Epilogue

Epilogue

F all Festival, one year later

Dahlia

“Oh shit, what does the mayor need now?” I hear my husband say as I clip-clop into the bar in my pumpkin-colored heels.

“The usual, and one more thing,” I say, plopping a manila envelope onto the bar.

I’ll be honest; it feels pretty good to be mayor. I’ve spent a whole year dismantling everything the Halls had set up to use our government to benefit themselves, and now it’s time to celebrate.

The assets of the former mayor, the mayor’s wife, and Mason Construction were all seized during the investigation last year. Unfortunately, the police have never located all of the missing money, and neither have they located the mayor. Everyone’s guess is that over the years, he separately squirreled away just what he needed—without telling his wife —with plans to sail off to Mexico with the most recent finance director. People have further extrapolated that he chose to act on Halloween night while his wife hatched her half-assed kidnapping plan, Pete knowing the whole ship was about to sink.

Amanda eventually confessed to getting kickbacks from city construction projects. For years, the city wrote checks for far too large amounts to project managers, who would kick back the difference to the Halls. But the Halls couldn’t simply deposit that money in a bank, so Esther’s husband had been hiding it at the house for safekeeping.

Just before he died, John grew enough of a conscience to refuse to hand the money over to his partners in crime, but not enough to turn all the money over to the authorities. He stowed all of it in a vent in the basement that he had intended on turning into an apartment to rent out.

After he died, the Halls tried to make Esther think that the house was haunted or that she was losing her mind. Either way, they figured, they’d get her out of the house so they could look for their money.

Now that everyone in town knows the real story, sign-ups for the ghost tour have maxed out. Even though I can’t prove or disprove there were ever any ghosts at the Milton House, the Halls’ shenanigans have provided the town with enough gossip to make Milton House a popular point of interest. There’s even talk of awarding prizes to anyone who can stay overnight there without chickening out. Nobody has taken me up on that bet yet.

I hop up on my knees on the barstool, prop my hands on the bar, and lean over the bar to kiss my husband as he sets down my drink. He pulls me in by the front of my shirt and lays a claiming kiss on my mouth.

“Wearing my shirt again, I see,” he murmurs into my mouth, sending shivers down my spine.

“If you don’t like it, you should change your wardrobe. Buy yourself less cozy things, like golf shirts.”

Blake snorts a laugh and I giggle as we each picture him in a golf shirt.

Popping one button open at my neck, he says, “You got it wrong. I like you in my shirts.”

I kiss him again, nibbling his bottom lip playfully. “Then I’ll wear them as long as they fit,” I say.

He quirks one eyebrow up at me. “Whatever that means, Madam Mayor.”

I smile at him and wave the envelope in the air. “Which brings me to the other super-fun game I’ve invented for this year,” I say.

He gestures to the painted jack-o’-lantern. “You mean in addition to everything else you’re making me do?”

I sigh and shoot him a knowing smile. “Well, this is a very specific game, only for you.”

Blake lolls his head back and looks toward the ceiling as he lists off all of his responsibilities for today. “Let’s see. Dunk tank, trick or treating, scavenger hunt, pumpkin pound cake judging, and setting up all the special effects for the ghost tour of the Milton House.”

I reach down and grab my drink off the bar and sniff it, wrinkling my nose.

“This again.” He shoots one hairy eyeball at me. “It’s not watered down. You haven’t even tried it.”

“Open the envelope,” I say.

He mutters but does as I ask. “Like I really have time for one more goddamn Halloween game.”

I kiss him on his scruffy chin and the roughness of his angled jaw gives me tingles all down my chest. “I know, baby, but I promise I’ll make it worth your while if you just do this one last favor for me, please?”

I trail a line of sloppy, loud smooches down his neck until he growls.

“It better be quick and it better require nothing from me,” he says.

“Just open it,” I say.

He lets go of me and opens the envelope, pulling out the contents, which includes a piece of paper and another, smaller envelope. He reads what’s written on the piece of paper out loud. “It just says ‘Positive or Negative?’”

