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He had unruly, dark hair that whipped in the wind, tossing across his thin, pale face. He kind of reminded her of that actor from Dune—Timotay Shablagoo, or whatever that guy’s name was…

“Something unholy is afoot,” he warned in a low tone. “Stay away.”

Willow blinked, thinking he could have the decency to at least be less cryptic, and opened her mouth to tell him so. But in the space of a heartbeat, he turned back behind the pumpkins—and was gone before she could follow.

He felt the storm of her approach before she barged in from wherever she was… probably in the kitchen baking something sweet as she usually did before opening the shop. Montgomery had never seen such confections. Whether it be browned butter pumpkin oatmeal cookies or mini apple cider donuts, everything she made was a small masterpiece. And she gave it all away with a smile to anyone who walked into the shop.

That smile.

She was generous with her smiles to everyone but him. He would not be the recipient of tender looks, or even a disinterested glance. The best he could hope for were her scowls.

It was always something with that woman, and Montgomery braced himself for yet another shouting match. When Willow came into view, he was momentarily stunned by what he could only describe as a supernatural glow in her wake. Her feet leaving trails of stars, her hair the color of fire, and her skin, so radiant and flush, he could almost feel the warmth brimming off her.

“That’s it,” she cried. “One of us has to go and we both know who.”

He replaced the book he was looking at back on the shelf and turned to face her with a smirk.

“It’s about time you concede, Miss Ravensong. How soon can you pack your bags?”

“Not me Ghostface! You.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

She waved her phone charger in her fist. “Why was this in the trash?”

“Exposed wire. You could burn the building down.”

“Don’t throw my stuff in the trash. And speaking of trash.” She waved a foil take-out container in the other hand. “Don’t dig thingsoutof the trash, either. This is disposable. It’s trash. My phone charger is not.” She alternated raising one hand then the other. “Trash. Not trash. Trash. Not trash!”

“One thing is useful, the other is not,” he replied.

“I am tired of you moving my things around. I like the way I have the furniture. It’s called feng shui. Waking up to rearranged furniture creeps me out. Also, I have the well drink bottles in the speed rack for easy access. Keep them there. And another thing. The index cards on my desk. I spent twenty-five minutes putting them back in order.”

Montgomery gave her a hard look. “They were spread out on the floor.”

“Because I ran out of room on my desk! That is how my brain works. I need visual aids.”

“I noticed my name written on many of the cards,” he said then, “Coupled with a few expletives.”

“Well, the internet wasn’t helping much with my research and I got mad. Besides, how would you feel if you were being haunted?”

Montgomery wasn’t keen on the idea of him being someone who’d haunt people. It took him years to come to terms with being dead. To him, he was just there, and as long as he wasn’t doing spooky things, he didn’t consider himself a nuisance.

“Truly, this is not what you’d call a conventional haunting,” he said, hoping to get back to his books.

But Willow huffed, and threw up her arms. “Worse, actually. It’s like living with a regular tedious man but without the benefits.”

“And living with a messy woman is any easier?” he countered.

“Newsflash. You are not living.Youhave shuffled off your mortal coil. I’m alive. You’re dead. I just bought this place.You’vebeen hanging around for over a century.” She slammed the contents in her hands onto a low shelf. “So go haunt the pharmacy down the street, or the hardware store, because I am so done.”

Clearly, his books would have to wait, so he slid up to her, toe to toe.

“Oh, I would if I could, just to get away from you and your piles of papers. And the hair! Hair everywhere!”

“Then go, if you can’t stand me that much. Go!”

“I can’t leave the property. I’ve tried. I am stuck between these walls like an invisible prisoner.”