Page 18 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Eleven

“You’re the girl in the video, right?”

Sophie was getting used to the question.

The first few times she’d been asked, it had been embarrassing, as though going viral in a video where you’re calling a guy bullshit was something to be ashamed of.

(It was.) But she had to admit, Tristan was right.

Her tours were packed, and she’d started to lose count of the number of times she’d been asked about the viral video.

Yes, that was her. No, they hadn’t staged it.

Yes, she really did think Tristan’s tour was BS.

No, she didn’t think Tristan was cute. (Okay, that last one was a lie, but Sophie wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.)

The increased income was good, she reminded herself as she pasted a sunny smile on her face and nodded at the middle-aged man in cargo shorts who’d asked the question.

“That’s me! But I promise there will be a lot less swearing on this tour,” she said, now bringing her attention to the entire group congregating outside of Hallowed Grounds.

“Unless, of course, we run into that absolute…miscreant who thinks he can run a better ghost tour than I can!” It was a speech she’d been working on, even throwing in a fun word like “miscreant” to make the tourists laugh.

And she delivered the words with a cheerful bravado that she didn’t feel.

She wasn’t in friendly competition with Tristan.

It was good that she’d established that, on that one Friday night a few weeks ago.

They weren’t friends, and they could never be friends.

Every time she reminded herself of that it hurt a little less.

Eventually—like once he finally gave up in October and left town—she’d be able to forget how drawn to him she’d been once.

But tonight, she just had to get through this tour. Hopefully without running into Tristan.

She took comfort in the route. This was her hometown, her turf.

She’d been running up and down these streets, and along this beach, since she was a child.

She knew this town, and she liked to think it knew her right back.

And tonight was a special night; she had a surprise for Boneyard Key. She hoped it was a good surprise.

After the usual stop at the end of the fishing pier, where Sophie told the story of Cemetery Island and the Great Storm of 1897 that had leveled the settlement there, she led them in a slight detour: onto a path that snaked toward a small strip of beach to the left of the pier.

“Now, you’ll have to forgive me,” she said as she picked her way down the narrow path, her charges following behind her.

“This is a brand-new story, so I’ll do my best to get it right.

As I may have mentioned before, I’ve been doing some research on the history of Boneyard Key with the help of a friend and local historian.

We’ve uncovered some unique slices of life around here, and I’m sharing one of those new bits with you tonight. ”

She clicked on her flashlight, shining it around the sandbar she currently stood on. A couple of the more intrepid tourists had followed her to stand on the damp sand, while the rest grouped along the narrow pathway.

“The Great Storm of 1897 had many casualties. People lost mothers, daughters, wives. Sons, brothers, fathers. It took a special kind of person to decide to stay. Decide to make this place their home after it had already taken so much from them. This spot is sacred ground.” Her flashlight slipped in her suddenly sweaty hand, the beam of light bobbing, and she switched it from one hand to the other so she could wipe her palms on her jeans.

“Before the pier was built here, it was the spot where families mourned their dead. Where makeshift coffins were loaded onto boats and taken across to the original cemetery for the last time. The last remains buried there were victims of the Great Storm.”

Sophie’s uncertain voice gained strength from the respectful silence around her.

“It was also at this spot where the surviving families who chose to stay behind established the town here on the mainland. And I don’t have hard evidence for this, but there are writings that say this spot was the first time a member of the Founding Fifteen families talked to their loved ones who had passed beyond.

A lot of very important moments in the history of Boneyard Key happened on this small stretch of beach that no one really notices these days. ”

She shined her beam to the right, to the more modern structure that was the fishing pier.

“This pier first went up about ten years later, and knowing what I know now, I don’t think the location is a coincidence.

I think the Founding Fifteen wanted all of us in the years to come to keep an eye on Cemetery Island, and honor where they came from. ”

It was breezy down here, this close to the water, and the wind whipped her hair in all directions.

Sophie didn’t want to think about how she’d look once she got home.

But as she guided her charges back up to the main road by the glow of her flashlight, a warmer breeze sifted its way through her hair, settling it, like an otherworldly pat on the head.

The breeze felt like a hug. It felt like thanks.

Yeah. Adding this stop to the tour was the right thing to do. Sophie couldn’t wait to tell Theo about this. She may not have word magnets on her fridge, or the ability to have conversations with the dead, but she had this. Her tour, her stories. And they mattered.

No matter what that miscreant might say.

Her crowd was hushed, almost reverent, as they hit the main road and she continued on with her tour.

She brought some levity back to the evening as they passed the Starter Home, its broken-down silhouette in sharp relief against the night sky.

“A cute little fixer-upper, right? Just imagine, your honey-do list would be never-ending!” The men in the crowd groaned and the women chuckled, just like every heterosexual middle-aged couple that took this tour.

It was an easy joke, but it helped bring the mood back up.

Then they got to the Hawkins House, and the evening went sideways.

Sophie heard them first. Laughter, loud and raucous. One voice stood out over them all.

“I’m serious!” The laughter in Tristan’s voice said that he wasn’t serious. What a surprise. “Now, our next stop is this little yellow cottage, right up here. It’s got an amazing history. So tell me, how much do you fine people know about pirates?”

Oh, no. The last thing Sophie wanted was to run into Tristan.

Not again. Not in front of Cassie’s house.

But, like something out of a nightmare, it was happening, in slow motion and way too fast all at once.

