old fuddy-duddies of the cooperate world.”

Again, I leaned into Renee and whispered, “Do I make the joke about Debbie Does Dallas first or the one where Bob is an old fuddy-duddy?”

She elbowed me in the side and gave me a sideways dirty look. Sam and Destiny came down looking disheveled and joined the rest of the party. Sam entered the room and threw me a wink while adjusting himself. The thought of Sam and Destiny having a quickie upstairs was enough for me to toss up the appetizers I had eaten.

The group mingled for a bit, and I was able to get some information out of our new guests. Bob owned a large cattle ranch in Texas and sold a lot of cattle to dairy farms around the county, hence his business here in Wisconsin. Debbie was thirty-three years his junior and did charity work. Basically he needed some hot tail, and she needed his finances to fund her Liz Taylor Diamond collection. Apparently Rudy went everywhere they went, and I wondered if the dog even had legs because Debbie hadn’t put him down on the floor even once. At one point, Ruby and I had a stare down over the last pig in a blanket. I won because, frankly, I was human and could squash that piece of shih-poo with my toe.

And then there was Sam and Destiny. Destiny was a twenty-year-old exotic dancer studying to become a licensed masseuse. Sam was a twenty-three-year-old guy. He seemed to be lost and searching, which was a nice way of saying he was unemployed. When I asked what he was looking to do, he answered. “Grow weed.” Ding, ding, ding! I do believe we have a winner here folks.

Sean and Marie made it back into the sitting room with a cluster of paperwork. “First, Marie and I would like to thank everyone for joining us on this very mysterious Halloween weekend. We have the characters you will be playing in the murder mystery game. Each of you will get your identity and some background information about your characters. We will give you some time to become familiar with your characters before continuing. The theme for the mysterious murder weekend is High School Reunion.”

Oh. Dear. God. To say I hated high school would be a lie. I flat out loathed it. I was the chubby redhead with enough metal in my mouth to conduct electricity. The fact that I had to reenact any part of that time in my life caused a plethora of angst. A knot formed in my stomach and the room started to spin.

“I wish I’d known you in high school,” Miles said, looking at the mixture of emotions on my face.

“Why is that? Did you need someone to stand on your roof to get a better TV signal?”

“What?”

“I had a mouth full of braces and was teased constantly.”

“I was thinking more like stealing you away underneath the football bleachers and devouring you between your legs.”

I gave him a wry smile. “While it sounds nice, I wouldn’t have been able to return the favor. Unless you wanted your penis torn apart like paper going through a shredder.”

“Well, thank God for present day and straight teeth.” He chuckled.

“Moxie and Miles, here are your characters.” Sean handed each of us our packets. Characters were designed around the questionnaire you filled out.”

I opened the manila envelope and pulled out the contents. I was not surprised at what the paperwork revealed.

Your character for the high school murder mystery is… The Punk.

Chapter 6

I’m the fucking punk. I’m not surprised considering what I wrote in my questionnaire. I was totally assholish when filling it out. They probably figured I was aiming for the misfit of the group. Instead of being annoyed, I would embrace my inner punk. But there are different kinds of punk. Did I want to be the rocker punk and spike up my hair? Or the Goth chick in an all-black wardrobe? Wearing black was slimming. Each of our packets came with character descriptions, so I flipped through mine to decipher how I should make my character.

The Punk

Every high school had that one person who would not conform to the rules. You were the person who picked fights and made sure everyone in the room knew who you were. Your body was adorned with earrings, tattoos, and multi-colored hair. If anyone told you to do something, you did exactly the opposite. Your reason for attending the high school reunion? To make sure everyone still knew who you were and, after all the years that passed, you were still living a non-conforming lifestyle.

My translation of the description: Be an asshole. It was something I could manage. I strode over to Miles to get a peek at his character. My guess — the guy who everyone tried to get into every girls’ pants.

“So, what did you get? Strong, attractive teen with no acne and a constant raging boner?”

“Close enough; I got the high school jock.”

“Surprise, surprise,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“And you?”

I slouched and bowed my head. It was my own fault, considering I’d been such a pain in the ass I filled out that questionnaire.

“I got the school punk.”

Miles roared with laughter. “I’m shocked.”

I slugged Miles arm and he took a step back, covering his mouth to hide his continued laughter.

“Yeah, well that’s what happens when you fill out the questionnaire like a two-year-old.”

Raj and Renee walked over to us after they saw Miles laughing.

“So what about you two?” I uncrossed my arms and pointed to Renee.

“I’m the captain of the pom-pom squad!” Renee kicked a leg into the air a demonstrated fake cheer face.”

“I’m the bloody class president.” Raj huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

I snorted. “A bit of an overachiever, are we?”

“Why couldn’t I be the football star or something.” He threw his head back and sighed.

“For some reason I can’t see an Indian guy being the captain of the football team. Maybe the math team. Or the president of outsourcing.” I pretended to type into an imaginary computer.

“Bugger off. When said football, I was talking about what you Americans refer to a soccer.” He tried to look angry, but had difficulty hiding his smile.

I tuned back to Miles. “So, what does you’re description say?”

He handed me his card, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when reading description.

The Jock

As the class jock you were well-known and liked by everyone in the school because of your good looks and athletic abilities. You had a string of relationships in your senior year, but ended up falling in love with the head cheerleader. The two of you married, and you got a full football scholarship to the college of your choice, but injured your knee during a game and lost your scholarship. You went through a deep depression and reconnected with the captain of the pom-pom squad from high school. The two of you had an affair, which your wife doesn’t know about. Since your knee injury, you attended a community college and now work as a Phys Ed. teacher at the same high school you were once a star at.

“Oh my God, you’re a manwhore!” I bent over, slapped my knee, and started laughing.

“I was not a manwhore. It was the depression and injury which lead me astray from my beloved wife. Who knows, maybe I was addicted to pain pills and thought I was sticking it in my wife instead of the pom-pom girl.”

“Eww! In my character description it said you and I had an affair.” Renee shivered and scrunched up her face as if she’d just tasted something sour.

“Excuse me, that’s my man you’re saying ‘eww’ about. That’s eight plus inches you’re shuddering over.”

“Aww, sweetness. Except it’s more like ten plus inches,” he said with a devilish grin.

“It’s about to become a one-inch nub if you don’t wipe that stupid smirk from your face,” I made a saw and cutting board motion with my hands.

Miles leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “But then how would I be able to satisfy that beautiful pussy of yours with only a nub?”

I smiled. “That’s why God gave you a tongue.”

“Saucy wench.” Miles smacked my ass.

“Excuse me, sex fiends. Can we get back to the game here?” Renee interrupted.

I heard arguing and turned to Ryan and Tom in the corner, waving their cards in each other’s faces.

“Uh oh, looks like I need to perform quality control,” I said to Miles.

I walked up to the sparring couple. “Hey, love birds, whatcha get?”

Tom huffed. “I got the chess and math club president, and Ryan got the newspaper editor.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?”

“Clearly, I’m more suited to work as an editor of the newspaper and I hate chess,” Tom said.

“Don’t you mean you hate chest… like boobs… you know, cause you’re gay?” I laughed.

Both Tom and Ryan looked at me with growing irritation.

“Okay, then. I’m butting out now. I’m going to hide in my hole now,” I said, slinking away.

“What has their jock straps in a bunch?” Renee stood next to me, pointing her chin in Ryan and Tom’s direction.

“A lover’s quarrel. One wanted to be homecoming queen and the other the beauty school dropout,” I said.

Renee giggled just as Sean clapped for our attention.

“I believe everyone has their character cards and had had a chance to review them. Why don’t we go around the room and say who our characters are and how they related to the murder. Bob, I believe we need to start with you.”

Bob looked at his card. “I’m Bob and I was the AV guy in high school. I went on to become a high-profile director. I’m the one being murdered.” Bob read the card without enthusiasm.

Renee and I couldn’t contain our chuckles. It was a slightly cliché that Bob was being the one murdered considering he was the oldest person in the room. Sean and Marie probably just looked at his age on the questionnaire and stereotyped him for the role.

“Great,” Sean did a fist pump into the air. “Now we can go one by one and say who we are and how we are connected to the director’s death. I’ll begin. My character was the hall monitor in high school. I give the instructions and lead you through the murder investigation.”

“So you have no connection to the death? I asked.

“Correct.”

“Then I say you did it,” I continued.

“Did what? The murder?”

“Yes. Isn’t it obvious? It’s the whole whoever smelled it, dealt it.”

“Umm, I’m confused,” Sean said with a look of puzzlement on his face.

“You say you had nothing to do it with it. In the Law and Order Special Crimes unit that automatically makes you a prime suspect.”

Sean looked nervous when I said this, which fascinated me since this was just a game. “No, I can assure you that I had nothing to do with this. Why don’t we move on to Marie’s character.”

Marie looked at her husband with big eyes and shifted from side to side. Perhaps the woman had too much caffeine before we got here.

“I’m Marie and I’m in the marching band. After high school, I started my own music studio and wrote and produced music in my spare time. My motive for the murder was providing a score of music to the director, but never got paid the royalties for the music she created.”

“Because the music probably sucked,” I said to Renee under my breath.

It was Debbie’s turn. “Hi again, y’all. I’m Debbie and I was the class drama queen. I was real popular in high school and was the lead in all the school plays. After high school, I moved to Los Angeles where I met ‘the director’ in hopes he would advance my career, but he didn’t, and I was forced to take a job as a porn star. I always blamed the director for my downfall.”

“Maybe if she spread her legs for the director, she wouldn’t be in that position.” Renee swatted my arm and gave me a low shush.

“Renee, why don’t you two go next,” Sean said.

Renee stood proudly, reading off her card. “I’m Renee and I was the captain of the pom-pom squad. I was so good that after high school, I went off to community college and became a famous choreographer. My relation to the murder is blackmail. That’s all I can say right now.”

Next was Destiny and Sam. Destiny smacked her gum as she spoke. “I’m Destiny and I was the head cheerleader and homecoming queen. But in high school I was best friends with the jock and ended up marrying him.

Destiny winked at Miles because she overheard him say he was the jock. I couldn’t help the eye roll. It was then Sam’s turn to take the floor.

“Wait,” Raj interrupted. “Isn’t being a cheerleader and a pom-pom girl the same thing?”

“Umm, not even close.” Renee put her hands on her hips and looked at Raj. “Cheerleading and pom-poms are two totally different things. Poms are more about dancing than cheering and Poms is less important.”

That comment prompted Destiny to throw dagger eyes at Renee.

“Yo, I’m Sam. My card says in high school I was the class flirt. I guess that’s right since I was a named that in my real high school.”

I leaned toward Renee and murmured, “He went to high school? I thought for sure he was born in a barn.”

“Maybe there was a school inside the barn. Something like Animal Farm?”

“What the fuck is Animal Farm?”

She looked at me as if I’d just asked the most absurd question.

“Animal Farm, by George Orwell. It’s a novel where the dictator pig takes over the farm.”

“Well, you got the pig part right.”

Sam continued. “Now I’m all grown up and shit. I own and run an online dating service. It says here… wait, what the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, babe?” Destiny asked.

“It says I was having a secret affair with the director, but now I have a thing with the newspaper guy.” He continued to look at the card and scratch is chin. “Who’s the newspaper guy?”

Ryan raised his hand proudly and smiled. “Looks like you were into all sorts of pants during high school.” He gave a wink at Sam.

I barked out a laugh, but quickly covered it up with a cough.

