Page 53 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Thirty-Eight

Sophie sighed in relief at the knock on her door.

God, finally . Terry had said that the deliveries were going to take a while tonight, but that hadn’t been bad at all.

She pushed back from her laptop and all but sprinted for the door.

She was starving, and it wasn’t until her place had gotten dark enough that she had to turn on a lamp that she remembered she’d forgotten to eat.

She opened the door and fell back a step. Tristan. She’d been thinking about him all day. Of course she had. Him being here now was like something out of a dream.

But when she opened her mouth, the stupidest thing came out. “You’re not a pizza.”

“I’m not.” Tristan looked at her like she was a glass of water on a hot day. Like if she needed him to, he’d figure out a way to be a pizza. “Got one on the way, huh? Sausage and pepperoni? Extra sauce?” He glanced over his shoulder out into the breezeway.

“Of course.” Ask him to stay , Cassie had said. Like it was that easy. And it probably was for Cassie. People stayed for people like her. Sophie’s heart pounded at the thought of opening her mouth. At saying the words. At giving him the chance to break her heart a second time.

She couldn’t do it. Instead, she swung the door a little wider. It wasn’t an explicit invitation, but it was the best she could do right now.

“I won’t take up much of your time.” He sounded all professional as he stepped inside, and for the first time she noticed he held a manila envelope.

It crinkled in his hands as he turned it around and around.

His gaze roamed her walls, her bookcases, her sofa, as though he’d never seen her place.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he finally said.

“I figured.” He’d probably intended for that to be the beginning of a longer sentence, but she didn’t want to hear any more. Better to head him off. “I saw the movers yesterday. I thought maybe you’d already gone.”

“What?” He looked at her like she’d suggested he take a baseball bat to a kitten. “You thought I’d leave without saying goodbye?”

She wouldn’t have put it past him. “I didn’t exactly leave the door open the last time we talked.” She dropped her gaze, fixating on a swirl in the hardwood almost exactly halfway between them. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, I’m sorry.” His words brought her eyes back up, and there was nothing but open honesty in his face. Okay, maybe a little regret too. A lot of regret. “I threw my privilege in your face, didn’t I? That’s not the kind of person I want to be. I wanted to give you this.”

Sophie looked at the envelope that he’d all but pushed into her hands. Almost hopelessly crumpled now, it was sealed, with her name on the outside in his handwriting. She couldn’t even begin to guess. “What is this?”

“Call it a parting gift,” he said as she started to tear it open.

“An apology. Call it whatever you want, if it means you’ll take it.

I just…” He paused, as though thinking better of something he wanted to say.

“I wanted to say thank you, Sophie. For this summer. I didn’t get to love you for very long, but they were the best few weeks of my life. ”

Love.

Sophie’s heart stuttered at the word, and her brain skidded to a full stop.

Screw the envelope; this was much more important.

Her eyes darted up to his. There it was—that open honesty again.

But she couldn’t help but notice the tense he’d used.

“You loved me?” It was better than nothing, she tried telling herself.

Tristan shook his head, and at first her heart sank, but then he said, “I love you.” Present tense. He blinked hard, his blue eyes shining. “I’m pretty sure I always will. I’ll never forget this town, and I’ll never forget you.”

That was great and all, but it was still a past tense thing, wasn’t it? She took a shuddering breath and turned her attention back to the envelope in her hands. That seemed safer.

Inside were a few sheets of paper, stapled at the top corner. Boneyard Key Ghost Tour Business Plan , the cover page said. “What…Is this yours?”

“No,” he said as she flipped through the pages.

“It’s yours. For your ghost tour. My own recent failure aside, I’m not the worst at putting together a business plan.

I created a budget there, allocating for online advertising, even print if you’re feeling spicy.

And that last page there—” He stepped closer, turning the pages in her hands, and she couldn’t breathe from how close he was.

She would talk business plans all day if he would be this close to her.

“That’s your website. The account information is right there, and the hosting is paid for.

All you have to do is log in and set it to go live. ”

“I’ve never had a website.” She stared at the page as though it were in a foreign language.

