Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“You should sell this commercially, dear,” Mrs. Delancy said as she held out a folded bill. “It’s the best apple cider in the state.”

Holly tucked the cash in a zippered pouch and offered Mrs. Delancy a bag with handles. The older lady shook her head and wedged the bottle in her already stuffed canvas tote. Mrs. Delancy had been a loyal customer of Wicked Good Apples for a decade, and she hadn’t changed a smidge over the years. Her hair was still gray and curled tightly to her scalp, her shoulders were still stooped, and her praise was still effusive. Whenever she visited the apple farm, she always reminded Holly that there were people in town who loved them, and when she drove away, she left behind a warm feeling in Holly’s chest.

Mrs. Delancy winked at Connor before saying to Holly, “I see you have yourself a nice man this year.”

Holly flashed Connor a grin. “He’s okay.”

Mrs. Delancy chuckled. “Have fun, you kids. I’m off to find a candied apple that is guaranteed to pull out my dentures.”

Holly waved goodbye to Mrs. Delancy, who tottered toward the candy apple table. The Wicked Good Apples table wasn’t as elaborate as some at the festival, with its dark purple tablecloth and uninspired display of glass cider bottles, but they’d done a brisk business since the festival had begun at two.

Connor thanked a couple that had just bought six half gallons, and wiped the back of his hand over his brow. “Whew, you weren’t kidding. Your cider is the most popular one here.”

The sun slid behind a cloud, giving them a much-needed respite from its relentless rays. Holly hadn’t bothered packing the canopy since most years the heat was tolerable, but for once she was regretting her laziness. Across the parking lot, The Apple Dream had of course brought theirs, the edges strung with little apple-shaped twinkle lights. They also had a big apple cutout with a hole for a face so kids could stand behind it and get their picture taken, and a professionally printed banner with gold lettering. Stacy and one of her workers staffed a table decorated with vases of apple blossoms and cutesy apple-themed merchandise.

“Not popular enough to pay the bills anymore,” she muttered.

Connor sat on the tailgate of the truck and crossed his booted ankles. “Well, it’s not like you try.”

“Excusez-moi?”

“Your presentation could use some help, babe.”

Holly zipped the cash purse and sniffed. “We’re not showy, unlike some people.”

“Hmm,” was all Connor said. She didn’t know what that meant, but she suspected he saw more than she wished he did. She knew Wicked Good Apples could do a hell of a lot better than its break-even model if she let Missy do her job properly, but even Missy knew it was crucial for them to maintain balance; that it was too dangerous to draw attention to themselves. Their lives were an exercise in frustration.

The ghost, however, was not part of the plan. He was messing with their delicate balance and bleeding the farm dry by scaring off more customers than they’d realized. He had to go.

“I’ll admit our booth has been a tiny bit busier than usual, since it seems everyone wants to meet the star of Grimm Reality . It was brilliant of you to start autographing Wicked Good Apples cider bottles.”

“Come rest for a minute while there’s a lull,” Connor said, grabbing her hand and tugging her to sit next to him on the open tailgate of the truck. Her thigh pressed along his, and she itched to interlace their fingers, but whatever was going on between them was not for the town to see. The Celestes were already too often the center of gossip, so she reluctantly slipped her hand free and laid it on top of her thigh.

Connor’s gaze was unwavering as he searched her face. “Stay with me tonight?”

Holly knew there were a hundred reasons to say no, to pump the brakes again, to protect her heart. But she was tired of always being the responsible one. For once she wanted to enjoy her life as it was happening; she wanted to sink into an experience without analyzing how it would affect her family and her future seven ways to Sunday. She wanted to enjoy Connor Grimm for as long as she could.

“Yes.”

She walked her fingers up his arm and pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt higher so that she could see his tattoo. The last time he’d been shirtless, she’d been far too focused on other things to pay attention to his ink. Now, as she studied it, she realized it wasn’t a ghost, but five conjoined circles all overlapping one another. “What is this?”

“Early New Englanders believed symbols like these could protect them from demons and witches.”

“You think you need protection from witches?” She almost smiled. The irony was too much.