“Hey, I’m not into dudes,” Sam said, grabbing his junk as if to stake some masculine ground.

“It’s just a game, babe,” Destiny said, trying to comfort a displeased Sam.

“That’s perfect timing to introduce the next person. Ryan, will you tell us about your character?” Sean said.

“Sure. I’m Ryan and I was the head of the high school newspaper. Now I’m a top reporter for the Wall Street Journal, and I’m a big supporter of the class president because now he’s running for Congress.” He gave Raj a high five.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with the Wall Street Journal if it bit you in the ass,” Tom complained.

“We’ll you bit my ass this morning when you were trying to gain access to it, and it seems I know how to handle you,” Ryan retorted. “Why don’t you go next, sassy pants.

“Fine,” Tom moaned. “I was head of the math team in high school, and now I’m some big accountant. Even though I should have been the head of the newspaper, but you don’t always get want you want.”

“Especially when you whine like a bitch,” Ryan said under his breath.

Raj cut in before another Ryan and Tom argument occurred. “I’m Raj and I was the class president.”

“Stereotype,” I said, trying to hide it in a cough. Miles nudged my arm and gave me the naughty look, but Raj smiled at me, understanding I was just joking around.

“After high school, I studied political science and now I’m running for Congress. Apparently, I asked the director for financial backing and he flaked on me.”

“He’s a dickweed,” I said.

“What’s a dickweed?” Renee asked.

“A dickweed in someone who is a total dick and continues to be a dick like a growing weed,” I said.

“Well, that certainly clears things up.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

Miles and I told the rest of the group what our cards said. Ryan couldn’t contain his laughter when he found out my role was the school punk. I don’t think he’ll still be laughing when this class punk gives him a big atomic bomb size wedgie.

Sean interrupted our banter. “Now we know who everyone is, it’s time to play the game!”

Well, since I forced to be a part of these shenanigans, I was going to use my punk status to the fullest.

Chapter 7

Our character debriefing was only the first phase of the game. Sean gave Raj an envelope he was supposed to open and read to the group. I wasn’t quite sure why Raj was given the distinct honors, but Sean said he had to excuse himself to prepare for the next phase of the game. I suspected he was going to get some ketchup to throw on Bob to make it look like a real murder. I had to remind myself it was supposed to be a dead body and not a hamburger. Although, if you threw some lettuce and a pickle on there, Bob might turn out to be a tasty treat.

Raj opened the envelope and quickly looked over the contents.

“Because I was the class president and now a politician, it’s my job to tell you all about the next phase of the game.”

“Wait!” Sam called out. “Can I take a quick piss break before we’re lectured, Mr. President?”

“Can’t it wait?” Raj crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his foot.

“Unless someone is playing the part of the school janitor and wants to clean up my piss from the floor, no it can’t.”

Sam sprinted out of the room and for some reason Destiny followed him out.

“Can he not pee without someone holding his dick for him?” I said to Miles.

“Maybe his dick is so huge he needs help holding it.”

“I’m going with the idea that his dick is so small, he needs someone’s help trying to find it,” I countered.

Ten minutes passed and Destiny returned to the room, looking disheveled, and Sam followed, looking sated. I had no doubt they took the time in the middle of the game to go play their own game of how far can Sam stick his cock into Destiny’s mouth. Even the thought of that made me want to toss my cookies.

“Now that you’re finished in the loo, may I continue?” Raj asked, sighing heavily.

“Carry on, Mr. President,” Sam said while readjusting himself.

Raj shook his head and started reading what was in the letter, opened the envelope, and removed the paper inside. “It’s been twenty years since we graduated high school, and we’ve all have come a long way.”

“Do you come a long way?” Sam snickered at his crude joke.

I groaned. “Who invited the ten-year-old?”

“You’re just jealous because your man can’t shoot like a pro,” Destiny said as she tried defending Sam’s honor.

Oh, that’s how she was going to play it? The punk in me certainly couldn’t let that one slide. “It’s true. I don’t like to wash my hair with come shampoo just because my man overshoots his mark.”

Renee laughed and Ryan snapped is fingers in an oh no, she didn’t style.

“If you two cats are finished, put your claws away so I can finish,” Raj said.

I crossed my arms over my chest, and I could have sworn Destiny stuck out her tongue. Apparently someone invited a ten-year-old boy and girl to the party.

Raj continued. “Among us tonight, we have everyone from a Hollywood director to an acclaimed accountant.”

“That should have been a newspaper reporter,” Tom mumbled.

“You put your claws away too, big man.” Raj said, speaking slowly to annunciate each word.

“As graduates, we have all chosen different paths, but they all started right here in high school. Throughout this mystery you can use bribery, extortion, blackmail, or whatever means necessary to find the guilty party. Good luck and may the force be with you.”

“It really says that?” Miles asked.

“No, I added it for dramatic effect,” Raj said.

And without warning the lights went out, stranding us in the dark. Miles grabbed my arm, and I felt mushy inside from his protectiveness. Either that or Sam was trying to cop a feel, in which case his arm would be detached from the rest of him when the lights came back on.

I room was lit once again, and Bob was lying on the floor with his tongue hanging out.

“Really, Bob? That’s the best dead body you can give us?” Debbie said in her southern twang.

Bob lifted his head and looked at her. “Being dead ain’t easy.”

“I’m sure it isn’t when your gold-digging wife drains you’re fortune away after you die,” I whispered to Miles.

“I’m sure she’s disappointed it wasn’t a real murder,” he replied.

Sean came back into the room and clapped his hands once to grab our attention. “As you can see, there has been a murder. The victim is your old classmate who was a famous director. At this time I ask for your full cooperation during this investigation. I have another envelope for each of you, containing information, evidence, and objects to help you conduct your investigation. Play the game wisely and make sure your secrets are not revealed. I will present evidence I have found in which everyone will get a chance to examine.”

Sean fumbled with a manila envelope, which I guessed contained the evidence. It’s probably what he was doing while Raj was preaching. He pulled out a few small cards.

“These are business cards found in the victim’s wallet. The cards are that of the accountant, the musician, the punk, and the actress.”

“Let me see my business card. Does it at least look good? Does it say Moxie the Punk? Or does it say Le Punk de Moxie?”

“It’s a blank card,” Renee said.

“I’m firing my graphic designer,” I said with irritation.

“There is an invoice for payment,” Sean continued. “It’s from the victim’s accountant, and it shows the victim owed the musician a great deal of money.”

“At least I’m doing my fucking job right,” Tom snarled.

“These pictures were handed over by the punk. She claims she’d been tracking the flirt on the victim’s behalf and discovered his affair with the editor of the newspaper.”

“I still don’t think I’d stick it in a dude,” Sam huffed and turned his back to the group like he was a small child having a tantrum.

“I have a feeling if it walks, you’d stick it in it,” I slapped him on the back like we were old buddies joking around with each other.

“Hey, I’ve got limits.”

“You’re right. House plants are an exception.”

Sean cut off our sparring. “Finally, there is the blackmail note that was provided by the musician. It was found earlier tonight. I will give you all a chance to look at all the evidence. Afterward, take all you have learned and think it over. The investigation will continue in the morning. I wish you all a good evening.”

I walked over to the table where Sean placed the note.

If you don’t do what I want, I will expose

your secret and your career will be over!

Really? That’s it? I was hoping it would say something like what we passed in junior high: Do you want me to bribe you? Circle yes, no, or maybe.

“This all has been very exciting, but I’m ready to hit the hay, or hit Sam, whatever comes first,” I told Renee.

“I’m with you. I have to go plot out all the evidence and post it on the wall, then take string and attach the clues together like they do in crime shows,” she said.

“Seriously?” I looked at her in amazement.

“Fuck no, I’m probably going to give Raj a blow job then go to bed.” She smiled like the Cheshire cat.

That plan sounded like something I could get on board with. I walked over to Miles who was taking to Ryan.

“Hey, are you ready to go to bed.” I gave him a wink.

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Ryan for a bit. I’ll meet you up there.”

I felt disappointed that Miles didn’t scoop me up and drag me up the stairs like Rhett Butler did in Gone with the Wind. Well, fiddledeedee.

I walked up the stairs while talking to Debbie, but not actually listening to anything she said, just ogling at the rocks wrapped around her fingers and neck. She had to have had an entire diamond mine plastered to her body. I caught some basic words of the conversation. Cows, charity, Bob’s prostate…

I was in luck as my room was the closer to the stairs then Debbie’s was and I could escape Debbie before I had to hear any more about Bob’s genitals. I was about to strip my clothes off when I noticed a piece of paper on the bed and I picked it up.

In the kitchen you will find a desert that is so fine.

Something that will make your mouth water.

And it has nothing to do with this high school alma-mater.

Your clue awaits at 1:30 a.m. in the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and put the note in the drawer of the side table. Sean was going to taste my shoe after I stuck it so far up is ass for this stunt. Really? One thirty in the fucking morning? I would have completely ignored this except for one thing: I was in it to win it.

Chapter 8

At about one thirty in the morning, my phone alarm vibrated, waking me so I could follow through on the mystery note. I had a serious bone to pick with Sean for pulling this stunt. Maybe I’d slip some milk of magnesia in his oatmeal. I peered at the other side of the bed to a sleeping Miles. I could have roused him for a quickie before I trotted downstairs. But I was out to win this game, so I didn’t share my secret clue.

I slid out of bed and put my bra, shirt, and sweatpants on. No need to scare the house ghost I was sure haunted the place because of my jiggling triple D love mounds. I supposed if it came down to it, I could always use them as weapons. Sometimes they felt like heavy boulders. I padded my way across the dark room and made sure the bedroom door didn’t squeak. The creaking stairs proved to be another feat. I took one step at a time, cringing if the steps made a popping noise. I finally hit the bottom of the stairs and glanced back up to see if I woke anyone up using my stealthy ninja techniques.

The house was dark and I made a mental note to talk to Marie about getting some night lights in place before they got sued by someone breaking their neck. However, that would make the murder mystery game more authentic if someone actually kicked the bucket. I looked at the note again to remind myself of my task.

Obviously, I was supposed to head to the kitchen for something. Maybe I’d be surprised with cupcakes with cream cheese frosting! I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Focus! I looked around for the kitchen. When I found it, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and I was thoroughly disappointed my fantasy cupcakes were not waiting for me. I looked on the granite countertops for any notes left behind. I even searched through the cabinets. I huffed in frustration because I could have been sleeping in my warm bed next to my man meat, but instead I was chasing an empty clue.

“Find what you’re looking for?” a deep voice said from behind me.

A deep voice I was well acquainted with. A deep voice that usually whispered dirty things in my ears.

“Don’t turn around. I like the view from behind,” he said.

“I’m supposed to be searching for a clue for this stupid ass game,” I waved my hands around the kitchen, then felt along the counter top to see if anything was there.

“There was a note left for you in our room?”

“Yes. I’m going to have a serious talk with Sean and Marie about their game tactics.”

“Maybe they didn’t write the note.”

“Oh, then who did?”

I heard him move behind me, and he brushed my hair over my shoulder. He blew a small breath across my bare neck, making my body shiver.

“Maybe it was the house ghost.”

“You mean the house ghost with an impressively large cock that’s hard and pressing into my ass?”

“Perhaps,” he whispered.

Oh, the whispering! It sent electricity straight to my Bermuda Triangle. He wrapped his large hands around my abdomen and slid them under the hem of my shirt. I sucked in a breath when his hands touched my skin. Slowly, he raised them until he was cupping my breasts.

