Me and My Ghoulfriends Read online

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  It had been late when I'd finally arrived home at my little farmhouse on the outskirts of town. I woke up with the typical hangover feeling I always got after confronting a ghost. The standard headache with dry cottonmouth, but never the fun party memories from a night of drinking that you get from a real hangover. My cellphone rang loudly, increasing the throbbing in my head as I jumped out of the shower. Glancing at the clock, I saw it read seven a.m. as I stumbled over my rug trying to grab the phone before it stopped ringing.

  I snatched it up, out of breath, and gasped, “Hello?” even though I knew there was only one person who'd be calling me this early in the morning: my best friend, Mindy. Actually, she was the only one allowed to call this early. I had banned my mother from calling at that time of the morning a long time ago, although she really didn't listen very well because she still did it on occasion. It was far too difficult to deal with her badgering me before a heavy dose of caffeine.

  "You know what today is?” The words sang out from the receiver.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about. Thursday?"

  "Don't play coy with me. You know what I'm talking about."

  I chuckled.

  "You have to get coffee from the new shop. When someone that gorgeous is that close, you have to check that out."

  "Check what out, the coffee?"

  She laughed. “That too."

  "He's probably married. That's always my luck."

  "Well, if you don't go in there, I will."

  "You have a boyfriend. Why do you need to go in? I'm the one who, to hear everyone tell it, is in desperate need of a date."

  "Do I sense a bit of jealousy?"

  "I gotta go to work."

  I hung up and finished dressing for work. I was glad Mindy didn't know that I took just a little while longer to dress for work than I normally did. Maybe I did need a tall cup of coffee to start my work day.

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  Chapter 2

  I spotted Brianna across the street, standing in her store; she definitely had the catbird seat for all of the action outside. She wanted to see and be seen. Mostly seen. Mannequins were posed stylishly in the windows with the latest fashions. Brianna could have easily passed for one of those plastic figures.

  I suspected she was probably cursing me under her breath when she caught me watching her. She threw up her hand in a pathetic attempt at a friendly wave. Brianna had never liked me, so I knew she was just being facetious every time she acknowledged my presence. I couldn't figure out exactly what I had done to make her loathe me, but I kind of thought she just didn't like anyone, so I tried not to take it personally.

  Brianna Garret was a transplant to our little town. She'd married the president of a large bourbon company located on its outskirts and had reluctantly planted roots here to be with him. The way I heard it, she threw one heck of a hissy fit her first night in Magnolia because there wasn't a decent beauty salon or a Starbucks.

  Too bad when they'd divorced she'd decided to stay. I never understood why she didn't go back to the big city; she was always raving about how much she loved it there. Plenty of people around here wished she had gone, including me.

  I threw up my hand to mimic her half-hearted wave. Oh God ... she was coming. She had tried to be friendly to me on several occasions, but it was painfully obvious it was all an act. Brianna strolled across the street and, all the while, traffic stopped just for her. The door to my bookstore, Book Nook, opened, and she sashayed through.

  Down the aisle she came, as if it was her runway, swinging her hips effortlessly from side to side. I wondered how many hours she'd spent perfecting that strut. Such a walk could never come naturally.

  Her hair was in one of those short spiky styles. Something I would never have the nerve to attempt. I was perfectly happy with my long dark locks; my hairstyle was not boring, but definitely not so over-the-top bold like hers. Most of the time I just pulled my hair back into a ponytail; it stays out of my eyes, which makes it easier to hunt for ghosts.

  Every little blond spike on top of her head looked as if it had been purposely positioned, as if every strand had its place and Brianna knew exactly how to put it there.

  "Hi, Brianna,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment that she was standing in my store.

  "Hi, Larue,” she said dryly.

  Clearly she felt the same way I did.

  "Just thought I'd stop in and congratulate you on winning that award,” she said, not looking at me, but instead picking a non-existent piece of fuzz from her too-short skirt.

