“Helpful,” he said.
I popped a walnut into my mouth. Roan had been kind enough to offer me sustenance while I watched him slave over the meal. “It’s not helpful at all.”
He adjusted the knobs on the oven. “And I thought you lived and breathed sarcasm.”
“What do you mean?”
“To recognize it,” he murmured. His gaze flickered to me. “I was being sarcastic. What Alice said didn’t help anyone.”
“Much less a blind mouse.”
“You know”—he flipped a towel over his shoulder—“helping blind mice is always at the top of my list.”
I laughed. “Oh, and the couple you’re going to meet…they might be a little different.”
He rolled dough into individual balls and settled them in muffin tins. “How so?”
“They’re witches.”
He stopped rolling. Roan stared at the counter.
“Are you okay?”
“Sure. Just that this week’s been a doozy. Saw my first ghost, not to mention I somehow banished a spirit. Is banished the right word? For some reason it doesn’t feel right on my tongue.”
“I’m not sure what the word is. We’d need another demonologist to help us there.”
He wagged finger. “Right. I’m a demonologist. Now. Full-fledged. I hoped the power would skip me and I’d coast on through, living in this inn making sure whatever is trapped remains exactly where it is.”
I eased back on the stool, lifted one knee and hooked an arm over it. “Who is this talking? The Roan Storm I know is always ready for battle.”
“Not if it means putting you in danger. But wait—you put yourself in enough danger.” Roan didn’t bother containing the bitterness in them as the words bit into me.
“Roan, I’m a ghost hunter. I track ghosts. This is the first time”—he shot me a dark look—“okay, maybe not exactly the first time that I’ve had a spirit threaten to destroy me. But this is the first time I haven’t had the Ghost Team behind me and haven’t been able to access their help.” Before he could say anything, I quickly added, “We captured him, Roan. You and me.”
“But he’s still active. Until you have a name.”
I scraped my fingers over my scalp. “I know. We need a name. We’re working on it.” I snapped my fingers. “Axel had an idea for that. We might give it a shot. We’ll discuss it tonight.”
Roan opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell cut him off. He popped the rolls in the oven and washed his hands. “Looks like the guests have arrived.”
I hopped from the stool. “Think you can be nice?”
“Think you’re incapable of sarcasm?”
“My answer is no.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “You’d better be nice.”
“Or what? You’re going to spank me?” The dark look in his eyes challenged me.
I sniffed. “No. I won’t ever spank you.”
Roan threw back his head and laughed. He draped an arm over my shoulder, tugged me to him and kissed my temple. “You smell delicious.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be nice?”
He murmured as we crossed through the kitchen, “For you, I’ll be anything.”
Roan hurdledway past nice and ventured into super nice. Never in my life had I watched a host exhibit such care and attention to his guests. He entertained Axel and Pepper with jokes about growing up in a haunted town. He relayed stories I’d never heard—about how an old crab apple of a woman, Mrs. Simpleton, had left her clothes to dry on a line. When she returned, the clothing had assembled itself into an entire person and spooked the devil out of her. Mrs. Simpleton had been so frightened she’d tripped and fallen back into the clot of clothes, which caught her up and twirled her around before setting her back on the ground.