“Why the fuck are you wearing a bra? Your tits should be available at all times.”

And in one solid motion he grabbed both cups of my bra and pulled them down, releasing my breasts from their confinement. He skillfully rolled my nipples with his fingers, giving them a small pinch. I cried out in both pleasure and pain.

“Shh, or I’ll have to grab one of those kitchen towels and gag your mouth.”

Oh, holy hell, I was going to explode like Slimer in Ghostbusters. All that would be left of me would be a puddle of orgasm on the floor. That would make interesting morning discussion.

He continued his onslaught of my body by moving his hands from my breasts down to the front of my sweatpants and slipping his hands inside.

“Let’s see how wet my sweetness is for me. If it isn’t slick enough, I might have to use my tongue.”

Christ on a cracker. The man was going to kill me with his dirty mouth. My tombstone would read: Here lies Moxie. She was killed by dirty words. She didn’t stand a chance. God help her soul.

Two thick fingers slid inside me, searching for the answer to his question.

“Ah, you are wet. But you could always use some more slickness.”

With urgency he pulled my sweatpants and panties down to my ankles, leaving me exposed to the cool air.

“Bend forward, grab the counter, and spread.”

I followed his instructions, bending at the waist and gripping the granite as if my life depended on it. Miles went down on his knees and pulled my hips back to meet his mouth with urgency and fervor. His tongue delved into my core, sweeping across in my clit with every stroke. I panted as the pleasure built up in my gut. His hands gripped my hips so hard, I knew he would leave bruise marks. And I loved every second of it.

But then he stopped before I could find my release and moved back up my body. His mouth met my ear, and I could smell myself on his breath.

“I was going to let you come on my tongue, but I need to be inside you right now, or I’ll fall apart.”

My knees threatened to buckle at those words. I heard him pull his boxer briefs down releasing what I knew to be an impressive erection. He grabbed my sore hip and plunged deep inside of me, letting a pleading groan escape his lips.

“Oh God, sweetness, you’re so damn tight,” he grunted in a low tone.

I was swept away in the pleasure of the moment. His pace quickened and his breath became ragged. He reached around my waist to he could fondle my clit while to pounded into me.

“Moxie, I want you to fucking come for me.”

It only took those words to send me off the cliff. He moved the hand he was stroking me with up to cover my mouth and stifle my cries of pleasure. After a few more thrusts, he buried his head in my neck, biting the skin to quiet his own cries. After a few moments we both returned to earth and the present.

Through my ragged breathing, I said, “We could have done this upstairs in bed.”

Miles panted as well. “But where would be the mystery? That is the game right?”

“I think you’re using sex as a distraction technique so you can win the game.” I chuckled.

“No, I’m using sex because you’ve made my dick hard all night.”

“You mean the love affair with the head of the pom-poms squad wasn’t it doing it for you?” I said, poking his chest lightly.

“Nah, I always liked the misfits better. They were always more kinky.”

I turned around and placed a sweet but hard kiss on his lips. “This misfit is now sated, happy, and ready to go back to bed.”

I pulled my clothing back into place. Miles followed suit and grabbed my hand to lead me back upstairs. I reached our room and opened the door. When Miles had gotten up to come down stairs he had left a lamp on in the room so we could see our way back to the bed. But instead we saw Sam lay on our bed spread eagle naked as the day he was born. It was a horrific sight! He saw Miles and me and quickly grabbed the sheet to cover himself.

“What the fuck?” I yelled. “What the hell are you doing in my bed butt ass naked?”

“Didn’t Miles get the note?” His eyes widened and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You wrote the note?” I said.

“Yeah. But he was supposed to get it so I could come in here and find you gloriously naked and horny.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do with the note?” Miles asked, trying very hard to keep calm.

“You were supposed to go downstairs and look for clues. I figured you didn’t look very bright, so it would take you a while,” Sam said.

Miles and I looked at each other, I gave him a wink and a smirk. Without saying anything he knew exactly what I meant.

“You’re right, Sam, I must not be that bright. I’ll go back down and look for clues.” Miles took one more look at me and walked out of the room.

Sam looked pleasantly surprised with this turn of events and eyed me like I was dessert. I glided over to the bed, crawled on top, and swung my leg over Sam’s lower thighs.

I smirked at him and, in my most sultry voice, said, “You were right all along. I’ve been wanting you, bad.”

“Yeah?” Sam said with the same excitement as a dog waiting for a bone.”

“Yes. I’ve been waiting all night to do this,” I sat on my knees and flipped my hair, bringing on all the charm I could think off.

“Give me all you’ve got, baby.”

I smiled, balled my hand into a hard fist, and punched his groin.

He let out a high pitched yelp, grabbed his balls, and tried twisting his body to the side. Miles came back into the room and surveyed the damaged. He threw his hand in the air and gave me a high five. “Nicely done.”

I climbed off the bed and turned my attention back to Sam. “You have two seconds to get your bruised balls out of our room.”

He slithered out of the room, still clutching his balls.

“So much for his family jewels,” Miles said.

“Yup. He’ll be lucky if there are any family jewels left to sell on QVC after that punch.” I laughed.

Chapter 9

Morning arrived too quickly after our romp in the kitchen. I woke up alone and felt cold in the sheets. Miles had gotten up some time ago and was probably downstairs getting his coffee. I was sore all over my body, especially were Miles gripped my hips. But I loved feeling this way, taken by the man who stole my heart. And my vagina.

I took a quick shower and got ready for a day of sleuthing. I walked downstairs and heard fast conversation. Or was it crying? I hurried into the dining room and found Miles, Renee, Ryan, Bob, and a crying, distressed Debbie.

“What’s wrong?” I inquired.

Debbie tried to speak through her broken sobs. “My jewelry is missing.”

I thought back to last night and the impressive amount of jewelry she had on her body.

“How much was taken?”

“About one million dollars’ worth of jewelry,” Bob said as he tried to console his young bride.

I couldn’t stop my lower jaw from falling to the floor when he said one million. I tried to put it into perspective by thinking about how many cupcakes I could buy with a million dollars. That was how I equated things… money to food. And that was a shitload of cupcakes.

“Are you sure? You were wearing a lot of beautiful jewelry last night?” I asked when what I really wanted to say was, “Ho, you were drowning in diamonds last night, quit your bitching.”

“Why don’t we go for another look,” said Ryan. “I’ll even go up and help you to look. Sometimes having a third set of eyes helps.”

Debbie nodded and Ryan and Bob took her back upstairs to start searching. I looked at Miles and Renee who sat in silence, staring at their cups of coffee.

Renee shrugged. “I guess we have a new mystery on our hands.”

“Dammit. I was finally on board with this stupid murder mystery, although last night there could have resulted in a real dead body.”

“Excuse me?” Renee looked from Miles to me.

“I’ll let Miles share the lovely details while I go feed the creature who owns me: my stomach.”

I walked into the kitchen to get a helping of whatever Marie had made for breakfast. I was hoping for some pancakes, bacon and hash browns, but was sorely disappointed when all I spotted were a few Danishes and fruit. The Danish. What a disappointment when it came to breakfast pastries. Not as advanced as the croissant and not as fruity as a torte. Basically, it was just a damned outcast. Don’t even get me started on the cheese Danish. What a travesty.

Marie stood at the stove, rolling something in her hands. I walked over to see if maybe I’d get lucky, and we’d have pancakes after all. She quietly muttered to herself and nervously shifted back and forth on her feet. I decided that I would have to cut off her coffee immediately or search for the coke was sniffing.

“What are you making?”

Marie gasped and turned around, dropped a ball of dough and put her hand over her chest.

“Moxie, God you scared me.”

“I see you’re a little on edge there. You might want to tone down the caffeine or take a break from a meth addiction,” I said, chuckling.

She returned my joke with a small laugh, but turned around and continued her cooking.

“What are you making?” I asked.

“Um, dumplings.”

“Those aren’t dumplings. Those are matzo balls,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, matzo balls. They’re like dumplings but they are made from matzo meal and shaped into balls like the ones your making.”

“Those aren’t balls. They’re dumplings. Besides, they’re made with flour.”

I could see I was going to have to give Marie a lesson on Jewish culture. The matzo ball was an important part of Jewish food groups. It was sort of like the food pyramid. Except at the top of the pyramid was corned beef and pastrami, followed by chopped liver, pickled hearing, kugel, and then at the bottom was matzo balls. This diet was otherwise known as the constipation diet.

But before I could argue my case of the matzo ball any further, yelling erupted from the dining room. I quickly exited the kitchen to see what was happening, and wondered idly if I needed to get the pepper spray from my bag. When we were packing, Miles asked why I had packed pepper spray in my bag. I told him if the house was haunted, I wanted to be prepared. And like the good man he was, he rolled his eyes at my oddities and continued on his way.

“You took my jewels!” Debbie screamed at Sam, who was in nothing but his boxers.

“What jewels? What are you even talking about? Sam raised both arms in the air as if someone was pointing a gun at him. “I did no such thing! I just woke up.”

“Did you forget the rest of your clothes in our room?” I sneered.

“I slept on the couch,” Sam admitted

“Why was that?” Renee asked.

“Destiny kicked me out.”

Miles and I exchanged a silent agreement. We weren’t going to offer up the reason why Destiny might have kicked Sam out of the room. And like magic, Destiny appeared at the bottom of the steps with her bags.

“You trashy bitch! You stole my jewelry,” Debbie snarled and prowled up to Destiny.

“What the fuck are you bitching about, you beauty queen has-been.” Destiny got into Debbie’s personal space, and I swear she bared her teeth like a dog about to attack.

I realized two things were happening. First, the mystery was no longer about the high school reunion, but instead Debbie’s lost million dollar jewels. And second, things were about to get ugly real fast.

“You and your man-trash left the group yesterday so you could go into my room and steal my things.” Debbie’s hands were flailing as she spoke.

“Sugar lamb, calm down,” Bob said.

“I will not calm down. These two pieces of trash are thieves.”

“I don’t have to listen to this shit,” Sam seethed and stormed past the group into the kitchen. Debbie was right behind him, followed by the rest of us who wanted to see what was going to happen. Marie froze with a matzo ball in her hand, even if she wouldn’t admit it was one.

“Give me my things back or my husband will call the cops and take your nasty low-life asses to jail!” Debbie yelled.

“Who are you calling low-life asses, you gold-digging bitch.”

Before anyone else could react, Destiny grabbed a Danish and threw it right in Debbie’s face. Silence took over the room, but not for long.

“And you,” Destiny said, pointing to Sam. “You’re a fucking cheater and an asshole.” She threw another Danish at Sam. Like I said before, the Danish really gets the short end of the stick.

Sam slowly wiped away the cherry filling from his face. “If you weren’t such a cold bitch in the sack, I wouldn’t be looking to get some from Moxie.” Sam took the jug filled with orange juice and poured it over Destiny’s head.

“Asshole!” Destiny shouted. She wiped the orange juice from her face and turned to face me. I widened my eyes, thinking I was next to get a Danish in the face. I was truly hoping for the cherry as the cheese and I were not on speaking terms.

“You fat piece of lard,” Destiny said. “What would my boyfriend ever find attractive about you? You’re thighs are as big as a humpback whale. I’m surprised you haven’t crushed Miles’s head in between them.”

Miles quickly moved in front of me. He knew that comment would send me over the edge, and I wasn’t entirely sure if he was trying to protect me from a flying Danish or Destiny from my wrath.

