Page 47 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Thirty-Two

“Water?” Libby offered a bottle, freshly dripping from the cooler, to Sophie.

“Yes, please.” Sophie plugged her phone in at the charging station at Hallowed Grounds now that there was a free cord.

Then she sank down to sit on the curb. Before opening her water, she rolled it around on her forehead, then rested it on the back of her neck.

It had been a long day after not a lot of sleep the night before, and every muscle in her body was threatening to go on strike.

Contractor bags lined the sidewalk in front of the Chamber of Commerce, filled with palm fronds and Spanish moss and other debris from the storm.

She’d walked several blocks with friends and neighbors, helping drag tree limbs to the curb, and moving smaller branches once they’d been cut down to size.

Libby sat down beside her, cracking open her own bottle. “I like him,” she said before taking a swig.

“Finally!” Ramon crowed from nearby. He’d long since cleaned off the flattop griddle and was now assembling sandwiches from the ingredients in the fridge at the café. He grinned down at Libby. “I’ve been waiting for years to hear you say that.”

Libby scoffed. “Eavesdropping is rude, you know.”

“Not when you’re talking about how awesome I am. In that case, it’s acceptable.”

“I was talking to Sophie,” she said primly. “About Tristan.”

Ramon huffed and stuck his knife back in the mayo jar. “Eh, he’s okay.”

Libby rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Sophie, who gave her an eye roll right back. “You’ve said that before,” Sophie reminded her.

“Well, it’s worth repeating.” Libby’s blond ponytail almost brushed the sidewalk behind her as she leaned her head back, drinking most of the bottle in one go.

Sophie sighed and sipped her own water. She was hot, she was sweaty, and all she wanted was a long shower and her bed.

The shower would be ice-cold, of course, since the power wasn’t back on yet.

It was going to be another long, dark, candlelit night.

But at least they had running water. And tonight she could sleep with the windows open, so it wouldn’t be as stuffy in her place.

And of course, there was Tristan. His place had sustained damage; there was no way he could sleep there. No, he was gonna have to stay at her place again. Darn.

“I like him too.” It was a confession, but it was time to say it.

Libby wrapped an arm around Sophie in a sideways hug. “Thought you might.” Then she dropped her arm, because they were both sweaty and gross. “Where is he, anyway? I saw him earlier over at I Scream Ice Cream, taking the shutters down.”

“I don’t know.” Sophie leaned forward to look up and down the street. She’d lost track of him. “He’ll turn up soon.”

“He’s with Nick.” Ramon was still eavesdropping, but it wasn’t like their conversation was that private anyway. “I think Nick and Vince took him to the cold spot to cool off.”

“Really?” Libby gave a low whistle and raised her eyebrows at Sophie. “I guess he’s really one of us now. A full-fledged resident of Boneyard Key.”

“I guess so.” Sophie wasn’t sure how to react.

It was great that Tristan was accepted by the people she loved and was fitting in seamlessly.

But just yesterday, he’d said he was calling off their little contest. If he’d ceded the contest to her, didn’t that mean he’d be shutting his ghost tour down?

Wouldn’t he be leaving, sooner rather than later?

She probably shouldn’t get attached. And neither should Libby.

But then she saw him, coming down Beachside, chatting and laughing with Nick and Vince. Seeing him made her feel like everything in her life made sense. Like for the first time, her heart was sitting in her chest the way that it should.

His whole attitude lit up when he saw her. “Sophie!” He practically bounded over to where she sat on the curb, beaming down at her. “I was just at the cold spot. Like, the real cold spot! Have you been there? Of course you’ve been there. I mean, you’ve been there, right?”

“I’ve been there.” She didn’t want to sound amused but she couldn’t help it.

She’d seen him, that night at Poltergeist Pizza when the Parmesan cheese had appeared out of nowhere.

And the night when he’d communicated with Sarah Hawkins via Cassie’s refrigerator.

This was no longer someone who was struggling to understand that ghosts existed and were a normal part of life around here.

He was all the way there, understanding and accepting.

Even excited about it. It was everything she could have hoped for.

Maybe she didn’t need to think about him leaving town. Not yet.

“Anything else need doing today?” Tristan glanced around, but crowds were thinning as people began to make their way home in the waning sunlight.

“You can help by taking some of these sandwiches home,” Ramon said. He wrapped up the bread and other nonperishables. The meat and cheese were already in the cooler; there was enough ice for everything to last another day or so.

“You made too many,” Libby said as she got to her feet. “As usual.” She brushed off the back of her denim cutoffs before stacking four of the wrapped sandwiches together. “Okay if I take some home to Nan?”

Ramon waved a hand. “That’s what they’re there for.”

“Come on.” Sophie reached up a hand and let Tristan haul her to her feet. “Let’s get some food and then get home.”

“Home,” Tristan repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

Sophie did too. More than she should.

—

Back at her place, Sophie hit the light switch in the bathroom and then swallowed a curse. Of course. No lights yet.

“I’ve done that so many times.” Tristan appeared in the doorway with one of the LED lanterns from the kitchen. She set it in the corner of the bathroom counter. The light reflected off the mirror, sending a glow through the darkened room.

“I’d love to tell you that you get used to it, but I’d be lying. I think some of the guys even made a drinking game out of it last hurricane.” She reached into the medicine cabinet for the ibuprofen bottle, shaking it in his direction. “Need some?”

Tristan’s moan hit her right in the solar plexus. Well, maybe a little below it. “God, yes please. I’m going to be feeling this in the morning.” His hand wrapped around hers, still holding on to the bottle. “You know what else I’d like to be feeling in the morning…?”

