Page 38 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Twenty-Five

The thing about hurricanes is that they can change on a dime.

“It went through an entire eyewall replacement cycle overnight. See that eye?” She handed her phone to Sophie while they waited for Nick to finish making their coffees. “It’s ridiculously well-defined now.”

Sophie watched the video on a loop on Libby’s phone. The hurricane was massive, creeping its way closer and closer, before abruptly stopping and dropping back as the loop started over. Dread swirled in Sophie’s stomach as the hurricane swirled its way through the ocean over and over.

They were in Libby’s element now; she knew exactly when the weather updates would be posted and could spout jargon like a full-fledged meteorologist. Sophie, on the other hand, lived in the same cone of uncertainty that was currently covering most of the state of Florida.

But no matter what terms she knew or didn’t know, it was impossible to miss the eye of that hurricane: a sharply defined dot in the middle of the spreading circle of clouds on the satellite image.

And she knew enough to know that a sharply defined eye was bad news.

“It’s due to hit Cuba tonight,” Libby said. “Some people on the forums say it’ll weaken, but there’s so much warm water on the Gulf. This could be bad.”

From behind the counter, Nick clucked his tongue in their direction. “You always think it could be bad. Do you want banana bread or a blueberry muffin?”

“Muffin, please.” Libby stowed her phone in her bag as she took the iced coffee and the bakery bag he handed her. “And I’m telling you, watch out for this one.”

Turned out, this time Libby was right.

On the news that night they used the phrase “rapid intensification” an awful lot, and suddenly Flynn had left Cuba in his wake and was heading for the Gulf Coast of Florida as a Category 4 storm.

“One hundred thirty-seven miles an hour!” The meteorologist on television sounded positively gleeful, his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows as he gestured at the green screen behind him.

Sophie didn’t see anything to be happy about.

Somehow in the space of a handful of days, a wave off the coast of Africa was now a storm that was larger than the state of Florida itself.

The spaghetti models remained a joke, covering the entire state in brightly colored lines, showing the possible paths it could take.

Not that it mattered. With a storm this size, the only way it could avoid hitting Florida would be if it suddenly reversed course and died.

One model showed it doing just that—the moving-away part, at least—but there was always an outlier in situations like these.

Nobody took it seriously. No, this storm was going to hit.

It was just a matter of where and how hard.

Nick and Cassie’s hurricane party was quickly canceled as landfall somewhere between Sarasota and Suwannee in the next twenty-four hours became inevitable. The day before the storm was set to hit, Nick came over to Sophie’s place to hang her hurricane shutters.

“You know, you could get something a little more high-tech.” He grunted as he wrestled the steel panels out of the storage closet in the breezeway.

They’d already hung plywood over her east-facing windows and her sliding-glass door.

All that was left were these big ones for outside.

“They make retractable ones these days, so you don’t have to keep putting them on and taking them off. ”

“Oh sure,” Sophie said. “Let me just go get some cash off my money tree and make that happen.”

Nick snorted. “Point taken. Grab that end, at least. These things are kind of heavy, and awkward as hell.”

That she could do. Sophie moved to hoist one end of the shutter.

“Hold it steady!” Nick said. “It needs to be straight so I can line it up with the screw holes.”

“I’m trying!” But she had zero upper-body strength, struggling to hold the shutter up while Nick worked to screw the panel in place.

“Sophie!” His voice held a warning tone as her grip on the panel slipped.

“Sorry, sorry!” The sharp steel panel bit into her palm, but she held it as steady as she could, when suddenly—

“Here. I got it.” A hand appeared below hers, grasping on to the side of the shutter, and Sophie was surrounded by the scent of clean soap and an undertone of pine that she’d come to associate with Tristan.

He was just there , his chest at her back, his arms around her, but it wasn’t an embrace; instead, he grasped her end of the hurricane shutter.

