“So do you, darlin’,” he said. “If Cinderella could see you, she’d be jealous. Are you ready to go?”
With a nod, she followed him out the door.
~ * ~
Bryn’s parents gave Conor a warm welcome. They were friendly, curious, but not overly so. When her mother offered them dessert, Bryn quickly said they had already eaten. She did accept a cup of coffee, which Conor declined.
“So, what do you do for a living, Mr. Saintcrow?”
“Conor, please. My father owns a rather large combination hotel and campground in Wyoming. I work for him.”
“You don’t mean Morgan Creek?” Mrs. Davis exclaimed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why, I just read an article about it.” She picked a travel magazine off the coffee table and thumbed through it until she found the page she was looking for. “Here it is,” she said, and handed him the magazine.
Conor nodded. “My mother does all the advertising.”
“Harry, we have to go there,” Mrs. Davis said, her voice laced with excitement.
Harry nodded. “Maybe Conor can get us a discount,” he said, with a smile.
“I’d be happy to do so,” Conor said. “Just let me know a little in advance.”
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. At the door, Bryn promised they would visit again soon.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, as they pulled out of the driveway.
“No. They seem like nice people.”
“Oh, they are. While we were getting ready to leave, my mother told me I should ‘hang on to this one.’”
“A girl should listen to her mother,” Conor said with a chuckle.
“I hope your mother likes me as much as mine likes you,” Bryn murmured, a nervous edge in her voice.
“Honey, she’s gonna love you.”
~ * ~
Conor transported them to Morgan Creek the following night. Bryn was a bit overwhelmed when she saw his parents’ house. It looked more like a castle than a home. Large and square and made of gray stone, with turrets at the corners, the placereminded her of an old English fortress or, more fitting perhaps, Dracula’s castle. The thought made her grin. Thick iron bars covered the front door and the windows.
“Not what you expected?” Conor asked.
“All things considered, it’s perfect. Is this where you grew up?”
“Yep. Interesting place. Dark tunnels. Turret rooms. Secret doors. Everything a haunted house needs.”
She paused. “It’s haunted?”
“I’m kidding,” he said, taking her hand. “Come on.”
He parted the iron bars and opened the front door. Bryn gasped when they stepped inside. The spacious living room was beautifully decorated with obviously expensive furniture and tables. Several lovely paintings adorned the walls. Fancy draperies covered the windows.
Saintcrow grinned at her. “Welcome to Dracula’s Castle, Miss Davis.”
Bryn felt her cheeks grow warm. Had he read her mind? How else would be know she’d been thinking the same thing?