Page 26 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Seventeen

Sophie was never leaving her home again.

She stood with her back pressed against her front door for what felt like hours on Friday night.

She covered her racing heart with one hand, willing her breath to slow so she didn’t sound like a marathon runner gasping for air.

What had she been thinking, kissing him?

She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. Hence, never leaving the condo again.

Okay, never was a very long time. But it wasn’t like she needed to leave anytime soon.

Her fridge was basically empty, but there was ramen in one of the cupboards, and she should drink more water anyway.

The commute to her day job was the distance from her bed to her laptop, either on the living room couch or kitchen table.

She loved her home. It was peaceful. It was a warm hug from Aunt Alice, whose presence she still felt here, despite what Nan might say.

But there was no peace now. Her skin itched and she couldn’t settle to any one task.

She watched TV without seeing a thing; she read the same page of a book for half an hour.

The only thing she was good at all weekend was pacing her living room like a caged tiger.

He was right there, her brain screamed. Right there , on the other side of this wall.

How was she supposed to keep on living here, all comfortable and normal, when Tristan was right next door to her?

Every sound from outside made her want to jump out of her skin.

Was someone out there? Was he out there?

Sophie twitched her blinds for the millionth time that day, peering out her front window into the breezeway.

She’d never been so invested in the patch of concrete outside her front door.

If she pressed her forehead against the window and turned just enough, she could see the very edge of his door.

The motion set her glasses askew every time, but she did it anyway.

It was possible she was losing her mind.

It had been days, after all. An entire weekend where she hadn’t left her place once, except to lead her Saturday night tour, and then she’d scurried out, practically sprinting down the center stairs as soon as she’d established that the coast was clear.

Then she’d done the same in reverse on the way home.

She knew Tristan’s schedule; his tour ended before hers, so if she took her time going home afterward there was no chance she’d run into him.

No chance she’d humiliate herself again by kissing him a second time.

She couldn’t live like this.

By Monday she was more irritated than cautious, and desperately needed to talk to someone.

So after sending a group text to Cassie and Libby ( SOS!

Lunch at HG today? ) and attempting to get some actual work done, Sophie pressed her forehead to the front window, dropping to the ground in panic when Tristan’s front door opened.

She stayed on the floor, heart racing, while his footsteps strolled past her door and down the breezeway.

As soon as the coast was clear, she slipped out her door, keeping tabs on Tristan as he headed up the block.

Once he hooked a right toward the Supernatural Market, she heaved a sigh of relief, continuing up Beachside and to Hallowed Grounds.

Cassie had saved them a table. Though knowing Cassie, she had probably been there since breakfast. She’d adopted the café as her work-from-home spot, and Nick was so wrapped around her finger he apparently forgot that he hated people who spent all day in his place, using their laptops to mooch off his Wi-Fi.

Libby arrived soon after, and over plates of extra-crispy fries Sophie filled them in.

“You and Tristan kissed ?” Libby’s eyes went wide, never looking away from Sophie as she reached for the ketchup.

“I did sense a vibe that night at Poltergeist Pizza.” Cassie nodded firmly, and maybe just a little smugly. “Figured it was only a matter of time before he kissed you.”

Sophie shook her head hard. “I kissed him.” The sentence was low, muttered mostly to the plate of fried potatoes in front of her.

It didn’t seem possible for Libby’s eyes to go any wider, but she managed it. “You kissed him ?” The words were a squeal, and the ketchup was forgotten as she leaned in, grabbing on to Sophie’s arm. Her nails dug in and it only hurt a little.

“Shhhh!” Sophie threw an anxious glance over her shoulder, but no one around them was paying attention.

More importantly, there was no sign of a certain tousled blond haircut anywhere.

Relieved, she turned back to her girls. “I know. It was stupid. So, so stupid.” Hadn’t she been telling herself that all weekend?

“Are you kidding?” Cassie took a last, watery sip from the dregs of her iced latte. “That was the least stupid thing you could have done.” She shrugged when Sophie and Libby both turned amazed eyes her way. “What? I said before that he was cute. And that y’all have a vibe.”

“Who has a vibe?” Nick chose the exact wrong moment to stop by their table.

