“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.
Inside I’m cartwheeling. Declan called me his girlfriend. What does that mean? How will that work?
Or did he just say it so women will stop flirting with him in front of me tonight?
So consumed with decoding the girlfriend comment, I miss a good portion of Declan’s story.
At least the passengers are into it. They lean forward, listening intently, nervously looking around as the wagon continues along its route.
