Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
She follows me out onto the back patio and watches while I arrange the steak and vegetables on the hot grill.
She laughs, and even the sound is music to my ears. “Wow, your backyard is gorgeous, too.”
“Thank you. I love to hang out back here to decompress. Everyone thinks my job is all fun and games, but it’s actually stressful as hell,” I admit, something I’ve never told my brothers.
“I can see that.” I see the empathy shining in her blue eyes and realize she really does get it. “It must be so stressful to know people could be injured if you mess things up.”
Fuck. It’s like she goddamn read my mind. If she didn’t already own my heart, she would’ve stolen it at that exact moment. I set an alarm on my phone so I don’t turn our food into charcoal, and then I pull her into my arms and cover her lips with mine.
I lose myself as the taste of her flows through me. As I explore her sweet mouth, I forget about everything except my sweet little sassy treat. When the alarm goes off, I reluctantly step back and lay my forehead against hers. “Fucking hell, you’re potent.”
“So are you.” She helps me bring the grilled steaks and vegetables inside. We talk about nothing important while we plate our food.
We settle into easy conversation over dinner. I tell her about my family—the unofficial Midnight royal family of the area, apparently. “My older brother, Sterling, runs the family corporation, Midnight Enterprises. He's got the business savvy and a slightly frightening ability to calculate profit margins in his sleep. Sinclair, my middle brother, is the town sheriff. I'd say he's the law incarnate, but he's actually just a big softy.”
“So, do your brothers still treat you like you’re a teenager who needs to be protected?”
“How did you know?” It’s like she’s back to reading my mind.
“I have an older sister who thinks I’m her responsibility even though I’ve been taking care of myself for years,” she admits, and I realize we have way more in common than I’d originally thought. “Older siblings. You can’t live with them and you’d look horrible in an orange jumpsuit if you murder them.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I laugh and pour us each another glass of wine.
“How did you get into haunted ride design?” Romi asks, her gaze steady and curious over the flickering candlelight.
“I always loved to tinker with stuff. Somehow, that led me to studying Mechanical Engineering. From there, I came home and took the head designer job at Midnight Industries and the rest is history.”
“I can tell you love it.” She leans close, and I barely resist the urge to pull her into my lap.
“There's something thrilling about sculpting the unknown and tapping into people's deepest fears, all the while ensuring they have the time of their lives. There's an art to it," I continue, "finding that fine line between thrilling and terrifying.”
She nods as if she genuinely finds my world fascinating. “I can't wait to see one of your masterpieces.”
“You’ve got a standing invite. I’ll take you to Midnight Scares anytime you want,” I assure her, pleased with the look of anticipation on her face.
“I can’t wait! I freaking love haunted houses.” She nearly vibrates with excitement, and I fall even deeper under her spell.
As we share the decadent chocolate torte for dessert, I decide it’s time to get to know everything about her. “So, what brought you to Midnight Falls?” I ask, feeling the curiosity simmering in my questions.
“The job at Trick or Treat.” She shrugs and takes another bite of the torte. “I needed a change of scenery, and I’d heard a ton of great things about Midnight Falls,” she replies with a smile.
“And so you could get away from your overprotective sister?”
“That too.” She chuckles. “When Tony offered me the job, I jumped at the chance to move here. It didn’t go over well with Yvette, but she got over it.” Romi gives me this knowing look, her lips curving into a wry grin. “Until she met my landlord. It took a ton of reassurance to get her to leave town after she met Viola.”
“Viola?” Surely, she isn’t talking about the crazy old lady who regularly terrorizes the town.
“I rent a small garage apartment at Viola Brinkley's house.” She chuckles.
“I can’t believe you live with old Mrs. Brinkley, the one and only town legend, notorious for her unusual ways.” More than unusual. The elderly woman sits on her porch every day in an old floral nightgown with curlers in her hair and a cigarette hanging from her mouth. On Halloween, she gives out candy to the kids and small bottles of bourbon to the adults.
Romi shrugs. “I actually love it. She’s a doll and her pet iguana, Herman, hangs out in the window surveying his domain.”