Chapter 12

12

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”Harlow asked as she swept into Cash’s house and dropped her overnight bag near the front door.

“No. Nothing since lunch, but I’m not really that hungry,” Cash said.

“You have to eat something. I’ll whip something up for you, and in the meantime, you go lie down. I’ll bring it to you.”

Cash ignored her order and followed her into the kitchen, unwilling to be too far from her. He’d missed her, missed this easiness between them too much. He’d craved her company for far too long. Retreating to another room wasn’t an option.

“Cash,” she said, sounding impatient when she realized he was still behind her. “You’re supposed to be resting. You heard what Healer Whipple said.”

“She said I wasn’t supposed to do anything like exercise or exert any effort that would get my heart rate up. Or drive, read, or watch television. I’m doing none of those things,” he said, taking a seat at the kitchen table just to appease her. The truth was that ever since the healer had given him that potion, he’d felt fine. The goose egg on his skull had even gone down significantly.

“She said you were supposed to rest for at least the next twenty-four hours. That means lying down,” she insisted.

“You didn’t mind when I went with you to check on your sister,” he challenged.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line, and he watched as the muscle ticked in her jaw.

His smile widened. He knew he had her. She’d forgotten all about the healer’s instructions when she’d thought Imogen was in danger. “Sitting at the table is far better than bouncing around in a vehicle, don’t you think?”

“You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

“Gladly.” Cash leaned back in the chair and watched her as she buzzed around the kitchen as if she owned the place. It was remarkable how she just seemed to know where to find whatever she was looking for. She was as comfortable in his kitchen as she had been in the house they’d shared in Ojai. He eyed the pot she’d set on the stove. “What are you making?”

“Looks like chicken pasta with a small salad. I didn’t see any rice, otherwise I’d have made a stir fry,” she said, giving him a flat, judgmental stare.

“Fresh out of rice,” he quipped.

She snorted. “Sure. You expect me to believe you actually made yourself rice?”

He shrugged one shoulder, remaining noncommittal. They both knew he hadn’t made any rice. For some reason he had a mental block when it came to using a rice cooker, and every time he’d tried in the past, it had either come out crunchy or so soft that it resembled mush. He’d given up trying long ago. Pasta was just easier.

“One of these days, all that pasta is going to catch up with you, Cash,” she said, turning the burner on.

“Not today. In fact, Healer Whipple said it was best to load up on carbs. She said it would help my brain heal faster.”

“She did say that, and that’s why I’m making pasta.” Harlow filled a glass of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator and set it in front of him. “Don’t forget to hydrate.”

“Thanks, gorgeous.” He winked and took a long sip of the cool liquid. As Harlow worked on making his dinner, Cash said, “Tell me about working at Equinox.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked, glancing over at him, a small frown on her face. “I run the place, but I’m mostly just a glorified bartender.”

“I’m sure you do more than that. But what I really want to know is why you’re working there at all.” He knew she had more than enough money to live on for years to come. They both did.

“To keep my mind busy,” she said, not looking at him.

He was quiet for a long moment as he took that in. “I see.”

Harlow met his gaze, her eyes searching his. “And what have you been doing for the past year, Cash?”

He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable under her piercing gaze. “Well, for the past few months, I’ve spent most of my time settling Aunt Jane’s estate and then working on fixing up this house.”

“And before that?” She was careful to keep her tone light, but Cash saw right through her and knew what she was really asking.

He could lie. Say that he’d considered a number of different career options. Or even say that he drank away a few months on a beach, mending his broken heart, but that was no way to rebuild a relationship. If he wanted things to work out with Harlow, he knew he had to be honest.

“After you left town, I spent a few months talking to every studio head I could get a meeting with, trying to pitch a new show,” he said, staring at his fingertips that were strumming the tabletop.

“I heard,” she said quietly. When he looked up, startled, she grimaced. “My agent told me. Actually, she begged me to consider some of the offers.”

“Offers?” Cash sat up straighter. “You had offers?”

She blinked. “You didn’t know? I thought…” Harlow shook her head, looking confused.

“You thought what?” Cash asked, feeling like he’d missed something important. Something that might have changed everything. When she didn’t elaborate, Cash said, “Harlow, please. Can’t we just be honest? Can’t we at least give each other that much?”

Tears filled her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back as she nodded. “Yes, we can do that.” Then she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and came to sit next to him at the table. She placed her hands in her lap and looked up to meet his gaze. “About a month after we split, I came to see you.”

“What?” He felt that ache in this chest return, and he unconsciously rubbed at it. “You did?”

