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“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

His mouth curves.

“I’m working on it.”

I burst out laughing.

“Grayson Blackwood, are you telling me you have a plan?”

“Several.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Probably.”

I slide closer.

“Does this plan involve more haunted mansions?”

“Maybe.”

“Motorcycles?”

“Definitely.”

“Pumpkin spice?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

I laugh so hard I nearly fall off the bed.

He catches me and pulls me back against his chest.

“Careful, Pumpkin.”

“You’re going to have to get used to it.”

“What?”

“Me. Being here. Laughing at your terrible jokes. Stealing your sweatshirts.”

His arms tighten around me.

“Think I can manage.”

I rest my head against his chest.

For a while, we lie quietly, listening to the rain.

Then I feel his lips against my hair.

“Love you, Pumpkin.”

I smile.

“Love you too, Reaper.”