  I'd recently been recognized by the state as an exceptional female small business owner. Brianna had not been recognized, and she was not pleased, even if she did try to hide it. Brianna owned a high-end women's clothing boutique in designer fashions—she catered to all the rich women in town. I remembered hearing her complain about having nowhere decent to shop when she first came to this place I called home, and in no time she'd opened her own store.

  Rumor has it she envisioned herself in Manhattan rather than downtown Magnolia.

  Don't get me wrong, I love designer clothes as much as the next girl and, from the looks of my closet, maybe even a little more. However, I felt there was a time and place for every outfit. And eleven a.m. on a Monday was not the time to wear the latest Christian Louboutin, not in Magnolia.

  As I glanced down to inspect Brianna's latest shoe purchase (five-inch sassy red cork-heeled pumps) I had to admit they were gorgeous. Although, I could never work all day standing in my shop wearing those. My dogs would be barking way before noon.

  "Thanks,” I said, staring at her, waiting to find out what she really wanted. I refused to believe she'd come over just for that. She wasn't exactly the type to offer congratulations to anyone.

  Brianna stared back without saying a word. Silence was suspended in the air. It was like a showdown to see who would speak next.

  She picked up a book nearby and glanced at the back cover, then finally said, “So, I guess you saw there's a new coffee shop opening today?"

  And there it was, the real reason she was there. Why had she even tried to fake the congratulations? She should have just come out with the truth to begin with. Without a doubt, that would have been too easy, though.

  "Yes, I saw.” I didn't offer any more details, especially not the tiny detail that I thought the owner of said coffee shop was gorgeous. Although I suspected she already knew that or she wouldn't be standing in front of me talking about it. I knew what she was up to; she was trying to feel me out to see if I'd already met him. No doubt she wanted to get her claws into him. I didn't have time for her silly games, I had a business to run.

  "Have you met the owner yet?"

  "No, I haven't. I'm sure I'll do the neighborly thing soon and stop in and say hello.” I couldn't resist adding that last part.

  "Well, I've met him already and he is darling. We're practically like this.” She held up her two brightly polished fingers and crossed them, indicating they were apparently the best of friends.

  So she was letting me know she had her eye on him. She was staking her claim. Whatever; she could have him. If he was interested in her then I didn't want anything to do with him. But since Brianna had been known to stretch the truth, I doubted they were that close.

  "That's great Brianna. Look, I've got a lot of work to get done. So maybe we could discuss the new guy in town later?"

  She gave me an irritated look. “Yeah, I have a lot of work too. I need to get back before the crowd swamps me.” She took a quick look around my empty store.

  As she turned, I rolled my eyes behind her back.

  Abraham Lincoln had been listening intently to the entire conversation, standing at the counter just inches away from Brianna. Oh how I wish he'd have appeared and scared the hell out of her. He shook his head in disapproval, not at my eye rolling, but just at Brianna in general.

  Even he didn't like her, and I thought he liked
everyone. Well, with the exception of, um ... I couldn't think of one enemy of President Lincoln's. He was always willing to forgive. I, on the other hand, was not so forgiving.

  "Good riddance,” I said, as she drifted out the door.

  Later that morning, I stopped just short of the coffee shop window, which was a few steps to the side and to the front of me. I smoothed down my favorite black top, fluffed my hair back, then held my hand over my mouth and blew. Breath seemed to be okay. I gathered my thoughts, then forced my foot to take another step. I grabbed the handle, pushed the rickety door open, and strolled inside.

  There was no turning back at that point. My heart flip-flopped when I saw him behind the counter, pouring what was probably some complicated drink for the lone customer in the shop. He was perfect.

  Short dark hair, dazzling blue eyes, and lips so full any Hollywood it-girl would be jealous. Although his lips weren't the least bit feminine, not in the slightest. They were, I happened to notice, very kissable. Yes, as I stared at him I realized he might have possessed the most kissable lips I'd ever laid eyes on.

  His coffee shop, Full Cup Coffeehouse, was cozy, like so many of the other stores along the main street in town. Right next door to mine. We shared the same historic building. Hmmm. That's not all I'd like to share with him.