“I know. It’s been driving me nuts.” His voice was wry, and Sophie’s mouth kicked up in response. “You can sell tickets online this way, and you don’t have to rely on Nick and his notepad.”

“Hey, Nick likes that notepad.” But she let out a small laugh, and so did he, because that was a lie.

While Nick had never complained about their arrangement for the past six years, if she went in tomorrow and told him he didn’t have to keep track of her reservations for her?

That notepad would go merrily into the trash.

She flipped back to the beginning of the business plan. “You really think I could do this?” It seemed like a lot. It seemed…well, it seemed very adult. And she was getting good at being an adult lately.

“I think you can do anything,” he said immediately. Had anyone ever believed in her as completely as he did?

It was that belief that gave her courage. She carefully put the envelope and the business plan onto her dining table, next to her open laptop. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears, her temples. Ask him to stay .

She took a breath, and she could barely get enough air in her lungs to speak, but it would have to do. “Then could I make you stay?”

Tristan looked at her as though she’d just turned his world upside down. Her heart pounded harder. Was there a way to unsay the words? Because surely he wasn’t going to—

“Yes.” The word landed between them with a solid thump of finality. “You want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

Sophie blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. Of course. I told you before. You tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.

” But she could tell he was thinking hard.

Trying to find a way out of it? No. No, he wasn’t.

“The movers already took my stuff, but I don’t need my stuff.

I can get new stuff. I have my laptop. I have my hat.

Screw it. There’s like a million souvenir T-shirts downtown. I can get a whole new wardrobe.”

Adrenaline, combined with the idea of Tristan’s entire wardrobe consisting of shirts like I got Beachside-faced on Shit Street made a giggle escape from Sophie’s mouth. “We can get you some regular clothes.”

“Or I can just have my stuff moved back. You really mean it?” He came closer, reaching out for her, and all she could do was nod dumbly. His palm, warm against her face, felt like home.

She closed her eyes and felt a tear hit her cheek. She’d missed him so much. When the tiniest of sobs escaped her, it was like a dam breaking. Tristan pulled her into his arms, and she kept nodding against his chest.

“Sophie.” He whispered her name into her hair.

It was a declaration. It was a prayer. “All I want is to stay here with you. I don’t care about any of the rest of it.

The worst part about that whole stupid bet, that stupid deal with my dad, was that it put an end date on us. I don’t want an end date.”

“Me neither.” Her voice was muffled against him, and her glasses had gone a little askew, but she didn’t care. She slid her arms around his back, holding him to her. She didn’t want to pull away, now that she had him back.

“Of course, I don’t have a place to live,” he said. “Any chance I could crash here?”

Sophie’s laugh was watery as she pulled back. “I think we could draw up a very reasonable rental agreement.”

He ran his thumbs under her eyes, catching her tears. “Don’t cry, Sophie. I never want you to cry.” He straightened her glasses and kissed her nose. “Tell me more about this rental agreement,” he said softly. “Do I get my own room?”

Sophie shook her head. “I’m in the primary bedroom now. Plenty of room for two. We can turn the other bedroom into an office.”

“I like how that sounds. Especially that ‘room for two’ part.” He was grinning now, and so was she, and when he bent to her, she tilted her head up to meet his mouth.

“Now,” he said against her lips. “About those rental terms…”

“Good question.” She punctuated the sentence with another kiss. “What’s the going rate for half my bed?”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay it.” He deepened their kiss, his hands sliding into her hair, holding her to him while their mouths got reacquainted with one another’s skin.

Sophie hummed as they broke apart. “I like these terms already.”

“I’m going to need to find a job too,” he mused out loud, kissing the top of her head as he tucked her into him. “Do you know when that smoothie place is opening? Are they hiring?”

Now she had an image of him in a smoothie shop uniform, all neon-pastel T-shirt and matching visor.

And while the image was funny as hell, awareness spiked within her.

He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know.

Because she hadn’t told him yet. Sophie choked out a laugh that sounded a lot like a sob as she pulled away from him. “I think I can help you out there.”

