Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
My eyes lock on it. Before, I just liked seeing her wearing something I made against her skin. Now it feels essential she keep it close. “That should help.” At least I think it will.
Silence stretches between us as I try to slot this new information into what I thought I knew.
I reach for the stove and twist the burner back on. The pan slowly sizzles back to life.
“Well,” I say, keeping my voice even, “I’m glad you finally told me. Let’s keep an eye on it.”
She watches me closely, then nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”
Normal. Practical. Emery in her element.
She hops down from the counter and leans against my side, peering into the pan. “So,” she says lightly, “are you going to tell me more about this Slayride you’re narrating tonight? I love the name, by the way. Cute.”
I flick my gaze to the ceiling but can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Harper, our waitress the other night, she came up with it at one of the planning meetings.”
“Really?” Emery raises her eyebrows in earnest admiration. “Clever woman. Maybe she can help me market my channel better.”
“You don’t have…people for that?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. Just Wren and me. Sometimes, I hire out stuff or try to collaborate with other YouTube channels. But there are a lot of men in the paranormal space already.” She shrugs. “And most of them are dicks.”
I choke on a laugh. “Doesn’t surprise me one bit. You should see how many assholes want a ‘consultation’ with Lucy to see if they can get her to handle their junk.”
“Ewww.” Emery wrinkles her nose.
“That’s why I don’t let her schedule male clients when she’s there alone. Most of them are good customers—”
“But you never know which one will be the creep?”
“Exactly.”
“And they wouldn’t dare try that if you’re there standing guard.” She slants a look at me. “None of your clients try to ‘handle’ you, do they?”
Laughter rumbles out of me. “Fuck no. I’ve had a few ask me out and once had a client,” I pause and clear my throat. “Uh, orgasm during a session—but it was an involuntary reaction. I think it was embarrassing for both of us. But I just stayed professional and assured her it happens.”
“Really? Wow.” She bites her lip. “I’d probably melt into the floor from embarrassment.”
“Nah, it happens. I’ll take that over some of the weird shit Lucy’s dealt with.”
“Even with you in the shop, making your scary face and grunt-growling at them?” She grabs toast from the toaster, butters the pieces, stacks them on a small plate and sets them on the table.
I chuckle and scrape the eggs out of the pan onto two plates. “Yeah, I think they expect me to high-five them or something. I usually double the fee as an asshole tax.”
Emery nods slowly. “Lucy’s lucky she works with you.”
“I’m lucky to have her. She’s really good with clients. All her antics usually put them at ease. I usually send the first timers to her.”
“She does tattoos too?”
“Simpler pieces.” I side-eye her. “Don’t get any ideas. If you ever want some ink, I’m the one doing it.”
“Yes, sir.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, then grabs her plate and saunters to the table.
Fuck me, I can’t get through breakfast without wanting to ravage this woman.
I drop into the chair across from her and dig into my eggs.
“Sorry I interrupted you about the Slayride,” Emery says, setting down her fork and picking up her coffee mug. “Tell me more.”
“The town hasn’t been doing it long, but it’s gotten more elaborate each year. You ever done one of those Halloween hayride things?”
“Where they go through the woods and have all sorts of spooky attractions and actors jumping out from behind trees to scare you? Heck, yes. I love those. Wren and I have been to a bunch of them up and down the East Coast.”
“Which one was your favorite?” I ask.
She wrinkles her nose, thoughtful. “It’s actually an hour north of here, I think. But we have a few in Mass that are really good too.”
“Well, besides the haunted hayride we have a ‘lights in the park’ event with Santa and all that stuff for kids.”
“But the crap-your-pants scary events are adults only?”
“I don’t know if they’re that scary. But they try. Haunted houses, evil elves, rabid reindeer, ice-skating with zombies.”
“All the appropriate holiday horror genres, nice.” She nods with teasing approval. “I’d love to hear more about your part in all this merry mayhem.”
“I narrate the ‘hayride’ tour. They dress the hayride up like a spooky black sleigh and I share all the scary town folklore with the tourists.”
She raises her eyebrows. “All of it?”
“No.” I snort. “No talk of the Rider. I won’t give him that kind of audience or power.” I set my fork down and lean back in my chair. “This year, it’s a tale of the patients who escaped the haunted asylum up on the hill.”