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  I lean in. “No vampires for you, Georgie. And we should probably keep it down. It’s bad enough the entire world believes this place is haunted.”

  “Well, it is.” Georgie doesn’t mind perpetuating the lie. “Everyone knows that Leo De Camps, the dude who built this place, killed his family and cemented them into the walls. There’s a big write-up on Wikipedia. I should know. I put it there myself.” She grins at Emmie and I gasp.

  “Georgie! You did not!” But honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her.

  “You gotta keep this place going, sister. If it goes under, both you and me are out of a place to live.”

  “And me,” Emmie chimes in.

  Georgie waves her off. “The vampires would have drained your blood by then.”

  “Funny.” Emmie takes a moment to scowl at her. “And I’m not the one dating the vampire. It’s Bizzy.”

  “No!” Georgie’s bright red lips round out as if she just heard the juiciest bit of gossip.

  “Yes,” a male voice says with just as much enthusiasm as Jordy, Emmie’s older brother, steps up. “And what am I protesting?”

  Jordy is handsome in a boyish way, has a round face and big, sweet blue eyes—but he’s a ladies’ man who has no intention of slowing down. I may have accidentally married him in Vegas three years ago, but our drunken matrimonial union lasted all of twenty-four hours—without the benefit of a wedding night, might I add.

  As soon as we got home, my brother Hux, a prominent divorce lawyer in Seaview County, took care of the unfortunate circumstances. Who knew Hux would come in handy when I needed a divorce myself? Technically, it was annulled, and both Jordy and I were none the worse for wear, but Emmie nearly didn’t forgive either one of us for the matrimonial blunder.

  Jordy tips his head our way. “What’s got you twisted in a knot?”

  Georgie steps in. “Vampires. And Bizzy is dating one.”

  The sound of glass breaking deep in the café disrupts the conversation, and Georgie’s artistic antennae go up.

  “I think I’m about to collect some valuable supplies.” She lifts a finger and heads in that direction. “If you’ll excuse me.” And by the way—I’m looking into someone who might know something about your special ability to voyeur into other people’s minds. I think you’re going to love him. He lives in a yurt behind a dairy farm and he’s going to look into your predicament. But don’t you worry. He won’t breathe a word.

  I cringe at the thought. Yurt aside, the fact he’s looking into my predicament is terrifying.

  “Don’t worry.” Emmie sighs as she takes off for the kitchen. “I’ll make sure it gets cleaned up.”

  Jordy’s brows sharpen with concern.

  Jordy is one person whose thoughts I’m not interested in prying into. I came to this conclusion after discovering he has a propensity to envision the two of us in a variety of compromising positions.

  He squints over at me. “Are you really dating a vampire?”

  “He’s not a vampire. He’s a man named Jasper, and we’re not dating. Believe me when I say the man is not interested in me in the least.”

  “Well then, he’s clearly not in his right mind.” Jordy folds his enormous arms over his chest. Jordy is in charge of groundskeeping here at the Country Cottage Inn. He used to work in upper management out in Seaview County but suffered a nasty breakup with one of his female bosses and landed here at the inn with Emmie and me and never got around to leaving.

  “You’re funny,” I say as I scan the crowd for any signs of my family, and, instead, I spot the tall, dark, and handsome questionable vampire. “Oh, look!” I swat Jordy on the arm. “The fanged night dweller is headed this way.”

  “The one you’re not seeing?” He’s suddenly amused as he narrows his gaze on Jasper. “He looks like trouble. I’d stay away if I were you. And I take it that’s his dog?”

  “Ooh! He brought Sherlock Bones?” I hike up on my tiptoes and crane my neck as I struggle to see this for myself.

  “Sherlock Bones?” Jordy’s voice drips with disapproval, but before he can vocalize it, the sound of arguing erupts from our right and I spot one of my waitresses, Kaitlynn Zimmerman, just past the café patio in the sand, arguing with someone.

  “I’d better get over there before this turns ugly.” I scoot off in their direction as their disagreement grows more heated.