“Your pickup lines are terrible.” Sophie took the bottle back, shaking a couple tablets into her palm and passing them to him.

“I know. I’m exhausted. I promise I’ll come up with something better after a shower.” He swallowed the tablets dry—how were people able to do that? “You wanna help me brainstorm?”

“In the shower ?” It was hard to sound scandalized through a giggle as he reached for her. “No, don’t!” she protested as he stole a kiss. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“So am I.” He reached for the hem of her tank top, and she didn’t protest as he pulled it up and over her head. “That’s what the shower is for.”

“It’s going to be cold.” She pulled off his T-shirt and ran a hand down his chest, lingering as she went.

“Hey, I was a horny teenager once. I took plenty of cold showers.” He unbuttoned his shorts and bent past her to turn on the water.

Sophie shucked her shorts, stepping back from the shower as the water came shooting out.

Tristan didn’t dodge in time, and he let out a yell that was mostly a gasp. “Shit. Okay, yeah. That’s cold.”

“Told you.” But they helped each other finish undressing, letting the water run as though it was going to warm up without a working water heater.

The shower was freezing. Cold water hit warm skin, refreshing for a split second before turning punishing.

They took turns hugging the shower wall, soaping and rinsing quickly while their bodies tried to adjust. Finally Tristan turned, guiding Sophie until her back was pressed against the wall, his body shielding hers from the cold water that beat against his back.

“You’re gonna die of hypothermia.” Sophie’s protest was weak as his slick hands smoothed their way down her body.

“What a way to go.” His mouth moved against her, hot against her increasingly cold skin, gliding down her body as though chasing the water that swirled down the drain.

She pressed her back hard against the wall, fighting for the strength to remain upright when he sank to his knees, parting her thighs.

The water was cold. His shoulders, clutched under her hands, were cold.

But Tristan’s mouth remained hot, licking inside, exploring, savoring, as though he had all the time in the world.

He didn’t stop until she shuddered against him, her cries swallowed by the rush of water hitting cold tile.

Once she could breathe again, she leaned forward over Tristan’s body to turn off the shower.

“Oh, thank God.” Tristan grinned up at her, but his teeth chattered just a little. “I really did think I might die there.”

“Come on.” Sophie reached for one of her fluffy pink towels, wrapping it around him and pulling him from the shower. “Won’t take long to get warmed up.” She had plans for that.

The power was still out the next morning.

Another forced vacation day for Sophie, but there was still plenty to do.

When Tristan’s phone wasn’t blowing up with texts from the condo’s property manager, it was ringing with calls from water remediation specialists and insurance adjusters.

Between phone calls, he and Sophie did what they could with his condo, sweeping up the broken glass and gathering damp towels to be washed once the power was back.

After a while, Sophie began to notice a little crease appearing between Tristan’s eyebrows every time he was on the phone, growing deeper and deeper with every call.

“This really shouldn’t be my problem,” he said later that afternoon. The two of them were back downtown outside of Hallowed Grounds, his long-suffering phone plugged into Nick’s charging station.

Sophie nodded in agreement. “Seems like you’re just the middleman.”

“Should have known that free rent wouldn’t be free.” Sophie knew Tristan well enough by now to recognize a false smile. He checked his phone before leaning back again, an arm around Sophie. Then he squinted off into the distance. “Is that smoke over there? Something on fire?”

“Where?” Sophie followed his gaze to the plume of smoke stretching up toward the sky.

Her heart leapt, but in a good way. She knew what that smoke meant.

“Oooh, come on.” She was on her feet faster than her aching muscles would have liked.

“Terry’s got the wood-fired oven going over at the pizza place. ”

“Is that safe?” But he let her tug him to his feet, following her lead.

She nodded. “Come on,” she said again. “You don’t want to miss this.” She could already taste the smoky char of the crust, its crispness shattering under her teeth. Like Ramon’s breakfast burritos, this was a specific post-hurricane delicacy.

They were halfway through a sausage-and-pepperoni with extra sauce, sitting at one of the picnic tables by the beach, when the power came back.

Behind them, the streetlight winked on, startling them with the sudden brightness.

They instinctively cheered, while behind them came the sounds of everyone in town doing the same.

It was a communal moment—a town-wide sigh of relief that the hurricane was truly over, and things could get back to normal.

But everything now was a new normal, one that Sophie preferred.

Tristan’s condo was a mess. The huge fans left by the water remediation people sounded like jet engines in the living room.

Contractors would be coming in soon to rip out the living room floor.

So the best part of this new normal was that Tristan came to stay with Sophie.

Waking up with Tristan quickly became the easiest, most natural part of her life.

He was always up before her alarm went off.

By the time she’d hit the snooze twice and yawned her way out into the kitchen, he was back from his run, showered and dressed, sipping on a second cup of coffee and checking his emails on his phone.

There was even a cup of coffee for her, still steaming on the counter, with just the right amount of cream and sugar.

Weeks went by this way. Most of his things remained next door, but bit by bit Tristan brought the necessities to her place in a backpack.

They got ready for their respective ghost tours side by side now.

It took Tristan forever to get into that getup, but Sophie had to admit the end result was worth it.

There was something about a man in a suit, now that she let herself admit it.

Yeah, Sophie could really get used to this.

But should she?

They very carefully didn’t talk about the future.

Even when life settled down to a routine of day jobs and contractors and ghost tours on the weekend, there was no real good time to bring it up.

So, you know during the hurricane when you said you were conceding the contest?

What does that mean, exactly? Are you leaving town soon, or… ?

Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The answer was likely to put an end date on all of this. And she wasn’t ready to let anything go. Not yet.