I tapped Miles on the shoulder and said, “I’m okay. I’m not going to let it get to me.” Miles moved away, watching me the whole time. Tensions were high in the room, and I spoke quietly.

“I will not say anything I might end up regretting later.” I continued talking while walking over to where Marie was standing. She looked nervous as I fingered the counter and then turned around. “I don’t believe in belittling someone with hurtful words because I’m a bigger person than that.”

“I would be an emphasis on bigger,” Destiny said with a snort.

I continued. “There are better ways for me to express what I am feeling.”

“And what’s that? Eating your emotions?” Destiny retorted with a snotty laugh.

“No,” I said calmly. “With you eating my emotions.” With one swift move, I grabbed a matzo ball out of the pan nearby and pitched it right into Destiny’s face. The pieces of dough exploded on impact. But something that sparkled at impact, and everyone looked down at Destiny’s feet. Lying on the ground among the matzo ball dough was a diamond.

“Holy shit, “Renee whispered.

I quickly turned around and dug my hands in the dumpling on the counter. As I tore them open, one by one, pieces of Debbie’s jewelry came tumbling out.

“My jewelry!” Debbie squealed, running over to the counter. Marie made a sprint toward the door, but Tom and Raj blocked the way out. She was trapped with nowhere to run. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she mumbled something about foreclosure and unpaid credit card bills.

All of us watched a solicitous Marie, but when Sean burst into the kitchen, all eyes turned to him.

“What the hell happen?” he asked. It didn’t take long for him to spot the busted matzo ball and jewelry lying on the floor. He slowly looked from the floor to everyone else and then tried to reverse his entrance by slowly backing out of the room. Ryan and Miles both bolted toward Sean, grabbing him by his shirt.

“Someone call the police,” Renee exclaimed through her hand covering her mouth.

“I got it,” Bob said as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Renee came to my side and patted my arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m completely amazed.”

“Yeah, this turned out to be crazy.”

“No, not about that.”

“Then what?”

“I am speechless because I want her recipe to make huge matzo balls that hide things. Think of the possibilities! I could be the first Jew to patent a matzo ball!”

Chapter 10

Renee and I stood on the front porch as two police officers handcuffed Marie and Sean and tucked them into a police cruiser. Debbie and Bob gave a third officer a statement of what had happened. Miles and Raj walked out of the house while speaking to a fourth officer.

“It looks like Sean and Marie had a large amount of credit card debt, and they were facing a foreclosure on their house as well,” the officer said.

“It explains why they were trying to steal Debbie’s jewelry,” Raj commented.

I slowly started clapping and all four heads turned to me. “It looks like we have a winner folks.”

“What are you talking about?” Renee asked.

“Of the mystery game. No one was murdered and it turned into a case of stolen jewels. If I’d known, I would have brought my Indiana Jones costume.”

“You have an Indiana Jones costume?” Raj asked while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, don’t judge. What Miles and I do in the bedroom is none of your concern.”

Renee’s body shook with laughter. “What do you do? Dig around under the sheets in search of the Holy Grail?”

“Oh, I found the Holy Grail all right, and let me tell you, it is indeed quite holy.”

“Okay,” Miles broke in the conversation. “If we are all done talking about my golden treasure, we should see how the rest of the people are before making our way back into the city.”

The four of us walked back into the house where we met up with Ryan and Tom, who were arguing again. I wanted to put them in the circus and call their act “The Arguing Gays.” They obviously have a real talent for it lately.

“I said I would drive home.” Ryan said and shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You were born with a lead foot. The last thing you need is a ticket by the Wisconsin police. They would probably write a ticket on a block of cheese.”

“Better a lead foot then a lead dick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom growled.

“Does have a craving for popcorn, peanuts, or cotton candy while watching this,” I asked, waving my hands at their display.

As if this circus act wasn’t enough, Destiny and Sam poured out the kitchen with Sam groveling for forgiveness.

I supposed they were the clowns in this three-ring nightmare. All we needed were the freak shows, and I figured Debbie could fill that spot with her freakishly large diamonds swooping around her neck.

Debbie and Bob returned to the house after they’d finished their statement to the police. “I just want to thank y’all for helping me find my jewelry.”

“I suppose we all worked together in solving the mystery by causing a food fight,” Renee added.

“I still was curious if those matzo balls where sinkers or floaters.” I shook my head in disappointment.

“Excuse me.” Miles turned to me with curious eyes.

“That’s what makes or breaks a perfect matzo ball. If they are nice and light, they float up to the top in yummy goodness. If they stink to the bottom, there’s too much matzo and everyone gets constipated for a week.”

“I have something I would like to sink into you,” he whispered close to my ear.

“Seriously? You’re comparing your penis to a world class matzo ball?”

“Well they do have balls.” He laughed.

“True, but thankfully matzo balls aren’t furry, and they don’t leave little hairs in your throat after you eat them.” I returned the laughter, thinking about a similar joke the first time we met.

“Since this weekend was a bust, how about we go back into the city, find a scary movie to rent, and stuff ourselves with popcorn and ice cream,” Renee suggested.

“Do you think they make horror pornos?” I asked.

“Moxie, every porno is pretty scary in its own right,” she retorted.

“No, I mean like women with three boobs or men with elephant-sized penises.”

“We could rent Eyes Wide Shut with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman.” Ryan joined the conversation by nudging my shoulder with his.

“Ryan, I said horror movie, not a downright ‘take razor blades and gouge your eyes out’ movie.”

We all went up the stairs to retrieve our belongings, but as we came back down, we all stopped in our tracks. Destiny and Sam were making out on the couch. The bile rose in my throat, but I squashed it down. I guess all was forgiven, and I was thoroughly happy to get Sam off my back. Although, I would have loved to give him one final nut punch for being such an ass. I figured if he continued to be with Destiny, that would be punishment enough.

Miles came over to my side. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we get back home and I can strip you down and have my wicked way with you.” I grabbed Miles by the front of his T-shirt and kissed his lips.

Our hazy love spell was broken when a scream rattled the walls. Miles, Renee, Raj, and I ran back up the steps to see what the commotion was about. The deafening screams came from Debbie and Bob’s room. I pushed my way into the room and sucked in a startled breath. There was Debbie with a bloody knife, and Bob’s lifeless body on the ground.

“Holy fuck!” I yelled, backing out of the room and into Miles. “Wh-wh-what happened?” I mumbled. Renee stood next to me with her hands over her mouth.

“Exactly what was supposed to happen,” Debbie said in a malicious tone. “The old asshole was supposed to be killed until you ruined everything with your fucking food fight. The idiot was having an affair, and all my money was at risk. This was my chance to off him and make it look like it was all part of the game. Do you understand what it’s like to have sex with this shriveled dick? It was deplorable and sickening. There wasn’t enough Viagra in the world to help his dick get hard.”

A gentle laugh came from somewhere in the room, and Bob’s dead body shook with mirth.

“Oh my God, he’s alive! Call 911… again!” I screamed.

“Alan,” Debbie groaned. “How are you supposed to be dead if you start giggling. Dead people don’t laugh, you moron.”

My eyes turned into large saucers as I looked from Debbie, who had completely lost her southern twang, to a not dead Bob… or Alan on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Bob, or was it Alan, sat up and laughed. “I lost in when you said the bit about Viagra.”

“Someone better explain this fast before I whip out my karate skills and beat everyone’s ass down,” I said.

Renee leaned into me. “Um, you don’t have any karate kills.”

“Shut it. I watch Walker, Texas Ranger with Chuck Norris.”

Debbie/Sarah walked over to Bob/Alan and helped him off the floor. “My name is Sarah Morgan and this is my husband Alan. We own the house.”

“Oh my God. I’ve stepped into One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” I flapped my arms while chiming out “cuckoo.”

“Things weren’t exactly supposed to go this way, but Alan had to brush up on his acting skills.”

“So you’re… actors?” Renee asked.

“Yes. This whole thing was a setup.” Sarah smiled as if she just won a Tony for best actress.

“What about Sean and Marie? They were taken away by the police?” Raj added.

“Actually, they’re down the block having a cup of coffee. Everyone was in the charade, including Sam and Destiny. They’re drama students at the local college.”

A minute or two passed before everything came pouring out like explosive diarrhea. “You’re fucking telling me we drove through Cowville, USA to stay in this Agatha Christie piece of shit house. And Sam, or whatever the hell his name is, was hitting on me for no reason, but to get your jollies off? To top it off the worse offense: A poor Danish had to die on my behalf! What about the matzo balls? Were they real? Or were they just store brand biscuit dough that had no special meaning to anyone but me?”

“Aww, what happened? Did she figure it out?” Ryan said with disappointment as he came into the room.

“You!” I turned ready to charge Ryan like a bull seeing red. “This was your stupid idea?”

“I thought it would be a great Halloween prank—”

Before he could finish what he was about to say, I charged him and we both went crashing to the ground. I hit him over and over, screeching something about dead Danishes and mythical matzo balls while Miles, Renee, and Raj tried to pull me off what would be a very dead Ryan if I had my way.

Later that night and many scratches on my arms later, Miles and I walked into his house. Dilion and Kelly where on the couch watching television. “Dad, Moxie! Your home early, I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“We thought we’d come back early and spend time with you.” Miles picked up his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I was just going to tuck him into bed,” Kelly said as she stood up and turned off the television.

Dilion turned in Miles’s arms. “Moxie, will you read me a bedtime story?”

“Sure, bud. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right in.” Miles put Dilion down, and he scurried off to get ready. Miles and I said our good-byes and thank-yous to Kelly for looking after Dilion.

“You okay?” Miles asked, rubbing the scratches on my arms.

I let out a small laugh. “I’m fine. Ryan fights like a girl.” Miles followed my laughter and kissed my arm and then kissed my lips.

“Get Dilion settled and then come to bed. Then I can show you my spooky ghost hiding under the sheets.” He winked as he took our bags to the bedroom.

I walked into Dilion’s room and found him already tucked in to his bed. “Moxie, tell me one of your stories.”

“Are you sure? This one could get scary.”

“Yes!”

I grabbed an extra blanket off Dilion’s bed and took the flashlight, which he kept on his nightstand. I turned off the light and covered my head with the blanket. Then I turned the flashlight on and pointed it to my face. Dilion giggled as he crept under the covers even more. I began my horror story.

“On a dark, spooky night. There was a beautiful woman who was in a graveyard. She was being followed by something very rare. It was something she’d only read of in books, and she didn’t believe it truly existed.”

Dilion peeked out from under his blanket. “What was it? Lost treasure? Someone who was killed?

“No. Something far worse.”

Dilion gasped.

I moved my eyes side to side, pretending to look if someone was listening, and then whispered, “It was the perfect matzo ball.”

THE END

About the Author

As a little girl it was always a dream for Z.B. Heller to become She-Ra Princess of Power. Since this dream was unobtainable, she spent what was probably way too long in college trying to "find herself". Becoming an artist scratched the creative itch until the stories in her head were getting to be too loud for her to get anything else accomplished. She lives in St. Louis with her husband, son and Flemish Giant rabbit, Chloe. In her spare time she likes to read, stalk celebrities on Twitter and create the type of art that people scratch their heads about.

Connect with Z.B. Heller

Website: www.zbhellerbooks.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/pages/ZB-HELLER

Twitter: @zbheller

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7948170.Z_B_Heller

Email: zbhellerbooks@gmail.com

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/2eRWL

Other books by Z.B. Heller

The Chronicles of Moxie

A Halloween Hook-Up

by Jennie Marts

Scary just got sexy

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mom, Lee.

