Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

MONROE

I leaned back in my chair and propped my bare feet up on my desk. It was made of the same dark mahogany wood as the floors in the entire house, which helped my small office feel bigger. Outside the window in front of me, spooky season was in full effect, and it made me so happy just to sit and look at it. I never raked leaves, so it was a sea of red, orange, and yellow. Autumn was my absolute favorite time of year. Today was the best kind of autumn day, with the sky gray and gloomy like it was going to rain at any moment. There was a slight fog clinging to the ground and trees, so I couldn't see past my car parked in the driveway on one side or my neighbor's fence on the other.

It was the perfect day to start my new era of working from home. I'd spent the night furiously pacing my house until I realized I was the boss of my company . . . or at least partners. No one could tell me I had to go into the shop. So far this morning, I'd decided I was brilliant. I had my hot coffee and my butternut squash soup freshly delivered from Bowlicious restaurant, so I was ready to work. And since those four college girls had emailed us this morning with the dates for their trip and a deposit for our services, I had work to do. They had no idea where they wanted to go and were hoping Starlight Tours could provide a few suggestions. That was my agenda at least until lunch.

Dawson demanded we merge companies, but he never made me promise to work in tandem with her on every project. She would handle her siren clients, and I would handle my own clients. It was fine. Dawson and Pickles were apparently the people people of this new team of four. They could sit in the shop all day and talk to clients and do the professional shit. I could sit here in my comfy jeans covered in stains with holes in the knees that Dawson forbade me from wearing to work. I was in my cotton T-shirt and my hair was definitely not brushed. I didn't even have shoes on. Perhaps this arrangement had hope. I could work from my office and never have to put on dress clothes. My gadgets could be made here, and all my planning could be done from my desk at the window overlooking the front yard.

With Dawson walking up the sidewalk to my front door.

I cursed. There was no point in getting up. My cousin had a key. This was about to be an argument, otherwise he would have called. I loathed fighting with Dawson with every fiber of my being, yet this situation was trying to kill me. I didn't look up from my laptop as the front door opened, nor when I heard his footsteps stomp into my office in the front room.

He sighed nice and loud from the doorway. "Really?"

I paused typing to glance up and find him leaning against the doorframe. "What?"

His eyebrows rose. "Seriously? You're just not going to show up to work today?"

"What do you think is happening in my lap, dear cousin?" I gestured to my laptop. "I am researching locations for our college girls' spring break so I can start their presentation. Is that not work?"

"You're cute." He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I'm really disappointed in you, Monroe. All of this because you are too prideful to show her a picture of you holding that pocket watch, despite you having a plethora of them to choose from, probably even a couple hanging on the walls in this very room."

I glared at him and tried not to look at the picture hanging in the frame on the wall of me and my dad . . . with the pocket watch. I ground my teeth together. "She's no peach either."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He looked down at his Prescott Tech smart watch, then back to me. "You do remember how Pride and Prejudice ends, right? I can remind you. Mr. Darcy?—"

"If anyone is Mr. Darcy in this, it's her. "

He pursed his lips. "They were both in the wrong, Monroe. Just as both you and Chip are in the wrong. Except Chip is showing her maturity and moving on, whereas you're stuck in middle school."

Someone knocked really loudly on the door. I scowled and looked out the window but whoever it was I couldn't see. I needed to install a camera at the front door so I wouldn't have to get up when people arrived unannounced.

"Come in," Dawson yelled without moving.

"Excuse you, this is my house?—"

"That our grandfather left to you when he died." He rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder. "I'm in here with Mr. Scrooge."

"Call me Jack Sparrow because there's been a mutiny," I mumbled.

"Sorry, Capt'n Jack. Soulmate trumps immature cousins. I love you like a brother, but we've moved into the tough-love stage." I must've made a face because he pointed his finger at me. "Brace yourself to be cordial."

Cordial. Not nice. He knows me well. I suppose that's a fair request—wait. Why? Who is here?

I didn't even get the chance to ask out loud before Pickles stepped around the front door in yet another outfit straight from the '90s. A calf-length floral-printed skirt in autumn colors and a button-up orange cardigan. This was the first time I'd seen Pickles without her bucket hat and rain boots. Her curly black hair bounced with every step she took. Her gray eyes brightened as she looked up at my cousin. She reached out to take his hand and my gaze latched on to their soulmate mark. I hadn't gotten a good look at it before, but I did now. It was an anchor, like on a ship, with two white daisies wrapped around it.

My chest tightened with an emotion I didn't want to process yet because it was mostly likely jealousy in its purest form. Not for Pickles, but for having a soulmate. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Whatchya got there, Chip?" Dawson chuckled. "Need a hand?"

My eyes flew open and landed straight on my nemesis. She looked adorable in her '90s style lavender parachute pants and platform boots. The flannel she wore open over her white crop top shirt looked cozy and cute. I hated that she looked good. I hated that I noticed. I hated that my eyes kept darting down to that inch of skin showing on her stomach like I was waiting for the rest to be suddenly visible. I wasn't attracted to Chip Carden. She was my enemy. A villain. The antagonist. Yet my stupid body was betraying me, getting all warm and twitchy at seeing her walk into my house.