“Not exactly. Erikson and I used fake IDs to get them when we were teens. They were meant to protect us from being haunted again.”

“Did it work?”

His lips brushed so lightly across her temple that she wasn’t sure if it was an accident or if he’d done it on purpose. “No. We continue to see ghosts.” He slid his palm behind her, splaying it on the corrugated metal, with his fingertips brushing her jeans.

Holly’s stomach recoiled just as she heard a woman clear her throat across the table. “Ahem.”

Holly jumped up and met Stacy’s amused eyes. Over Stacy’s shoulder she thought she spotted two people who looked an awful lot like Jeremy and Amy, but before she could confirm it, they disappeared into the crowd.

“Hi, Stacy,” Holly said, pressing her hand to her stomach. A line appeared between Connor’s brows as he caught the action from the corner of his eye. As usual, Stacy was immaculately outfitted in a cute little The Apple Dream T-shirt knotted at the side, designer jeans, and designer ankle boots.

“Holly,” Stacy said, blinking as if the sun were too bright. “I see you’re moving a good amount of merchandise today.”

She smiled, uncertain where she stood with Stacy. Had they called a truce at the rum party? Were they still enemies? They’d never be friends—but maybe they could be on the same side. “Yes. I think my guest has helped.”

Stacy turned her attention to Connor, her curls bouncing like they were in a hair commercial. She stuck out a slender hand, her nails now manicured with tiny apple blossoms. “I’m Stacy of The Apple Dream,” she said, flashing him a blinding smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard of us. We’re the most successful apple farm in the state and supply cider to over two hundred Maine and New Hampshire locations.”

Holly rolled her eyes.

Connor’s voice was cool and professional when he said, “No, I’ve never heard of you. What did you say the name of your farm was? The Apple Mirage?”

Holly’s lips twitched. She was almost positive Connor had heard of Stacy’s farm, but she appreciated the allegiance.

Stacy’s eyes widened with shock as he dropped her hand. “It’s The Apple Dream . I’m surprised Holly didn’t tell you. We made an offer for her cider recipe and farm right before she signed the TV contract.” Stacy pressed her lips together. She was wearing the perfect shade of plum lipstick. Holly always felt ridiculous when she wore lipstick, and she was jealous, but unsurprised, that Stacy pulled it off beautifully. “We’re looking to expand our business. We’re hiring on a new manager who would oversee operations at the Celeste farm if we acquired it, considering we—” She abruptly cut herself off and Holly winced. Stacy had been way too close to telling Connor she and her family couldn’t physically stand to be so close to the Celestes. “Well, I can’t blame you for picking the TV show,” she said instead, turning to Holly. “It should help your business. For a while.”

For a while , meaning Stacy thought that after the initial bump in business, Wicked Good Apples would soon be back in the red. If they couldn’t get rid of the ghost, she might be right, Holly thought grimly.

“You two know each other well?” Connor asked, his all too perceptive gaze darting between the women.

Holly brushed him off with a quick “We were in the same high school class.” She wished Stacy would go back to her table before she gave away any secrets—and before Holly lost her lunch all over the ground.

“And Holly’s sisters were in the same class as my twin brothers,” Stacy added, even as the lines radiating from her eyes showed physical pain.

Connor’s brows lifted. “You have twin brothers born the same year as Holly’s twin sisters?”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Stacy shifted her hip. “My family has been here as long as Holly’s too.”

Holly wanted to hiss at her to shut up. Stacy knew Connor Grimm was a ghost hunter and a TV star, but she had no idea what he was really after, and she was giving him way too much information.

As if she sensed Holly’s anxiety, Stacy glanced over her shoulder to check on her table and found a line beginning to form. “I have to head back, but I wanted to extend my congratulations, Holly, and remind you again that when things cool down a bit, our offer still stands.”

“Why do you want her cider recipe if yours is so successful?” Connor asked.

Stacy stared at him. “Have you tried it?”

He nodded.

“That’s your answer,” she said simply. “The Celestes have a secret recipe that no one can replicate.” She winked at Holly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was magic.”

