Page 24 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

LINCOLN

The line outside Tinsel's Ghost Tours booth was long enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief for a good season ahead.

Winter was Tinsel's tourist season, thanks to the ski slopes and an impressive number of Christmas-themed shops.

Summer still attracted a crowd, but most of it focused on camping and holing up in fishing cabins until August rolled around.

"Mr. Hill." Abel Johnson was an old, quiet man who owned most of the Ghost Tour buses (despite the different-named tours). His family bought up a host of tour companies after decades of working for them.

"I haven't seen you in so long, I was starting to think you moved on," he said.

"Just a busy summer," I promised. "I'll be here to use up all my membership points once fall comes around."

Abel smiled. All his children had moved out of Tinsel, and his grandchildren didn't come to visit.

He spent most of his days selling tickets and driving tour buses.

I'd made a habit of taking tours any free chance I got.

He was so used to my presence that he created a membership card in my honor.

He claimed it was a good business move, but I think he was trying to help me save some money.

I countered his generosity by stocking up on Tinsel Ghost Tour merch any chance I got.

"I need two tickets." I scanned the new product display behind him. Abel loved a quirky design. He'd hired a comic artist who went by the name kraken to draw all the illustrations for the exclusive merch. "Two of those baseball caps, a large and medium tee, and what's that…? A water bottle?"

"It's horrid," Abel warned. "Tastes of plastic, no matter how much you wash it. Bad investment, I've been meaning to take them down but haven't got around to it."

"Put me down for one." I wouldn't subject Celeste to microplastics, no matter how much of a super fan I was. The bottle could be transformed into a pen holder or a flower pot.

"Where's your buddy?" he asked. "The nice one with the cookies?"

I smiled. Henrik usually accompanied me on tours. He'd ask the tour guide millions of questions and marvelled at the answers as if half of the responses weren't ad lib.

"He's actually doing something young people like to do for once: going to a party."

Abel scoffed. "I think he's better at baking."

I chuckled. "I'll tell him he owes you cookies."

"So, did you buy another ticket for one of 'em ghosts?" Abel collected my merchandise, taking his time to fold the t-shirts neatly before tucking them into the paper bag.

"Nope, I got a new partner in crime," I said. "She's using the bathroom before we head out."

I'm an amalgamation of energy and nerves anytime I thought too long about Celeste being here with me. It was still unclear whether her agreeing to go out was a dream. Regardless, I was determined to make sure I enjoyed every second, even if the edges began to blur and I woke up in disappointment.

Abel raised a brow. "She?"

"We're working on a project together and decided we needed the night off for something fun."

I tried to keep my voice steady. Cool. I could be chill about this. Or, at least pretend to be, while internally I couldn't stop repeating, she's here, don't fuck this up. She's here and we're not going to fuck this up.

He smiled. "Oh yeah?"

My stomach dropped for a second, fearing I had shared my mantra out loud. "What?"

"This is the same girl you talked about in the book club?" he asked.

"Yeah." My amusement bloomed when Abel nodded with a sense of pride.

"Was it the flowers?" he asked.

I'd convinced Abel to join the Pinewoods Bookstore mystery book club last semester (in secret hopes Lenny and him might have some sparks).

He didn't like the books, but he could stomach the company (more interested in Lenny than Lenny was interested in him).

I suppose we were alike in that way, obsessed with ghost stories and prone to falling first.

Besides Lenny, Abel loved post-book club gossip. And all the attendees were old enough to offer advice to someone young enough to be still stumbling over their toes in the dating world. Our talks often led to my cider-drunk confessions centering on Celeste.

I'd come away from book club with a million suggestions. I ignored all of them in favor of not coming on too strong. Everyone had been helpful, don't get me wrong, but most of what they'd suggested would have been too overwhelming for Celeste.

"Kind of," I said, not wanting to disappoint.

Abel's gaze flickered over my shoulder, distracted enough for me to turn around. Celeste had exited the bathroom. My heart hammered in a familiar yet still disarming rhythm when I met her gaze. She smiled at me, her brow relaxing when she saw me, and started our way.

"That's her?" he asked.

"Yeah." It was hard to breathe in the best way possible. "That's Celeste."

"You should get more flowers," Abel murmured. "Every day. A woman like her deserves flowers."

I smiled and nodded. Because that was the least a guy could do for a woman like her. Celeste deserved all the flowers on every inch of the mountainside.

