Page 36 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

“Rae, how’s the prettiest girl in Ravenwood doing?” Julian asks, leaning close to Wren on the display case. I scoff because I know he’s just trying to annoy her. His blue eyes dance with mirth, and he runs a hand through his unruly mop of curly, so-black-its-almost-blue hair.

“Great, thanks,” I say flatly, not wanting to play his games. “Is your dad here? I talked with him on the phone a few days ago about donating a gift basket.”

“You won’t even acknowledge my compliment? I’m wounded, Rae, truly wounded,” Julian says, touching the back of his hand to his forehead theatrically.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be, pest?” Wren spits in his direction.

“Why be anywhere else, when I can be here, in the presence of the two hottest sisters Ravenwood has ever seen?” Julian asks, a smirk tilting his mouth.

Wren looks like she’s two seconds away from committing a felony, so I step a bit closer to catch her attention. “Hey Wren, can you make me a latte while I wait?” While I’m happy to help my sister bury a body, that would really disrupt my plans today.

“Fine. But no fancy shit,” she grumbles, shoving the now-empty tray in Julian’s hands before stalking off to the espresso machine.

“You know we charge more for the fancy shit, right?” Julian goads. “And you’re supposed to be making us more money, not less. Since you work here, and all.”

I purse my lips, watching as Wren’s shoulders creep upward. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears. I clear my throat and turn back to Julian to find him looking at Wren’s back like an expectant puppy, waiting for his human to engage and throw the stick.

“Anyway. Can you get Robert for me? Please?” I tack on when it looks like he’s about to shoot another verbal barb at my sister.

He sighs and nods, heading back through the swinging door of the kitchen. “So, I see you two are still at each other’s throats,” I say when he’s gone.

“He’s insufferable! Entitled! The worst!

” Wren spews, steaming the milk for my latte in the most violent way possible.

She grumbles more choice words to herself, finishing off my latte with practiced efficiency.

The man who was waiting in line behind me wisely steps aside to give Wren a moment to chill out before placing his order.

“At least his parents are cool,” I venture, trying to bring her back to happy, less-murdery thoughts.

“Yeah, his only redeeming quality isn’t even him, it’s?—”

“Robert!” I greet, waving to the owner of Brewed Awakening. He’s well over six-feet tall and has these piercing blue eyes that add to the whole silver fox ordeal. Rude how some men get prettier as they age. “Hi. Thanks again for doing this.”

“Of course! My wife and I love your shop. She goes through journals like nobody’s business, and your place is always her first stop to find a new one. Then she ends up leaving with a full bag of other stuff,” he says with a laugh.

He hefts a giant, cellophane-wrapped gift basket stuffed full of different items onto the counter.

It has various bags of whole bean coffee, two artisan mugs, a denim Brewed Awakening hat, multiple stickers, prepackaged snacks, and most importantly, a gift certificate giving the winner a month’s supply of lattes.

The whole thing is tied off with a chocolate-colored bow and a Brewed Awakening tag holding it all together.

I chuckle with him. “Yeah, The Veil is good for that. Walk in for a journal, walk out with that plus a tarot deck, a new sweater, and an antique.”

He shifts the basket in his arms a bit and leans in conspiratorially, to say quietly, “So listen, I know the ghost talker who works for you guys is top secret, but do you think she’d be willing to do a private party? We’d pay her in cash and swear ourselves to secrecy.”

I swallow around my suddenly dry throat and hope the panic doesn’t show on my face when I reply, “No, sorry. She’s pretty adamant about not revealing her identity to anyone.” I shift my attention to Wren, who watches us closely.

Robert nods slowly, disappointment clear on his face.

“Well, I thought I’d ask. My wife and I have heard nothing but good things about her.

We’re pretty sure our house is haunted, but it seems to be a benevolent spirit, which is why we’ve left it alone.

We just wanted to try to help them out if they needed it. ”

“Feel free to make an appointment with her,” I say cheerily, disguising how much I want to bolt away from this conversation.

He nods and hands me the basket. “Okay, maybe we’ll try that. Anyway, here you go. I hope it’s helpful and brings in a good chunk of change for you guys. We’ll see you Saturday!”

“Thanks again! I’ll be the one in red,” I say, thoughts shifting to the blood-red evening gown Wren talked me into getting from the thrift store ages ago.

She said it would be a crime to put it back after seeing it on me.

I haven’t had an occasion to wear it until now, so I’m going to take full advantage.

“Here’s your latte,” Wren says, sliding it across the counter to me.

My hands are full, and the gift basket is surprisingly heavy. “Um, I’ll be right back. I’m going to go drop this off across the street.”

“Here, let me carry it for you,” Julian says, materializing from nowhere. Wren and I both squint at him, trying to gauge his angle. “What, can’t I do something nice?” he asks, offended.

I shrug. “Fine. Less work for me. Thank you.” I heft the basket into his arms and dig in my bag for my wallet, careful of the ancient book swaddled up and tucked to the side.

I pay for my coffee, say goodbye to Wren, and lead Julian across the street. We go inside The Veil, and I direct him to put the basket in the back room with the other auction items I’ve been rounding up.

“Hey, Rae? Mind if I take my fifteen now that you’re back?” Lenore asks, wiggling a pack of smokes in her hand. I blink back my surprise—a yogi who smokes honest to god cigarettes. That’s something I wasn’t expecting.

“Sure, go for it. I’ve got it handled,” I say with a smile. She smiles back, shakes out a fresh cigarette, and heads outside, rummaging in her bag for a lighter. I guess she and Aunt Clarissa have a few things in common.

I take a sip of the tasty (if not a little plain) latte and mentally run through my checklist again.

I still have several stores to go to for auction items, I have three Medium appointments later this afternoon, I need to call back the DJ…

Oh, and I should probably eat more than a stale office muffin.

My stomach roils in protest at the thought .

Julian reemerges from the stock room and strolls towards me, nearly walking straight into the too-low chandelier. “Hey, Rae? Can I ask you something before I go?”

I nod, depositing my bag on the counter. “Sure.”

“Why does your sister hate me?” he blurts, looking genuinely interested in my response.

I blink away my surprise. “Uh, well—Hate’s a strong word,” I say, gathering the heavy weight of my hair and lifting it off my neck.

“Wren is who she is. She’s mercurial and testy.

Most of her attitude is all bluster. She holds people at a distance because it feels safer, I guess,” I say, stopping myself from revealing more for fear of incurring Wren’s wrath.

“But you know, she’d probably be more relaxed around you if you stopped provoking her,” I offer with a raised brow.

Julian smiles sheepishly, and I’m reminded of how handsome he is. He’s got the whole bad boy, devil may care attitude and a job that requires a lot of skill and precision. Hot. Too bad Wren would rather peel her own fingernails off and eat them for dessert than go on a date with him.

“I know you’re right. It’s just so easy to get her riled up.

I should probably stop, though.” He pauses, seeming to mull something over.

“Or at least tone it down. She’s been extra irritable lately, and it’s been hard to resist, but I’ll do my best. The workplace is getting a little toxic,” he says with a laugh.

“Good luck with that,” I reply, shaking my head.