Chapter 2

Blake could easily see why Nikki was standing at the register, gaping at the man before them. She was also having trouble thinking of something intelligent to say as she stared at one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever laid eyes on. Giselle stood alongside the register, her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face, taking in the situation.

Blake absently ran a hand over her hair, annoyed that little frizzies were already escaping her ponytail. This was one of those times when she really wished she had her sister’s sleek chestnut curls rather than her wild dishwater-blond mane that turned into Little Orphan Annie’s hair on steroids as the humidity rose.

Taking a deep breath, Blake turned her attention back to Nikki. Despite her faults, Nikki wasn’t usually outright rude to the customers, so Blake was quite surprised when the girl not only didn’t help the man at the counter, but literally backed up about two feet.

Blake stepped around her, very confused by Nikki’s sudden lack of composure. She stepped up to the counter and shot Giselle a glance that said “what the heck” before staring up at their dashing customer. And she really had to look up because he was “a tall drink of water” as her mother would have said. He must have had to duck when he walked through the café’s doorway. She would have guessed him to be at least six-four. His stormy green eyes carried a look of surprise as they focused on Nikki.

Oh, come on. That is so not fair. The man looked to be in his late thirties, and he was interested in Nikki, who was just twenty-three? Maybe Mr. Sculpted Cheekbones here wasn’t so perfect after all.

“Can I help you?” Blake really hoped her voice didn’t sound as breathy as she thought it did.

The man turned his eyes back to her as he ran a hand over his close-cropped beard. When he reached up, she could see tattoos peeking out beneath the right sleeve of his navy long-sleeved Henley shirt. The markings looked like part of a larger tattoo, and she wondered if he had a full sleeve of tattoos up his arm. Just then, she realized her mouth was hanging open slightly, so she snapped it closed before she started drooling.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with extra caramel and a chocolate chip scone.” He gave her a curious look, and Blake felt color rise in her cheeks. At least the man was no longer looking over her shoulder. She cast a glance behind her and realized that was probably because Nikki had already retreated into the kitchen.

She gave the man his total then swiped his credit card slowly as she looked at the name—Sean Larson. “Thank you, Mr. Larson. We’ll have your drink ready in a jiffy.”

Giselle winked at her and picked up a large cup. She pumped caramel syrup into it and set it under the spigot of the espresso machine.

What was the wink for? Why is everyone acting so strangely?

As the man’s eyes moved from the kitchen door to Blake, a slow smile curved his lips, revealing perfect white teeth. Her heart did a little flip because she was pretty sure she also saw a dimple beneath his beard.

“Please call me Sean. We should be on a first-name basis since we’re going to be neighbors.”

Blake felt her brows knit together as she handed him back his card. “Neighbors?”

Sean jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m reopening Macabre Reads next door. Stocking inventory today, actually. With any luck, we should be able to reopen by the end of next month.”

Blake grabbed a small paper bag and opened the pastry case. She was reaching for the tongs when everything clicked in her head. Her hands stopped in midair, and her eyes jerked up to the man’s face. “Oh God, you’re Book Hottie!”

A surprised sound that was somewhere between a cough and a snort escaped Sean. “I beg your pardon?”

Her own lack of tact made her gasp. “Oh my goodness.” Sometimes, not having any sort of filter between her brain and her mouth really sucked. “I’m so sorry. My sister made the comment earlier, and I, uh… well, uh…”

Mirth lit Sean’s green eyes. “Hey, no problem. As long as we’re doing nicknames, I’ll just call you Coffee Goddess.”

She smiled as she reached for a scone and put it in the bag. She felt her cheeks go up in flames. “Blake. My name’s Blake Harper,” she said, closing the pastry case. “You just caught me off guard. I thought after the bookstore closed down when Mrs. Clouse died, it would be a while before it was sold. It’s only been a couple of months.”

Giselle set Sean’s cup on the counter next to the scone. He picked up the coffee and took a sip.

“Oh, that’s heaven.” He took another sip. “Blake Harper, I do believe you and I are going to be great friends.”

Her heart fluttered, and she had to bite her lip to suppress a loopy grin. Get it together, Blake. She was thirty-two years old and way past the age where a man’s smile should make her weak in the knees.

“Blake.” Sean said her name as if he were testing the weight of it on his tongue. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman named Blake before.”

She smiled. She was used to explaining her mother’s thought process on baby names. It used to annoy her, but nowadays, she was happy to have that fond memory of her mom. “My mother thought giving my sister and me more masculine names would help us in the long run. She said she never wanted anyone to not give us an opportunity just because we were women. If someone sees the name Blake or Kyle—my sister—on a resume, the person wouldn’t know that we were women. She thought taking away that gender bias would help.”

Sean cocked his head. “I’m impressed. Your mother sounds like a very smart woman.”

“She was. She passed away a couple of years ago.”

The smile playing on Sean’s lips faded. “I’m sorry, Blake. I know how hard that is.”

Surprised by his sincerity, Blake looked up and met his gaze. She felt almost as though she were looking directly into his soul, and she felt an odd sense of intimacy with the stranger standing in front of her.

A customer across the room cleared his throat, breaking Blake’s trance.