Sophie set her jaw and whirled around, stopping her group’s progress just before they reached the house.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Tristan had done the same.

She and her group were just to the right of the house, and Tristan’s tour was just to the left.

“I can tell you the story right here!” She spoke too fast, too loud.

She sounded like a cartoon mouse as she all but sped through the story of Sarah Hawkins, her home, and her cabbage roses.

All the while, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, hyperaware that every time she paused for breath, Tristan’s voice was right there filling in the silence with his ridiculous pirate story.

Sophie really hoped that Cassie and Nick were out of the house, having a date night.

The fewer witnesses to this debacle, the better.

In an incredible feat of synchronization, they finished their stories almost at the same time.

Sophie clicked on her flashlight and turned to lead her group down the street just as Tristan turned to do the same.

She could do this. She could pass him, pass his group, and just give them a friendly nod like he was nobody.

Or better yet, she could ignore him completely.

She should have known better. Ignoring Tristan Martin was an impossibility.

His smile widened at her approach, and the two met, face-to-face, under the glow of the Hawkins House porch lights. Sophie narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth set, determined to just walk by like he wasn’t there.

But then he had to go and tip his hat. Bow his head. Look up at her under his brow. What was with that smile of his? It was a tractor beam, drawing her in. It was infuriating, because the last thing she wanted was to be drawn in.

“Milady.” His voice was low and throaty, with the trace of some kind of accent. His eyes crinkled, a secret smile only she could see. He needed to stop smiling at her. He needed to stop talking to her. He just needed to stop.

“I’m not your lady,” she snapped, remembering a moment too late that they were surrounded by tourists, who had fallen into an excited hush.

Here they go , she could practically hear them thinking.

She’s gonna yell at him again! Sophie threw a surreptitious look over her shoulder, and yep.

In that one glance she counted three cell phones, out and aimed in her direction.

There were four pinpoints of light over Tristan’s shoulder; his tourists had already started filming.

Had he planned this? Tipped them off? Was he trying to go viral again, make more money off her image?

Ugh. Screw this guy. She forced a smile that felt more like a snarl. A cheerful tone she didn’t feel.

“Have. A. Great. Night.” Go. Right. To. Hell.

Sophie turned on her heel, back to her group, firmly putting her back to Tristan. “Sorry for the interruption, folks! If you’ll follow me, past these fine people here, we’re going to head south toward the Chamber of Commerce, where our next story takes place!”

It wasn’t easy, leading a group of people past another group of people that you were desperately trying to pretend didn’t exist. But Sophie was a professional.

She didn’t even look in Tristan’s direction as she led her group away.

She held her breath when his arm brushed against hers on the crowded sidewalk, so close that she could feel the heat of his body, the brushed wool of his coat.

It took all the restraint she had, but she pretended like he wasn’t even there.

Because soon enough he wouldn’t be. If she was lucky.

On the way home she stopped for a couple slices of pizza, as a reward for not letting Tristan bait her (too much). She heard her name the moment the door closed behind her, and Aura was waving from the counter.

“Sophie! Oh my god, I was hoping I would run into you.”

“Into me?” Sophie looked around, in case there was another Sophie that Aura was talking to. Since when were they besties?

But Aura nodded enthusiastically, taking a pull off the vat of soda that passed for a large drink around here. “I’ve been haunting the top hat guy. It’s freaking hilarious.”

Well, hello bestie. As soon as Sophie placed her order, she leaned on the counter next to Aura. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s so dumb,” she said with a giggle. “I had this green light bulb left over from a photo shoot, so I stuck that in the ceiling light in one of the upstairs bedrooms. At first I just hid under a bedsheet and waved my arms around, right? But then—then! I found a plastic skeleton in a box of old Halloween decorations. So now I poke the arm out from under the sheet, point it right at him.” Now the giggle was a cackle.

“The first time I did it, I thought he was going to pass out.”

“Aura,” Sophie said, “I think I love you.”

“Right back atcha. You should bring your own group by sometime. I can scare them too.”

“Wait, what?” Sophie tilted her head. “I thought you wanted to be left out of the tour.”

Aura dimpled. “That’s before I knew how much fun it was to be a creepy ghost!”

“I don’t know…” She thought again about that spectral pat on the head she’d gotten earlier. It made her feel even more protective of this town, those souls who remained here after death. “I’m trying to keep my tour more factual. You know, for contrast.”

She considered that. “Good point. I’ll keep the bullshit for the bullshit tour.”

“Okay, there’s no loitering here.” Terry shook his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes as he plonked two to-go boxes on the counter in front of the girls. He nodded toward Aura’s order. “I threw an extra garlic knot—with no garlic—in there for Einstein.”

Aura blew him a kiss on the way to the soda fountain to refill her drink for her walk home. “You spoil me. And my bird.”

“Always have.” His eyes followed Aura for a beat too long before looking over at Sophie. “Garlic knots in there for you too. I don’t know why you didn’t add them to the order. We both know they’re your favorite.”

“You’re too good to me, Terry.” He was right, of course; she polished one off on the walk home, happily sucking garlic salt off her thumb as she unlocked her door.

Tristan notwithstanding, it had been a good night.

She loved where she lived, and with any luck she’d managed to not go viral on the internet.

What more could a girl ask for?

Pale eyes looking up at her under blond brows. A gravelly voice speaking low, just to her. A secret smile.

No.

She didn’t want to ask for any of those things.