But, hey, I could survive just about anywhere for a night. I figured it was as good a place to crash as any. Better than the cold backseat of my car, that was certain. Though, it was clear from the moment he drove into the lot, the handsome detective who’d commandeered my entire life without consent was of a differing opinion. He did not look enchanted by the crumbling facade, or charmed by the splintered wooden steps that led up onto the front porch.
One of the lights flanking the entry was out, but the interior was illuminated. A warm glow spilled through the front windows onto the porch and into the parking lot. And the sign by the street — a weather-beaten wooden monstrosity in the shape of a ship bust, with the words THE SEA WITCH INN embossed in old fashioned lettering — was accompanied by a glowing, neon VACANCY message.
Good enough for me.
“I’m not sure about this,” Cade muttered, eyeing the inn through the windshield.
I rolled my eyes as I slung my backpack over my shoulders and lugged my duffle from the floor. “Well, I am. Thanks for the entirely unnecessary escort down the block, Detective. I don’t know how my tiny womanly brain would’ve located this place without your expert guidance.”
“You’re welcome.”
He was grinning at me. Before I could do something ludicrous — like grin back at him — I turned away, yanked on the handle, and practically vaulted from the SUV with the duffle strap slung over my shoulder and my pathetic shoebox tucked under one arm. I didn’t even bother to say goodbye as I slammed the door shut and scurried toward the front door without looking back.
I knew I was being rude. I also knew it was better for all parties involved if I got away from the too-charming-for-his-own-good Caden Hightower as soon as humanly possible. Nothing positive could come from an entanglement with someone like him. He asked too many questions — not to mention pushed all my buttons. (And, frankly, seemed to enjoy doing it.)
Unfortunately, in my haste to escape, I overlooked one crucial detail. Namely: his willingness to meddle in affairs that did not concern him. I’d made it only a few strides across the parking lot when the engine shut off, the driver’s door slammed, and the foreboding sound of boots began crunching on the gravel in my wake. I picked up my pace but by the time I hit the creaky front steps, Cade was striding along at my side, his long legs easily matching my hurried ones.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, stopping on the creaky porch. Two moths were fluttering by the single working lightbulb, their papery white wings casting eerie shadows.
“Making sure you get settled,” he said patiently.
I gripped the strap of my duffle so hard, my knuckles went white. “That’s entirely unnecess—Wait!”
Cade did not wait. He had, in fact, already reached around me and pulled open the front door. He held it wide, boots planted firmly on the porch, looking for all the world like he had no intention of moving until I did.
“After you,” he said, eyes crinkled in amusement.
I didn’t move a muscle. “You’re letting in the moths.”
“Then you’d better go in.”
I scowled at him. And then, jerking my chin in a haughty manner in an attempt to summon my small slice of remaining dignity, I stormed past him into The Sea Witch.
His amused chuckle chased me over the threshold.
The lobby area was small but surprisingly cozy, with a mishmash of antique furniture and a vaguely nautical theme. It smelled of wood polish and old books — probably due to the stuffed shelves that lined the wall beside a curving grand staircase that led to the upstairs rooms. A crystal chandelier cast the whole space in soft, suffused light. Almost directly beneath it, a chest-height reception desk faced the door. An ancient computer monitor sat atop it along with a large ledger book. A woman — presumably the receptionist — stood behind it.
She was youngish, probably in her mid-thirties, with light brown hair and delicate features that were, at this precise moment in time, screwed up in an expression of frustration. She did not greet us immediately; her focus was entirely consumed by the needle she was attempting to thread in the dim glow of her desk lamp.
“Be right with you,” she murmured without looking up. “I’ve almost got it…”
I stopped in my tracks. Cade stopped directly beside me. In silence, we waited, watching as the receptionist steered the flimsy thread toward the tiny hole at the end of the needle. She let out a sharp wail that made me jump half a foot in the air when the thread missed its mark by several millimeters. Tossing down the spool on her ledger book and shoving the needle into a red pin-cushion shaped like a tomato, she finally glanced up at us. Traces of her scowl were still present as she locked eyes with me.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been trying to get that damn thing threaded for a half hour. I’m about ready to tear my hair out by the roots.”
“Uh… no worries.” I set down my duffle on the rug — oriental style, somewhat frayed but still pretty. “You know, it’s easier if you lick the end of the thread first.”
“I tried that. No luck.” She sighed heavily. “If I don’t get this costume sewn by Halloween, I’m going to have one very disappointed alien on my hands.”
My brows went up.
Seeing my confused expression, she reached beneath the desk and retrieved a shiny, fluorescent swathe of fabric. I’d never seen a shade of green quite so bright.
“My youngest son is in a big Martian phase at the moment. I promised I’d make him look like a proper space invader. How hard could it be, right?” She grimaced and flung the fabric aside. “Apparently,really goddamn hard. I can’t even get the needle threaded! How the hell am I supposed to follow a pattern for an entire costume in three days?”
“Hand it over,” I said immediately, approaching the desk. I set down my shoebox to accept the spool and pincushion when she passed them to me. Within seconds, I’d doubled the bright green thread over itself to create a sharper end, pulled it taught, and guided it through the eyehole of the needle. “There,” I murmured. “All done. You’re good to start sewing.”
“Hey, thanks!” The receptionist grinned at me as I passed the spool back to her. “You’re a lifesaver.”