Chapter 17
Grant
Somewhere around dawn, Valerie broke rule number one. I woke to her leg tangled with mine, her arm draped across my stomach, and the faint tickle of her hair against my throat.
I didn’t move. The steady rise and fall of her breath feathered over my skin. Fantastic. The woman who’d drafted the terms about “staying on our own sides” was officially in breach of contract.
I lay there, every muscle taut, debating my options. If I moved, she’d wake up. If I didn’t, I’d probably get used to this.
“Spells,” I whispered.
Nothing.
Her fingers flexed against my chest, sliding lower along the ridges of my stomach.
Yeah. I was in trouble.
“Spells,” I tried again, quieter this time, because my voice had dropped to a place I didn’t recognize.
“So warm. Five more hours.” A low hum sounded in her throat that had me stifling a groan.
“What happened to five more minutes?” I muttered under my breath like a grumpy snooze button. But I tugged the cover over her shoulder, my arm an anchor over the curve of her hip.
The movement woke her. Her brow wrinkled, confusion shifting to dawning horror as she realized exactly where her hand was.
“Good morning,” I said dryly.
She rolled away so fast she took the blanket with her, leaving me exposed to the cold air.
“Warn a guy before you flash-freeze him, will you?” I swung my legs out of bed and reached for the sweater tossed over the arm of the chair. Tugging it on, I caught sight of Valerie wrapped head to toe in the quilt, shuffling around the mattress like a caterpillar in a cocoon.
“Sorry,” she said, shoving a mass of hair out of her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re like a furnace?”
“No. Why would someone tell me that, especially someone who claims to value a continent between two people?”
Her lip snarled. “Your feet touched mine first... I think.”
“What can I say? I’m a knight in shining armor when it comes to cold toes.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, curling said toes under her blanket cloak.
I stretched, trying to work the stiffness out of my neck, and not tug the edge of her blanket just to drag her back to bed. She might have broken a rule, but there were plenty of other unspoken ones between us.
Like, don’t get too close.
Don’t think about how the woman with morning hair and a quilt wrapped around her shoulders looked like the coziest sin ever committed in flannel. And, most importantly, don’t trick myself into hoping she might be thawing too.
“Do you think it’s safe to make coffee?” she asked, peeking out the door as if the ghost might leap from the hall and demand breakfast first.
“It’s never too dangerous for coffee.” I scrubbed my palms over my face. “Go grab your bag from your room. You can change in here while I get it going.”
She hesitated, teeth catching her bottom lip.
I knew that look.
“You want me to check your room, don’t you?”
“You have to walk past it to get to the stairs. It's called efficiency.”
“It's called sending the canary into the coal mine.” I pulled on my socks. “Seriously, Spells, what possessed you to think you could last inside a haunted inn?”
She curled her fingers tighter around the blanket, her gaze falling to her bare feet. The question hung there, thick in the cold air between us.
A rhetorical question.
Then it hit me. The key.
So stupid. She’d rather face down her greatest fear than spend another day married to me.
“Wait here,” I said, stalking past her into the hall before I said something I’d regret.
Her door stood half open, the sheets tangled in a heap where she’d bolted out of bed.
I didn’t “investigate” like she would've called it. I didn’t want to know what her shampoo smelled like up close, or the exact lotion that made her skin so soft.
I just grabbed a handful of things, tossed them into her bag, and carried it back into the hall.
“The coast is clear,” I said, handing it over. “No spirit yeti in sight. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
When Valerie joined me downstairs, I’d already started the coffee and cracked a few eggs into a pan, moving the spatula in small, mechanical circles. The scent of butter and grilled bread filled the air, cutting through the inn’s chill.
She hovered in the doorway, blanket gone, hair pulled into a messy knot that made my hands twitch with the urge to pull it loose.
“Thanks for… the ghost check.” She scuffed her slipper against the floor, watching me cook. “Can I… um… pay my debt by pouring you a cup of coffee?”
“Black, two sugars,” I said, keeping my focus on the pan.
She crossed the room, snagged two mugs from the rack, and started pouring. Sugar in mine. Cream in hers. Like we'd done this before. Like it was normal.
A pop of grease hit my knuckles, and I barely flinched.
Maybe I needed the sting. When was the last time I shared breakfast with anyone, let alone twice in one week?
Growing up, my parents had never cooked.
If it wasn’t catered, it was cold cereal or a microwave dinner.
That was probably why I learned early. Wow them with eggs Florentine and a beef Wellington, and they’ll keep coming back.
It was a gimmick, and now it felt domestic.
Like an act of service and not just an act.
I shifted the pan off the burner, jaw tight. Temporary, I reminded myself. This is temporary.
“Pass me the salt?” I asked, nodding toward the counter.
She reached for it, then froze. “Uh, Grant?”
I followed her gaze. There, between the tea tin and the salt shaker, sat an envelope sealed with red-and-gold wax, the logo unmistakable.
Sacred Spell Couples Resort.
Great. This inn had two ghosts now—and both were out for blood.
I wiped my hands on a towel. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How did they find us here? I shredded all the others.”
Valerie’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Others? This isn’t the first letter? How many have you gotten?”
I picked it up and glared at the return address. “About one a week. Then there are the emails.” I flipped the envelope. “Though none of them have ever been stamped Urgent before.”
Valerie snatched it from my hand and broke the seal, pulling out the card. Fancy gold script curled across the page.
“What does it say?” I asked—then leaned in before she could answer, close enough to catch the scent of vanilla on her skin as I read over her shoulder.
COUPLES ALIGNMENT EXERCISE
Pursuant to the Petals and Hearts-in-Harmony add-on, Section 12, Subclause (iii), you are hereby required to complete two couples alignment exercises in accordance with your marriage contract.
Failure to complete these tasks before Christmas Eve will result in an automatic two-year extension of the marital contract.
Exercise #1: Each partner must procure and exchange one thoughtful early holiday gift. Total value must not exceed twenty dollars.
The final exercise will follow upon completion.
Valerie blinked at the card as if it might grow wings and fly around the kitchen. “This is nuts. We have couples homework. It’s like the resort knows we’re trying to loophole our way out.”
“It’s twenty dollars,” I said. “You were planning on going into town anyway to dig through those old newspapers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You really want to do this?”
“Why not? Are you bad at gift giving? That would track. It’s an art.” I leaned a hip against the counter, amused by the tic in her jaw.
“Are you challenging me to a Christmas present duel?” she asked, chin lifting.
“Maybe I am.” I tossed the rag over my shoulder and mirrored her stance. “And I already know I’ll win.”
“The card says thoughtful gifts, Grant. Not lottery tickets and tiny bottles of peppermint schnapps.”
“Loser does the dishes.” I held out my hand.
She slipped the card into her pocket, then wrapped her fingers around mine in a firm shake. “You’re on. We exchange gifts at sunset.”