  Exposed brick walls with prints of different style coffee cups and mugs covered them. Oversized leather chairs were placed into groupings with cherry-wood tables in the middle. It was the perfect mixture of old and new.

  The intoxicating aroma of coffee swirled around the room, enveloping my senses with its strong scent as I approached the counter, trying to divert my eyes from his handsome features. I studied the menu perched high on the wall above the display case. Like it even mattered what I ordered. I knew I wasn't really there for a latte, frappuccino, or any other hot beverage for that matter.

  The woman in front of me paid for her drink and then, suddenly, I was alone with him. Damn. I should have just run. He didn't know who I was. I could have made a dash for it and he would have never seen me ever again.

  It was all Mindy's fault. If she hadn't mentioned him earlier I probably wouldn't have come over at all. All right, maybe I would have, but still...

  Movement caught my eye and I turned to look out the tall windows that lined the front of the shop. Very cute, speak of the devil. Mindy was casually strolling by and conspicuously gawking in the window at us. Very subtle note-to-self: find a new best friend.

  "May I help you?” His voice snapped my thoughts away from my ex-best friend.

  Our eyes met. I thought I might melt into the hardwood planks under my feet, like butter on a stack of pancakes. At that moment, I wasn't sure what had come over me. I swallowed nervously.

  Around the opposite sex, I'd always tried to remain calm and collected. Granted, most of the time it didn't work out that way, but, oh well, at least I tried. Obviously, I was still searching for Mr. Right. I'd had my share of dates from hell over the years. Because of that, I think my mother had reluctantly come to the grim conclusion I was never getting married.

  I'll never have grandchildren, she would cry, every time I talked to her. I guess I had given her reason to worry; it had been a very long time since I'd had a date. Or at least what I considered to be a date. My last date had been disastrous.

  To my chagrin, I'd allowed my mother to set me up on a blind date with the son of one of the women from her book club. “He's charming,” she'd said. I still couldn't believe I had agreed to that. I guess the date wouldn't have been so bad, if I hadn't objected to dating a cross between a large werewolf and an octopus. Hairy, and all hands.

  I suddenly realized I'd been staring at Mr. Good-looking-coffee-shop-owner for an awkwardly long time. I tried to cover my tracks as best as I could.

  "Um. There's so much to choose from. I'm having a hard time making a decision. I had no idea there were so many coffee possibilities."

  His arms flexed, and muscles appeared as he moved forward to lean against the counter. Then he flashed me a full bright smile, revealing his perfect set of teeth. I'd never seen a more perfect smile. So bright and so white.

  "Please, take your time,” he said. His eyes were still focused on me.

  Suddenly, I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. I was utterly embarrassed. I hoped it wasn't painfully obvious to him I'd been checking out his rather pumped biceps. Coming to my senses slightly, and I do mean slightly, I glanced up at the menu again, pausing for a second to pick out something. Anything. Who knew there could be so many coffee options? Caffé Americano, Caramel Frappuccino, Cinnamon Dulce Latte, and the list went on and on. I could feel his eyes watching and studying me.

  All at once I felt incredibly self-conscience, which was exactly why I didn't like dating. I wondered if he noticed the huge red blemish that had popped up on my chin over night. I thought, at the age of twenty-five, I wouldn't have to deal with teenage torture anymore. Reluctantly, I peeled my eyes away from the chalkboard menu and tried to form my sweetest face.

  His eyes were still fixed on me and I was beginning to perspire from the nervous energy I was feeling. Was I standing on pins and needles? It sure felt like it. A bead of sweat trickled down my cheek. Talk about being scrutinized.

  "I'll take a tall chocolate covered cherry latte."

  "Excellent choice.” A smile curved his lips.

  "It's my favorite,” I said, flashing him my best grin. So far so good, I'd successfully ordered a drink. Luckily, I'd had that drink before on a trip last winter and remembered how much I loved it.

