Page 49 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

Georgia stole half a piece of toast from my plate because hers had browned more than she liked.

I let her.

The morning felt fuller because of small things I would once have dismissed as distractions.

When her phone lit beside her plate, though, the shift in Georgia was immediate.

It was only a reminder from the Lantern House, not Meredith.

She looked at the screen for another second before turning it facedown.

“She said she’d talk again,” Georgia said. “I know that wasn’t a promise she would call today, but I keep expecting the phone to ring.”

I reached across the table and rested my hand over hers.

“If she needs more time, she needs more time. We already know the version of the story everyone lived with for seven years wasn’t complete.”

Georgia turned her hand beneath mine and held on.

“I hate how reasonable you are when I want somebody to make the answer appear.”

“I’ll work on becoming less useful,” I said, and her mouth twitched.

The look she gave me suggested that would be a terrible idea.

Her thumb moved along the side of my hand before she let go.

We cleaned the kitchen together and headed into town.

***

Whispering Pines looked scrubbed clean after the storm.

Wet red and gold leaves clung to the sidewalks while the ones that had escaped the rain blew in bright clusters across Main Street. Storefront pumpkins sat beneath awnings, and orange lights still glowed in several windows even though the clouds had thinned enough to let daylight through. Someone had added a straw witch to the sporting-goods-store bench beside the skeleton in the fishing vest.

Georgia noticed it as we passed.

“I appreciate commitment to a theme.”

“You say that because you haven’t seen what the hardware store does at Christmas.”

“I worked restaurants for thirteen years. Nothing a hardware store does can frighten me.”

I smiled and turned toward the Lantern House.

The restaurant was between meal periods when we arrived, which gave the place a different energy than the controlled chaos of the previous night. The dining room was only half occupied, but tomorrow’s Halloween party was everywhere around the ordinary lunch service. Black-and-gold decorations framed the windows, branches of red leaves and dark berries filled tall containers near the bar, and carved pumpkins waited on shelves for candles.

The kitchen smelled like roasted onions, stock, and cinnamon. Somewhere behind the swinging doors, someone was already preparing food that would not be served until the next day.

Case was behind the bar cutting citrus.

His gaze moved from Georgia to me and lingered for exactly long enough to tell me he had noticed something different.

To his credit, he didn’t turn it into entertainment.

He only slid a clipboard across the bar when Georgia reached him. “I have successfully preserved your floor plan overnight. I would like that entered into the permanent record.”

Georgia took the clipboard, reading as she answered. “I’m proud of you.”