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“That’s what the ghosts want you to think.”

He gives me a flat look.

I smile sweetly.

“Did you buy this place because it matches your personality?”

“What’s wrong with my personality?”

“Nothing. If you’re a gargoyle.”

His mouth twitches.

And something warm settles in my chest.

God, I’ve missed that.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“Is it poisoned?”

“Not yet.”

“Then yes.”

He leads me through a long hallway toward the kitchen. His limp is subtle, but I notice it when he steps over a stack of lumber.

I notice everything about him.

The way he favors his left leg. The scar near his temple. The stiffness in his shoulders when he turns.

Ten years ago, Grayson moved like nothing in the world could hurt him.

Now he moves like he knows better.

The kitchen is surprisingly beautiful. White marble countertops, dark cabinets, gleaming appliances, and a massive island beneath exposed wooden beams.

I stop in the doorway.

“Well, look at that. Dracula discovered Pinterest.”

“Keep talking, sweetheart. I’ll start charging admission.”

“You’d make a fortune.”

He pours coffee into two mugs and slides one across the island.

Black.

Exactly how I like it.

I stare at the cup.

He notices.

“What?”

“You remember.”