21. Oz
Oz
I sip my coconut caramel latte, my right thigh nearly touching Wilder’s. Ginger sits on the bench to my left, her head resting on my knee. I’m as painfully aware of Wilder’s warm body so close to mine as I am the crumpled, aged paper sitting on the tabletop.
Bluebell, Lemon and Willa sit opposite us, their heads together like a little trio of investigators.
Willa looks up at her brother, who’s silent next to me.
I’m getting used to Wilder’s brand of quiet, though.
It’s not that he doesn’t care what’s happening; he’s just observing it all.
He’ll remember everything everyone said later on.
Will tugs at her dark green braid. “I didn’t sleep at all last night… I couldn’t stop thinking about this and what it might mean.” She glances at me. “And why now? Why deliver this to us last night? I assume you’ve all been to the bar many times without her doing something like this.”
Bluebell shakes her head . “A million times. Never seen anything like this. It’s new, for sure.”
I’m still playing catchup on what I missed last night, and I’m honestly shocked to shit over it. The bar gave them some long-lost note? Who? Why? How? It’s a mystery for sure.
Willa sits up and rolls her shoulders, straightening as she cocks her head from side to side, stretching.
After a moment, she looks around the table.
“I think we should go to the Keeper’s mansion.
If anyone in this whole haven might have a clue about this, it would be her, right?
She and Sipan Varian would have been close. ”
Lemon nods, eyes springing wide. “Of course! She’s been empty since his death. If he left this to be revealed one day, she’d probably know about it…”
“Is that what we assume is happening, for sure? And what are we even expecting to find?” I grab the small paper and read it for the millionth time this morning. It’s not like there’s hidden treasure in Pine Gulch. This isn’t a real-life Goonies story. I mean, that would be cool, but…
Willa reaches for the paper, taking it and scanning it anew. “Don’t know. What I do know is that this haven has never kept a Keeper since Sipan, and now she’s sending us on this goose chase, and I can’t help but feel like it's really important.”
“So we’ll go to the Keeper’s house,” Wilder says simply.
He glances at me. “You’re off today, you mentioned.
Want to come with, or do you have plans?
” His thigh officially touches mine then, and it zaps every conscious thought from my brain.
Instead, I flash back to last night and his supreme, delicious dominance.
Blinking rapidly, I force a nod. That’s an appropriate response, surely.
The barest hint of smirk tips Wilder’s mouth upright, which is when I remember his sister’s incredibly unique ability to read other monsters.
“Sure, I’d love to go.” I clear my throat and grab my latte, then take a few more sips as Willa rises.
“Let’s go now.”
Wilder looks at me with a full grin this time. “You might have noticed that Willa doesn’t let things go.”
“Tell me about it,” says Bluebell with a groan. “You should have seen her last night playing poker with us. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this hangover.”
Willa claps Bluebell on the shoulder. “Carbs, girlfriend. Grab some biscuits from Skylight and bring them with you. We’ll meet you at the mansion, alright?” Then she turns and heads toward the front of the coffee shop.
I smirk at Wilder, reaching down to place my hand on his thigh.
“I see what you mean,” I say with a laugh, squeezing his leg through the jeans.
It’s a test to see if he’s into it after last night.
Part of me still doesn’t believe that what happened happened, and I’m not sure what’s real in the light of day.
But his grin grows mischievous, and he leans in closer.
“Y’all are cute as shit,” Bluebell says as she stands. “But I think your sister’s right. If I don’t get some carbs, I’m gonna barf everywhere. See y’all in a bit.”
She disappears too, leaving us with just Lemon, who’s smiling as she stares at us over the edge of a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
When she says nothing and the moment stretches long, I stare at her over the table. “Cat got your tongue, Lem?”
She stops sipping and looks at me. “Nope. I was just considering how many things are changing in Pine Gulch lately. Headquarters folks showing up to tell us about a whole paper Sipan wrote right after Shadow moved here to try to pick up some of his known-about projects. Wilder showing up and you two connecting. Now this thing with your sister. It almost feels like Pine Gulch is coming alive in a way, doesn’t it?