I nod. “You have to guess which one and then turn the page to see if you can open the second envelope.”

He grumbles. “All right, fine. Negative.”

“Turn the page!”

He does, and reads, “If you guessed negative, go to the clock tower to find your next clue—babe, no. I’m not doing that.”

I protest. “But I put clues all over town!”

“Nope,” he says. “Changed my mind. I choose positive.”

He rips open the second envelope before I can protest, but honestly I’m not even mad.

He looks at the photograph that’s inside; it’s a picture of a pregnancy test.

“What,” he says on a strangely ragged exhale. “What do the double pink lines mean?” Blake’s voice goes breathy and trembles, and it’s so adorable I want to cry.

“The drink’s not watered down, babe. You made it too strong,” I say with a wink.

I watch his face as the pieces come into focus. “Holy shit. Are you? Are we…? Are we having a baby?”

I nod as the lump forms in my throat and my voice is choked with tears.

In one swift motion, Blake lifts me up off the barstool and up over the bar. Before I know what’s happening he has me in his arms, my legs wrapped around him. His hands go under my skirt and squeeze my thighs in tight while he kisses me hard.

“When did you find out?” he asks.

“Last week,” I say.

“You waited a week! And you’ve just been walking around in heels and working yourself to exhaustion and making ridiculous games for me to play…”

“I wanted to plan a special surprise for Halloween. You know, to celebrate one year of us getting back together.”

His breath shakes as he rests his forehead against my chest. “I’m going to be a dad. We have so much to do. How long do I have to build a nursery, Madam Mayor?”

I smile, thrilled that he’s so happy, even though we hadn’t actually decided to have kids right away. It just happened. “About seven months. Plenty of time.”

Blake’s hands, still holding me up by the backs of my thighs, creep up and pet my ass cheeks. I sigh and close my eyes at the delightful scrape of his calloused palms against my skin. My thighs tighten around his middle. He kisses my mouth hard as his hands explore so thoroughly that soon they meet in the middle and spread me open. I gasp, then moan when I feel his finger push aside my panties and sink into my wet heat. Blake roughly whispers into my ear, “I bet we also have time to celebrate before Kenny gets here to open the bar.”

“Another bet?” I giggle. “What do I win if we don’t both finish in time?”

With one hand, Blake rips away my stretchy lace panties while the fingers inside my sex withdraw to swipe my clit. I grab tight to his shoulders; if he keeps this up, my shaking legs will lose all the strength to hold on to his middle. “Naughty girl. You’d better not bet against me. You’ll lose.”

I kiss him and nibble on his ears. “As if there’s any chance I’d win, with you making me wet as hell.”

Blake growls into my breasts, clearly trying to decide whether he his time to work over my nipples. In the end, he leans me against the bar and backs off just enough to reach down between us and unbuckle his belt, the sound of the loosening metal buckle heightening my arousal. I quickly pull out his already throbbing cock. He sucks in a breath at my touch and takes control. With a grunt, he slides his thick, hard length home with a deliciously wet smack, in what might be a record for the shortest amount of foreplay ever.

“Oh my god,” I breathe. The feeling of what we do together — my pussy drawing in every inch of his heavy thickness, his movements in me, against me — never fail to make my eyes roll back in my head.

Blake and I have spent plenty of time blowing each other’s minds on this bar, behind the bar, in the stock room, on the tables. Doing it slow and gentle, or rough and frenzied. We’ve had a lot of lost time to make up for.

Just when I’m not so sure his pumping will get the job done for me in time, he plays dirty by moaning against my neck. “You’re gonna make that tight pussy come for me whether or not we get caught. You feel so good I’m never pulling out, baby. I don’t care who sees us.”

“Not fair,” I whimper, although I’m past caring about any silly bet. The raw friction of his body against my clit wrecks me in a tidal wave of pleasure. The waves crash over me while his own release surges inside me, both of us crying out in our shared bliss.

As he dots loving kisses up my neck and all over my face, his palm warms my tummy, sending satisfied shivers all over my body.

I kiss him back and weakly say, “I think we both won the bet this time.”