  "So I guess you came to check out the new person in town? Quite a few people have already,” he said, as he grabbed a paper cup for my order.

  "Actually, I...” I needed to think of something clever to say quickly. I didn't want him to think I was spying on him. Although I guess technically, I was spying.

  "Actually, I just needed a coffee pick-me-up this morning.” All right, that was far from clever. Even though it was hard to be clever all day without large amounts of caffeine coursing through my veins.

  I eyed him for his reaction. I hoped there would be a reaction. No reaction would mean he really didn't care one way or the other. Maybe he was just making small talk and I was over-analyzing the entire situation. He probably chatted with everyone. That's what coffee shop owners do, right? Of course, it had to be. Nothing to get excited about, I reminded myself. I was acting as if I had a schoolgirl crush. His eyes flickered, and I could have sworn I saw a surprised smile on his face.

  "Is that right?” His masculine arms flexed again as he reached for a new package of lids placed high on the shelf.

  My eyes were probably bulging out of my head as I stood there, transfixed.

  "I knew someone had leased this space, but I thought you would be much older.” I stumbled over my words. What was I saying? Someone needed to tape my mouth shut!

  "Really?” he said. He let out a soft chuckle that ignited tiny tickles in the pit of my stomach. The hunk finished preparing my drink and handed the cup toward me with a beaming grin.

  Stretching my hand out, I grabbed the cup from him and our hands touched ever so slightly with the exchange. My hand tingled with the swap and my stomach flip-flopped. Call me crazy, but I had the distinct feeling the touch had been on purpose.

  His fingers lingered for a split second. They lingered when they didn't have to. Relishing the tingle, I looked up from my cup and met his stare. His eyes were endlessly captivating. Was he flirting with me? No way, I must have been imagining things.

  "So, who told you I was old?” he smiled.

  "Oh no. No one told me you were old. I guess I just assumed. Coffee shop. Old person.” I chuckled nervously.

  What was I saying? Shut up!

  He paused, I assumed, to think of his choice of words.

  "Well, I was assuming you would be older as well. You know, bookstore owner.” He didn't smile.

  "You know, like a bookworm or something.” He flash
ed a bashful grin, and then let out a hearty chuckle.

  I laughed, relieved.

  "And I'm not a bookworm?” I asked, playfully biting my lip, trying my best attempt at sexy. I'm sure I just looked stupid instead. It probably looked more like a nervous twitch than a sexy guise.

  "No. You're not my idea of a bookworm. You're very sexy girl-next-door.” He gazed at me with those gorgeous pale-blue eyes of his, as though he was taking in every ounce of my appearance. My pulled-back dark hair, my casual shirt, comfy jeans and new white sneakers.

  Did he like what he saw? Please let him like what he saw.

  My cheeks were burning. At that point I had the distinct feeling he was trying to flirt with me. I didn't think it was my mind playing tricks on me. He was sending off flirting signals all over the place.

  "Hey! How did you know I was the bookstore owner?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

  "I saw you opening up this morning."

  Of course! That was a stupid question, being right next door, he had to have seen me.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Callahan Weiss."

  He held out his hand. After the tingle from just the touch of his fingers, what would happen if I shook his hand?

  I decided to take my chances and took his hand lightly. How could I not? It was so smooth, yet rough in all the right places.

  "I'm Larue Donavan. It's nice to meet you too."

  He blinked, as if in slow motion, then opened his eyes again. His lips had parted to utter another word when the door opened, distracting his thoughts. Damn. He stopped just as he'd begun to say something and looked at the customer. (Maybe he'd been going to ask me out?) The bad part was that his eyes were ogling whoever had just walked in the door.

  I followed his gaze to see Brianna sliding through the entrance. Didn't the woman ever work?

  She glided to the counter, her eyes focused on Callahan the entire time. I almost expected her to push me out of the way like a running back giving me the straight arm. Her timing couldn't have been any worse. She held his gaze and I suddenly felt like an outsider looking into their little world, as if I were intruding.