  Kaitlynn is a cute strawberry blonde with a head full of wild kinky curls, and the biggest brown eyes you ever did see. She’s been with us for about six weeks, and I’ve never had a single problem with her. And my goodness, tonight is the one night I would never fire a soul—not even if she’s in the middle of telling off a customer.

  Please God, don’t let it be a customer on the receiving end of this wild rant of hers.

  “Kaitlynn?” I call out as I traipse my way into the sand. “I’m sorry. Is there a problem I can help you ladies with?”

  The girl next to Kaitlynn stands almost a head shorter than her with long dark hair and watery turquoise eyes that shine under the duress of the twinkle lights from the café.

  I try my hardest to get a read on her thoughts, but she’s either far too agitated or she’s an outright restriction. Every now and again I’ll meet someone whose thoughts are safely tucked away in their own Fort Knox.

  “I’m sorry, Bizzy.” Kaitlynn readjusts her apron before looking my way once again. Her eyes settle on mine. God, please don’t fire me. I need this now more than ever. Just a little bit longer, and I’ll make it over the hump. “I was just having a rather uncivilized conversation with my stepsister. Bizzy, this is Rissa McNeil. Rissa, this is my boss, Bizzy.”

  “Bizzy.” The brunette suddenly has a smooth countenance as she extends her hand, and I shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry to take any of Kaitlynn’s time. I’ll be enjoying the bonfire if you need me.” Her eyes harden over her stepsister’s once again before she takes off, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a threat.

  “Wow”—I say as we watch her get swallowed into the crowd—“that looked pretty heated. Are you okay?”

  Kaitlynn shrugs it off. “It’s par for the course between the two of us these days. She’s just angry because my friends are here tonight, and they don’t always get along. And let’s just say someone I know happens to be dating her boyfriend Ben.” She nods. “You heard me right.”

  “Ouch. That’s gotta hurt. So, I take it she’ll be avoiding your social circle?”

  “Not likely. We share the same friends.” She nods to the bonfire to our left, last one on the sand, next to the ridge. “I’ll catch up with them after my shift. That is, if Rissa hasn’t slaughtered anyone by then.” She laughs as she heads back toward the café. “Enjoy your night!” she calls out as she gets right back to bussing tables.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice rumbles from behind, and I turn to find the most delicious, and, might I add, dangerous, gray eyes pressing into mine.

  “Mr. Wilder.” I straighten at the sight of him. He’s casually dressed in jeans and a flannel. His hair is slicked back, and the woodsy scent of his cologne warms me from the inside out. Sherlock trots forward, and I moan as I offer him a scratch behind the ears. “My, aren’t you the cutest? Yes, you are! Did you try to chase my sweet kitty right into the ocean today? You are one silly boy. You look guilty. Yes, you do!”

  I apologize. The adorable pooch with the big brown eyes looks my way. Next time, I advise she stand still so I can wrap my mouth around her properly.

  I gasp at the thought.

  “I’m afraid I’m guilty, too,” Jasper says, and I’m quick to stand upright again.

  “Excuse me?” I’m quickly lost in those bewitching gray eyes. It’s as if he has a lightning bolt trapped in each one. Mesmerizing.

  “I want to apologize for being curt with you this afternoon.” His lips pull back with a tight smile, but it doesn’t last long. “I’m not usually so insufferable, but—”

  “But you were soa
king wet—and in a three-piece suit no less. Please, no apology necessary.”

  He shakes his head, a tiny comma-like dimple erupting amidst the scruff on his cheek. “I’m apologizing regardless. Let me make it up to you.” He opens his mouth to let me know exactly how he’d like to do so when someone shouts my name from behind.

  “Oh no,” I whisper under my breath as Hux and my mother come upon us.

  Huxley, Hux, is essentially a male version of me, same dark hair and pale blue eyes. He’s not only a divorce lawyer, he’s currently on his third marital dissolution. No kids from any of his wives, and at this point I’m grateful for his sake.

  My mother is a sharp cookie who used to run her own real estate empire but has since sold her business last year and is still trying to find her place in the world. She’s not exactly cut out for retirement.

  Hux examines Jasper a moment. “Is this the vampire you’re dating?”

  Kill me.

  Mom leans in. “Open up and let’s see your fangs.”

