by Kate Angell
Afterward, Grace stood. She called to another of her assistants. “Cheryl, one roll of Life Savers to go. Extra-small.”
Cheryl joined them. She held out her hand to Libby, and the girl grabbed hold. They headed for the children’s section. Libby’s steps were light.
Cade waited for Grace to speak to one final boy before he reminded her of the time. Over an hour had passed. Last came thirteen-year-old Ricky Riley. He was rough and tumble. All boy. His father was a janitor, and it was rumored the old man took Ricky to work with him at night, and had him cleaning. Ricky didn’t do well in school, and absenteeism had forced him to repeat the sixth grade. He was basically a good kid, chewing bubble gum, and hopped up on Halloween.
“Vampire, zombie, mummy, or flying monkey?” he asked Grace. “I want the scariest costume.”
Grace focused on the teen, as if he were the only customer in the store. Ricky ate up her attention. “Vampire comes with a set of fake teeth and a neat cape. You could dab ketchup on your lip for blood,” she said. “I have a skeleton zombie that’s gruesome and grungy. Great detail, with bones sticking through the fabric. The mummy is a classic monster from a horror movie. Full body wrap with tears and tatters. Flying monkeys take you to the dark side of The Wizard of Oz. Wicked monkey mask and wide wings.”
Ricky’s brow creased. He was slow to make up his mind. He scrunched his nose and scuffed his beat-up sneakers on the hardwood floor. “Which one do you like best?” he asked Grace.
“I’m not the one wearing the costume.”
“I’m, uh, attending a party.”
Grace caught on. “A boy-girl party?”
Color crept up his neck. “Yeah.”
“Wouldn’t you rather protect the girls, than have them running scared?” she suggested.
“Maybe . . .” he was reluctant to admit.
“How about a superhero?”
“Lots of guys are going as Spiderman, Superman, and Captain America.”
Grace lowered her voice. Cade strained to hear her. “I have a special costume that’s not on the rack,” she told Ricky. “I’ve been saving it for the right young person. A Guardian of the Galaxy Star-Lord outfit.”
Ricky’s jaw dropped. “Wow!”
“It’s one-of-a-kind,” she confided. “You’d be the only human-alien-cyborg hybrid. The costume has padded muscle arms and torso and comes with battle gear.”
“A quad blaster?”
“Plastic, but it looks realistic.”
Ricky puffed out his chest. “Can I see it?”
She pointed to the back of the store. “Boxed in the storeroom. Let’s go.”
Ricky darted ahead of her. Grace passed the rack of capes. She surprised Cade by separating two hangers and saying, “Batman, Superman, Zorro? One-size cape fits all.”
“You knew I was here all along?”
“I know where everyone is in my store at any given time,” she said. “Your work boots beneath the hem of the capes initially gave you away. I saw your feet before I caught your reflection in the security mirrors mounted at all four corners.”
He glanced up, spotted the two of them. They looked good standing there together. He circled the rack, tapped his watch. “We’re losing afternoon light.”
“Getting the kids in costumes is as important as our decorating. Amelia would understand.”
“Do they all repay you in candy?”
“Sometimes people give out nickels and dimes, and the children share. I’m quite rich after Halloween.”
Rich not only in sweets and pocket change, but in knowing she’d given the kids a chance to participate in the night’s activities. Priceless.
“Let me get Ricky his costume and I’ll be ready to go.”
Cade followed her to the back. They found Ricky seated on a cardboard box, his legs swinging. She crossed to a low shelf, removed a rectangular package. She handed it to the boy. He tucked it under his arm, but didn’t run off.
Instead, he bartered. “How much?”
Grace took a moment, contemplated. “Star-Lord is a brand-new costume and worth three Milky Ways and a box of Junior Mints.”
“I’ll toss in a popcorn ball,” he offered, upping the payment. He grew momentarily serious. “You’re a nice lady, Miss Alden. Thanks.”
“You’re a good guy,” Grace returned the compliment. “Save the galaxy and have a good time at your party.”