"Hey, sorry I took so long," she said when she got to my side.

"No worries," I said. "This is Abel. My friend. He owns the tour company."

Abel tipped his nonexistent hat to her. Celeste smiled and offered him a shy, "Nice to meet you."

"We should be heading out soon," Abel said. "In the meantime, why don't you two get yourself something on me?"

He dug out a couple of free coupons for cups of frozen lemonade and ice cream sandwiches to redeem at the cafe across the street.

"Flowers," he mouthed before we could set off.

I laughed as I led Celeste to the cafe.

"What?" she looked up at me, already amused despite not knowing what I was laughing about.

"Nothing," I said. "Got you some things."

She peeked into the outstretched bag. "You didn't have to. Tourist souvenirs are a fortune in this town."

"When I go on a tour, I always like to experience it in full." I pulled out the cap and raised my brow, asking if I could put it on her.

Celeste nodded and stood still while I slipped the cap on. She repositioned her two braids so they hung over her shoulders. My fingers lingered on the rim of the hat, an excuse to stay as close to her as possible.

"Does it look okay?" she asked when far too much time was spent adjusting a simple baseball cap.

"Looks like you're ready to go ghost hunting."

Her forehead wrinkled. "I thought this was a ghost tour."

"Little column A, little column B."

"Is there a pamphlet or something?" Celeste wondered, gaze straying back to the tour booth. "So, I can get a rundown?"

"You don't need a rundown—" I tugged on the t-shirt and clipped my water bottle to my belt loop. “—when you have a seasoned professional right next to you."

She tilted her head, studying me. "A seasoned professional?"

I was still getting used to that teasing glint in her eyes and the slight hitch in her voice, which I found happened whenever she tried to flirt with me.

"Questioning my qualifications?"

She shrugged. "I'm more of a seeing-is-believing type of person."

The space between us had shrunk. I was close enough to grab her waist if I wanted. Kiss her lips. Whisper how much I wanted her.

Instead, I settled for grabbing the bottom of her shirt and gently tugging her close enough that there's nothing between us anymore.

"Want to talk?" I asked, feeling more levelheaded and ready to clear the air.

Celeste swallowed, nervous as she nodded. "Okay…explain yourself. You have five minutes."

I laughed. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd be bossy."

It's sexy and now, I'm desperate for her to tell me what to do and how to do it.

"I've waited long enough," she said. "And also, the time limit is because the tour bus boards in ten, and I really would like that frozen lemonade."

"I will make sure you have your lemonade."

"And my explanation?"

My gaze fell to her lips for a second. They're red, covered in a gloss that sparkled in the light. Had I really been lucky enough to have a taste of her?

"You'd been so anxious and stressed," I started.

She smiled. "When am I not?"

"True." I chuckled. "But I didn't want to kiss you when you were in the middle of that kind of storm. I wanted to be sure you wanted it to happen. I wanted to be sure you weren't holding on to me in fear of getting caught up in something else."

"Lincoln… I'm pretty sure I kissed you," she said. "So, yes, I wanted it to happen. Did you?"

I scoffed. "Of course, I did. And I kissed you."

"I stood up on my toes," she said. "Why else would I do that?"

I frowned, trying to remember. "But I leaned in."

"After I leaned in."

"Are we arguing?" A very low-stakes and arousing argument.

"We are. And you deserve it after how you pulled away." She playfully stepped back, putting unnecessary distance between us. "I panicked, and it was all I could think about, but couldn't talk about for days."

"I'm sorry." I moved closer. "I was playing it safe."

"Ask me next time," she said, distracted by my lips this time. "If I want it safe… don't assume just because I haven't…done this that you know what I want. Or need."

I nodded, breath caught in my throat, skin on fire with the need to touch her. "What do you want? What do you need? I'll make it up to you."

She stood on her toes again, and I'm so hers I don't know how I've lasted this long without her.

"A frozen lemonade," she whispered against my lips before lowering herself.

My head's buzzing from the suddenness of expectations rising. It took a moment for me to get my bearings once again before saying, "Whatever you want."

With our frozen lemonade in hand, Celeste and I boarded the old tour bus that would drive us around Tinsel. The sunset painted our seats a fuzzy, warm orange. The bus was half full of tourists, most of whom were Americans because Tinsel wasn't popular enough to attract much international attention.