Page 21 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

Katie didn’t blink. She was locked on me like she was watching a ghost movie and didn’t want to miss a single frame. Her breath caught. She looked half-terrified, half turned on.

Sol strutted past with coffee and a gooey cinnamon roll, her blouse conveniently unbuttoned one button too far. Every step screamed, “Notice me, officer.”

I paused and tilted my head toward her. “Watch this.”

Katie didn’t even blink. She was still staring at me, lips parted slightly, like she wanted more of the story.

Meanwhile, Sol sauntered up to Graham, practically offering him a motorboat with that cinnamon roll.

Seriously?

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or embarrassed on her behalf.

Graham

Christ—there she was.

Couldn’t she take a hint?

There was a reason I never ate here.

“Hi Grahammy-boy! Katie got you a coffee and a gooey cinnamon roll to sink those pearly whites into.” Sol leaned over my window, ass cocked out like bait on a hook. Her hand lingered too long as she passed me the cup.

Should I just fuck her and get it out of the way?

I wasn’t into her.

It would either satisfy her curiosity or make her try harder.

Embarrassing—for both of us.

I glanced toward Maggie and Katie, flashing the kind of smile that begged them to save me.

“You been busy?” she cooed, resting her head on her arm like she belonged there.

“Just work,” I took a sip and was instantly met with disappointment.

Cold. And creamed. Fucking creamer. I hated creamer.

“You?” I asked, forcing myself to be pleasant.

“Yep, I’m going to be picking up a shift at Moon’s on the weekends. So maybe we will get to see more of each other when you come for Western Nights.”

Oh god.

Moon’s: Port Grey’s finest strip club-slash-eatery.

Or so they say. I’ve had the prime rib, it was pretty good.

But I’d never made it upstairs to see the ‘attractions’ that Sol would be performing in.

Western Nights were the third Saturday of every month, if she was going to work the bar, I would unfortunately see more of her.

And if she was cozying up to Maggie, it was only a matter of time before I was back on that goddamn bar.

Sol turned on her heels, her cheeks warmed in a blush. “I’ll also have my own show from 8:30-9:00.”

“A whole half hour on the pole. Wow. That’s something.”

Not bad.

On her way back to the bistro, Sol glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with me just long enough to make it awkward.

I smirked and took another sip of that god-awful coffee, and went back to scanning the area.

“Thanks for the grub, Sol.” I muttered. I couldn’t deny it. The woman made a mean cinnamon roll.

I’d never really been into strippers. Got nothing against ‘em. I just liked sex. Performances didn’t do much for me.

I liked my privacy.

Not that it stopped me from defiling the church basement after a funeral once. Or the time in the walk-in freezer. Shit. I still owed the butcher for a new lock.

Port Grey talked. But I never said I was a role model.

I know, I know—real rich coming from a guy who strips for charity.

But that was different. That was for a cause.

Controlled. Performative. Strictly business.

I could flash a smile, shake my ass, and walk off that bar like I was still the one in charge.

It wasn’t intimacy. It was currency.

But the minute people start talking about who I was actually fucking. That was personal. And I didn’t like people poking around in personal.

Sunlight flashed off the bistro’s windows, stabbing into my eyes.

Katie leaned in closer to Maggie, eyes bright, hands moving as she talked.

Maggie nodded along, laughing at something, like last night didn’t happen at all.

My gut twisted. Not jealousy, not exactly.

Just that hollow, fuck-you kind of feeling when someone won’t even glance your way.

I knew I’d pissed her off. But I didn’t see anything, not really. Still… my brain kept looping it. The burst of smoke. The air turning frigid. The way her voice cracked like she knew exactly who it was.

I’d seen shit as a kid. Things no one believed. The first time was Nan—dead for a week, standing at the foot of my bed like she’d never left. I told my mom. She sent me away for “lying”.

But I didn’t lie.

I learned not to say anything after that, though.

Maybe I didn’t see the ghost. Or maybe my programming took over and wouldn’t let me.

Maggie

Sol practically bounced her way back to our table, her springy mane bobbing with every step.

Oh barf.

Her dark eyes swept the table, her sigh dramatic as she took in our untouched menus and not-so-subtle tension.

“What can I get y’all?” she asked, fanning herself with her notepad like she’d just come off stage. “Whew—is it hot in here?”

Katie shot me a look, all too aware, then turned back to Sol. “Nope, but do you need a minute to… collect yourself”

Or finish? I thought, taking a sip of water.

“He just gets me all flustered,” she sighed, the flush in her cheeks finally cooling. “Maggie, does he do it for you too?”

“Oh, totally—if ‘flustered’ means wanting to punch him in the throat every time I see him, then yes. Deeply flustered.”

Sol blinked, clearly surprised. “Well then, I guess I don’t have to fight you for him.”

I raised an eyebrow right back—she could try. My gaze dropped to the menu.

“You know what… he is hot. So hot, I’m shocked I haven’t fucked him already. Give me five minutes, and he’ll have me bent over the hood of his car every day for a month. I’ll be the main event of Main Street.”

“Ooooh, Katie, this one’s got confidence,” Sol purred, fanning the flames. “Clearly you don’t know Graham Locke like the rest of Port Grey. He’s not a relationship guy—he’s a good time, not a long time.”

I sighed, deep and bitter.

Of course he was.

Now that I’d retired from the casual sex circuit and wanted something real, the universe tossed me the exact kind of man I should have met eighteen years ago.