“See ya,” and the boy pushed through the swinging Western-style doors. He walked as quickly as he could without running out of the store.
“Costumes are big business,” Cade commented.
“Not only for Halloween, but year-round. Anonymity. People like that fantasy element of being someone they’re not.” She grinned at him then. “Did you see anything you liked, other than Gina Avery?”
So she’d seen him eyeing Gina. “She asked my opinion on her steampunk outfit, and I gave it. She looked hot. As for me?” He shrugged. “Not going there.”
“We have tons of choices.” She eyed him up and down. Her gaze held a second too long on his groin. “I could see you as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, Pillsbury Doughboy, or a sugar cookie.”
Say what? She saw him round, white, puffy? That didn’t set well. “Not quite how I pictured myself.”
“Oh?” She was all innocence. “We all see ourselves differently, don’t we?”
“Apparently so. I’m more man than foodstuff.”
Grace saw him as all man, too. She wouldn’t admit it, though. She was having fun with him. She’d gotten him to talk costumes. After talking came wearing one. She was getting closer. He’d have fun if he’d just let himself go. For some unknown reason, she wanted him to attend the Halloween party at Rose Cottage, just not as a skeleton. The memory of his childhood misdoings would fade into the night.
“Tarzan, Hercules, and a gladiator are still available,” she nudged.
He shook his head. “Not now, not ever.”
“A football player, Popeye, Top Gun, knight in shining armor?”
“Not happening.”
“Astronaut, fireman, mile-high airline pilot.”
His eyes darkened. He waved her off. “No more,” sounded like a warning. “I don’t like Halloween.”
So he’d said, over and over again. She loved the craziness of costumes, candy, and creepy decorations. She knew she should drop the subject, but something inside her wouldn’t let go. She snapped her fingers, couldn’t resist. “You could go as a moving man.”
“Damn, woman.” He was on her before she had a chance to step back. He slid his big hands into her hair, none too gently. Held her still. “What’s with you? I’ve asked you nicely to stop. Let up or I’ll—”
“What?” She moved beyond common sense.
He kissed her.
His punishment was sexual, unexpected, yet effective. He was all hotness, hardness, and sensual appeal. Sparked by anger, he bit her bottom lip. Sensation puckered her nipples. Her belly pulled tight. Her groin pressed his. Their thighs rubbed.
The kiss lasted. She had no desire for it to end. His firm mouth softened. He slipped his tongue between her lips with sexy finesse. The man could kiss. He made her want him.
Fully into him, she rose on tiptoe and clutched his biceps. His hands rubbed down her back, cupped her butt, and lifted her slightly, until they were sexually aligned. He pushed against her. She pressed back. Her knees buckled. Her mind blanked. She couldn’t name another costume if her life depended on it.
The Western-style doors swung open, and the startled gasp from her assistant broke them apart. Grace jumped, expecting Cade to release her. He did not. He kept his arm about her waist, securing her to him. They appeared a couple, she thought. Sneaking a kiss in her storeroom.
Kayla blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No interruption.” Her voice was unsteady.
Cade’s grin tipped. “Grace was just persuading me to wear a Halloween costume.”
“Was she successf
ul?” from Kayla.
“Still under debate. I need more convincing.”
“Keep after him.” Kayla winked at Grace. “Let me grab a lightsaber for a Star Wars Stormtrooper, and I’ll leave you two alone.”
“We’re on our way out.” Grace managed to sound less breathy. “Lots of decorating still to do at Rose Cottage.”
“I can stop by once the store closes and lend a hand,” offered Kayla.
“I’ll call you if I need you.”
Her assistant located the lightsaber and returned to the main shop. Cade released her slowly, running his hand over her hip, and patting her on the butt.
Her cheeks heated. She owed him an apology. She cleared her throat, and with difficulty managed, “I can be pushy—”
“You think?” He cut her no slack.
“I came on too strong. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“We kissed.”
“A good enough kiss for you to wear a costume?”
“You could kiss my entire body, and I’d still pass.”
His entire body. She’d never considered naked a costume, but it might work for him. She looked him up and down. Licked her lips. Her blush deepened at the thought.