  A choking sound emits from me as I spin my mother in the other direction. “Macy is by the s’mores station, and she says she’s in need of desperate advice on how to run her business.”

  “I knew it.” My mother lifts a bony finger in the air. “I told her she needs my sage advice, but she didn’t believe me.” She migrates into the crowd and I look up at Jasper with an apologetic shrug.

  “That was my mother, Reeann Baker, just Ree for short. And I apologize for the latent introduction.”

  Hux clears his throat. “So this is the vampire.”

  “He is—but he isn’t.” I grimace up at Jasper. “And to answer your next question, we’re not dating.”

  Jasper offers a crooked grin my way. “I’m the vampire?” He cinches the leash in his hand and Sherlock Bones sits up at attention as if he were wanting the answer to this as well. “It’s okay. I’ve been called worse.” And why aren’t we dating? His expression sours as if I’ve insulted him.

  “Hux Baker.” My brother is quick to shake his hand. “Family law. If you’re in a mess with the missus, I’m your man.” He gives a cheesy wink before migrating toward the crowd on the sand. “Nice to meet you. Don’t let my sister scare you off! Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  “He’s kidding,” I say. “My bite leaves marks, and it’s only doled out upon request.” My cheeks burn as the words leave my lips. “I’m sorry. That was extremely inappropriate of me. Have you seen the s’mores buffet?” I’m quick to point him in that direction before I slink off into the shadows to lick my wounds.

  I’m about to make my way around the building, through the sand, when I trip over something far softer than driftwood. I quickly regain my footing and bend over to remove whatever it is out of the pathway lest someone breaks an ankle and sues the inn, but it’s not a piece of driftwood or anything remotely I could move on my own.

  Every muscle in my body freezes as my eyes lock on the familiar face lying beneath me.

  It’s a woman—and one I know all too well.

  Kaitlynn Zimmerman isn’t finishing her shift after all tonight.

  Kaitlynn Zimmerman is dead.

  Chapter 3

  A shrill scream rips from my throat as I try my best to keep from falling in the sand.

  The sound of the wind and the blaring music from the other end of the beach drown out my horrific cries, but that doesn’t stop me from repeating the effort.

  “Bizzy?” a deep voice thunders from my left as Jasper hurtles a planter box to get to me. His hands gently clasp over my arms, dropping his leash in the process as Sherlock runs a circle around us. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” His piercing eyes seem to glow in the dark, but not a single coherent word comes from me.

  I look to the sand and he follows my gaze.

  “Oh God.” He kneels down and checks for a pulse before jumping to his feet and whipping out his phone. “This is Detective Wilder. I need to report a homicide. The victim is a young woman, mid-twenties, multiple stab wounds to the chest. I need assistance at the Country Cottage Inn, and get the coroner down here now.” He shoves his phone into his pocket as he makes his way back to me. “Are you okay?” His eyes run up and down my body as if looking for wounds on me as well.

  “I’m fine. I just—I tripped over her body.” My hand clamps over my mouth as I look over at my sweet friend. “That’s Kaitlynn Zimmerman. She works for me at the café—worked.” That last word comes out in a whimper. “Did you say you were a detective?”

  “Homicide division. I work for the Seaview Sheriff’s Department. Don’t worry, Bizzy. I’ll take care of everything.” His gaze presses into mine. I will do whatever it takes to protect you, he says it internally as if he were speaking the words straight from his mouth.

  An entire herd of deputies head in this direction and Sherlock jumps between us barking up a storm.

  Jasper picks up the leash as the deputies swarm around poor Kaitlynn.

  “I hate to ask you this”—he winces—“but would you mind watching Sherlock for me? I need to be a part of this.”

  “Absolutely.” I take the leash from him and Sherlock whimpers as if he were just sold for a handful of beans. “Are the guests safe? Should we close down the beach? What about the inn?”

  “That’s entirely up to the sheriff, but I’m guessing in the least you’ll have an infantry of deputies flooding the area. You’ll be safe, and we’ll do our best to keep your guests safe, too.”

  He steps away, and sure enough the café is promptly closed and the entire inn is overrun with deputies combing through it.