Lots of love these days. Lots of connection. It’s interesting, don’t you think?”
I hadn’t considered that, but I think about it as I put my notebook back in my bag, careful not to jostle Ginger too much.
“We’d better go find Willa,” Wilder says. “My sister has a penchant for getting into tight spots simply by virtue of being herself.”
“And that’s what I mean,” Lemon says as she stands.
“This whole town is a haven for folks who fit outside the normal mold. Furyon told me it was a lawless place of misfits when I first came here, and I think that’s proven to be true.
Seems to me like perhaps Willa’s just another Gulcher, even though you’re not from here.
” She sighs, but it’s a happy sound. “It’s like the more you don’t fit in, the more you do, if that makes any kinda sense. ”
Wilder grunts noncommittally as he stands and moves so I can slide out of the booth.
“This is cute, you two.” Lemon waves a finger between us, a sexy little smile on her face. “I’m happy for you. You should come to Bluebell’s tonight for dinner. Might be nice to not have to fake it, ya know?” Her expression is pure mischief as Wilder looks over at me.
Shit, Lemon opened this door, and I might as well shove Wilder through it. I smile up at him. “I’m down if you are?”
His returning smile seems genuine, bringing out his dimples and drawing my attention to the adorable cleft in his chin. He turns to Lemon. “We’ll be there.”
She flashes him a bright smile as she leads us toward the door.
We leave BrewHaHa together, hooking a left up Main Street.
The clang of a train bell echoes from the direction of the portal station south of downtown.
By the time we reach the crook in Main, Mabel the train cruises into view and pauses in front of the Welcome Inn.
“We need a date night on Mabel,” I say as I sling my hand through the crook of Wilder’s elbow.
It’s acting; that’s all it is. Who knows if Saint is lurking around some corner?
Except, right now, the acting doesn’t feel like acting at all, and Wilder tucks my hand close to his side even as he glances over his shoulder at the gorgeous red and black train.
He turns with lifted brows. “Mabel? The train that goes around the whole haven?”
I nod. “We’ll get you a copy of the welcome book once the sale’s complete. It’ll be fun to go through that together once you’re officially official.”
The moment I say it, I blanch, lashes fluttering. Once the sale’s complete, Wilder won’t need a fake mate anymore. We haven’t discussed what last night meant, but I can’t assume it means we’ll continue on. Or maybe it does?
We should probably have some kind of conversation about it when we’re alone, because I’m desperate to know how he feels about what we did in his bed. He’s silent, not responding to the comment, and that makes butterflies rocket around my stomach like they were shot out of a grenade launcher.
I’m fully lost in my thoughts again by the time we reach the Keeper’s mansion. Her black wrought iron gates are thrown open wide, the first time I’ve ever seen that.
Lemon waggles her brows at me when I notice the gates. “You know how long it took me to convince her to do that? I’m thrilled to see it stuck, though.” She reaches out and rubs the iron lovingly. “My sweet girl.”
The house at the end of the walkway shimmies and creaks out a series of hoots and crackles that sound eerily like laughter.
Lemon’s tinkling laughter joins it. “You’re out of practice, dear girl, but we’ll have you all fixed up in no time.”
I marvel at her and the mansion’s easy connection. It makes no real sense to anyone—Lemon’s not a Keeper; we established that when she first arrived in Pine Gulch. But for whatever reason, the house took to her immediately, and it’s been in love with her ever since.
The mansion’s front doors are wide open as well, footsteps echoing from inside the foyer. As I stare up the newly repaired brick path, Willa walks past the opening, muttering as she holds the poem in her hands.
Wilder sighs. “She’s in full Detective Willa mode. This is gonna take all day.” He winks down at me. “You sure you’re down for this, Oz? Won’t offend me if you don’t wanna deal.”
“I want to,” I assure him, hoping there’s some way I can remind him that last night meant something, that it wasn’t just acting.
“Can’t imagine anything better to do with my day than dive into this mystery.
