Page 22 of Screwed by the Minotaur in Hallow’s Cove (Hallow’s Cove #6)

Chapter sixteen

Rick

With Lea back in Hallow’s Cove, her city life wrapped up and squared away, we fell into a rhythm. We traded off nights at each other’s apartments. I worked at my shop during the day, but snuck away at odd hours to help her with hers.

At first, there was nothing much to do but wait.

Every morning I’d walk over and find her cross-legged on the floor, staring at paint swatches or hunched over a laptop, drafting up to-do lists that bordered on the metaphysical: Fix the floor.

Replace the windows. Make Mom proud. Start over.

Some days I’d find her with her hands deep in potting soil, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a streak of dirt on her forehead like a war stripe.

She’d be talking to her seedlings as if they were old friends.

I kept my jokes to a minimum, because it seemed less like she was talking to herself than holding court with a thousand tiny, green confidants.

Given the progress that had already been made, Randy’s crew finished the big stuff in two days.

After the demo, the shop looked like one of those time-lapse videos where a building crumbles to the studs and then, impossibly, emerges shinier and more itself than before.

The new floor gleamed, the windows sparkled, and the back room was dry as a bone.

I handled the grit work—patching drywall, running new conduit, swapping out some ancient fuse box for the kind that wouldn’t burn the whole block down after a power surge.

Evenings, we’d go over the day’s progress, splitting takeout or leftovers, always ending up on the floor or the work table, limbs tangled and mouths hungry.

Sometimes, Lea would fall asleep mid-sentence—head on my chest, hand curled in my shirt—and I just let her, because it felt like a privilege to be the last thing she trusted before she let go.

It was the third week after coming back from the city when she started getting squirrelly.

The opening was creeping closer, and her lists multiplied.

She’d read one, then scribble three more things to do.

She double-checked everything I touched, though I didn’t mind.

If it calmed her, I’d let her measure each paint stripe and count every petal on the fake sample bouquets.

She was, technically, my boss for all work performed within her domain, and I liked the way she’d start to order me around, then forget what she was ordering and just stare at me until I kissed her out of her spiral.

She never said it out loud, but I could feel her nerves ratchet up a notch every day.

I wanted to fix it, be the guy who made the world easier for her, but I also knew that nothing would calm her down except the thing itself: the launch, the proof that she could survive a night with all eyes on her and not collapse into a heap.

So I decided to make the opening a little easier. I fired off a text to Maisie— Urgent, need your help, bookstore? —and left Bryce with the hardware. By the time I crossed the street, the rain had started, drumming a steady beat on the awnings as I ducked through the door of the bookstore.

Barnaby was at the counter, nose deep in some leather-bound volume that looked older than the town itself. With the stormy light outside illuminating his pale, angular profile, he looked like he belonged in an oil painting.

“She’s in the back,” he said, not looking up, but his mouth curling into a hint of a smile. “Try not to break anything.”

I snorted and wove my way through the shelves. I still got lost in here sometimes—Barnaby’s arrangement of books was vast and varied. I found Maisie hunkered over her computer in the back room.

She didn’t look up as I walked in, just kept typing with the kind of terrifying efficiency that always made me think she was secretly running the government. I hovered in the doorway until she finally glanced up, eyebrows arched, face already halfway to a smirk.

“I thought you’d come crawling back sooner,” she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “What’s the emergency?”

I closed the door behind me, shedding a little of my pride. “I need a favor.”

“Is it about Lea?”

“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” I sat opposite her, the scent of old paper and coffee grounds instantly calming my nerves. “She’s almost ready to open the shop, but I want it perfect. Grand opening, big community thing. I want her to feel like this place is hers, that she belongs.”

Maisie’s eyes lit up, equal parts vampiric mischief and genuine warmth. “You want the full Hallow’s Cove welcome committee,” she said. “Don’t play coy, Rick—I’ve seen you decorate for Halloween. You’re a sucker for a surprise party.”

My ears burned, but I didn’t deny it. “Lea’s never had anyone really root for her, Maisie. Not since her mom. I want the whole town here.”

Maisie spun in her chair, already opening her calendar. “What’s the timeline?”

“Friday night. Seven p.m. She wants to soft open then, but I want it to be... big.”