“Uh, thank you.” She reached for a towel to wipe off the counter, just to give her hands something to do. “So, how did you come to purchase the bookstore?”

Sean took another sip of his coffee before answering. “Mrs. Clouse was my aunt. She actually left me the bookstore in her will. I thought about selling it, but honestly, I was ready to make a change, so I left my last job, moved here, and decided that giving the bookstore a try might be just what I needed.”

Blake hung the towel back on its hook, focusing on it rather than staring at the gorgeous man in front of her. She was almost afraid to look into his eyes again, fearful that he could see into her, know all of her secrets… not that she had many secrets. But still. “Well, I’m glad. Tourists love Macabre Reads. I know everyone will be happy to see it open again.”

“Tourists.” He shook his head. “You’re going to have to give me tips on that. People who are that into the whole murder thing freak me out a little.”

Blake bobbled her head. “You get used to it after a while. I do always find it interesting that people are still so involved in a bunch of murders that happened nearly fifty years ago. But that’s why Wilton’s famous. And all the tourists support my business, so I’m not going to complain.”

Sean took a long sip of his coffee and let out a little moan of pleasure. A bit of foam lingered on his full bottom lip, and Blake thought about kissing those lips and tasting her coffee on them. Why does that thought make me go all tingly? And why am I thinking about kissing a customer?

Sean tapped a finger on his chin in thought. “The Wilton Strangler. It’s an interesting story. Twelve women strangled to death, all here in a small town, all midtwenties, curly-haired blondes.”

“The twelve roses,” Blake added. “The killer left a red rose with each body. Everyone said after he had his dozen perfect roses, then he just stopped.”

A little scowl crossed Sean’s face. “It’s never made sense to me. Serial killers don’t just stop.”

Blake lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. She’d always thought the same thing. “I think that’s part of the bizarre fascination. Anyway, that’s why you’ll notice that every business along Main Street is named something having to do with murder or crime or ghosts. It’s a little twisted, actually. This café used to be called The Red Rose Café before I bought it.”

“I like your name better. Why Mystery Cup?” He glanced down at his coffee. “Am I going to find something suspicious in my coffee?”

Her lips twitched in a smile. “No, it was just a fun idea I had.” She pointed at a shelf above the espresso machines. It was empty except for a large mug in the center of the shelf that said Mystery Cup on it. “Every month, I put a mystery ingredient in there. Then on the first day of each month, I pull out the ingredient and announce what it is. I use the ingredient to make a new signature pastry for the month.”

At Sean’s nod of approval, Blake beamed and felt her cheeks heat up in what she would bet was a blotchy pink. “It’s turned into a fun little game, really. People try to guess what the ingredient is, and whoever gets it right gets a free large coffee and a pastry.”

Sean arched a brow. “So today’s the second… Does that mean you announced the new ingredient yesterday?”

“I did. Chocolate-covered espresso beans.”

A squeal of delight came from next to them, and they both turned to look at Giselle. “Sorry,” she said. “I just love it when the ingredient is something chocolate.”

Sean laughed and turned his attention back to Blake. “Well, I have to say that you definitely have the better idea for a café name. I think naming a café directly after the murders is a little… How did you put it? Twisted?”

“Yeah. Especially since the killer was never caught.” She thought for a long moment. “So technically, he could still be alive today, I guess. Out there somewhere.” She shivered at the thought.

A cloud passed over Sean’s face as if he were pondering the possibility that a serial killer could still be on the loose. Then the serious look was gone, and he was smiling again. “Nah, I’m sure the guy’s long gone by now. Plus, you fit the description of his victims perfectly. It’d be a shame to lose a pretty lady like you.”

It wasn’t the first time Blake had thought about her resemblance to the murdered women, but she’d reached her thirties—kicking and screaming all the way—so she was probably safe. Not that there was a killer on the loose. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about the ghosts. We live in the most haunted city in America, after all…” Wait a second. Did he call me pretty? He thinks I’m pretty? Her mouth went dry, and once again, she could feel the heat rising in her face.

Sean’s eyes trailed behind her, and she followed his gaze back to the kitchen door, where Nikki had disappeared. “How do you know Nikki?” she asked, turning back to him. The two had seemed so taken aback by each other. There was definitely something familiar there.

“I don’t,” he said simply, his voice hard. “No, I don’t know her at all.”

Just then, Nikki peeked back out. When she saw Sean was still there, her eyes widened almost theatrically and she ducked back into the kitchen.

Blake arched an eyebrow at Sean. “You sure about that? Nikki does get flustered around attractive men, but that seems like a bit of a strong reaction.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know her,” he said shortly. Tightness had replaced the charm in his face. The intense look in his eyes nearly made Blake back up.

But then his eyes cleared, and he smiled at her. For a moment, she almost thought she’d imagined his brief reaction.

“I think the takeaway here is that you think I’m attractive.” He gave her a wink, and she began to stammer.

Before her brain could manage to form a response, her new neighbor lifted his coffee cup in a little toast and turned to the door. “Later, Coffee Goddess,” he called over his shoulder.

Blake watched him walk out. Book Hottie was most definitely attractive. But something else was slightly… off.

She was even more convinced of that when Nikki stuck her head out of the kitchen and looked at her with wild eyes. “Is he gone?”