Sophie shook her head frantically, but Cassie ignored her. “Sophie and Tristan. You saw it too, Friday night?”

“Oh.” Nick slid Libby’s BLT in front of her and placed another iced latte at Cassie’s elbow. “No comment.”

Cassie dimpled up at him as he took away her empty glass. “Wuss.”

“One hundred percent.” He glanced over his shoulder, obviously trying to find a way out of this conversation. “But hey, I texted him earlier; he’s coming over on Wednesday for dinner. You can grill him then about his intentions.”

“Excellent.” Cassie practically rubbed her hands together like a supervillain. She gave Sophie a speculating look. “You want to come over too? Make it a double date?”

“Absolutely not.” Sophie crunched into her fry harder than was strictly necessary as Nick fled the scene. “And we don’t have a vibe. We can’t have a vibe. He’s my mortal enemy, remember?”

“Well, that’s a little dramatic.” Libby picked up one half of her sandwich and inspected the quality of the bacon.

“Eh, she’s not wrong,” Cassie said. “He’s coming for her job, and there’s only two choices here. Either he wins and puts her out of business, or he loses and then he leaves town. Neither option exactly leads to long-term happiness.”

Sophie sighed. Cassie had a point. She hated that Cassie had a point. “Please, let’s talk about anything else.”

Libby’s eyes lit up and she straightened in her chair. “Hurricane season’s starting! That’s exciting.”

Sophie groaned. “Okay, let’s talk about anything but that.”

“Why?” Cassie looked from Libby to Sophie. “What’s wrong with hurricane season? Except for, you know, the hurricanes?”

Sometimes Sophie forgot that Cassie was relatively new in town, and hadn’t grown up with the two of them. “Libby’s a storm chaser.”

Libby scoffed as she bit into a fry. “Oh, I am not. I just like to track the storms.”

Sophie turned back to Cassie. “From now till November, it will be her entire personality. If a butterfly flaps its wings off the coast of Africa, she will blow up the group chat. Trust me.”

Libby tossed her blond ponytail over her shoulder. “Well, they’re predicting an active season, so be prepared for lots of texts, then.”

“I love lots of texts,” Cassie said with a smile. “So keep me posted.” Just when Sophie thought she was safe, Cassie turned back to her, chin resting on her hand, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Is he a good kisser?”

“Oh, God.” Sophie took off her glasses, laying them on the table while she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Why?” Libby dropped her voice to a murmur. “Was it bad?”

“Aw, damn.” Cassie clucked her tongue. “Hot guys shouldn’t be allowed to be bad kissers.”

“It wasn’t bad.” Sophie’s voice was muffled by her hands.

Her friends were blurry when she took her hands away, but maybe that was good.

She didn’t have to look them in the eye.

“Once the, you know, surprise wore off.” That was the moment she kept replaying in her mind.

When his mouth, which had dropped open in surprise when she all but jumped him, gentled against hers.

He’d settled into the kiss while she’d settled into him, and it felt like sliding into a warm pool of water.

Comfortable. Gentle. Perfect. She’d wanted to stay in that kiss for the rest of her life. It was better than her dream…

It was the memory of the dream that had done it, that night.

Made her realize that she wasn’t dreaming, and she’d really just grabbed Tristan—her rival, her enemy, her next-door neighbor?

?—and laid one on him. In real life. The realization was a splash of cold water to the head, and she’d pulled away.

Jerked away. There was enough time for her to catch a glimpse of his startled eyes—light green, and clear as ice—before she fled.

Sophie reached for her glasses and slid them back on.

Cassie and Libby were both staring at her, and she realized she’d been sitting there for a stupid amount of time while her mind replayed their kiss.

The silence at the table had stretched past the awkward point, and Cassie was obviously stifling a laugh.

The corners of Libby’s mouth twitched too. Traitors, the both of them.

“It was a goooooood kiss.” Libby’s voice was singsong.

“Oh, stop it. Let’s go back to talking about hurricanes.” But she was smiling too now as she reached for her Diet Coke. Enjoying a kiss wasn’t a crime. Even if it was with the last guy she should be kissing.

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