Page 20 of Halloween Town

“It has the potential to be a money spinner,” Luna countered. Ignoring the queue, she waved her hand to attract the attention of one of the younger servers, who were working at dervish-like speeds. “Angel, darling, I’ll take a Pumpkin Hex Latte.”

“Hayes is going to lose his mind,” Thom told her.

Hayes Wellington, their old childhood friend and lifelong resident of H-Town, was both the town’s football coach and its star player. His priorities were his daughter, Hadley, his business restoring old vehicles and building motorbikes, and winning the grudge match between Solstice Springs and New Solstice, the town on the other side of the lake.

Poppy nodded. Hayes was absolutely going to lose his shit.

“He’ll just have to get on board,” Luna dismissed his concern with a flick of her wrist. “I’m thinking about having a zombie marching band, changing their uniforms, holding the match at midnight.”

Oh God, that was fighting talk. And Hayes would hurtle into battle, along with many of the annoyed-by-Halloween residents and football followers.

“You are a braver person than I am, Luna,” Poppy told her.

Luna nodded and looked over Poppy’s shoulder. “Hello, Effie darling? How are you today?”

Thom sighed and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Poppy watched him, enjoying his discomfort at Luna talking to Spirited Grounds’ resident ghost—who, so it was said, haunted the coffee machine, causing it to steam at inexplicably random moments. Her favorite party trick was to flip the circuit-breaker at 3.33 p.m. every afternoon.

“Effie is a bit hurt that you haven’t greeted her yet, Poppy. While she’s used to Thom’s insolence, she expected better from you.”

“Jesus,” Thom muttered. He looked at Poppy and jerked his head at the fast-moving queue. “Order me a double espresso. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Poppy snapped a sharp salute, but he’d already turned his back to her and was walking out the door. She rolled her eyes and looked at Luna. “Thom … the epitome of charm.”

“Thank you.” Luna accepted the latte the barista set down and lifted it in a lazy little toast toward Poppy. “Good luck with that one,” she said. “He’s … careful.”

Poppy frowned. “Careful?”

“With people.” Luna’s gaze slid briefly toward the window, then back. “Thom’s very good at keeping things tidy. Controlled. No loose ends. You’re messy…”

Poppy frowned, trying to keep up with her grasshopper-on-speed thoughts. “I was when I was a kid, but I’m better now.”

“That’s not the type of mess I’m talking about. Don’t forget to greet Effie before you leave.” Luna said before she walked away, leaving Poppy staring at her back, a little unsettled.

Or, to be fair, more unsettled than she was before.

Poppy found Thom sitting on the wrought-iron bench outside Madame Calliope’s storefront, on his phone and still unaware of the looks from people passing by. Poppy smiled as one guy, his head swiveling to gawp at Thom, nearly walked into a lamppost. His partner, not impressed, grabbed his hand, linked it in his, and frogmarched him away.

Thom Sheffield, master of havoc.

She sat down next to him and tapped his takeaway cup against his arm. Without looking up from his phone, he took it from her and lifted it to his lips. After sipping, he released a satisfied sigh. “Marigold might be a couple of twigs short of a broomstick, but this is damn fine coffee. Thanks.”

“Sure.” Poppy leaned back and lifted her face to the sun, enjoying summer’s residual heat. She loved this time of the year, when the days were still hot but the air held the softest bite, as if summer was taking a couple of deep breaths before sliding away.

Talking about moving on… What now, McMaster?

The first thing to do was to persuade Thom to let her stay. But how?

She’d try the easy way first. “I confirm that you are indeed the owner of the inn,” she said, trying her best not to sound annoyed or confrontational.

He didn’t look up from his phone. “You knew that the moment I told you,” he countered. “You were just being stubborn and contrary.”

His words held enough truth to bite, and Poppy gritted her teeth. Don’t respond, McMaster, don’t take the bait. “I needed to make sure,” she stated.

“Sure.” She’d never thought that one word could contain so much sarcasm, but Thom managed the impossible.

Just drink your coffee and breathe, Poppy. Count to ten. Not calm yet? Then count to twenty. Thirty, if you have to.

“I’d like to stay at the inn,” she said, a minute later. “I need to find the pearl.”