She heard Cade swallow. His gaze was hot and dark; his voice, deep and husky. “I’ve never taken a woman in a storeroom before, but there’s always a first time.”
His words got her moving. He held the door for her, and she passed ahead of him. Awareness rode with them back to Rose Cottage. Her palms were sweaty on the steering wheel. Cade shifted several times on the passenger seat. The air grew heavy, sticking in her lungs. She exhaled once they reached the B&B. Cade climbed out of the minivan before she could lift her own door handle. He collected the box from the back, seemingly as relieved as she was to put space between them.
She tugged a container of plastic tombstones from behind the driver’s seat, and dragged the box to the side of the house, all the while keeping one eye on Cade. He changed out one light on the red maple and two on the white pine without issue. Then he again tackled the evergreen. The tree showed him no mercy. Needles stabbed, and he repeatedly shook out his fingers. He shoved several branches aside, only to have them snap back and slap him. He swore at the tree. She heard one branch break, then a second, and realized it was at his hands. Because of him, the evergreen had lost its symmetry. She held back mentioning that fact. Cade was in no mood for criticism.
Back on the ground, he came toward her. The tree had quilled him like a porcupine. He brushed needles from his hair and off his shirt. He lowered his head, growled, “Little help here.”
Where to touch? The worst of the waxy spikes were stuck from waist to groin. She swiped at his hip, managed to knock off a few. She made a wider sweep on his outer thigh, and cleared a few more. Her hand hovered over his zipper. Shook.
Cade was still picking needles off his abdomen. He widened his stance. “Don’t be shy.” There was challenge in his tone.
He was getting even with her. She’d forced him to replace the bulbs. His request for her to remove the prickles seemed a fair exchange.
Her heart gave an unfamiliar flutter. Her stomach knotted. They presently stood between the tall box of headstones and a privacy hedge. They weren’t visible from the road.
She decided to pick off the needles individually instead of making a palm-wide sweep. There’d be less touching. In her hurry, her knuckles bumped his sex. He sucked air. Enlarged. The tab on the zipper slid down an inch. He made the adjustment.
“Good enough.” He pushed her hand away.
She sighed her relief.
He twisted, struggled with the prickles on his back, stretching to brush those between his shoulder blades. Frustrated by those he couldn’t reach, he snagged the hem on his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. Shook it out. Grace’s eyes rounded and her mouth went dry. He had a magnificent chest.
Broad and bare, his chest tempted her. Her fingers itched to touch him. Even for a second. This was so unlike her. The need to satisfy her curiosity outweighed the consequences. She went with the urge. She traced his flat stomach and six-pack abs. His jeans hung low. Sharp hip bones, man dents, and sexy lick lines. The man was sculpted.
Cade clutched his shirt to his thigh. Stood still. She felt his gaze on her, but couldn’t meet his eyes. Not after she flattened her hand over his abdomen, and his heat suffused her palm. His stomach contracted. Her fingers flexed. She scratched him. He groaned.
The slam of the front door indicated someone was close by. Heavy footsteps, the creak of a rocker, indicated the person was here to stay. Grace’s thoughts snapped to the gauzy spider web woven on the porch. She hoped whoever it was wouldn’t disrupt the decorations.
She eased back, their contact broken. A breeze cooled the air between them. Shadows claimed the late afternoon. Touching Cade had stolen precious decorating minutes. It was worth it. A once-ina-lifetime for her. She would make up the loss later in the evening. The man was hot.
He drew his shirt over his head, hand-smoothed the cotton down his chest. No pine needles remained. She looked up, as he looked down. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. “The tombstones won’t set themselves,” he said. He went to work.
She stuck beside him. Opening the box, they withdrew the thick plastic grave markers. His lips twitched as he scanned the epitaphs: R.I.P. Van Winkle, Dee Cayed, I.M. Gone, and Barry R. Bones. “Dracula, Fangs for the Memories,” he read aloud and, chuckled.
Grace held up her favorite. “Rigger Mortys. Death Grips and Holds Me Tight, But I Shall Return on Halloween Night.”