Thanks for all your help, guidance, love and support.

And for always being there. Love you Mom!

Chapter One

Jerry Finney blinked at the zombie blocking the sidewalk in front of him. He did not have time for this today.

He was running on empty as it was, having spent the last three days tracking down a thirteen-year-old runaway. He’d delivered the girl to her grateful parents around two that morning and grabbed a few hours of sleep before Mickey, his mutt, had nudged him awake, ready for their morning run.

A dark-haired dominatrix walked up to the zombie and handed it a carryout cup of coffee and a donut. The couple smiled and waved at Finn then moved down the sidewalk.

He hated Halloween.

He slugged back the last of own lukewarm coffee as he walked into the small strip mall that housed his private detective agency, Finney Investigations. As he absently perused the newspaper, the headline of a jewelry store heist caught his eye, and he prepared himself for the rash of calls he’d get today from concerned businesses looking for extra security details.

More business was always welcome. The sleepy, small town of Pleasant Valley didn’t have a huge ration of crime, but he did all right. Caught up in the chase to find the runaway girl, he’d missed an appointment with a new client the night before and needed to call and make amends. Maybe he’d offer to take the guy out to lunch. His empty stomach rumbled at the thought of a greasy cheeseburger and fries.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he sighed at the dark-haired woman standing in front of Finney Investigations. Just looking at her, he knew she brought trouble. Another thing he didn’t need today. Most days he’d be happy to start his morning with a woman at his door, but this one wore a flowing purple robe and a bright-colored scarf tied around her long hair. All she was missing was the pointed hat with a spider dangling from the edge.

Today was Halloween, but unfortunately she wasn’t in costume.

This was how she dressed every day. The color of her robe changed, but her style didn’t. She called herself Madame Zia, and she wasn’t a client; she was his neighbor and a certifiable kook.

Her office sat down the hall from his, her door declaring her a renowned psychic who offered to read palms and tarot cards. She claimed to offer enlightenment, but his experience with psychics taught him that the only thing they “lightened” was the wallet of anyone gullible enough to want their services.

They’d been office neighbors for close to a year now, but he didn’t think they’d ever spoken more than a few words as they’d passed in the hall. So why was she standing at his door, wringing her hands and looking like a 17th-century damsel in distress? Maybe someone had stolen her crystal ball.

“Can I help you with something?” He nodded at her outfit. “Aren’t you running late for Potions class at Hogwarts?”

She raised an eyebrow, revealing the deep green of her eyes. He’d never stood this close to her before, and damned if she wasn’t kind of pretty. “I’ve already taken Potions and mastered Magic 101.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “Not very original, Mr. Finney.”

Touché. At least she had a sense of humor. He nodded. “Call me Finn.”

“We seem to have a problem, Finn.” She pointed to the door of his office, which stood slightly ajar, the wooden molding splintered.

“Son of a bitch.” He moved to stand between her and the door, and tilted his head to peer through the open crack. “Did you call the cops?”

“No, I just got here. My door looks the same. I was getting ready to call the police when I noticed your office had been broken into as well, and then you walked in.”

He dropped the paper and the empty coffee cup and pushed her protectively behind him. “Stay here.” Instinct took over, and he reached for the gun strapped into the harness across his shoulder. Holding it in front of him, he nudged the door open with his foot and cautiously stepped inside.

His one-room office had been ransacked. Papers and files spilled off the desk and onto the floor. The painting on his wall now hung upside down. It looked as if a strong wind had swept the room.

The remains of a fast-food lunch were strewn around the overturned wastebasket, and a pool of soda soaked into the rug. His file cabinet drawers stood open and had obviously been searched.

“What the hell?” Plaster dust littered the floor, and he peered up to see one of his office chairs hanging upside down, one leg firmly embedded in the ceiling. “How did that get up there? Somebody must have been on drugs to do that.” He glanced around the room. “Whoever did this is gone now. It’s too messy to tell for sure, but I don’t see anything missing.”

He crossed to the big oak desk and tried the drawers. “My desk is still locked, and that’s where I keep anything of value.”

Hearing no response, he looked up only to realize he spoke to an empty room. Madame Zia had vanished.

* * *

Zia hurried down the hall to her office. Fear gripped her throat. She recognized the type of destruction in the private eye’s office. The presence of evil oozed from the walls, and she feared the same manifestation would be waiting for her.

She probably should have waited for Finn; he had the gun, after all. But no gun was going to help in this instance.

Besides, he acted like such a jerk. He didn’t even know her, and yet the first time they’d actually spoken, he’d mocked her clothes and made a joke at her expense. Who did he think he was?

The private eye had always been aloof, barely acknowledging her as they’d passed in the hall. She’d thought being next door to a private investigator might be exciting, but the times she’d walked by his office window and seen him inside, he’d always had his head bent over the computer, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose.

It seemed to her that the detective business was fairly boring, and so was the detective.

Although she had to admit a thrill had shot down her spine when he’d pushed her behind him and pulled out his gun. Standing so close to him, his strength had been evident by the way his muscles bulged as he drew his gun. And he smelled amazing.

She’d wanted to close her eyes and inhale his aftershave, the musky scent doing funny things to her insides. A small scar lay under his ear, and she’d been tempted to run her finger down the white line and then along his neck.

The boring, sandy-haired detective was younger than she’d first assumed, probably in his early thirties. Close to the same age, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of reading glasses. The ones he wore made him look older and hid a fairly handsome face.

She’d always been a little intrigued by him, but his stodgy demeanor and standoffish attitude had made attempts at getting to know him almost impossible.

Now she knew he hadn’t been worth the effort. Not only did he seem boring, but he acted stuck-up as well. Then what had her fantasizing about running her fingers along the scar on his neck and still smelling his scent?

His reaction to the office break-in had been the most excitement she’d seen in him since they’d met. But this was not the kind of excitement she needed in her life.

Her office contained more than just a workspace. It was her sanctuary. The place where she offered help to the needy and healing to the broken.

Her business meant everything to her. She’d worked hard to create a soothing environment filled with positive energy. It was decorated in jewel tones with a mystical motif, and the comfy furniture and a trickling fountain made her clients feel at ease. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with old spell books, candles, and baskets and jars holding crystals and herbs.

She eased open the door and gasped at the broken glass and destruction of the room. It looked like a tornado had spun through the room. She took in the bright red sprays of blood spattered across the gold-painted walls and let loose a scream of terror.

* * *

Finn rushed down the hall. The woman really was crazy. Still, he didn’t want her to get hurt. Who knew if the guy who did this was still around?

A blood-curdling scream filled the air. He reached for his gun and sprinted for the psychic’s door.

Zia crashed into him, throwing her arms around his waist. Her warm body trembled in his arms. “There’s blood. So much blood. Someone was murdered in my office.”

He gave her a reassuring squeeze then gently pushed her behind him as he cautiously approached her door. “Stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”

He’d seen his share of blood in his years as a cop, but his concern lay more in the worry that the perpetrator was still in there.

A single glance inside showed the chaos of the destroyed room. Glass had been shattered and books and trinkets lay scattered around the floor. But what he didn’t see was blood. Not a trace.

Chapter Two

Confused, Finn gently pulled the trembling woman into the room. “I don’t see anything. Show me where you saw the blood.”

Zia shook her head, a baffled expression on her face. “It’s gone now.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?” Now he really was starting to question this woman’s sanity. The room was a mess, but he didn’t see anything to suggest a murder. “Blood doesn’t just disappear.”

Zia hesitantly stepped further into the room and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, as if inhaling the atmosphere of the room. “Something terrible happened here. I can feel it. It feels like pure evil, and the color red is very strong.”

Oh brother. What a nut job. “Look, lady, I don’t know what kind of hocus-pocus you get up to in here, but I deal in facts. And the fact is, I don’t see any blood. I don’t feel anything evil, either. This was most likely a simple robbery, since both of our offices got hit. Somebody looking for some easy cash.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were a private investigator. You’re obviously not a very good one.”

He bristled at the insult. “What are you talking about? You don’t even know me or how I operate.”

“Whose fault is that?” she mumbled as she bent to pick up a broken plant that had spilled dirt onto her royal purple rug. She stood, the remains of a shattered pot in her hand. “You’re ignoring the clues. Signs that are right in front of you. The upside-down painting, the chair in the ceiling, the books all over the floor. If you opened your mind for one minute, you would see what’s really happening.”

Distracted by the stretch of bare-skinned leg that she exposed when she bent to retrieve the plant, he tried to refocus on what she’d said. Geez, what had gotten into him? Since when had he been attracted to great ankles? Or ever even noticed ankles? But hers were slim and delicate and had a thin silver chain looped around one.

Why was he letting a little glimpse of skin get to him? He cleared his throat. “I don’t think an upside-down painting is exactly what you’d call a clue. What is it you think I’m missing? If you have it all figured out, why don’t you tell me just what’s going on here, Madame Zia?”

“It’s obvious. Something evil happened here last night. My guess, from the amount of blood splattered around the room, would be a murder. And whoever was murdered is trying to send us a sign.”

What blood? How did she go from scattered files and spilled trash to a murder? “First of all, I don’t see any blood. And I don’t see any signs, except maybe one above your head that’s flashing ‘cuckoo.’”

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. “Really mature, Mr. Finney. The signs are all around us. This was obviously the work of a spirit trying to send us a message.”

Cuckoo? Change that to cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Was she nuts?

She moved to stand behind a long counter, an antique cash register on one end with a grouping of old glass jars next to it. One of the jars had been toppled over, and multicolored velvet bags had spilled across the counter.

She had righted the jar and begun scooping the bags back into it when a spooky sound filled the room. A low groan issued from the cabinet above her head, and her hand stopped in midair, a red velvet bag clutched in her palm.

Another groan, this one an eerie moan followed by a thumping. A shiver ran up Finn’s back, and he automatically held up his weapon. “Get back.”

Before he could stop her, she turned and opened the cabinet door. A streak of black flew out, and she screamed as it skidded across the counter and leapt to the floor.

Zia scooped a black cat into her arms and nuzzled the frightened animal against her. “Poor baby. It’s all right, Sam. Are you hurt?” She held the cat out, as if examining it for injuries.

A black cat? Seriously? “You really might be a witch,” he mumbled.

She whipped her head up, narrowing her eyes. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

“No, no. I said a witch.” He waited for the onslaught of criticism, but was instead rewarded with a grin.

“Oh, well in that case, thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes, thank you for noticing. I am a witch. But not the kind you’re thinking. Not the hunched over, wart-covered crone casting evil curses, with a crow, and a bubbling black cauldron.” She shrugged, then grinned. A crooked grin filled with mischief and a naughty twinkle sparkled in her green eyes. “Well, wait, I guess I do have a black cauldron, but it’s a small one. And I don’t have any warts.”

“Is that why you wear that silly robe? Or are you going to sing in the church choir later?”

She looked down at the robe. “This is mostly for my customers. They expect me to dress the part.” She set the cat on the floor. “So, no, I’m not headed to Hogwarts or choir practice. But for the record, I do have a lovely singing voice.”

He watched her bend. The satiny robe displayed a hint of curves, and he imagined the feel of the satin in his hands. What was wrong with him? Maybe she’d cast a spell on him. A horn-dog spell. Why was he suddenly so intrigued by her robe and envisioning what else she had on under it? Or if she had anything on under it? She said she was a witch. Did she drop the robe to dance naked in the moonlight?

