Page 14 of Trick or Treat with the Mountain Man
“I wonder what’s in the envelope,” I said, my curiosity getting the best of me.
He unfolded the loose sheets, and out fell a small photo of a couple. I picked it up and looked at it while he read the papers.
“It’s an obituary from Saint Louis for a man named Orson Myers.” Then he muttered to himself, almost inaudibly, “Died at sixty-three. That’s young. Left one surviving son.”
He unfolded the other piece of paper. “It’s a marriage announcement for Orson and Cordelia Myers.”
“This must be them.” I held out the old photograph.
He took the picture from my hand, his fingers grazing mine, and peered at it while I tried to recover from the shock waves that had just gone through me.
Hugging him earlier had been bad enough. I was having an unnatural reaction to this man. I wanted him something fierce. And by that I mean I wanted to have a party with his cock.
But that wasn’tme. I haddecorum.
I waited for men to come to me. Not the other way around.
But it sure would be a Halloween to remember if I had a one-night stand with this grumpy man tonight.
A tiny giggle spilled past my lips.
He glanced up at me. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I think this mystery is just making me loopy. Isn’t it weird that we heard thumping sounds from thisexactspot?”
He met my eyes, and for the first time tonight he admitted it. “Yeah. It’srealweird.”
“Do you think these people lived here?”
“I don’t know. The obituary says he died in Saint Louis. And it doesn’t mention a wife, only a son.”
I thought through the different scenarios. “If he died first, she should have been listed in the obituary as his surviving spouse. But if she died first, then who would have put his obituary under the floorboard?”
He looked at me with a question mark in his eyes. “The son?”
“Maybe.”
Right then, fireworks blasted into the night sky. Loud flashes of color popped outside the bedroom window while booming sounds filled the air.
It was louder than before, as though the fireworks earlier tonight were just a test run for this main event.
Tyler flinched, then knotted his forehead and curled in on himself slightly, his back bowing down an inch. If I hadn’t beenlooking at him, I wouldn’t have noticed, because he recovered himself in an instant, spine going ramrod straight again.
“Are you okay?” I looked at my watch. It was midnight. Everyone was probably setting off the fireworks to celebrate ‘the witching hour’.
His jaw was still gritted tight. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
As the booms got louder and closer together, and light flashed outside his window a pulse in his neck started beating visibly. A light sheen of sweat appeared on his temples.
He was trying to act like he was okay, but I could tell he was anything but.
I had todosomething. I pulled out my phone and called Abby.
She picked up on the fourth ring.
“Abby, you have to stop them from shooting off any more fireworks. Can you do that? I’ll explain later.”
My friend sounded slightly drunk, and a little confused, but she said, “Uh. Sure, Ava. Are you okay? Are you coming soon? You missed the karaoke session.”
