“Another night is a good start,” Cliff said. “You can sleep on everything.”
Head spinning, Quinn headed to her room with the sporadic cell phone reception, leaky bathroom sink, surprise bugs, and maybe a ghost, and flopped onto the bed.
“It’s unbelievable, all of it!” Beth said excitedly from her perch on the TV. As in on the TV, and since it was a flat screen, this was quite the feat.
“Are you serious?” Quinn asked, a hand to her suddenly pounding heart.
“Tilly’s lovely!”
“Tilly’s angry.”
“That too,” Beth said with sympathy. “Something I know you understand.”
Quinn looked at Beth and felt her heart pinch. “You’re wearing my sweater.”
“Well, I did steal it all those years ago to do just that,” Beth said. “And anyway, it looks better on me.”
This is just a figment of your imagination, Quinn told herself. That or she was stroking out.
But regardless, it was such a Beth thing to say, she felt herself laugh. Two years and she’d never missed Beth more than she did right this very minute. “Are you not the least bit threatened by the knowledge that you and I are no longer blood sisters?”
Beth’s smile faded. “Quinn,” she said with a terrifying gentleness. “I don’t give a shit about blood. You are, and always will be, my sister. Heart and soul.” She shimmered and started to fade. “You’ve got another chance here. Let her in. Let someone in . . .”
And then she was gone.
“Dammit! Next time I get to die first and haunt your ass!” Quinn yelled and then she blew out a breath and looked around. Turned out, living in a haunted B & B and being pestered by her dead sister made her hungry. She had to stand on a chair near the window again to get enough reception to see what kind of food one might be able to get delivered in Wildstone.
The answer was simple. Nothing. One could get nothing delivered in Wildstone.
Which made it official. She was on Mars. Still standing on the chair, leaning precariously out the window for reception, she caught sight of sexy Mick Hennessey walking across the parking lot again, so there was that at least. The day wasn’t a complete disaster.
Coop was at his side. The dog was on a leash but holding the end of it in his own mouth. Mick, looking good in dark sunglasses, another pair of jeans, and a T-shirt stretched enticingly taut over his broad shoulders, glanced up. When he saw her, he pushed the sunglasses to the top of his head and their gazes locked.
For a single beat, her heart did something other than ache for a change. It skipped. She shook her head at herself. Why in the world was her heart reacting now, after all this time? And why not with Brock, who although they’d backed off from a relationship, she still felt comfortable with?
Why did it have to be a perfect stranger instead? It made no sense. Especially since she hadn’t felt a thing in two years, but whenever this man looked at her, the ensuing zap was like sticking her finger in a light socket.
Mick vanished around the corner of the building and out of sight and Quinn let out a breath, grateful that he was smarter than she.
Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. She hesitated, then put her face to the peephole hoping Beth had ordered her a pizza from the afterlife.
But it wasn’t pizza.
It was Coop.
And his human, Mick.
When she opened the door, Coop sat on his haunches, dropped the leash from his mouth, and panted a smile up at her.
Mick didn’t pant or smile, but he did hand her a Verizon Jetpak. “My password is CoopForPresident101,” he said. “Caps on the first letter of each word. It’ll get you the Internet without putting your life in mortal jeopardy by hanging out the window.”
Quinn patted Coop on the head and stared at the Jetpak, moved by Mick’s generosity. “That’s . . . way too kind of you.”
Coop leaned against her with his considerable girth, nearly knocking her over. Mick nudged him aside. “You should have it in case of another emergency,” he said.
“Another emergency?”
He eyed the huge red mark on her forehead, which she sincerely hoped by now looked more like a bee sting than a humongous zit. “News travels fast in Wildstone,” he said.
“How?” she asked baffled. “How does news travel without the Internet?”
He smiled. “You don’t need the Internet in a town like this.” He nodded to the Jetpack. “Hold on to that until you leave.”
The gesture was the kindest thing anyone had done for her in recent memory and she felt her throat tighten. Clearly she was an inch away from losing her collective shit. Refusing to let it happen in front of this man—again—she found a nod. “Thanks.”
He nodded and looked at his now-sleeping, and already snoring, dog. “Coop. We’re out.”
Coop didn’t budge.
“There’s no takeout here in Wildstone,” Quinn said, suddenly not wanting him to leave.
“No drive-throughs either. If you’re looking for food, there’s the Whiskey River. It’s a bar and grill and is usually open by . . .” He looked at his watch. “Now.”
“Usually?”
He gave a low laugh. “Well, it’s Wildstone, so time’s always a little fluid. But it’s five o’clock, so you’ve got a shot.”
“It’s not five, it can’t be, I just got here and it was only two.”
Mick gave her an odd look. “Maybe you napped.”
Quinn looked at the bed, which did indeed have a Quinn-size indentation on the covers.
Had she dreamed Beth’s visit or was she losing her mind?
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She shrugged it off. She considered offering to buy him a drink to thank him for his thoughtfulness, wondering if he found her even half as irresistibly attractive as she found him. But before she could say anything, he stepped back with a nod and vanished down the hall.
So much for being irresistible.
When she was alone, she used the Jetpak to check her phone. She had three voice mails. One from Skye saying, “Call me when you’re home to catch up.”
The next was from her parents—who were baffled that she still wasn’t on her way home, and then Brock—baffled and rounding the corner into irritation.
Figuring texts would be better than calls, she texted Skye and Brock, letting them know she’d be staying in Wildstone another night. And then her mom and dad on a group text that didn’t go over quite as smoothly as she’d hoped.
QUINN:
Nobody panic, but I’m staying another night.
DAD:
Did you check the oil in your car?
MOM:
Don’t pay any attention to your father. If you check the oil yourself, you’ll get it on your clothes. Ask someone at the gas station to do it for you. Do you have enough money? Maybe we should drive up.
QUINN:
I’ll check the oil and I have enough money. Don’t make the drive, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m sorry I had a freak-out, I was just shocked. I’m processing.