For real.” My tail lashes side to side as I shuffle my wings, hoping he can read how very into this I really am.
And it’s more than the mystery. It’s him and the opportunity to spend a day together doing something fun.
Bluebell appears behind us, tossing a box from Skylight Bakery into my hands.
“Again, y’all are adorable, but hold that while I grab another biscuit, okay?
I ate one on the way over, and I’ve gotta get rid of this hangover before Hadrian shows up with a prompt I-told-you-so about that last shot of tequila. ”
Chuckling, I open the box so she can pick from the variety of baked goods inside.
Once she finds a biscuit she’s happy with, I offer the box to Wilder. He eyes the carbs with nostrils flared, but eventually shakes his head. “Save that chocolatey-looking one for Willa. She’s a sucker for chocolate, and she’ll inhale that.”
“I heard that!” Willa shouts from inside the mansion.
The house herself lets out another rough noise composed of tile clatters and rippling siding.
Bluebell grumbles as she trudges up the walkway, munching on the biscuit. Lemon, Wilder and I follow her to the front entryway, where Willa stands with the poem in hand. She reads it aloud, looking utterly lost in thought as she looks around the house.
“An eleven must strike.” She sucks at her teeth and stares around, planting both hands on her hips.
After a moment, she looks at Lemon. “Doesn’t that sorta sound like we’re talking about time?
Lemon, have you found any sort of clock or anything around here?
This place has so many rooms, I don’t even know where to start. ”
Lemon nods and grabs the bakery box, rummaging around inside it. “Yep, there’s a grandfather clock on the second-floor landing. It’s not working, though.”
Willa spins on her heel and jogs toward the curved staircase leading up to the second story.
“There she goes,” Wilder says with a little sigh.
Lemon and Bluebell share a look as Bluebell shoves an entire half of a biscuit in her mouth. Lemon turns to follow Willa up the carpeted staircase.
Wilder presses a hand to my lower back as he leans in close, his nose brushing against the tapered shell of my ear. “Git, Oz.”
Oh godssssss. Sexy commands?
“Don’t mind if I do.” I turn with a saucy little wink. Walking up the stairs after the girls, I focus on the fact that he’s possibly staring at my ass the entire way up. I know it looks good today because I wore my tightest jeans in the hopes we’d have more time together.
At the top of the stairs and down to the left, the girls stand around a tall, dusty grandfather clock, staring at its face.
“I haven’t had time to clean or reupholster any of the furnishings,” Lemon says. “We’ve been focused on renovating the guts of the house, which is done at this point, for the most part.”
Willa cocks her head to the right as she stares at the clock. “Find anything weird during renovations?”
“Nope.” Lemon shakes her head. “Just typical old house things.”
Above our heads, the crystal chandelier sways, tinkling unhappily.
“Sorry,” Lemon says, lifting both hands. “I didn’t mean to call you old, sweet girl.”
Willa opens the front door of the clock, revealing the swinging arm that would tick if the clock were working. We all stare inside, but there’s nothing notable.
Frowning, Willa steps up on the interior of the clock edge, peering into the hand mechanism. “It’s stuck at seven p.m.,” she muses aloud, “but I wonder what might happen if we switched this to eleven.”
“Try it,” Bluebell groans, grabbing the box of baked goods from me.
Willa deftly moves the hour hand to eleven, and nothing happens.
“Try the minutes too,” I say as we watch in silence.
Willa tips the minute hand around past six and eight, and the moment it hits twelve, the clock lets out a click, followed by a groan that shakes its entire base. We all jump back as the refurbished flooring around the clock twists and spins, forming a hole that grows larger by the second.
“Get back, everyone!” Willa shouts. “Make room!”
The house creaks and groans a warning as we back nearly to the top of the stairway.
“Very interesting,” Willa murmurs as pieces of the wall and floor flip and flop into an opening.
The grandfather clock moves to the side like it's on an invisible track. My mouth drops open as a series of curving stairs appear in the hole in the floor, leading down into an impossible darkness.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wilder says. “Did we just discover a secret lair?”