Holly’s breath caught as Stacy spun on her heel and returned to her table. She was going to murder her! She could feel Connor’s speculative gaze on her hot cheeks, but she refused to meet his eyes while she helped three customers in a row.

The Blossom Band began tuning their instruments at the far end of the parking lot, and the scent of fried apple donuts traveled on the air. The moment the customers turned away from the table, Connor, who was standing behind her, brushed her hair to the side and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Is your cider recipe magical, Holly?”

“You know what they say,” she answered blithely, moving out of his reach. “Love is the secret ingredient.”

By the expression on his face, she knew he wasn’t buying it. “Are you feeling better?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed a little green around the gills when Stacy was here.”

“Oh. Yeah, that woman is so perfect she makes me sick.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Stacy making me feel nauseated? All the time,” she answered flippantly.

Again, he looked at her as if he could see through her avoidance and straight into her thoughts, but he didn’t say anything else because more customers had approached the table, and he and Holly were soon swept into two steady hours of exchanging goods and making small talk. Connor signed almost every cider bottle they sold and graciously took selfie after selfie with the customers. Holly appreciated how warmly he interacted with all of his fans, never tiring of the same questions or the demands on his attention. So many people wanted to share their own ghost experiences with him, and the way he paid attention to each one as if it were the most riveting thing he’d ever heard must’ve been exhausting, but he was unflagging in his kindness.

He was a good listener, Holly thought as she made change for a pregnant mother. For the past half hour, an elderly man had been talking Connor’s ear off about his barn, which he claimed was haunted by a bull, and Connor had been nodding along and listening to the man as if he were sharing the secret to immortality.

His generosity spoke so strongly to his character that Holly’s heart blipped lovingly in her chest. Her smile faltered as the change left her hand. No, no, no, no, no . No blipping. No gooey thoughts. Only an extraordinary idiot would let her heart blip for a man who was leaving in a few weeks.

An idiot .

Holly wasn’t an idiot, was she? No, she was not. Therefore, the blipping heart clearly had to do with something else. That bag, she thought desperately, her eyes landing on the canvas tote a woman carried that proclaimed “Reading Romance Is My Drug.” Yes, she loved that bag.

Holly was still raving about the bag in her mind as she and Connor packed up the table at the end of the afternoon and drove home with the wind whistling through the opened windows, as if she loved the bag hard enough then she would forget that all-consuming, heart-stopping moment when she had felt something for Connor that went beyond words, beyond emotions, and settled squarely in territory that was serious trouble.

“Did you see that lady’s bag?” Holly asked after they’d unloaded the truck and were walking toward his trailer. Her thoughts were like panicked mice in her head. “It was amazing . A real hell of a bag.”

“It must’ve been,” he said, giving her a strange look as he opened the door and gestured her inside. “You’ve been talking about it nonstop.”

“Yes, well, you can never have too many great canvas totes.”

Connor shifted some of the books and paperwork off the table so they could have the apple cider donuts and apple pie they’d picked up at the festival. He set a stack on the counter, and Holly’s gaze was drawn to an opened book on top of the pile.

Her entire body flushed hot, and a ringing sound began in her ears. She knew that book; they had a copy in their house. Only a handful had ever been printed, and it was written entirely in Old High German so it was a pain to translate, but she’d read it all the same. They’d all read it. It was one of the few books in existence that had correctly identified what they were.

And it was lying open to that very page.

Holly’s vision began to blacken at the edges. Where the hell had he gotten that book? Had he been able to translate it? Had he made the connection yet, or had it just fallen open to that page on a stroke of bad luck?

Apple donuts followed by mind-blowing sex were the last things Holly wanted now. What she wanted was to get away from this man who had relentlessly dug into their past and who now stood on the precipice of exposing them to the world.

“I … I have to go,” Holly stammered.

“Are you all right? You’re white as a sheet.” He reached for her, but Holly stumbled backward, feeling for the knob behind her.

“I’m sick. Too much cider—it’s upset my stomach.”

The door swung open behind her, and she climbed down the trailer steps with wobbling legs. The moment her feet hit the ground, she started to run.