Page 5 of The Legend of Lovers Hollow

“Well, hopefully not murderous, bloodthirsty ghosts,” Bertie says.

“I sincerely hope that’s a joke.”

“Well, we thought–” Bertie turns to me.

“Please don’t, that never ends well,” Morgan cuts her off, but she ignores him and instead focuses on me.

“We thought we could put on a bit of a show. You know, hit the guests with a bit of the old paranormal razzle-dazzle. Give ’em a good ole scare.”

“Bertie, we don’t want to actually scare them, remember?” I remind her patiently.

“We don’t?” She huffs. “But I thought we’d decided that we were aiming for this place to become known as a highly haunted hotel? To bring in the tourists.”

“Well, yes, but we don’t want to cause anyone undue distress. We’ve already talked about this. Plus, Morgan is right. You aren’t supposed to be showing yourselves to the living. Aren’t all the ghosts still under investigation by the Bureau of Domestic Hauntings?”

“That gets crazier every time I hear it.” Morgan shakes his head.

“Isn’t that Stanley bloke, the ghost from the Bureau, still hanging around here somewhere?”

“Don’t you worry about him.” Roger wiggles his eyebrows. “We’re keeping him busy.”

“Just”—I let out a heavy breath—“I don’t want you all to get in trouble.”

“Fear not.” Bertie grins. “We have everything under control. Trust me, the guests will be talking about this weekend for years to come.”

“Oh, I don’t think–”

But it’s too late. Bertie and Roger have both disappeared.

“Tell me I’m not the only one with a bad feeling about those two loose in the hotel during an amateur ghost-hunting weekend?” Morgan says sourly.

“I’m sure it won’t be too bad,” I reassure him. “They mean well.”

“I’m sure the lookouts on the Titanic did too, right before they hit an iceberg.”

“You know”—I rise up onto my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck—“I haven’t seen you for a whole week. We’ve got at least a couple of hours before the guests arrive.”

“Is that so?” He smiles, teasing his lips over mine.

“I think we should find somewhere more private so I can show you exactly how much I missed you.” I rub my nose against his and tilt my head so he can fit his lips more perfectly to mine.

He leans in, and my belly jumps in anticipation. But before I get the chance to taste him, the door to the ballroom crashes open. We both startle at the sudden noise and look over in time to see Wally stumble through the door.

“Whoops, sorry!” he calls, climbing to his feet and jogging slowly towards us. By the time he stops, he’s red-faced and out of breath. He looks around. “Hey, where did everyone go?”

Morgan scowls, clearly annoyed at us being interrupted. “Back to work.”

“Wally.” I smile at my newest member of staff, trying to soften the rough edges of my boyfriend’s grumpy but adorable temperament. “This is Morgan Ashton-Drake. Morgan, this is Wally.”

“Ashton-Drake?” Wally squeaks at the same time as Morgan says, “Wally? Is that short for Walter?”

“Um.” He flushes, and I can’t blame him; my boyfriend is yummy. “It’s short for Walbert… Walbert Hobson.” He holds out a shaky hand.

“That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s an old family name, and it was my grandad’s,” he says proudly. “Speaking of grandfathers. Is, uh… is Mr Ashton-Drake your grandfather? Father?”

“Father?” Morgan’s eyes narrow. “I’m not that old.”