  Emmie runs over, her face piqued with color. “What in the world? What’s this about a body?”

  “It was Kaitlynn.” My voice breaks as I say her name. “Someone stabbed her to death and took off.” My voice trembles. “I found her.”

  Emmie pulls me into a hard embrace, and we lose it for a moment before trying our best to sniff back our emotions.

  She glances at the deluge of deputies who only seem to be multiplying. “I’m going to cover the front desk. Why don’t you take a walk by the water and try to pull yourself together as best as you can?”

  “No, I need to be here.” I try to break my way past her, but she blocks my path.

  “Hit the beach. Take a short walk and then you can have the reins again. It’s going to be a long night, Biz. And you’re going to need a clear head.” Her lips press white a moment. “I’m sorry you found her.” She offers me another quick embrace before pushing me in the direction of the shoreline.

  Sherlock pulls me toward the water as if he were bent on following Emmie’s directions himself.

  “Just so you know, Sherlock”—I lean over and give him a hearty scratch over the ears—“I can hear your thoughts and understand you.” I meant to whisper it but with all the noise and confusion around us, I can guarantee no one heard a thing.

  His head turns briefly my way. You can hear my thoughts?

  “Yes, I can.” A sorrowful laugh strums from me. Typically I’m ecstatic to have an exchange like this but I’m so rattled by what just happened to poor Kaitlynn, I can’t derive joy from the moment.

  Sherlock belts out a few quick enthusiastic barks as he barrels down the beach.

  “Whoa,” I say. “Slow down, boy. I’m not on a sled, you know.”

  I’m sorry, but the water seems to call my name over and over. And if I’m anything, I’m obedient. That was a horrible sight and I need to get it out of my mind. Poor Jasper had to stay behind. Do you think he’ll be safe?

  “He’ll be safe,” I say as we navigate our way through a thicket of bodies. “I’m assuming he’s armed and dangerous himself. I can’t believe he’s a homicide detective,” I say that last part lower than a whisper.

  We thread our way through the crowd, and the smell of driftwood burning fills the air with its musky scent. Usually, I look forward to this night every single year. The bright flames dotting the shore, the trill of laughter, the caco
phony of voices exploding all around. The delicious smell of hot dogs roasting mingling with the sweet hint of marshmallows burning is a strange elixir that lends a certain level of magic to this already magical night.

  Kaitlynn runs through my mind and I shudder. I doubt I’ll ever see our end-of-summer bonfire in the same light again.

  “Bizzy!” a familiar voice calls from the left, and I spot Georgie waving me over. Mom stands next to her, speaking with Macy, and my feet take me that way of their own volition.

  I glance back toward the Cottage Café where the deputies have descended upon the inn. To the right of the building, the flashing lights of patrol cars sear through the darkness, but with the live band going and the growing number of bodies swelling all around, you would never know we were all a part of a homicide scene.

  Georgie tips her chin down, and she’s got a look on her face that suggests I’ve been up to no good. “There’s our Bizzy, Bizzy girl. How was your date with the sexy vampire?”

  Sherlock yelps as if contesting the fanged idea.

  Macy’s brows hike into her forehead upon hearing the seemingly juicy tidbit of gossip.

  “Did she just say vampire?” She takes a step in my direction as does my mother.

  Macy has a short razor cut bob that curves along her jawline, and she dyes her dark brown locks a vanilla shade of blonde. She shares the same watery blue eyes as I do, same button nose, but Macy is a bit more no-nonsense about life in general than just about anyone I know. Okay, fine, she’s mean and cranky and sarcasm is her superpower—and, oddly enough, I love all three of her ornery attributes.

  “Don’t mind me.” I’m quick to wave my mother and sister off. “Please continue with your conversation.” I give Sherlock a quick pat on the head as he struggles to press into the crowd without me.

  Mom huffs, “Macy was just enlightening me on something called FIRE, financial independence, retiring early. Apparently, the new hip thing to do is quit your job and live in a yurt while calling it an early retirement. Please tell me this is an anomaly and not something that’s sweeping through your generation. My generation depends on your generation to keep its act together. The world economy is shockingly in your hands.”