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“Mmm, you sure know how to make a mean flapjack, though.”

This was encouragement enough for Bo to crack a charming smile, and he leaned onto the bar even more, his elbows resting mere inches from Willow’s plate.

“I’m glad you like them. I hope I can make my pumpkin pancakes with cinnamon butter for you tomorrow.”

Then, he winked, and the corner of his mouth curved up exposing truly nice teeth.

Was he flirting with her?

If so, she should have felt that warm rush sweeping up from her toes. Bo was the manifestation of any girl’s dream with that virile way about him in all his lumberjackness. She should flirt back. She really should. But she just wasn’t feeling up to the task. Even after those wonderful pancakes.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked instead, feeling that she should get all the information she could about this town’s history.

“All my life,” he replied.

“Oh that’s great. Did the previous owner of the bar ever come in here?”

She wanted to add“And did they ever mention it was haunted?”but thought better of it.

“Probably. I don’t know. I was just a kid when it closed down. It’s been vacant ever since. Over twenty years now.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. I’ll bet there’s a lot of history there, as old as it is. If only the walls could talk, ha.” She forced a little laugh. “I’m sureyoucould tell me some stories.”

Montgomery had told her he was the original owner, but it turns out, ghosts have memories like swiss cheese. He couldn’t tell her much more than she’d found on the internet. That it opened in 1908, and closed after the untimely, but natural death of the owner on October 31, 1912—one Mr. Montgomery Harland.

“If there are stories, I wouldn’t know,” said Bo. “Except that every time it came close to selling, something fell through with the buyers. Either they couldn’t get financing or just lost interest. Until you came around. That’s why everyone is so thrilled to see it open up again.”

“Well, I’m sorry it was vacant for such a long time,” Willow said sincerely. “But maybe it was meant to be. And I promise to make it a welcoming place for the townspeople to have a cocktail and read books.”

That was, she thought, as long as no one knew the place was haunted. She imaginedthatlittle fact would be bad for business. “I just wish I knew more of the history.”

“You know,” Bo said. “The property records are available to the public, if you really want to know everything about that old building.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I actually have to go down to the county registrar in a few days to file some permits for this place. I could look through the archives for you while I’m there.”

“That would be wonderful, Bo. I appreciate it.”

Willow marveled at how friendly the people were in this town, noting the twinkle in Bo’s eye.

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind her, accompanied by a pointy tap on her shoulder. “Are you Willow Ravensong?”

Bo jabbed a finger at the person behind Willow. “Dale, I’ve told you a hundred times. Leave my customers alone.”

“I’m here in a professional capacity, Bo,” said the guy that Willow now knew was named Dale.

She turned to face him and was met with the slender, clean-shaven face of a young man who was probably older than he looked. He wore a button-down shirt covered by a threadbare sweater, and sensible beige slacks.

Bo grumbled. “If you’re not here to eat, then get out.”

“I’ll have a Cherry Coke please,” Dale said quickly, then sat down on the stool next to Willow.

Bo mumbled something under his breath and shuffled over to the soda machine.

Dale held out his hand to Willow. “I’m Dale Dune. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I hold the record for Mysthaven’s bubble gum chewing contest. It’s kind of a big deal.”

Shaking Dale’s hand, Willow smiled warmly. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”