inspected my hands. Black bands on all my left knuckles, whorls of metallic colors over every inch of my right hand. The black bands looked a little swollen, like they were bruising beneath, and the whorls of colors were darker than normal, dull, like someone had sanded the metallic shine off of them.
Or several someones.
I dried my hands carefully, though they weren’t really hurting. The ache and sunburn had faded fast, leaving me cold. Just cold. And wet. I wiped my face. The towel was white, soft, and smelled of lemon dish soap.
“Thanks,” I said again, lifting the towel a little before handing it to Grant. He rubbed it over his face, wadded it up, and put it on the table.
“You had me worried.”
“Sorry.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Oh, I so did not. I didn’t like telling people I was going crazy.
“That’s really nice. But trust me, you don’t want to get involved in my troubles.”
“I don’t know. Everyone needs a little trouble now and then. Keeps things spicy.”
“Running the coffee shop isn’t spicy enough?”
He shrugged. “Business is business. But I want my friends to know I’ll do what I can to help. Be there if they need me.”
I shook my head but smiled despite myself. I’d been coming to Get Mugged for years, and I didn’t know Grant considered our casual morning talks the basis for a friendship.
“Friends?” I asked.
“Anyone who gives me tickets to the Schnitz for my birthday two years in a row is officially my friend.”
“I did that?”
Grant gave me a funny look. I knew that look-it happened when I had forgotten something in my past but the person I was with had not. Fantastic. I’d not only forgotten I was friends with Grant, but had also forgotten I’d given him tickets to the opera.
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked.
I rubbed at my eyes. “Sorry, Grant. Things… The coma did weird things to my memory. I have a lot more holes. I think I lost your birthday.” And damned if that didn’t make me feel like a heel.
“Hey, that’s okay. I’ll remind you.
“So, tell all, girl. What’s going on?”
I am not the kind of gal who falls for every nice smile she sees. But Grant’s smile was like the shop- warm, friendly, comfortable. I smiled back, and for the first time in what must be years regretted not putting on at least a little mascara.
Not that it would matter with Grant. Women weren’t his thing.
“I just, well, I took a new job-”
“Hounding?”
“Right, for the police, and I guess my mind’s on that.”
“So, you’re not hurt?”
“No.”
“Not in trouble-No, let me rephrase that. Don’t need me to call the police for you?”
“No.”
“And you’re feeling a little better now that we got you out of the rain and wind?”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed. I took a drink of coffee and closed my eyes as it rolled hot all the way down to my belly. Hot, dark, rich. Heaven.
“Trust me,” I said. “After a cup of this, I’ll be perfect.” I took a bite of scone. “Wait,” I said around a mouthful of pumpkin spice goodness. “I’ll be perfect after the coffee
“Good.” He straightened and put both his hands on his knees, ready to push up onto his feet. “ ’Cause you looked like you’d seen a ghost out there.”
I choked on the scone and coughed uncontrollably.
“You okay?”
I nodded and thumped at my chest to try to get the bite of scone either up or down. I picked up my coffee and took a slurp. That got me a burnt tongue and scalded the roof of my mouth, but at least the scone slid down my throat. I coughed a little more and then sneezed.
How graceful was I today?
Grant calmly handed me the towel again, which I used to wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.
“Maybe I should stop filling those things with gravel,” he said.
“What did you say?”
“Gravel. The scone. It’s a joke.”
“No. You said something about a ghost.”
Grant gave me a long look and then leaned his forearms on the table, folding his fingers together. “I said you looked like you’d seen a ghost,” he said calmly. “Standing out in the rain all pale and spooked. Why? Did you?”
I didn’t want to talk about this. Not to Grant. As far as I knew, he didn’t use magic, didn’t really understand it, and wouldn’t even care if I had seen ghostly glyphs or a whole herd of ghostly people stampeding outside his door.
“Did you see one?” he asked.
“What?”
He wiggled his fingers in the air. “A ghost.” Those dark, dark blue eyes still held the echo of his smile, but he was not joking around. It was a serious question.
I took a drink of coffee-a little more carefully this time.
“Get Mugged used to be an old saloon and boardinghouse,” Grant said. “It was built over the Shanghai Tunnels-did I ever mention that? Some people-especially people who use magic a lot-see things here. Spirits. I had a local ghost-hunting team come out and check into it a while back. Said there was a lot of activity. Ghosts of the men and women who were knocked out, locked up, killed, or sold onto pirate ships heading to China.”
“You had ghost hunters in here?”
“Sure. Why not? You don’t believe in ghosts?”
“I just-” I took a breath, exhaled. “I’m surprised you do.”
“Well, now that I’ve shared my secret, it’s your turn. Did you see a ghost?”
Hells. Why not?
“Yes.”
“Here?”
I took another drink of coffee, which hurt the burnt spots in my mouth. Totally worth it.
“Outside,” I said. “It was just for a couple seconds, but there was more than one.”
Grant grinned. “I liked the sound of that. Haven’t had multiple apparitions before. Were they full body?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you see them clearly from head to toe?”
The memory of them turning, gazing at me with hungry, empty eyes, moving toward me slowly, too slowly, flashed through my mind.
“Every bit of them. And I don’t know what you’re so happy about. They scared the hell out of me.”
“Haven’t seen a full body myself. Always kind of hoped I would. The ghost hunters said they didn’t think there was harmful activity here.”
“You might want to rethink that,” I said. Hells. Who was I to change Grant’s mind? If he liked thinking friendly ghosts were Caspering about in his coffee shop, that was cool with me. He could probably capitalize on the haunted thing and bring in the tourists.