She should protest, she should tell him to go away, but instead she slipped under his arm, leaving the shutter installation to the two men who were stronger than she was.

Feminism was all well and good, but dropping the stupid thing on her foot wasn’t going to do anything for women’s rights.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Nick said when it was finally screwed into place.

He set his screw gun on the ground and wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“Do you know where your shutters are? We could go ahead and…” His voice trailed off as he took a step toward Tristan’s place, frowning at the window.

While Sophie’s front window was edged with bolts that were now holding up the shutters, Tristan’s front window had no such line of bolts around the edges.

“Or not,” Nick finished. “I guess you’ve got the fancy retractable shutters?”

“Do I?” Tristan’s eyes were wide and guileless as he followed Nick over to the front window.

Both men examined it the way they’d examine an overheated car engine, hands on their hips with no idea of what they were really looking at.

Sophie leaned against the railing; she’d be no help at all, so sitting this one out was the best call.

“Huh.” Nick’s forehead was practically plastered against the window, looking up into the frame. “I don’t see a track. You do have hurricane shutters, right?”

“I…I have no idea.” Tristan took out his phone. “I can ask the property manager.”

“You can, but I don’t think you do.”

Tristan looked up from his phone. “And that’s bad, right?”

“Pretty sure the hardware store’s out of plywood by now…” Nick chewed on his bottom lip, squinting at the big picture windows of Tristan’s condo. Then he shook his head decisively. “I’m sure those windows are hurricane rated. You’ll probably be fine.”

“Yeah?” Tristan looked pointedly at Sophie’s front window, which was totally concealed by corrugated steel.

“Yeah.” Nick only sounded a little doubtful as he picked up his screw gun. “You good, Sophie?”

She nodded. “Thanks again.” Nick waved off her thanks, and she watched as he headed down the hallway and toward the steps.

She didn’t want to look at the shutters.

Sure, they were necessary, especially when a storm like this was imminent.

But they blocked out all the light, turning her home into a dungeon for the foreseeable future.

It was gonna take a lot of candles for this place to feel like a home.

Of course, hurricanes and power outages went hand in hand, so candles were as inevitable as the oncoming storm.

But as much as she didn’t want to look at her shutters, she didn’t want to look at Tristan, either.

He had become the most conflicting part of her life, and she didn’t like conflict.

Maybe if she just stared down the hallway where Nick had gone, Tristan would get the hint and go back inside his own place and leave her alone.

No such luck. He cleared his throat behind her, and when she didn’t turn around, he just started talking. “I don’t know if you’ve canceled your tours yet this weekend, but…”

“Trying to get one up on me?” She spit the words out before she could check them, but was he serious?

The last thing she was thinking about was her ghost tour.

She’d already emailed her day job, letting them know she’d likely be unavailable for a few days, assuming they lost power.

The loss of that income wasn’t great, and of course there wouldn’t be tours for a couple weekends, either.

Cassie might appreciate a few days off work, but to Sophie, hurricanes were a money pit.

The last thing she needed was Mr.Businessman over here telling her they should plan for tourists to be in town, clamoring for a ghost tour during a hurricane. Idiot.

And then of course, Tristan had to keep talking and prove her wrong. “I went ahead and canceled all of mine. I figured trying to lead a walking tour in a hurricane wasn’t the way to go.”

All of Sophie’s ire escaped in a long sigh. “Your top hat could fly off.” Sophie tried to be solemn as she nodded, but her lips twitched in a smile that she couldn’t quite hide.

That earned her a snort, and her smile widened despite herself as she turned to face him. Ugh. How dare he lean against his front door like that. How dare he smile at her like that, his eyes catching hers. He was just rude.

She nodded toward his phone. “You find out about your hurricane shutters yet?”

“I texted the property manager. Hopefully she knows something. But…” He glanced down at his phone as if expecting a response.

“I dunno. Nick didn’t see anything, and he seems to know what he’s talking about.