“I’ve got bigger problems than getting laid,” I muttered, my pulse kicking up. “Like the fucking corpse they found in my backyard.”

Katie and Sol glanced around. The indistinct murmur of the room had shifted—customers were definitely listening now.

“As far as I can tell, being hot and horny is all Graham Locke has going for him,” I snapped.

But that wasn’t the whole truth.

Not even close.

Because part of me still wanted to see what was under all that swagger—the version of him I saw cracking through last night. The real one.

Sol’s brows climbed again, lips parting like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh or call the manager on me.

I was still pissed—obviously. The man couldn’t even admit what happened. He just walked out, leaving me to deal with a goddamn ghost on my own. I wanted to slug him. Hard. Maybe yell, “What the hell is wrong with you?” for good measure.

Katie saved me from further ranting with a casual, “Let’s just order. My treat.”

I muttered something about croissants and caffeine. Katie went full unicorn—some kind of iced monstrosity with blackberries, matcha, and enough whipped cream to float a boat.

Sol jotted it all down, still fanning herself like the AC was broken. “Nice to meet you, Maggie,” she said before leaving, swinging her hips the whole way to the kitchen.

I managed a polite smile, even if I was still a little mortified by my earlier rant.

Katie leaned back in the booth, her eyes locked on mine. She nudged me under the table.

“Alright… continue,” she whispered. “What happened last night—besides the dead guy—that’s got you this rattled?”

What didn’t happen?

I hesitated, the words clawing up my throat like they might change everything once spoken. What if I was losing it? I was exhausted from a long day. What if it really was faulty wiring and not… Uncle Silas?

No, I knew what I saw.

I felt it.

“So yeah. I saw a glowing green cloud. It slammed me against the wall. My lights went out, my cat shat himself, and I swear to God, my dead uncle told me to leave the house.”

Katie blinked once. Then again.

“Okay, that’s… incredible.”

“You believe me?”

“Maggie. I collect haunted dolls. You’re not even in the top five weirdest things I’ve seen.”

“Then Graham burst into the room. I think he startled Uncle Silas—if ghosts can be startled—because smoke shot straight down and shattered the chandelier bulbs.

“That’s insane!” Katie breathed. She leaned closer across the table, voice low, eyes practically glowing. “Have you ever seen a ghost before?”

“No. Not like that. I’ve only ever dabbled in minor spells. A love spell here and there. A few attractions charms—just to boost bakery traffic in Ohio.” I winced. “Guess I’ve been a little selfish.”

Katie narrowed her eyes, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Karma’s got your number, babe.”

I gave a sheepish nod. I was well aware. If she decided to cash in her favors now, I’d be screwed.

“What does Graham think about all this?” She asked, a different tone in her voice now—gentler. Concern, maybe.

“He doesn’t believe me. Said it was probably faulty wiring or something.”

Right then, Sol returned with our food, balancing two plates like a pro. The smell of bacon and fresh bread made my stomach growl loud enough to earn a smirk from Katie.

“What doesn’t Graham believe?” Sol asked, setting the plates down.

“That Maggie saw a ghost last night,” Katie scooped up her wrap with both hands, oblivious that I might not have wanted that information public knowledge.

I kicked Katie’s shin under the table. Hard. She shrugged like, What? It’s true.

Sol blinked, then chuckled. “No offense, but I’d probably believe him over you, Maggie.”

The words landed sharper than they should have coming from a stranger.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Sol waved it off with a little laugh.

“Ghost stories aren’t real. Everyone knows that.” She winked. “But hey, if anything spooky happens again, let me know. I love a good campfire tale.”

She walked off.

“Why’d you have to say that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Say what?”

“Tell Sol about the ghost.”

Katie shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I talk about witchcraft around her all the time. She never believes me—even when I show her.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth, completely unbothered.

Her words helped—a little. But dammit, I hadn’t even started putting down roots here. I didn’t want the town thinking I was the new girl who talked to ghosts and buried bodies in her yard like it was part of a breakup ritual.

God! What the hell had I walked into?

“Do you think your uncle might know who did it?” Katie sipped her frappe. Condensation trailed down the sides and pooled in her hand.

“I have no idea.” My thoughts slipped to the body—the cavity where his heart used to be. “The killer’s still out there.” The words barely made it past my lips.

My appetite vanished. The longer I looked at Katie’s wrap, the more the meat started to look like flesh.

Her eyes lit up. She pressed her napkin to her mouth, voice muffled but giddy. “Maybe we should ask him?”

“Who, Graham?” My eyes flicked across the street. His eyes met mine like he’d never looked away.

Katie shook her head quickly, her black-and-white ponytail whipping like a flag.

“No, silly,” she said, eyes glittering. “I mean Silas. Let’s ask him.”

She was dead serious.

I stared into the swirl of my latte, a slow shiver crawling up my arms as Katie started plotting.

“We’ll hold a séance tonight,” she said, already a step ahead. “I know someone who can help—Derek Black. He’s a paranormal investigator who’s got a reputation for contacting the hard-to-reach.” She glanced at her phone. “I’ll text him.”

I blinked, trying to keep up. A séance? A professional ghost hunter? My fork paused halfway to my mouth.

“The more people we have in the circle, the better our odds,” she continued. “Stronger collective energy.”

I nodded slowly, but my brain still struggled to keep up. I was just getting used to the idea of one ghost. Now we were forming a team?