Tongue-in-cheek, he asked her, “What would your headstone say?”
“She Threw a Great Party,” came to mind. “How about yours?”
“Death by Decorating.”
Chapter 4
Cade staked and anchored the tombstones. Zombies came next. White-faced and gruesome, they crawled from the ground. Once the undead were secured, he scanned the graveyard. It looked scarily supernatural. He located Grace, working nearby on the Gates of Hell. Wide metal gateposts supported an arch with a gargoyle perched on top. The gate was partially unhinged. Hanging eerily. Chained to the entry, a big skeleton hellhound with spiked ears, long snout, and teeth like a crocodile, stood guard. He stepped closer for a better look, and the hound gave an unexpected howl. A guttural baying at the moon. Realistic as hell. His skin crawled.
“Battery-sensor behind his ear picks up movement,” Grace told Cade. “Anyone approaching the arch will be turned away.”
The guests staying at Rose Cottage returned for dinner. Several carried shopping bags with the Charade logo. Each one stopped on the cobblestone path and surveyed the yard. Their eyes were wide; their mouths parted. Amazement in their expressions.
“A real haunted house,” one man exclaimed, expressing his wonder. With his iPhone in hand, he snapped a few photos. “Souvenirs.”
“You have an eye for detail,” complimented another visitor.
“We’re here from Bangor,” the wife of a middle-aged couple said as she and her husband stepped onto the porch. “Word of mouth speaks highly of Amelia’s Halloween party.”
“You’ll have a great time,” Grace assured them. “Be sure to have Amelia tell your fortune.”
“Do her predictions come true?” The woman sounded expectant.
“I’m a believer.” Grace had faith in her godmother.
“How about you?” the woman called to Cade.
He hadn’t had a reading, and had no plans to get one. Still, there was no reason to discourage the woman. His comment—“Check out the crystal ball”—was neutral.
Grace seemed relieved by his answer. He would never out-and-out deny the paranormal. Astonishingly enough, she’d seen a man’s hands in the sphere, or so she said. He had too much respect for Amelia to debunk her reputation. The guests would get the full Halloween experience.
Cade waited for the out-of-towners
to enter the cottage before asking, “Can we stop for today, pick up where we left off tomorrow?” His contract with Grace stated eight-to-five. It was after six. He was in the mood for a beer.
“You can go anytime,” she allowed.
“What about you?”
“I’m here for a while yet.”
“What’s ‘a while’?”
She shrugged. “An hour or two, give or take. I want to unload my van. Unbox the rest of the decorations. Hang the crow-and-bat wreath on the front door. Roll up the Oriental carpet. Begin moving furniture. Cover the sofas with plastic.”
She’ll be here all night, Cade thought. Why that should bother him, he had no idea. But it did. “You still have another day to pull it together.”
“I hate last minute,” she said. “I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“You’re in charge. Everything will be perfect.” Grace would have it no other way.
“I go overboard on perfection,” she admitted. “But it’s all worth it. Amelia is special to me.”
The older woman had been good to Cade, too. He would give Grace another hour. “I’ll deal with your van, and get the boxes inside. Take care of the carpet.”
She was visibly relieved. “That would be helpful.”
He could be supportive when he wanted to. He still didn’t like Halloween, but Grace was rubbing off on him. He admired her dedication. She was loyal to her friends. Liked kids. Was easy on the eyes. He side-eyed her often, and found her looking at him, too. She’d blush. He’d smile to himself. They made a good team.
They worked side by side now. He did the heavy lifting, arranging the sofas and settees in a crescent, which opened the center of the room for circulating and conversation. She added smaller decorations. She dimmed the lights for atmosphere. He thought about kissing her in a dark corner, but never got the chance. Guests came and went. Amelia and Archibald passed through the room. The Maine coon lifted his head, looked around, and purred loudly. He settled beneath the marble-top table, guardian of the crystal ball, his furry tail twitching. Amelia put her arm about her goddaughter and hugged her. No words were exchanged. There was no need. Silent communication said it all.