Page 111 of Love, Legacy, and Little Green Aliens

“Finn Abrams. Isn’t he that mystery author?”

Hannah nodded. “Has a reputation as a reclusive grump. Sets all his stories on the Washington Coast. Every year, Daphne invites him to do a signing, and every year, he turns her down.”

“Hmm. Our next picture book: Daphne and the Grumpy Author?”

“Nah, I’m thinking something about a ghost.”

“Han and Xan and the Ghosties?”

“You goofball.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m so happy, Xan.”

“Me too, Han.” He pulled her onto his lap, not an easy move on the wobbly picnic bench. “Happier than I ever thought I could be. We’ve got a beautiful home in the best beach town.”

“Damn straight,” she murmured into the crook of his neck, her soft lips delicious against his skin.

Something about Hannah’s warm presence brought out the poet in him. “We’ve got the sea next door, the stars above, and—”

She stiffened in his arms and pointed skyward, her eyes wide and round. “Look!”

Hovering high above their heads, an eerie greenish light pulsed. Too big to be star or satellite, too quiet to be a helicopter, it hung perfectly still in the deep blue twilight.

A hush fell over the party as, one by one, people noticed him and Hannah gawking upward and then spotted the mysterious light. For several seconds, the craft glowed brighter, pulsed faster, then it streaked seaward at incredible speed and disappeared.

All the little hairs on Xander’s skin stood on end. Speechless, he clung to Hannah, whose mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “Did you see that?” she finally croaked.

His lips stretched in an incredulous grin. “Holy flying spaceballs, beauty. Gus’s friends came to the party!”