He cleared his throat and shook his head to clear the image of Zia naked in the moonlight. Or naked anywhere. “I don’t believe in all that nonsense. My job involves science and evidence. Not talking to ghosts and magic spells. In my job, I actually help people.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “So do I, Finn. That is the purpose of everything in this room. The herbs, the lotions, the crystals. It’s all to help people. I am a white witch, so I spend my energy on healing and helping my clients find peace.” She lifted a corner of the purple robe. “Even this outfit is a way to help my clients. It makes them feel at ease. Like they’re with a professional.”

Oh no. Don’t start thinking about that robe again. “How does your outfit and some fancy rocks help people?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice, as if speaking to a child. “There is a reason behind everything I do. To soothe. To protect. To heal. From reading tarot cards to simply listening is my way of giving comfort and aid. What I do helps my clients find peace or understanding. Do the services you provide offer your clients that?”

“Of course they do. Suspicions can lead to a lot of nasty outcomes, but knowledge is power. Having proof can offer my clients peace too. I don’t just deal with jealous spouses. My firm helps solve crimes, track down killers, and find missing or kidnapped kids. But we deal in evidence and substantiation of proof.”

She stepped closer and looked up at Finn, her voice now combative. “Of course you track down leads, but haven’t you ever heard of intuition or a cop having a gut feeling? Don’t put down what you know nothing about. Plenty of psychics have been used to help solve crimes or aid in police investigations.”

He tried not to look at the way her chest heaved as she argued her case. The zipper of her robe was open just enough to expose the pale crescent of the tops of her breasts as she leaned forward. His mind muddled at the lacy black fabric just visible under the robe, and he couldn’t think of a single argument to oppose what she’d just said. What had she just said?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, saving him from having to form a response.

The voice of his business partner, Jake Landon, sounded in his ear. “Hey, Finn. What’s on tap for today?”

“A little B&E, and I’m afraid we’re the ones who’ve been broken and entered.” Finn absently rubbed his whiskered chin as he spoke, and hoped he could find his spare razor in the mess of his office. “Somebody broke into our office last night and trashed the place.”

“You’re kidding. Have you called the cops?”

“Not yet. I just got here. They hit the office next door to ours as well. The one belonging to Madame Zia. I’m with her now.”

“The hot psychic?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Heat warmed his cheeks, and he snuck a glance at Zia to see if she’d heard the comment. Ignoring him, she’d turned back to the task of cleaning. “She thinks something evil happened here. She claims she can ‘feel’ it. In fact, she’s arguing that it was a spirit or a ghost that trashed our offices.”

“A ghost?”

He heard Jake chuckle, and muffled voices in the background. “Who are you with?”

“I’m over at Sunny’s house. Edna brought by her famous cinnamon rolls, and we’re drinking coffee and having second breakfast.”

Finn pictured Sunny, the woman in Jake’s life, with her round curves and curly blonde hair, and imagined just what Jake’d had for his first breakfast. Edna was Sunny’s eighty-something-year-old neighbor who thought her substantial viewing of television detective shows gave her the ability to solve actual crimes. “Don’t tell Sunny’s kooky neighbor about this. She’s probably got Ghostbusters on speed dial.”

Jake laughed. “Too late. Give us ten minutes. We’re headed over to the office now. All of us.”

“Great.” Finn looked over at Zia as he disconnected and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “I guess one more kook around here won’t hurt anything,” he mumbled. “She’ll probably fit right in.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jake arrived with Sunny and Edna in tow. Finn had called the police to report the break-ins, and was waiting for them to show.

He grasped Jake’s hand. “You didn’t have to come down, man. I could have handled this.”

Jake shrugged. “Are you kidding? I had to check this out. It’s not every day a spirit breaks in to your office.”

Sunny gave Finn a warm hug. Jake was a lucky man. That woman was a real catch. Always smiling, funny, and a great tush.

She offered him a mischievous smile. “We didn’t want to miss out on seeing the ghost. We would have been here sooner, except Edna had to get her Ghosthunters kit.” She gestured to her neighbor.

Edna had already stepped into Finn’s office, holding what looked like a checkout clerk’s scanner in front of her. She wore jeans, floral Wellingtons (Finn hoped that was because she had been gardening and not because she was afraid she might step in ghost droppings), and a black t-shirt with the words “DUDE! RUN!” emblazoned across the front. A canvas messenger bag was slung across her bony shoulders, and wires and cords protruded from either side.

“Seriously, Edna? What in the world is that?” Finn pointed to the gadget in Edna’s hand.

“This is an EMF meter. I got a voice recorder too in case we hear the spirit. They were a combo pack. I got ’em both for fifty dollars on eBay.”

“Well, I’m sure that was money well spent. What’s it supposed to do?”

Edna waved it slowly around the room, as if it was a metal detector and she was looking for lost coins. “It measures the electromagnetic fields in the room. It detects alternate current patterns and alerts us to the presence of spirits.”

Finn shook his head at Jake. “I think I’m gonna need some spirits. Of the liquid variety. Can it detect if there’s a spirit of scotch in the room?”

Edna waved the little meter near the chair hanging from the ceiling, and it went berserk, beeping and flashing lights like she’d just won the jackpot on a ghostly slot machine. Her eyes went wide, and she fumbled in her bag for the voice recorder. “Do you see that?” she called out, her voice taking on a breathy singsong quality. “Hello? Are you here? Can we help you?”

Sunny moved closer to Jake, her eyes as wide as Edna’s. “Is there really a ghost in here?” she whispered.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Somebody’s cell phone probably rang and set that crazy doohickey off.”

“If there’s something crazy going on, I knew it would have to involve Edna,” a deep voice spoke from the doorway of the office, and the group turned to see Officer McCarthy of the Pleasant Valley Police Department standing there. “I got a call about a break-in.”

“Oh hi, Mac.” Edna waved sweetly, having met the officer several other times in her attempts at crime solving.

He nodded. “Hello, Edna. How’s your granddaughter?”

Edna laughed out loud. “Very smooth, Mac. Way to slip that right in there.” She turned to Finn. “Mac met my granddaughter, Zoey, this summer when she came here to dodge some reporters. She’s a key witness in a case, and he helped save her life. And he won’t admit it, but he’s also got a thing for her.” She pointed at the policemen. “I know she likes you too, so why don’t you just call her, you big lunkhead?”

The police officer ignored the rib and pulled a notepad from his pocket. He turned to Finn. “Why don’t you tell me what happened here? Did I hear something about a ghost?”

Chapter Three

Zia set the table upright and straightened the velvet cloth that sat atop it. She’d managed to put the majority of the room back together, and had lit a fat white candle for peace and protection. A bowl of sage burned on the table to cleanse the room of negative spiritual energy.

She’d rescheduled her clients for the day and taken off the purple robe. Underneath she wore a stretchy black top with lace trim and a red pencil skirt.

Picking up her EMF reader, she slowly scanned the room for any signs of disturbance or spectral beings.

A knock sounded on her office door and a parade of people entered the room, led by Finney. She was pleased to see the way his eyes popped when he took in her outfit. A warm feeling filled her as she watched him swallow before meeting her eyes.

Men. They were so easy. Most men thought that going out with her would be exciting, the idea of dating a witch giving them an extra thrill. They were usually disappointed when they realized that instead of a being a wily seductress in black garters, she was usually in bed by nine with a good book, wearing flannel pajama pants covered in cat hair.

But Finney didn’t seem to have any interest in her witchcraft abilities at all. In fact, he thought it was all nonsense and even made fun of her. She definitely didn’t need that kind of energy in her life.

So why was she imagining herself in bed reading, but cuddled up next to him? Without the flannel pants. Now that she knew what a fuddy-duddy he was, he’d probably ignore her to read the latest issue of Detectives R Us. Why was she fantasizing about taking off his reading glasses and his shirt, but leaving on the holster and the gun? Maybe he had a tattoo. Whoa. Down, girl.

She was getting carried away. A guy like that might have a tattoo, but it probably said “Mom” or the Japanese symbol for “boring.”

“Zia, this is my business partner, Jake Landon, and his girlfriend, Sunny.” Finn’s introductions drew her out of her musings. He pointed to the elderly woman who was perusing her bookshelves. “And this is Sunny’s neighbor, Edna Allen.”

Edna waved. “We already know each other. I came to Madame Zia for a reading earlier this summer.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Of course you did.”

Edna waved a dismissive hand at Finn. “Don’t make fun. She was spot-on. She told me that I was going to find something this summer. Something I thought I had lost a long time ago. And something with an element of danger to it.”

Zia smiled warmly at Edna. “It’s nice to see you, Edna. And I’m curious, did you find it?”

Edna laughed. “I sure did. And he’s back at my house now working in the garden.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “And he brought danger with him all right, but now the only thing that’s dangerous is that our passion is so hot it might burn my house down.”

“Eww. Edna, stop it. I do not need that image in my head.” Sunny shook her head good-naturedly at her neighbor. “It’s nice to meet you, Zia. Sorry about the trouble. This is Officer McCarthy; he’s responding to the call about the break-in.” She pointed to the tall, good-looking police officer who had followed them in.

He was regarding the room, his eyes narrowed as if looking for clues. “It’s hard for me to get a good read on the damage. It looks like you’ve cleaned most everything up.” He sniffed the air and gave Zia a curious look. “It kind of smells like marijuana in here.”

Zia rolled her eyes. “It’s the sage.”

Mac shrugged. “Well, it is Colorado.”

“It’s cleansing the room, and I didn’t call the police. Finney did. I already know what did the damage to my office, and you won’t find any fingerprints.” She looked around the room and held up her EMF meter. “But I am picking up a lot of fluctuations in the electromagnetic fields. I’ve gotten several readings in the two and three range.”

“Hot dang, you have the Deluxe Pro Detector.” Edna scurried across the room to check out the gadget. “This one has all the fancy functions. Even a flashlight.”

“Wow. Even a flashlight? Sounds pretty scientific to me,” Finn mumbled, and rolled his eyes again.

Edna nodded, her fingers twitching as if she were itching to touch it. “It is. And if you’re getting readings that low, there are definite signs of spiritual activity.”

“I’ve heard anything electronic can trigger those things. Like a computer or even a toaster,” Finn said, the skepticism apparent in his voice.

“Look around, Mr. Finney. Does it look like I have a toaster in here? And those things can give off readings, but anything between the two and seven range is too low for standard electronics and suggests a spiritual presence. It’s scientifically impossible for low-level electromagnetic fields to occur naturally, but we usually find these fields where there’s been spiritual activity reported.”

Edna nodded, waving her scanner along the counter. “It’s commonly accepted that spirits are the cause of the unexplainable EMF readings. Don’t you have the internet, Mr. Finney?” She squinted at the readout. “I’m getting really low levels as well. I have to agree with Madame Zia — there is a definite spiritual presence here.”

Finn turned to Officer McCarthy. “Well, there you have it. I guess we don’t really need you after all. These two have cracked the case with their Inspector Gadget gizmos and they’ve confirmed that Casper the friendly ghost is the culprit. You might have a little trouble getting the handcuffs on him, though.”

Jake and Mac chuckled, but Edna put a hand on her hip and gave him a steely stare. “You can joke all you want, but we don’t know if this Casper is friendly or evil, so I wouldn’t go spouting too much sarcasm. Madame Zia is a renowned psychic, and if she says she feels evil, I trust her.”

