Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

“Absolutely!” I flipped through one of the books I’d grabbed from one of the tables, searching through the index. “If we’re selling products that are not clearly labeled, that is one hundred percent on us.”

She made a quiet sound in agreement.

I knew for a damn fact that the bottle of age-be-gone was freshly brewed and perfectly labeled. It only lasted a month and a half, and I could still remember the day she’d come in. I had very specifically told her all of this. But…sometimes you caught more flies with honey, and if there was one thing Lydia’s training was good for, it was dealing with assholes over the phone.

“Weren’t you…” I trailed off playfully. “Oh my god! Yes. You were wearing paisley when you came in.” I flipped another page, humming thoughtfully under my breath.

“You remember me?” she sounded surprised. Mrs. Dougal was a five-foot ball of stress. Probably a hundred years old, and always wore colorful patterns.

“Of course I do,” I flirted. “I never forget a pretty face.”

“A pretty…” she trailed off shocked.

“You have the bluest eyes!” I hummed. “Never seen anything like them.”

The thing about Mrs. Dougal was that she was a grouch, but a sucker for a good compliment. And I knew the best way to smooth her feathers was to poke where she was weakest.

“Really?” she sounded so damn pleased I could picture her grin already.

“Absolutely.” Another page flip. “Why don’t you come in later this week, hmm? I can take a look at that bottle for you and get you all sorted out.”

“You know…” she trailed off, rustling around a little more. “I think I must’ve been mistaken! How embarrassing. I just turned my bottle around and look at that! A label right there.”

“Ah! I’m so glad to hear that.”

“I must’ve not seen it!”

“Happens to the best of us.”

“Well, aren’t you just the nicest young man!”

“I do my best.”

Feathers officially smoothed, I parroted a few more niceties, said my goodbyes, and then groaned when I got to the end of the book because it was full of a whole lot of nothing.

The next book didn’t do me any good either.

Or the next.

When I couldn’t find anything up front, I resorted to drastic measures, and hunted Avery down in the back of the shop. I heard him before I saw him. His voice was muffled through the large black door that covered the hellhole of his office, so I knew he was home.

Covertly, I sent Mutt a text before I raised a fist to rap on Avery’s office door.

Play it cool, I reminded myself. Cool as a cucumber.

Me

I hope you’re feeling okay.

How are you doing?

How did last night go?

Thank you for this weekend.

It was honestly the best days of my life.

Texts now sent, I knocked twice.