Chapter 8

I pushed Goose’s slick hair back from his forehead. “Maybe the top hats would have been a good idea, after all.”

His smile made up for a lack of sunshine. I was suddenly warm. Life was suddenly brighter. “Your big bushy beard is all sparkly with raindrops.” He touched some, and we kissed several times, over and over, likely never to have stopped, except for the ring of a phone.

“Shell,” Goose said to me. “Yo,” he said to her upon answering.

“It’s Rip.”

I was close enough to hear.

“Is Shelby okay?” Goose sat up straighter in is seat.

“Yes. A little winded from hurrying to get in out of the rain, but nothing major.”

“Have her lie down.”

“They want us to move to the basement,” Rip said.

“Who does?”

“The people running the inn. Where are you two?”

“Patrick’s car won’t start.”

“Uh oh.”

“My words exactly. We’re gonna ride out the storm, and then walk back your way.”