Page 10 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)

Nic

“You think I’m crazy,” I accuse Lauren as we walk along the lake, letting the cool autumn breeze play with our hair. “Hell, I think I’m crazy.”

“I need context, babes. Did the ghost strike again?”

“All the damn time.” I sigh and kick a pile of leaves, making them flutter through the air.

The trees are turning a beautiful shade of orange, and it’s finally the kind of weather to wear a cozy sweatshirt—a stark difference from the California sun all year round.

And I have to admit, I’m finding this much better.

An hour ago, Lauren knocked and all but pulled me out the door for a nice autumn walk. She's holding a pile of leaves in her hand, the ones she deemed prettiest and intends to dry for a scrapbook – one of the new hobbies she decided to try out. I wonder if it'll stick.

“Yesterday, I sat on my couch, as one does, trying to read a book and not doom scroll on my phone, but I swear to you, an invisible cat jumped onto my lap.” Lauren gives me a skeptical look, and I halt.

“I swear to fucking God. She nudged her head against me, and I even felt it vibrating with a purr when I asked if she was Chaos. Don’t look at me like I’m insane—you heard the scratching, too! ”

“I did,” she says calmly and stops walking too. “But it could have been, I don’t know, a squirrel on your roof. Have you checked your carbon monoxide levels? ”

“A squirrel on my roof when the scratching clearly came from my front door?” I ask her with a lifted eyebrow.

“And yes. The fire detectors in my house also read carbon monoxide levels. If that were the issue, you’d probably hear the incessant beeping from your own living room.

” I roll my eyes. Why does nobody believe me?

“Hey, it sounds more plausible than ‘A ghost cat haunts me.’” She exhales a deep sigh, then reaches for my hands. “I’m sorry, Nic. I know how sad you are about that cat and how much you wish she were haunting you. But ghosts don’t exist.”

“Logically, I know you’re right,” I say grimly and pull my hands from her grasp, slowly continuing to walk. “But I choose to believe I have a ghost pet now. At least it distracts me from my fresh heartbreak.”

“Better, don’t talk about it too loudly, or they’ll Maurice your ass and put you in a padded cell.” Lauren quickly catches up and links her arm with mine. “I bet they have one of those here. The town is way too idyllic so far; there must be a catch.”

“Maybe the catch is ghosts,” I point out with a giggle, making her groan and pinch the bridge of her nose. “And I hate to say it, but in this particular case, the available Jensen Ackles is not fit to exorcise demons.”

“Then let’s hope their dark town secret is some kind of swinger club,” Lauren snickers, and I roll my eyes.

“Let’s hope not. I mean, Henry, Kieran, and Caleb I could see myself fantasizing about, but the rest of the town?” I shake my head. “No, thank you. I do not need to be mentally undressing the guy we saw at Caleb’s who still wears socks with sandals.” I shudder. “Some things can’t be unseen.”

“Aw, come on,” Lauren says teasingly, nudging me with her elbow. “You said the sheriff was eye candy, and I saw at least one more hottie at Caleb’s.”

“When?” My eyes grow wide. “Because when we were there, the average age of the other customers was probably eighty or above. Not that an eighty-year-old can’t be attractive, but since when are you into men your grandpa’s age?”

“I might have gone back to the café another time,” she admits sheepishly, and I stop in my tracks, looking at her with betrayal in my eyes and mouth agape. “Or three.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” I ask loudly and clutch my shirt dramatically. “I can’t believe it. You got coffee without me. The betrayal.” I put the back of my hand to my forehead and sway, pretending to faint.

“Cut it out, you drama queen.” Lauren laughs and gives me a gentle shove. “Hope acting is not your job or anything.”

“Yeah, luckily not,” I agree with a giggle that abruptly dies when my phone buzzes in my pocket. God, do they never give up?

With a heavy sigh, I study the cloudy sky for a moment, then pull out my phone, only to decline the call when I don’t recognize the caller ID. Maybe I should change my number after all.

“What’s that about?” Lauren asks and points at the phone in my hand. “Your whole demeanor shifted from happy-go-lucky Pooh to Eeyore, just like that.” She snaps her fingers while I put my phone away.

“I’ve been getting all these calls,” I finally tell her. “I’m not sure if it’s Jay or any of my genetics-sharers, or someone from the industry. I haven’t been answering them.” I take a deep breath. “Someone apparently tattled about Jay and me breaking up, though. It could be many people.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lauren curses with wide eyes and kicks a stone into the lake. “Have you …?”

“Googled myself? Of course, I have.” I sigh and blow a strand of my hair away from my face.

“The internet is full of speculation. Will I make a comeback now that my retirement plans have changed? Where am I? Is the reason we broke up because I had an affair? Apparently, Massimo and I appeared awfully close on set.”

“God, if they only knew you are pretty much the opposite of his type,” Lauren quips with a giggle.

“I’m not planning on outing him, so let’s keep them guessing.” I shake my head at her when she continues to giggle. “Maybe it’s time for a new number anyway—a clean cut from my old life.”

“Oh, that’s very final, though. What if you want to go back?”

“If the industry wants me to, they can deal with a new phone number.” I roll my eyes and continue walking. We’re almost at my place now, and it’s getting chilly. “It’s a decision for another day. Are you coming in for a hot chocolate or coffee?”

“Oh, absolutely. I hope your ghost cat won’t scare me away.” I stick my tongue out at her and climb the stairs to my porch.

Why do I hope that little Chaos will do exactly that?

“You have such a nice view from here,” Lauren mutters, walking up to my ceiling-high windows facing the lake.