Maisie whistled low. “Short notice. Lucky for you, my organizational prowess is legendary. I’ll get the flyers up at Killy’s and Cool Beans. Mitch and Clay can do pastries and coffee. Roan will design the signs.”

I exhaled, a little more relaxed. “What about Barnaby?”

“You know he’ll close early. He secretly loves that stuff.” She arched a brow and leaned forward. “So what’s the rest of the plan, hotshot? Gonna sweep her off her feet, or just give a toast and call it good?”

My jaw flexed. “I want her to know she’s not alone. I want her to see—really, actually see—how much people care. If I’m all in, I want to show her she’s not just…tolerated here. She’s wanted.”

Maisie smiled like she saw through me, down to the bare beams. “You know, for a guy with horns, you wear your heart right out in the open.”

“Does it make me a sap?”

“Maybe. But you picked the right vampire to help. I’ll make it rain humans and monsters, Rick. Leave the rest to me.”

I stood up, feeling lighter—like letting someone else take a little of the load made space for something new to grow. “Thanks, Maisie.”

I left with a spring in my step, the rain pelting my face on the way out, cold but invigorating. If I hurried, I could finish the wiring in Lea’s shop before she noticed her fancy new sign was already delivered. For once, I wanted to beat her to the punch.

It was almost dusk when I circled back to the shop.

The lights inside glowed warm and promising, illuminating the mess of cardboard and bubble wrap that signaled we were almost ready.

Lea was hunched over her laptop at the front counter, her hair tied up in a paint-splattered scarf, concentration furrowing her brow.

She didn’t hear me at first, so I just watched—stealing a minute to memorize her, the way she chewed on the end of her pencil and muttered softly at the screen.

It stunned me how much she already belonged here, even before the sign had even gone up.

I leaned in the doorway, admiring, and when she finally looked up, her expression changed from fierce focus to soft and goofy in a heartbeat. “Hey,” she said, like it had been minutes, not hours, since we’d last crossed paths.

I nodded toward the counter. “You lost in Excel hell again?”

She groaned theatrically, rolling her eyes. “I swear these invoices breed at night. You’d think I was trying to solve world hunger, not order biodegradable seed pots.”

I crossed the room, smirking, and plucked the laptop from under her fingers. “Let me rescue you.”

Lea tried to snatch it back, but I held it up out of reach. Even on tiptoe, she was a good foot below my chin, which only made her scowl more dangerous. “Rick, if you delete my spreadsheets, I’ll murder you and use your horns as plant stakes.”

I gave her a kiss on the cheek and handed it over, arms raised in submission. “Wouldn’t dream of it, flower girl. But you’ve got to let me take you home. You look like you’re two more line items away from a nervous breakdown.”

She laughed, cheeks flushed, and leaned against my chest as I folded her in for a hug. I could feel the tension in her back, all wound up and quivering like an overtuned guitar string.

“I want to get this right,” she murmured into my shirt, voice small and tired.

“You will,” I said, steady and certain.

She allowed me to escort her to her apartment above the shop, her bags and laptop casually draped over one shoulder.

“Can we get takeout?” Lea asked, leaning against me. “I need a quiet night in.”

“Mmm, what are you thinking?” I pushed the door open and ushered her to one of the few chairs.

“How about Thai?”

When the food arrived, we sprawled on the couch, cartons between us, and played a stupid movie in the background.

She ate with one leg slung over mine, scooping noodles with effortless dexterity, and when she dripped sauce on the couch, she just wiped it with her wrist and kept talking.

I loved her for all the little human things, the imperfections she refused to hide.

After, she curled into my side like she always did and closed her eyes, fingers tracing circles on my thigh. “You know what I wish?” she murmured, half-asleep.

“What’s that?”

“I wish tomorrow was already opening night. So I could walk in and just…be done worrying.” Her voice was velvet soft, full of longing and exhaustion.

I kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be perfect, Lea. You know that, right?”

She hummed, unconvinced but comforted, and nestled closer. “Maybe. I’ll believe it when I see people in there. When I see someone pick up a bouquet and smile and it isn’t just you pretending.”

“Hey, I’m a damn good actor,” I protested, grinning. “You should see me with a bunch of tulips. I get weepy.”

“Liar,” she said, though I could hear the smile in her tired voice.

I kissed her again, slow and sleepy, and we drifted together until the late evening light faded out and the only thing left was the easy hush of her breathing in my arms.