Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

A tourist family wearing matching navy-blue puffer vests was at the counter.

“Your costume is incredible,” the mother said, inspecting his face as she licked her mint chocolate chip ice cream. “How long does it take to put it all on?”

“Less time than you’d think,” Billy said in a deep baritone, his smile wide and genuine.

Harlow was standing half behind me, tucked into my side, and I couldn’t help but drape a reassuring arm around her back.

“He’s harmless,” I whispered.

“Is he like a . . .” She shook her head, clearly coming up short. Her face was turning a similar shade of green to Billy’s, and I wondered if she was going to be sick.

“Monster,” I offered.

I wasn’t about to deep dive into what species of monster. That was probably second-date material.

I peeked at Lou, who was perusing the shelves of treats. Hopefully, she’d be gone by date two.

Did I even want a second date?

“Billy has a knack for charming visitors,” I continued. “For the locals, however, he is a constant stick up all of our asses with his ordinances and constant town hall meetings.” I leaned in closer to whisper in Harlow’s ear. I couldn’t help but take in her smell, warm and spicy like cinnamon and mulled cider. Perfect for this place. She smelled like home. “Still, he’s kind of like a grandfather figure to most of us.”

“So monsters are real and they serve ice cream in little New England towns? Awesome.”

“Well, this one does.” I nodded toward Billy. I leaned in again, my lips accidentally skimming her ear. “You’re taking all of this surprisingly well, you know.”

When I pulled back, I saw the ripple of gooseflesh down the back of her neck, and it made me want to whisper in her ear some more. Instead, I cleared my throat and took a definitive step away.

“Coward,” Lou snickered.

I held up my middle finger behind my back.

When the family finished ordering, the mother demanded the two kids take a photo with Billy, who seemed all too happy to oblige.

“Have a lovely family vacation,” he called with a wave. “And make sure to tell your friends and family to stop by next fall too!”

I rolled my eyes. “Ever the town spokesman, Billy.” I wandered over to the counter and took in the offerings. When I looked back, Harlow was still lingering by the door, looking like she might bolt. I took three giant steps back and threaded my fingers with hers.

“What are you?—”

I yanked Harlow up to the counter like dragging a reluctant dog out of the park. Her shoes skidded across the tiles until Billy’s eyes landed on her. Then she straightened and put on a strained smile.

“Hi!” she squeaked, her voice an octave higher than it had been a second before.

“Billy, meet Harlow, Willow’s sister,” I said. “Harlow, meet Billy Bacchus, the mayor of Maple Hollow.”

Billy extended his hand, and Harlow stared at it, mouth agape, before taking it in hers. Never in my life did I think an out-of-towner would shake Billy’s hand upon first meeting him. Most of the other paranormal inhabitants of Maple Hollow could pass for vaguely human, but certainly not Billy. It had taken weeks for Willow to emerge from her little café. Even now, she was still timid and cautious around some of us. But Harlow, while afraid, was willing to at least try. I didn’t know why that endeared her to me so much more, but it did. I was impressed.

“Sweaty palms,” Billy said with a chuckle. “But brave.”

“Sweating is our family’s superpower,” Harlow said. “Not as cool as you hulking out, but . . .”

Billy looked at me. “I like this one.”

“Yeah.” I looked at Harlow, surveying her anew. “I like this one too.”

12

HARLOW