She tugged on his hand, and he followed her to her laptop. “I thought you’d left,” she said, waking her machine up. “I was going to email this to you later tonight. You know, after the pizza and the wine and the crying.”

“I’m fine with the pizza and wine, but I object to the crying.” He kissed her temple as she pulled up the shared spreadsheet that had been the bane of her existence all these months. The spreadsheet she’d spent the past couple of days revising.

“Have you sent your books to your dad yet?” She bit her lip. If she was too late…

Tristan rolled his eyes with a groan. “Don’t remind me. No, not yet. Eric’s going to send them at the very last minute on the first.”

“Petty,” Sophie said as relief swept through her. “I like that.” She angled the laptop in Tristan’s direction. “I made some adjustments.”

“As much as I appreciate you cooking the books, I don’t think that…” His voice trailed off. “What did you do, Sophie? This isn’t cooking the books. This is broiling them.”

She snorted. “It’s a merger.” Tristan didn’t reply, his eyes roaming over her screen, so she continued.

“We’ve been running two marginally successful ghost tours all spring and summer.

So what if, together, we’ve actually been running one wildly successful ghost tour business?

Would our combined profits be enough to make your dad happy? ”

“I…” He sank into the chair next to her, pulling her laptop closer to scroll through the spreadsheet. “I don’t understand.”

“Will it get you out from under your dad’s thumb?”

“I have to send this to Eric, but I think so.” He turned incredulous eyes to her. “I can stay.” The smile that broke out across his face looked like the most beautiful sunrise Sophie had ever seen. “Except I don’t want to run one ghost tour.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I was wrong. So, so wrong that day at the coffee shop. Your stories matter. Not just to the tourists, but the town. So if I stay, I’m not taking you over. And you’re not taking me over. Turns out, this town really is big enough for two ghost tours.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up from Sophie’s chest. “Are you kidding?”

Tristan shook his head. “Eric’s got some hard data to back it up; I’ll have him email it over.” His gaze went back to the laptop, and he scrolled through the spreadsheet. “You were really going to do this for me? Let me present a faked merger to my dad, even when you thought I’d left?”

Sophie nodded. “I wanted you happy,” she said. “Even if it wasn’t with me.” She drew in the longest breath of her life. It was now or never, wasn’t it? “Because I love you.”

Tristan closed his eyes—a long, slow blink—and when he opened them again, they sparkled in the lamplight. He pushed the laptop aside and reached out a hand. She took it gladly and let him pull her into his lap, straddling his thighs.

“Is this real?” He looked at her in wonder, his eyes roaming her face.

“I sure hope so.” She bent to kiss him, taking his small moan into her mouth. His hair slipped between her fingers like water. It didn’t take long for their kiss to deepen, her glasses to be discarded to the table.

“God, I’ve missed you.” His hands dropped to her hips, pulling her against him. She rocked in his lap, the ridge in his jeans telling her exactly how much he’d missed her. She couldn’t judge; she’d missed him too.

Tristan’s mouth moved to her jaw, behind her ear, down her throat. “I have so much to do.”

His hands were busy, sliding up the back of her tank top, unhooking her bra. “Yeah?” Sophie leaned back in his embrace, pulling her bra out through the armhole of her top.

Tristan’s eyes sparked. “Nice trick. Come here.” He pulled her close again. “As I was saying. I gotta email that spreadsheet to Eric. Cancel my car to the airport tomorrow. Hell, I gotta cancel my flight…”

“If you’re working on your to-do list right now, I think we’re doing this wrong.” Sophie started unbuttoning his shirt—all these months in Boneyard Key and he still dressed like a businessman.

Tristan helped her take his shirt off, yanking at the garment impatiently before tossing it to the floor. “Trust me,” he said, “you’re doing this exactly right.”

The knock on the door startled them both, and they looked at each other in alarm before Sophie burst out laughing.

“Pizza’s here.” She straightened her clothes as she clambered off his lap, reaching for her glasses. “You hungry?”

“I really am.” He caught her hand to pull her down for another slow, lingering kiss. “And after that, I’d love some pizza.”

Much, much later, they had pizza. It was cold.