“It’s part of my vampire hunter costume,” he assures us. “Complete with a retractable silver blade and holy water.” He pats a small vial hanging from his belt. “But I have to say, your cat costume is far more terrifying than any vampire I’ve ever encountered.”
“Men and sharp objects,” Georgie swoons. “Two of my favorite things.”
Heath laughs at the thought. “Well, the blade is dull, and if you ask Macy, so am I,” he teases, twirling the now harmless knife between his fingers. “In fact, I’ve got an entire cache of these fake knives.” He lifts a black tote bag hanging from his arm and pulls it open to reveal at least a dozen identical prop knives jumbled inside.
That man has more props than personality,Fish thinks, twitching her tail with disdain.
And she might be right.
“We thought we’d do a fun group photo before we leave,” Heathcontinues, oblivious to my cat’s mental critique or mine. “You know what they say—if there isn’t a picture, did it really happen?” He tosses a couple of fake knives to Buffy and Hazel, who catch them with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Buffy’s green pumpkin antennae bob as she examines her prop with a polite smile, while Hazel’s orange antennae nearly fall off as she barely bothers to catch hers.
I shrug over at them. “Nothing sells paranormal investigation like a bunch of adults posing with fake weapons,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
He winks at me. “It’s all about the drama, Bizzy. People don’t tune in for subtlety.”
Somehow, I don’t think subtlety is in Heath Cullen’s vocabulary, fake knife or not. And why do I get the feeling he’s never met a situation he couldn’t charm his way through either?
This is better than those reality shows that you refuse to watch but Jasper loves,Fish muses as she settles in for the show, her devil horns listing even farther to the side.
Should we do something?Sherlock’s superhero cape flutters with anxiety.Macy looks really mad. Like she just found someone eating all of her homemade cookies mad.
Before I can respond to either my pets’ or my sister’s homicidal tendencies, reinforcements arrive in the form of my father and mother-in-law, who materialize out of the crowd as if they’ve been summoned by the scent of family drama.
Gwyneth, with her dark hair and light eyes that can slice through glass at twenty paces, makes a beeline for Ella, while my father, Nathaniel, trails behind her with his trademark boy-next-door smile that’s somehow survived intact well into his golden years.
“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” Gwyneth demands, her gaze sweeping over the scene like a lighthouse beam before zeroing in on baby Ella. Without so much as amay I, she efficiently plucks my daughter from her carrier strapped to my chest and cradles her against her cashmere-clad shoulder. “Huxley just took baby Mack home.”Everyone with half a brain knows a Halloween carnival is no place for a baby,she thinks with enough judgment to power a small country.
“Give me my Ellie Belly,” Dad coos, tickling Ella’s cheek with one finger. He looks up at me with those blue eyes that match my own. “This party is no place for a baby.”
“That’s right,” Gwyneth adds, her voice as crisp as the autumn leaves surrounding us. “And that’s why we’re taking her home. To your cottage, to be exact. Don’t worry, Bizzy. We have the key.”
“How could I forget?” I mutter, attempting to plaster on a smile that doesn’t scream baby heist in progress. It’s been the same story on repeat for the past two weeks, ever since they returned from their Caribbean cruise and announced they were renting the cottage next door to mine.
And it’s been one big questionable family reunion ever since.
Mom sidles up beside me, her bee antennae bobbing with barely contained opinions that are probably more dangerous than her actual stinger. “For once, I agree with your father.”
“Will wonders never cease?” I whisper because the day my divorced parents agree on anything is probably a sign of the apocalypse—or at least some very unusual weather patterns.
Georgie waddles over, her pumpkin costume making squeaking noises with each step she takes. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Clean-Up-His-Act himself.” She eyes my father with all the subtlety of a foghorn operated by someone with a personal vendetta against quiet neighborhoods. “Isn’t that just like a man? Cheat for years, then swoop in playing doting grandpa like he deserves a medal for basic human decency.”
“Georgie,” Mom warns, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of her mouth that suggests she’s not entirely opposed to this particular character assassination.
“What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” Georgie hooks her arm through Mom’s. “Come on, Red. Let’s leave the baby wranglers to it and find ourselves some fun. I hear there are some hotties bobbing for apples over by the cider stand. However, with this stinger of yours,” she flicks Mom’s bee appendage, “you might pop all the fruit, and the men are going to love it.”
“You do realize I’m still seeing your brother,” Mom reminds her as she allows herself to be towed away.
“What my baby bro don’t know won’t sting him!” Georgie cackles as her pumpkin costume disappears into the crowd.
My father and Gwyn take off, too, and I turn back to the confrontation just in time to see Macy drilling a finger into Heath’s chest with the precision of someone conducting a very pointed anatomy lesson. His perfect smile has faded considerably, and that sparkle in his eyes has been replaced by something harder—like someone who’s just realized his charm might not be sufficient currency for this particular transaction.
Before things can escalate further into actual bodily harm, Jordy appears like a flannel-clad superhero—all dark hair, blue eyes, and casual confidence in his white t-shirt and red-orange flannel that makes him look like he stepped off the cover ofLumberjacks Weekly.
Jordy Crosby happens to be Emmie’s brother, Macy’s boyfriend, and my once-upon-a-husband.
It’s true. Vegas, hard liquor, and an Elvis impersonator were involved. Thankfully, my brother used his shiny new law degree to undo that hex in record time. And even more thankfully than that, Jordy and I never consummated those nuptials.