“I did. You weren’t home, so I left you a note in the mailbox, asking you to call me. I wanted to talk things out, see if we could try something not ghost-related maybe. I mean, offers were coming in, I thought maybe we could get a studio on board with a new angle. I was thinking something like home improvement or a talk show. But really, I was thinking about maybe launching a true-stories type of show. Invite other people in to tell their unexplained mysteries and phenomena. They were just ideas, but then when you never got in touch, I thought maybe you were too mad at the fact that I walked away and⁠—”

“I never got your note,” Cash rushed out as he reached for her hand. “I would have called.”

“You didn’t? I put it in an envelope and everything,” Harlow said, and her brow furrowed. “Does that mean someone took it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe? I guess it’s possible I dropped it when grabbing the mail. One thing’s for certain; I would have called.”

She blew out a long breath. “I was surprised you didn’t take any of the deals the studios were offering.”

Cash let out a humorless bark of laughter. “Harlow, they didn’t offer me anything. They all wanted to know if you were part of the negotiations, and when I said no, they ghosted my agent.”

Harlow’s mouth opened into a shocked O. “You can’t be serious. That’s… insane. Why?”

Cash gave her a rueful smile. “Because you’re the face their male demographic was tuning in to watch while our relationship was apparently the draw for our female audience.”

“But…” She trailed off then closed her eyes and ignored the nausea in her gut. “That explains the offers they were sending my way.”

“What did they offer?” Cash leaned forward, intensely curious. “Paranormal Island Investigations? Investigations Down Under? Traveling Haunted Cities?” They were all variations of their show Paranormal in a Small Town, but it was Cash’s experience that the studios never wanted to try anything that was too far from their former successes.

“Um, no. It was more like Haunting Love Island and The Haunted Bachelorette.”

He stared at her, stunned. “They wanted you to do a haunted dating show?”

She nodded slowly. “They also suggested having the two of us spend a month in a haunted house and film it sort of like Big Brother. That was the one I thought you might be interested in, only without me of course.”

“Of course.” Cash knew why they didn’t contact him with that idea. For Cash and Harlow, the work had always come first. They prided themselves on helping people either connect with lost loved ones or ridding spaces of unsavory spirits. The network, however, was more interested in the relationship between Cash and Harlow. Without her, there was no show. But they were likely willing to give her a contract if she’d agree to share the space with some other male who the public could see as a love interest.

“Cash, I—” Harlow started, but he cut her off.

“That’s all in the past now, gorgeous. Can we just focus on what’s here in front of us?”

“And what’s that?” she asked, trepidation in her tone.

“You and me. A new life here in Keating Hollow. Focusing on us instead of a career,” he said hopefully.

“Do you really think we can do that?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“We can try.” He took her hand in his and lightly caressed her palm. “It’s what we’ve been doing apart. I don’t see why we can’t do it together.”

“I want to say yes.” Tears shone in Harlow’s eyes again, but she didn’t let them fall. “I’m just concerned that if we’re together the spirits will never leave us alone.”

Her fears were valid. They’d spent so many years inviting ghosts into their world that eventually the ones who wanted to talk just showed up, somehow knowing they had an audience who would listen. It had happened to each of them individually, but it was far more common when they were together. It was as if their collective energy had become a beacon for wayward spirits. “We’ll just have to do our best to ward them off. I imagine if we stay closed off they’ll eventually leave us alone, don’t you think?”

Harlow let out a huff of sardonic laughter. “Sure, Cash. I think we have as much chance of that as we do winning the lottery.”

“I’m game if you are,” he said and then held his breath.

She let out a long sigh, stared at him with her piercing golden-brown eyes, and then nodded. “I want to try. But Cash?”

“Yeah?” he asked, willing to grant her just about anything she wanted.

“If it ends up like last time, with spirits never leaving us alone, I don’t know if I can deal with that. Not now. Not after what happened to Imogen.”

“Then I hope we find a way to ward them off, because you’ve got the other half of my heart, Harlow Thane. You always have, and you always will.”

She stood and moved to stand right next to him.

Cash got to his feet, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and pressed his lips to hers, putting all of his hopes and dreams into the slow and tender kiss.

Harlow melted into him, hugging him so tight it was a little hard to breathe.

And when she deepened the kiss, things progressed from sweet to a little bit heated. Cash chuckled softly and pulled back just enough to break their connection. “I’m not supposed to be exerting too much effort, remember?”

Harlow gave him a sheepish smile. “I guess I got carried away.”

“I’m not complaining.” Then he kissed her again, this time burying a hand in her hair as he showed her exactly how much he’d missed her.

All thought of the healer’s instructions fled from his mind as his world reduced to just Harlow and her soft, sweet taste. He wanted to claim her, remind her exactly who she belonged to with just the use of his mouth. But when the buzzer on the stove started to beep, they broke apart with both of their lips slightly swollen and their cheeks flushed.

“I think that might be enough of that,” Harlow said with a nervous laugh as she moved back to the stove to deal with the pasta. “Until tomorrow, anyway.”

Cash sat back down, and despite his concussion, he felt whole for the first time in over a year.