“Thank you, Edna.” Zia turned to Mac. “Have there been any missing persons cases recently, or any suspicious calls to 911? I think someone was murdered here last night. Maybe someone called in reports of a gunshot or something.”

“Not that I’m aware of. But I don’t see any evidence to suggest murder.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll just take a quick look around, and then I need to head back in. I’ll ask around and let you know if I hear anything, and be sure to call me if anything else happens.”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Edna said. “I’ve got your number programmed into my phone.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Edna absently waved him away. She stood at the bookshelves, opening jars and bottles and peering in or sniffing their contents. “Do you have any dragon tears or eye of newt? Every time I google spells or magical recipes, they always ask for animal blood, eye of newt, or the tears of a dragon. Just who is making all these dragons cry? And what the heck is a newt? And how many poor blind newts are stumbling around in the darkness because their eyes are an essential ingredient in almost every magical spell?”

* * *

Finn spent the afternoon cleaning his office and putting his files back together. He’d ordered a pizza in for delivery and had considered taking a slice over to Zia as a goodwill gesture, but reconsidered at the last minute. She probably didn’t even eat pizza. From what he’d learned of her today, she was probably a vegan and only drank purified water from a natural spring in the Himalayas. He couldn’t imagine her desecrating her body by guzzling greasy cheese and spicy pepperoni.

Oh great. Now he was thinking of her body again. He’d been shocked when he’d walked into her office earlier and saw her without the robe. The snug top and short skirt filled in all the blanks that his imagination had been guessing about. And they were great blanks. Slender waist, curvy hips, toned legs, and breasts the perfect size to fit in the palms of his hands.

His hands twitched as he imagined filling them with the heavy weight of her breasts and sliding his fingers across the pale crests that peeked from the top of her blouse. He envisioned pulling her to him and crushing those perfect red lips with his while his hands explored every curve and swell of her body.

Hmmm. He was getting a swell of his own just thinking about it. What was going on? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had afternoon wood just by daydreaming about a dame. Why was he letting this crazy chick with her ghost gadgets and spiritual nonsense get into his head? Maybe she had put a spell on him.

He checked his watch and was surprised to see it was already past five. He should just go home, take a shower (a cold one), then put his feet up, find a game on the tube, and forget about this woman with the long hair and the weird notions.

Yeah, that was what he should do. But maybe first he would just check in on her real quick. Make sure she hadn’t had any other trouble. In fact, he’d had an odd client stop by that afternoon and he wanted to mention it to her. She’d probably already gone home for the day anyway.

It couldn’t hurt just to check.

* * *

Zia had her back to the door, but she knew instantly who had just walked through it. Not through any psychic abilities but because she could smell his aftershave. She inhaled the scent, a deep, musky smell that seemed to wrap around her and reach into her soul.

She must be tired. Plenty of men wore great-smelling aftershave. And they weren’t close-minded jerks who were too full of themselves and their own ideas to explore new realms of possibilities. But she’d never had another man’s scent connect so deeply to her, and she wondered if their animal counterparts were somehow similar — that would account for the craving she suddenly had to mate with this man.

Mate with him? Ugh! Where did that come from? She needed to be calm and act cool right now. She sent up a silent request to the Earth Mother for patience and wisdom as she turned to Finn.

He looked tired too. He stood in the doorway, not quite in the room, as if waiting to be invited in. A lock of his sandy brown hair fell across his forehead, and she had the urge to reach up and brush it from his face. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Finney?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. Finn.” She crossed the room and gestured for him to come in then closed the door. She’d taken her shoes off, so he stood a good several inches above her. She looked up at him. The colors of his aura swirled around his head, and she itched to take his hand and check out the lines on his palms.

Okay, she really just wanted to hold his hand, but reading his palm was a good excuse. “Was there something you needed?” Like a night of hot sex with a barefoot psychic? Oh gosh, what was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip and quit thinking about mating with this guy. Maybe her aura was off.

“I’m getting ready to head out for the night and just thought I’d check on you. Make sure you were all right. Not spooked by the break-in.”

Aww. He was worried about her. That was nice, in a Neanderthal kind of way. Like she couldn’t take care of herself. “On the contrary, I’m not spooked at all. In fact, I’m quite intrigued by the whole thing.”

He shook his head. “Who says ‘on the contrary’?”

This time she raised an eyebrow at him. “Was there something else or did you just stop in to insult my vocabulary?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I just can’t figure you out. In my line of work, I have to get a feel for someone quickly, and I’m usually pretty dead-on with first impressions. But I can’t seem to get a read on you. You’re an enigma.” He grinned. “See, I can also use a fancy word to when I need to.”

Why did this man infuriate and amuse her at the same time? “I am a woman, Finn. You were not meant to figure us out. Besides, even if we came with instruction manuals, men never read the instructions anyway.”

He laughed. A soft chuckle that went all the way to his eyes. He did have great eyes. Brown with flecks of gold. If someone asked her to describe Jerry Finney in one word, it would have to be “average.” He was of average height and build. His face was average and he tended to blend in with the people in the room.

But it was when she got in close that she realized he wasn’t average at all. His eyes were intelligent and sparked with amusement. He hid great muscles under boring Oxford shirts and had a gun holster strapped on under his tweed jacket. Tweed jackets were the poster children for boring and stuffy. Maybe blending in was just part of his job, a way for him to observe and not be noticed. Maybe he wasn’t as dull as she’d thought.

“Well, I was just getting ready to head home and catch a game on TV, and wanted to check on you.”

Nope. She’d been right. Totally dull. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

He stood awkwardly by the door as if he didn’t quite want to leave, but didn’t have a reason to stay. “I did want to tell you that I had an odd client come in today. A gal named Phyllis stopped in and wanted me to look for her missing husband. She filed a missing-persons report but since he’s only been gone since yesterday, she doesn’t think the police took it very seriously. But she’s sure he’s gone. She claims they’ve been married forty years and he’s never missed dinner. Until last night.”

“She stopped in here too. Phyllis is one of my regular clients; she comes in every Friday. She’s a sweet lady but she was really upset today. She told me she thought her husband had gotten himself into some kind of trouble. She wouldn’t tell me everything, but I know it had something to do with some jewels, and I kept feeling diamonds around her. I was going to come over and tell you about it, but I know you think this is a bunch of nonsense.”

“You still should have told me. I don’t believe in coincidences, so if she came to see both of us, maybe this is connected to what happened last night. You were asking that cop earlier about any recent missing-persons cases.” He rubbed his jaw, and she could tell he was thinking through each possibility. She could almost see the puzzle pieces of thought clicking into place. “Diamonds, you said? I was just reading an article about a jewelry heist that happened a couple of days ago. Maybe this is connected.”

“I saw that too.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Like I saw it in the paper, you dope. Not I ‘saw’ it in the future.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how all this works. I’m really not trying to be an ass. I just have a hard time believing in any of this mumbo-jumbo.”

She gave him a wry look. “No, really, calling my profession ‘mumbo-jumbo’ is not being an ass at all.”

He grinned. “You’re right. I apologize. My mind is just too analytical. I look at facts and evidence. And I’ve seen too much fraud and deceit. It’s hard for me to accept any of this.” He gestured around the room.

Reaching for his hand, she looked up at him. Touching him sent a little thrill all the way up her spine, but she ignored it in an effort to convey the sincerity of her thoughts. “Haven’t you ever lost someone? Someone close to you?”

She watched his eyes soften as he swallowed, and thought she might have a glimmer of a chance to make him understand. “If there was a way to connect with them, even in a small way, wouldn’t you want to try? I believe that there is. Not always, but sometimes. I believe that there’s a whole other spirit realm that exists, and in certain circumstances our realms can connect and we can glimpse the other side. But the first step is believing that it’s there and reaching out to connect to it.”

Still holding his hand, she felt the pulse in his wrist speed up. Was it because of how close she stood, or were her words really getting to him? He leaned slightly forward, and her breath caught as she wondered if he might kiss her. Afraid to move, even to breathe, she looked up at him from under dark eyelashes, willing him to lean closer still.

A glass bowl fell off the counter, smashing to the ground, causing her to jump and let out a little shriek of alarm. She turned to see the cat streaking off the counter, her tail most likely the culprit of the smashed bowl. She laughed, but the moment was lost.

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Zia, but too many times there’s a logical explanation for things that people claim are illogical.” He stooped to pick up the pieces of glass. “Like your cat’s tail knocking this off.”

“That’s why I’m staying here tonight. I feel like something more is going on and our culprit might return. I’m setting up the video camera and plan to wait here all night.”

“Like a stakeout? Now you’re talking my language.”

“Would you care to join me?”

“Okay. But have you ever done a stakeout? Usually you hang around for hours, bored out of your mind, and the only time anything happens is when you grab a thirty-second break to take a piss.”

She grinned. “Then it will be good to have a stakeout partner. We can keep each other from getting bored and can serve as lookout in case one of us needs to…er…piss, I guess.”

He chuckled, and the sound of his laughter gave her a little tingly feeling. Why did she suddenly feel like a schoolgirl who’d just agreed to sneak out to spend the night with her crush?

“Since you’re the expert, what would you suggest we bring to this stakeout party? I’ve got the video camera, and I was going to run home to grab some snacks and change into something more comfortable.”

“I can’t believe you would use ‘stakeout’ and ‘party’ in the same sentence. There is nothing festive about them. But yeah, I would wear something comfortable, and I guess you can bring some food if you want. My stakeout fare usually consists of a thermos of coffee and a bag of sunflower seeds.”

She checked her watch. “Okay, I’ll run home now. Let’s meet back here at eight. We can set up the surveillance equipment then.” She rubbed her hands together in delight. “Let’s catch ourselves a ghost.”

Chapter Four

Finn knocked on Zia’s office door. He carried a green thermos of coffee and had a lunch-size cooler and a backpack full of surveillance equipment slung across his shoulder. He wouldn’t trust anything she captured on some crazy gear she bought off the internet. In fact, he wasn’t going to believe that anything supernatural was going on until he saw it with his own two eyes.

Eyes that bugged out now as Zia opened the door. She’d changed clothes and wore a snug black t-shirt and skintight black jeans tucked into black knee-high boots.

Her outfit hugged every curve of her body, and he found himself speechless, his mouth dry as his mind raced with thoughts of holding that body against him. Against him, under him. Hell, over him would be good too.

He cleared his throat. “Nice outfit. I thought you were going for something more comfortable, like those yoga pant deals. You look like you’re getting ready to rob a bank.” Smooth move, Ex-lax. Way to win her over. Women love it when you make fun of their outfit choices.

She grinned, apparently unfazed by his mocking. “Too much? It’s my first stakeout and I just wanted to be prepared. I always go overboard. Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose and gave a nervous little giggle.

“It’s okay. You look…fine…er…I mean great. You look great.” Could he be any more of a dork? He cleared his throat. Back to business. “Where do you want me to set up?”

“Oh, I thought if we put the camera by the register then we could wait behind the counter so we’d be hidden if someone came in through the front door.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Do ghosts usually come in through the front door?”

“No, but I’m trying to keep my mind open to all possibilities. Like I hope you’re doing. Whatever is happening, I want to be prepared for anything.”

As annoying as he found her kooky fortune-telling nonsense, he found that the more he was around her, the more he liked her. She always seemed to look at things in a positive light, and he hadn’t heard her complain yet. Even when her office had been trashed and her things had been destroyed, she seemed unfazed. Most of the women he’d dated spent half the night complaining about everything from their weight to the high price of cosmetics. Like he gave two hoots about the cost of mascara.

