Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I grab it from her hand and twist the cap off, taking a quick sip.
“Howdy, Declan,” a thin but sturdy-looking blonde woman in black shouts. She expertly climbs into the front and takes the reins. The horses shuffle and snort, their hooves clicking against the pavement. “We’re going to move to the side, so they don’t get spooked with all the cars coming in.”
“Sounds good,” Declan says. He braces himself against the railing as the wagon lurches forward.
“Eeee!” Lucy squeals. “Here we go! Showtime!”
Her grin is so wide, and she seems so genuinely happy instead of her usual snark-mode, that I can’t help laughing.
I pull my phone out and snap a few pictures. Declan framed against the dark sleigh rail. The horse’s breath fogging the air. The skull garlands glinting faintly under the parking lot lights. Lucy looking up at Declan with an almost child-like worshipful expression. They really are more like brother and sister. I don’t know why I was ever worried about their relationship.
Daphne brings the horses to a slow stop alongside the library. One of the horses bristles and clomps a foot down.
“Everyone line up here!” someone shouts to the crowd slowly walking around the side of the library toward our wagon.
The man tending the line allows the first group of tourists to approach our wagon. Declan turns to greet them. He pulls his shoulders back, an air of authority surrounding him. Everything about his posture and demeanor says he’s in command of the sleigh and won’t be tolerating any shit from the passengers.
Oh.
That’s hot.
The wagon rocks and creaks as people start filing in. Couples bundled up. A group of college-aged women and men. A family with two teens who seem equal parts thrilled and anxious. Declan steps forward to help a woman climb the steps in her ridiculous high-heel boots. She laughs, a little breathless, and clings to him for several long, uncomfortable seconds.
“Wow,” she says in a breathy, girlish voice. “You’re our guide tonight?”
“Yes, I am,” he says in a brusque tone. “Please take a seat. We’re on a schedule.”
She frowns, then wobbles over to the hay bale next to Lucy’s. Another woman in more sensible shoes hurries up the steps and sits next to the woman who keeps eyeballing Declan like he’s her next meal.
A few more stragglers climb aboard. I inch closer to Declan and he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear.
“You all right? Warm enough?”
I am now. “I’m having fun.” I rub my hands together.
“Good.” He brushes a quick kiss against my cheek, then straightens and scans the wagon.
“One more!” the line attendant calls.
Another woman—mid-thirties, glossy hair, red lipstick—leans closer than necessary as she settles on the hay bale across from me.
“So,” she says, smiling up at Declan, “are you our protector from the ghosts and spirits tonight?”
A slight tick of his jaw. “I am.” His tone is polite but doesn’t invite more conversation.
She slides her gaze over him. “Looking forward to the ride.”
You better mean this wagon, lady.
Declan touches my back and I smile up at him. Affection softens the line of his mouth. “Ready?”
I nod.
The carriage takes off, my body jerking and swaying with the movement. Unease crawls through my stomach.
“Why don’t you move closer to the corner,” Declan suggests. “Steady yourself on the rails.”
I flick my gaze to red lipstick lady, but she’s fixated on Declan. Whatever, I’m not his guard dog. Or even his girlfriend, really.
Why does that bother me so much?
I slide over the hay bale, tucking myself into the corner. I plop my bag in the space I just vacated, leaving no room for anyone else to claim the spot.
Once everyone’s settled, Lucy gets up and closes a gate at the back. The chatter increases. Laughter ripples through the group. Someone cracks a joke about zombie reindeer.
Declan lifts the microphone again, tapping it once. The electronic thump cuts through the chatter. All eyes turn his way.
He waits patiently until the quiet fully settles. When he speaks, his voice is lower than before. Steady and intimate.
“Evening, everyone.”
A few people murmur hellos back.
“My name’s Declan and I’ll be your guide tonight.” He gestures toward Lucy. “My assistant, Lucy, will alert you to danger.” He steps closer and rests his hand on my shoulder. “And my girlfriend, Emery, will be documenting whatever ghosts and spirits we encounter along the way.”
Am I hallucinating, or did he just call me his girlfriend in front of a whole bunch of people?
I flash a nervous smile and pull my notepad and pen out of my bag.
“All right,” he continues. “Welcome to Crowsbridge Hollow. You picked the perfect chilly evening to visit us. We’re going to see what we can stir up tonight.”
He goes over a short list of rules. When one of the guys all the way at the back of the wagon is busy running his mouth instead of listening, Lucy taps his shoulder and points up front to Declan.