Page 39 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

The fire extinguishers on either side of the entrance erupt, obscuring the view with dry powder.

We all freeze, even the ghosts, and stare at the cloud of fire retardant, which looks like smoke. Suddenly, a figure comes striding through, and I swear to god, he looks like he’s walking in slow motion. He’s tall, well over six feet. His boots are well-worn, his jeans faded and clinging to his shapely legs and thick thighs. An unbuttoned navy blue peacoat reveals a dark sweater that clings to his ripped torso like a second skin.

I’ve never seen such a perfect face, either. He’s like a model, somehow managing to be both beautiful and rugged, with high cheekbones, a full, pouty mouth, and the barest hint of a stubble.

I stand mesmerised, my mouth hanging open as he tosses his head, his silky shoulder-length blonde hair flying back as if caught in an unseen wind.

“My goodness, is he walking in slow motion?” I barely register Bertie’s voice next to me. “I don’t do chaps myself, but… my goodness,” she repeats.

From the corner of my eye, I catch the umbrella Warren has finally wrestled from Martha shooting open. I tear my gaze away from the stranger just in time to see Warren staring at him and clutching both the open umbrella and Sir Devron’s leg. His eyes are wide, his mouth lax.

“OH MY GOD!” Haruto’s voice suddenly breaks the détente. The stranger looks over and smiles. “Do you know who that is?” He bounces up and down excitedly, lifting his phone and aiming it in the stranger’s direction.

“That’s Deuce Dalton…The Ghost Hunter!”

10

“That’s the ghost nerd?” Warren says incredulously.

“Actually, it’s Thaddeus,” he says with an easygoing smile. “Good to meet you.” Seeing Warren’s hands are full, he lifts his perfectly sculpted cleft chin in greeting.

“You’re Dr Thaddeus Dalton, PhD?”

“That’s me.” He nods, amused. He clearly gets this reaction a lot.

Dropping the overstuffed duffle bag he has slung over one shoulder, he sets it on the ground along with a heavy-looking case he had brought in.

“Dr Dalton.” I step forward and offer my hand. “We spoke on the phone. I’m Ellis Sparks, the manager.”

He grasps my hand and shakes it. “Call me Thad.”

“Call me Thad,” Warren says in a whiney mimic.

I glance over my shoulder and see Morgan mouth to his brother, “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m glad you made it. We were worried about you with the snow,” I say as he releases my hand.

He waves off my concern. “Sorry we’re late. The roads did get a bit impossible to navigate, so we had to park up and hike the rest of the way.”

“Hike?” Warren repeats slowly.

Thad shrugs. “It wasn’t too far, only through a couple of fields and a small woodland. Found a pretty little chapel and graveyard along the way.”

“Whoopee,” Warren mutters and rolls his eyes.

“You hiked across two fields and through the woods? In this weather?” I stare at him.

“Oh, this is nothing,” Thad replies. “You should have been with us in Tibet when we were investigating a preta that was pestering a remote village of Buddhist monks. Now that was snow. The village was halfway up a mountain and we had to hike up there with all our gear.”

“What’s a preta?” I ask.

“It’s a Tibetan spirit that remains unsatisfied after death and wanders the land, seeking to satisfy their desires,” answers a woman’s voice from behind Thad.

“Sounds like someone we know,” Morgan mutters beside me. “Speaking of which, where is Roger?”

The owner of the other voice is a beautiful dark-skinned woman. She enters the lobby and sets down two bags next to Thad’s, then slides a huge pack off her back. She’s dressed in a heavy winter coat, dark combat trousers, and hiking boots, and her long hair is bound neatly in tight box braids decorated with tiny silver cuffs at defined intervals.

Nearby, Bertie straightens, pulling at her sweater and smoothing down her hair as she watches the young woman.