But Zia was different than anyone he’d ever met before, and he found himself drawn to her. Not just her curves, but her smile and her easygoing manner. She was fun to be around, but he didn’t think he could get past her weird ideas and crazy notions. She’d flat out told him she was a witch. What was he supposed to do with that?

He held up the thermos as he walked across the room and dropped the cooler and his backpack. “I grabbed some of my equipment and some food. And I brought coffee.”

“Oh, me too.” She pointed at the drink carrier on the counter holding two carryout cups from a fancy coffee joint. “I brought us some pumpkin spice lattes. And I had them put in extra shots of espresso.”

“Pumpkin spice what?”

She laughed and handed him a cup. “Pumpkin spice lattes. Don’t you ever get out? People line up for these when they come back every fall.”

“No people that I know.”

“Just try it.”

He gingerly took a sip. Just to prove he could be open-minded too. It was warm and cinnamony, with a little kick. He shrugged. “Not bad. Kinda good, even. It tastes like Thanksgiving in a cup.”

She grinned. “Exactly. See what you can discover when you try new things?”

Hmmm. Why was he imagining her as one of the new things he’d like to discover? Like one of the New World explorers, he could envision scaling her peaks and surveying her valleys. Just like Magellan, he could start an expedition across her unexplored territory.

She eyed him curiously and with a tiny gleam in her eye, as if she could actually read his mind. He was in big trouble if she could. He was afraid his man’s mind would be disappointing and fairly predictable, considering his thoughts usually tended to the topics of sex, food, and work, or some combination of the three, like “what should he eat for lunch at work and when did he think he would be having sex again?”

He set up his equipment, and she grabbed some throw pillows and blankets and made them a little nest on the floor behind the counter. He gingerly sat on a blue pillow and leaned his back against the wall. “This is the most comfortable stakeout I’ve ever been on. I’ve never brought a pillow before. Wouldn’t want to fall asleep.”

“I figured since there were two of us, we could take turns sleeping while the other kept a lookout.” She locked the door and turned out the lights. A soft glow filled the room from the display lights under the counter, and she plopped onto the floor next to his outstretched legs.

Yeah, right. Like he was going to fall asleep with her sitting this close to him, the smell of her perfume filling his every sense. “Do you really think we’re going to see something?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. I know we are. I can feel the upheaval and terror in this room. I know something evil happened here, and I just know whatever’s happening is not finished.”

What a load of crap. Did she seriously buy into all this nonsense she was spouting? “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I just know we’re going to see something tonight.”

“Look, I don’t claim to have any spiritual Spidey sense like you do, but I do believe in intuition and trusting my gut. And my gut is telling me that stuff happened because an actual person, that’s still alive, broke in and tossed our offices.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” She settled in next to him against the wall. “And speaking of guts, I’m getting hungry. You ready for a snack?”

“Sure.” He reached for the cooler and pulled out a container of sliced veggies and an expensive bottle of water.

She eyed the bottle. “I thought you said you only ate sunflower seeds and drank coffee.”

“I do. But I thought you might like this stuff.”

“Oh.”

Her mouth formed a perfect O, and his thoughts went to dark ideas of taking those lips as his.

She grinned and broke the spell. “You bought this stuff for me? That is soooo sweet.” She picked up the fancy bottle of water and read the label. “This water is from a natural spring somewhere in Europe. Judging from the price tag, you could’ve skipped the water and just brought us a bottle of wine.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Next time? Who said anything about a next time? Next time their offices were ransacked and they had to do a midnight stakeout? He frowned and pointed at her bag. “What did you bring?”

She dumped her bag on the blanket in front of them. He gaped at the collection of cheese puffs, potato chips, candy bars, and chocolate cupcakes. “I’m afraid my snack choices are a little less healthy than yours.”

She did that thing again where she wrinkled her nose and grinned, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

His office had been next to hers for months and he’d never taken the time to even have a conversation with her. He’d made up his mind and thought he knew everything about her before he’d had a chance to get to know her. And his snap judgments were turning out to be dead wrong. She’d brought cheese puffs, for crap’s sake. “You really eat all this stuff?”

She laughed and reached for a candy bar, totally at ease with eating the junk food. “Oh yeah, I love all this stuff. I’ll punish myself on the treadmill later or take a hike, but it’s worth it.” She took a bite of chocolate then closed her eyes and groaned in ecstasy. “So worth it.”

Geez. What was going on with him? Maybe instead of a shot of espresso, she’d put horny potion in that pumpkin spice thing, because her eating that candy bar was totally turning him on. Watching her eyes close and that groan. Holy mother.

The way she tipped back her head gave him a clear view of her pale skin, and he ached to bury his face against her neck. His own pulse picked up a beat as he imagined the feel of hers pulsing under his lips as he ravaged her throat with passionate kisses.

He felt like a teenage boy. His hands were even beginning to sweat. He did not react this way to women. To anyone. She had to have spiked his drink with some hocus-pocus. Or maybe those weren’t ordinary incense sticks she was burning earlier. His mind reached for any explanation rather than the obvious one. That he was falling for her.

And that was not going to happen. He cleared his throat and reached for his thermos of coffee. “I think I’ll just stick to coffee for now.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I brought pop too.” She hauled out a six-pack of highly caffeinated soda. Not even diet. Who was this woman? “It’s not expensive mountain spring water, but it’s got caffeine and carbonation.”

She laughed, but he knew it was with him and not at him, and something about the sound of her laughter touched him. She seemed so genuine. He wanted to believe in her. But he’d been burned before, and with fatal consequences. It was hard for him to believe she could be this nice. Hard to believe anyone could be this positive.

In his line of work, he’d seen the worst in humanity. He’d seen terrible things that people had done to each other out of greed or jealousy or even in the name of love. His life might seem boring to her, but he liked it that way. And it helped in his work. Standing on the outside gave him the chance to see things objectively, rationally, without all the emotions getting involved.

He knew people could lie and cheat and steal and pretend to be something they weren’t. He’d dated plenty of women, but most were superficial and only out for themselves. Maybe those were the ones he picked on purpose, because he knew he could keep them at arm’s length and not get emotionally attached. Life was easier that way. Don’t get attached. Don’t get involved. Don’t get hurt.

So what was he doing up in the middle of the night, sitting on a girly throw pillow, grinning like an idiot at a woman who claimed to be a psychic? A psychic, for frick’s sake. And why the hell had he made a special trip to a fancy grocery store to buy her a twelve-dollar bottle of freaking water?

He shifted on the pillow and forced a frown.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Uh oh. What just happened? You were easy and funny a second ago, and you just shut down. What’s going on?”

“Oh yeah. Did you see that in your crystal ball?” That was a low blow, and he felt like a jackass as he watched a flicker of hurt cross her eyes. Better that than the goo-goo eyes she was making at him a minute ago that were causing a crazy commotion in his gut.

“No. It doesn’t take a psychic to see what you’re feeling. Besides, I’m a woman. We’re skilled at reading emotions. And your emotions are all over your face. Your expression just went from amused to angry in two seconds flat. So what’s up? What just made you so pissy?”

“I do not get pissy.”

“Okay, guarded, then. Or just plain pissed. Are those manly enough adjectives for you?”

“Look, I just don’t buy in to all this psychic fortune-telling stuff. I don’t trust what I can’t see and prove. I’ve seen too much fraud and too many scams with this stuff.”

“There’s fraud and scams in plenty of things. Check-writing fraud and fake lotteries are huge scams, but you believe those exist.”

“But lottery scams don’t get people killed.” He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “Look, before I went into private investigations, I was a cop. I left the police force after a child was kidnapped and we couldn’t solve the case. In a kidnapping case, timing is everything. You have this short window to follow the tracks and try to find the kid. They brought in this so-called psychic to help on the case, and after a hellish night of false leads and a wild-goose chase she led us on, we finally found the kid.”

“So the psychic helped?”

“No. She kept giving us these wild leads and we threw all our resources at tracking them down. We wasted so much time on her stupid guesses and false tips that by the time we really found the kid, it was too late. He was dead.”

Zia gasped. “Oh no.”

“Oh yeah. If we would have just followed standard procedure, tracked down actual clues and solid leads, we might have saved that boy’s life.” His chest tightened as the long-buried feelings of frustration and anger threatened to bubble to the surface. He closed his eyes against the memory of the child’s lifeless body still clad in the blue pajamas he’d worn to bed the night he’d been abducted.

He flinched as Zia gently touched his arm then relaxed as he felt the warmth of her hand seep into his skin. Not sure if it was the soft lighting or the nearness of the woman and the open expression of kindness on her face, but he felt like he could talk to her. Open up and tell her the horrible sadness of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry too. I left the force after that. Decided I wanted to be in charge of my own investigations. I wanted to call the shots and not be at the mercy of someone else’s decisions. And I sure as hell wouldn’t ever again let myself buy in to some crackpot claiming to be a psychic.” He grimaced and put his hand on top of hers. “No offense.”

“None taken. You’re not the first person to take a shot at my profession. And you won’t be the last. Finn, there are frauds in this field, and plenty of them. But there are frauds in lots of professions. There’s always going to be people that take advantage of those in need for their own selfish gain. And there are all different levels of expertise in this field as well. Just like in sports, there are people who know how to throw a football around and then there are professional ball players who get paid a lot of money. But they both consider themselves football players.”

“Saying you can catch a football is a little bit different than claiming you can read people’s minds.”

“I don’t claim to be a mind reader, but I do believe that I can read people. That I am attuned to their feelings. I also use tools that help me. Tarot cards and crystals for healing. And I do believe in ghosts and spirits, and I know that at times, I have the ability to connect to them.”

He scoffed. “You’ve talked to ghosts?”

“Yes.”

“Like who? Ben Franklin? Marilyn Monroe? Elvis? Who are these ghosts you’ve talked to?”

Her eyes took on a sorrowful gaze, and her next words were so soft that Finn had to lean closer to hear them. “My husband, for one.”

He blinked. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I’m not. Now. But I was. We met in college and fell madly in love. We got married as soon as we graduated. We’d been married about three years and had been up in the mountains to visit his parents for Christmas break. We got a late start home, and by the time we came down the pass, it was dark and a storm had set in. The snow was blinding and the roads were icy and treacherous. We came around a bend and a deer was standing in the middle of the road. My husband swerved to miss it, slid on the ice, and our car went off the side of the road and plummeted partway down the cliff.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I almost was.” Her eyes took on a faraway gaze, as if she were watching the scene in the past. “The windshield shattered as the car crashed through trees, and a branch from a tree stabbed through my shoulder, impaling me to the seat. I couldn’t move and I was losing a lot of blood. My husband was bleeding from a head wound, and I can remember how bright red the blood was against his white shirt. I had this crazy thought that it would be a good shade to paint the trim in our kitchen. We had this whole black-and-white theme going, with red accents. Isn’t that a funny thing to be thinking about? I was dying and yet contemplating what shade of red to paint our kitchen.”

He touched her arm lightly, wanting to offer some kind of support for such a terrible experience. The look of pure pain in her eyes shot through him, as if he were the one who had been impaled. “People do all sorts of things in crisis situations. It’s the brain’s way of helping them to cope.”

She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and the corners of her mouth tipped up a little in a mournful smile. “What helped me cope was the strength of my husband and his unfailing support. He applied pressure to my wound and kept me talking. I can remember clearly the way he encouraged me to hang on and stay with him. He kept talking about these funny memories of our time together, and I can even re