” He slipped his phone into his back pocket and glanced toward his front window, doubt clouding his expression.

“Maybe you were right before. Maybe I should get out of here. Get a little further inland, or up north.”

“You can’t do that now,” Sophie said before she could check herself. “It’s too late.”

“Too late?” His brow furrowed. “Didn’t they say the storm isn’t hitting till tomorrow?”

“Right. That’s way too late. There’s one road out of town, and by the time you get to I-75, it’ll be a parking lot.

Not to mention, every hotel from here to halfway through Georgia is probably already full.

If you got in your car now, I can guarantee that you’ll still be sitting in gridlock traffic when Flynn makes landfall.

And trust me, you don’t want to be in your car when Flynn makes landfall. ”

“Damn.” He sighed. “I guess I should have taken your advice and gotten out of town at the beginning of the week.”

“I wasn’t really…” She didn’t want to finish that sentence. Because she’d never actually wanted him to evacuate. But shouldn’t she? Life would certainly be easier if he were gone. A little less colorful, maybe. A lot fewer clandestine kisses, certainly. But easier.

She tried changing the subject. “Did you stock up?”

“On what?” He looked at her blankly. “Red wine and Pop-Tarts?”

“No!” Was he serious? “Water, batteries, all that stuff.”

His expression became incredulous. “I started to, back in June. Then you told me not to bother!” He threw up his hands and paced away from her in frustration. “Earlier this week you were all throwing a hurricane party!”

“Well, plans changed!” she shot back, but deep inside she felt a twinge of guilt.

When Flynn intensified overnight, she’d run down to the Supernatural Market and grabbed the last two gallons of water and some nonperishables to get her through a few days without power.

She’d stocked up on batteries, and called Nick to ask him to come help her with the hurricane shutters.

But she hadn’t checked on Tristan. And she probably should have. Instead she’d left him to spend the week in his fancy condo, doing whatever fancy things he did in there, his mind still on rum and hurricane cakes.

So maybe she’d messed up a little here. But she wasn’t his mother. It wasn’t like she owed him anything.

“It’s okay. I can tough it out.” Tristan looked out toward the water. The Gulf looked the same as it did any other day, with the rays of the afternoon sun sparkling on the water as it lapped lazily at the shore.

A silence fell between them, and Sophie’s heart quickened.

Most of the time, when they were together like this, it was at night.

They’d linger in front of her door, both of them tired from an evening of running their respective ghost tours.

Tristan would have his top hat in one hand, his cravat hanging limply around his neck as the glow of their porch lights around them was almost otherworldly.

Tristan would step closer, Sophie would lay a hand on his chest. His mouth would cover hers…

But it wasn’t night. It was the middle of the afternoon, and they didn’t do things like that when the summer sun was high in the sky.

Still, Sophie lingered, and so did he, the awkwardness growing.

Was she supposed to invite him into her condo turned dungeon to ride out the storm with her?

It was probably the nice thing to do: provide sanctuary to the unprepared.

Sophie didn’t know if she could cross that line. All these weeks, all these kisses. They’d been on neutral ground. Inviting him into her space was an unprecedented step she wasn’t ready to take.

She took a shaking breath. “Listen…”

“Yeah?” Hope lit up his eyes, and a smile lifted his lips.

“If you have any Ziploc bags, fill them with water and put them in the freezer. The ice will keep your frozen food cold longer when the power goes out. And when it does, don’t open your fridge, either. And…” She took a deep breath. “If the storm gets really bad…”

“Yeah?” That hope was still there, and he even took a step toward her. She fell a step back. He was so, so close to that line now, and she just couldn’t let him step over it.

“That’s when you should hunker down in the bathroom or your bedroom closet. Any room without any windows. Good luck!” Before she could watch his face fall, she turned on her heel and headed inside, closing her front door behind her with a snap. Then she threw the bolt for good measure.

She was riding out this storm alone. It only seemed right. Sophie knew how to do alone.