Page 24 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“Morgan?” he says again, handing me his coffee, which I take with a grateful hum. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Roger,” I say, as if that should explain everything. I gulp down a large mouthful of coffee, thankful it’s not so hot it burns my tongue.

Knowing I need more caffeine for this conversation, I lift the mug to my lips and drink deeply.

“Morgan?” An incredulous voice exclaims loudly. My coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I cough, almost spraying Ellis.

Giving another couple of coughs to clear my windpipe and brace myself for the inevitable mockery to follow, I wipe my mouth and turn to find my brother staring at me, his eyes wide with horror.

Then I watch with a sigh as he literally doubles over, planting his hands on his knees, and laughs like a demented hyena.

“Great,” I mutter. “Perfect timing, as always.”

6

Istare at my baby brother and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Annnd wait…

Eventually, he drags in a breath and wipes his eyes. “Oh my god, this alone was worth the torture of the red eye from New York.”

“You’re a dick,” I say dryly.

He lifts his phone and I hear the click of my photo being taken.

I glare. “Do you mind?”

“Are you kidding?” He grins as he brushes the light dusting of snowflakes from his hair and unbuttons his heavy cashmere coat. “That’s going on the next family Christmas card. I’ll have it photoshopped into a picture of me and Mom.”

“Do it and I swear they will never find your body,” I mutter as I wrap my arm around Ellis and bring him in closer to my side. “Ellis, this idiot is my younger brother Warren.”

Ellis offers his hand, and as Warren grips it and shakes, Ellis hits him with a wide smile. My brother stills, blinking slowly, and I have a modicum of sympathy for him, having been on the receiving end of many of those smiles.

“Wow,” Warren murmurs. “It’s like staring into the corona of the sun.”

I reach out and pull Warren’s hand away from Ellis when he holds it a moment too long. “What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Uh, visiting you, of course,” he replies. “You didn’t think I was going to miss out on all the quirky British eccentricities, did you? Last time I video-called in the middle of your big ‘I’m staying here’ speech to Ellis here, it looked like you were throwing a weird costume party in the middle of the day.”

What he’d actually seen was a whole host of ghosts in clothes from the time periods they’d died in, but Warren had assumed they were just regular people, and I’m not about to disabuse him of that belief. I’m certain the ghosts of the Ashton-Drake are going to get into even worse trouble if anyone else finds out about them. The last thing we need are more ghosts from the Bureau of Hauntings or whatever showing up.

“Didn’t you get my messages?” Warren asks.

“I’ve temporarily lost my phone.” I sigh. “So no, I didn’t.”

“Oh, well, I’m here now and very much looking forward to your”—he picks up a leaflet from the desk—“Valentine’s Ghost Hunt Spectacular,” he reads aloud, then looks at Ellis. “A ghost hunt?”

Ellis nods enthusiastically. “There’s a whole local legend. We’ve got stuff going on all weekend.”

“Looks like I picked the perfect time to visit, then,” Warren says brightly. “Book me into your finest room, Ellis, and don’t be shy, feel free to shamelessly overcharge me.”

Ellis laughs and steps behind the desk, retrieving a set of keys from the rack. “Like we’re going to charge you. Even if you weren’t already investing in the hotel—which we really appreciate, by the way—you’re Morgan’s family. I’m sure Morgan’s grandfather will agree with me.”

“Ah, Pops! Where is he?” Warren says eagerly. “I’ve been dying to meet him in the flesh.”