“Don’t you almost have the same one?” I ask her, handing her a steaming mug of hot chocolate spiked with Bailey’s.

“I mean, you have my house in view,” she says with a giggle and immediately takes a sip.

“How is that going, by the way?” I walk over to my couch facing the windows and sit down, careful not to spill my drink. “Do you already regret DYI-ing it?”

“Oh, it’s still fun,” she says with a grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I spend more time researching, watching tutorials, or browsing for materials, but I’m not tired of that yet. I’m calling that a win. ”

“Wait, you’re doing everything from scratch?” I blink at her, surprised.

“I mean, it’s only cosmetic. It’s a new house, after all.

” She giggles, and the alcohol is tinting her cheeks pink.

“No wiring or plumbing, but those bookshelves are driving me crazy. You assemble one and think you’ve got the hang of it, but then you completely mess up the next one and the first breaks down the second you try to put your books in it. ”

“I’d probably break my thumb with the hammer. Or get a bunch of splinters,” I mutter and put my mug on the coffee table to pull my legs onto the couch.

“Hey, what are these?” She suddenly holds up one of the catalogs I had sent here, then starts flipping through the pages. “Interior design?”

“Yeah,” I say, reaching for a pillow. “I had a lot of fun putting everything together, and I have a lot of free time. Maybe college is in my future after all.” I shrug and take a deep breath.

“I mean, I need something to do or work toward. You’ve got your house to keep you busy, but I have”—I wave my hand around vaguely—“nothing.”

"There's nothing wrong with focusing on yourself first." She shrugs.

"Take that break you've been talking about.

Rediscover who you are outside of your family and a relationship.

Find a new hobby. I just bought myself a pottery set.

I mean who knows, maybe there's a clay master hidden inside of me. "

"I know there's nothing wrong with that." I hug the pillow tighter to my chest. "I wouldn't even know where to start, though."

“What about ‘romanticizing life?’” she asks with a raised eyebrow, and I softly shake my head.

“I can only romanticize so much on my own. And it’s not exactly giving me purpose ,” I try to explain, when suddenly I notice a dip on the cushion right next to my legs .

“I knew it!” I say triumphantly, flashing a grin at Lauren, who blinks at me, confusion written all over her face.

“What’s going on?”

“Come on, sit down,” I say with the sweetest smile, patting the couch right next to me.

“Okay?” It sounds like a question, but Lauren sets down her mug, too, and sits. She gives me a suspicious glare while I keep the most pleasant smile on my face.

She calls me crazy for thinking a cat is haunting this house? Now is the time to prove her wrong.

Please, Chaos, don’t disappoint me.

“What the—?” Lauren tenses visibly, and her head whirls to me as she stares at me with wide eyes and mouth agape. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not doing anything,” I point out, lifting my hands in the air to prove it.

“Did something climb into my lap? Why can’t I see anything? What?”

“Told you.” I shrug.

“I can’t believe it,” she mutters, shaking her head. “It’s actually a ghost kitty.” Then she shoots me a mischievous smile. “Do you think we could see her if we blow some flour over her?”

“I think the only thing that would do is make a mess.”

“What else do you have your fancy robot vacuum for?”

But before I can answer, I sense a tap on my calf. The cushions dip as though she jumped off, and only a second later, we both hear a scratching on the door.

“I’m getting a mad sense of déjà vu,” Lauren whispers, her eyes darting between me and the front door. “You better get that.”

“I can’t believe it. I’m taking orders from a ghost cat,” I whisper and shake my head at myself, but get up to take check anyways. “The universe won’t even let me be a crazy cat lady, I swear to—” I pull the door open, only to see … nothing.

“Hello?” I ask loudly and scan the area. All I see, though, are bushes, trees, and grass I should probably mow sometime.

Way to go, Nic. Maybe this one wasn’t a ghost kitty scratch after all, but, I don’t know, crispy leaves being blown against my front door.

“Hello?” I shout again and step out onto my porch. If it were my little paranormal friend, there must have been a reason she wanted me to go outside. “Why—” and then I suddenly hear it. A soft meow from under my porch.

Without hesitation, I hurry down the steps. “Come on,” I plead. “Meow again.” A beat later, I hear it—a tiny sound coming from right beneath the porch steps.

“Is everything okay?” I hear Lauren’s footsteps approaching. She leans over the railing and gives me a quizzical look. Meanwhile, I lower myself to my knees and search the area under the stairs. “Here, take my phone flashlight.”

“Thanks,” I tell her, realizing I left mine inside. Fuck, it’s dirty under here. There are leaves and some beer cans that the construction workers must have left, and …

“Oh no,” I whisper and narrow my eyes when I see movement not too far under the stairs.

“What is it?”

“It’s a cat,” I whisper, and stretch my arm to reach the pile of leaves that just moved. “Only a little more …” Finally, I feel something non-leafy under my fingers. Soft. Warm. Gently, I grab the cat and retract my arm.

“She’s tiny,” I coo as I pull her close to me while I get up. My heart melts now that I see her. She must be super young. She’s so small and has the most adorable orange stripes, covered in what I hope is mud and not blood.

“What’s going on here?” Lauren asks amusedly. “Are you becoming a cat whisperer? ”

“Seems like it.” She’s small. Looks like I need to make another emergency trip to Henry. My cheeks flush with heat at the thought.

I might have lost most trust in men. But hell if Henry's gentle demeanor and kind smile make me wish I hadn't.

“Oh my God.” Lauren bursts into laughter, and I glance up at her. “You’re a cat lady now.”