Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

“Nope.” She raised a transparent shoulder.

The knot in my gut eased a little. I had long suspected she’d returned to town to see me, but I didn’t have the confidence to ask if I’d been the reason . . . and if she didn’t remember her death, I wasn’t about to dredge it up. For a ghost, she actually seemed quite chill about the whole thing.

Lou frowned at the gift basket she was sitting next to. I hadn’t dug into it yet. “Who sends fish in a care package? That swamp monster’s still obsessed with you, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Juniper is harmless.”

Lou’s prying gaze continued to scan the room, and then she screwed up her face as if she were focusing hard. Her hand sank through the wood of the dresser and into the top drawer. “Got any new toys since last I was here?”

I made an embarrassed squeak. “Get out of there!”

She pulled her hand out and giggled. The sound made a hundred memories of her laughter fill my brain all at once, but the one of us at the Halloween Festival shoved its way front and center. We’d drunk spiked cider until we’d been tipsy then soaked up the booze with two funnel cakes each. No surprise that we’d thrown up several times on the walk back to my place.

“Don’t be like that.” She wiggled her brow. “We had a lot of fun with Mr. Buzz-Buzz.”

“For real, Lou, go away.” I groaned. I threw my pillow at her, but it just flew straight through her and clattered into the jewelry box on my dresser.

She ignored me and peered into the drawer that had shimmied open by the force of my attempted pillow assault. “A remote-controlled one? Fun!”

“Oh my god. Please.” I hid my face in my comforter, my words coming out all muffled when I added, “Can’t you at least just go to another room while I’m sleeping?”

Lou sighed. “Fine.” She hopped off the dresser and landed without a sound on wooden floorboards that should’ve creaked. “Maybe I’ll go tidy up the apothecary shelves. You always leave them a mess. Or maybe I’ll go wander around town, do some snooping.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I mumbled. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got to get some rest anyway,” she said. I peeked up from the covers and watched Lou thrust her hands into her pockets and rock back on her heels. “Once we get that stick out of your ass, we are going to find you a new girlfriend. Not as amazing as me, but let’s be real, no one could be.”

“Still so humble.” I lifted my head fully and narrowed my eyes. “That is not happening, by the way. I don’t have time to date right now. And it’s none of your business, remember?”

“Oh, but it is,” she said with a wicked grin. “Unless you want me hanging around for the rest of your life. And don’t for a second think I won’t be watching you use that remote-controlled doodad.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

Maybe going on an actual date wouldn’t be such a bad thing. A year was a long time to be dating only the toys in my top drawer . . .

One date and then Lou could go back to wherever she’d come from.

“That’s what you get for disturbing my eternal rest without clear intentions. Think of it as a learning experience and a ghostly dating service.”

“I’m sorry, okay? For all of it.”

She gave me a broad smile. “I’m not.”

A knot caught in my throat at the unexpected care in her words. I tried to return her smile, but the pang of grief in my chest returned. It was an odd feeling to miss someone who was right in front of you.

Well, sort of.

4

HARLOW

Willow woke me up at the ungodly hour of five fucking a.m. the next morning—no wonder she went to bed so damn early. I begged for another hour of sleep, but she insisted that I needed to be up, dressed, and caffeinated before the rush of morning customers. The only silver lining? I was too exhausted to question the patrons who came into the café.

“I’m surprised vampires and demons are early birds,” I whispered to my sister as I refilled the napkin dispensers.

“They come in later,” she said, as if that were common knowledge. “And no paranormal talk in front of mixed company.” She nodded to a family in a corner booth who looked like they’d walked out of the pages of an L.L.Bean catalog. All that was missing was a white picket fence and a yellow lab. “If anyone asks you about it, you start with ‘legend has it’ before you say anything, got it?”

“If you keep waking me up at five a.m., legend has it you won’t have to worry about me speaking to anyone,” I muttered.