"I'm carrying my only excuse to not put hands on your cousin and get myself deported." She turned her snarl in my direction. "Thanks so much for the power move you're displaying by making us come to your house for our first day. Real classy."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I stayed home so I wouldn't have to see your face or hear your voice and yet . . . here you are. Uninvited and unwelcome. In my home."

"Did you know there's a debate going on among the Vaunteros as to whether or not poison counts as violence." She batted her dark eyelashes at me and smiled sweetly. "If I act fast enough, the loophole will work in my favor. Here, have a damn snack."

She dropped a large brown picnic basket on the coffee table between us.

My stomach filled with butterflies, which made me slam my laptop closed and toss it onto my desk. "I have my breakfast already," I snapped and held my soup up to show her.

Her dark eyes widened. "Are you drinking soup out of a cup? That's unsettling."

I held her gaze and took a big sip of my soup, making sure to lick my lips dramatically after. "Guess you could always leave."

Chip snarled in disgust. "Soup is not a drink."

"Well, it is a liquid?—"

"Not entirely?—"

"This is the most effective way to consume soup. No extra dishes to wash and I can do it one-handed."

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "I bet you're used to doing it one-handed."

My eyes widened as rage rushed through me. "You?—"

"All right. That's enough. Stop." Dawson stepped between us. "You're both acting like children. Behave. Pickles and I put up with your shit all this time, but it's over now."

Pickles cleared her throat and stepped up to the picnic basket. "Chip and I were helping bake at Bowlicious this morning, so we brought snacks for us to have while we work. We've got apple cider, hot chocolate, and some pretzels, crackers, cheese, and apple slices. But I'm more excited about our apple cider doughnuts, sugar cookies, and shortbread cookies."

Dawson gave her a lovesick sappy smile and cupped her face in one of his hands. "That was really sweet of you. Thank you, both of you."

But I didn't miss the way his gaze cut over to me for a split second. I hated that Chip was acting like the bigger person and letting this go when I couldn't. The mere sight of her twisted knots in my stomach and sent my pulse racing. However, I refused to be one-upped by a slimy little fish like her, so I took a deep breath and then tried to soften my facial expressions. "Yes, thank you. It was a kind gesture."

Pickles' cheeks flushed. She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I promise she didn't poison them."

Chip rolled her eyes. "No, but only because I'd screw up and accidentally eat the poisoned ones and take myself down. I refuse to give him that satisfaction."

I grinned. That was a dark-ass joke. I hated that I liked it, but I did manage not to laugh. We weren't there yet, if we ever got to that point. She glanced at me, then quickly looked away.

Dawson rubbed his hands together. "Right, so, I actually think our first day working as a team happens not in the shop. Even if this is Monroe's house?—"

"Well, we don't have a house on land, otherwise we would've offered it."

Dawson frowned at Chip, then looked to Pickles. "My soulmate has a home . . . with me. And that means her sister is always welcome to call our home hers as well."

Pickles bit her bottom lip. "It's a really beautiful house, Chip. You'll love it."

"Hide your valuables," I grumbled.

Chip shot lasers at me with her eyes.

"Right, so why don't we all have a seat so we can talk?" Dawson squeezed Pickles' elbow, then led her over to the emerald-green velvet sofa against the back wall of my office.

Chip took a seat across from me, then she jumped up and reached into the picnic basket. "I need comfort food for this." When she sat back down, she had four cookies in her hand and seemed proud of her haul.

I cleared my throat. "So, Dawson, since merging was your idea . . . how do you propose we handle business?"

"Well, I think it may take us some time to work out the kinks and find a rhythm that works for us. But you and Chip seem to be our creative sources, while Pickles and I excel in working directly with clients." He frowned and scratched his jaw. "I think each new client may be a case-by-case scenario. For example, you and I have been talking to Mateo about his guided vampire tour, so we can probably just handle that ourselves. But four college girls might like the feminine touch to their trip?"

"They've barely left the Island?—"

"Which is why we'd work with you, not take over that client." Pickles nodded eagerly. "I do believe we sent you some clients the other day after our kissing booth."

Chip nodded. "Our main focus is still sirens. I want to make life better for my people. So if you guys can aid us in any way, that would be cool. It's about them, not me."

"I think a few brainstorming meetings and we'll be able to do some great things."

She smiled at Dawson. Then frowned. "I should let you guys know then that Pickles and I have a meeting with Lexington Prescott, our father, and four Vaunteros—the King, Queen, Ernald, and Fina. Mr. Prescott requested the meeting and set it up. It's Saturday night after the home decor contest so we can discuss the logistics for sirens leaving Megelle Island and going into First Realm."

Pickles did a little happy dance in her seat. "This is great! We're all a team now, Chip. Dawson and Monroe have so much experience. They'll be able to get the sirens traveling so soon because they'll actually know what Mr. Prescott is talking about."

Chip's face fell. "I did get us that meeting?—"

"We won't take it from you," I heard myself say. Then I scowled. Look at me being cooperative and nice. Disgusting.

"Monroe is right. We're a team. All four of us." Dawson smiled and reached for my tablet sitting on the coffee table. "All of our gadgets and trinkets are in the shop, but I can show you our database with pictures?—"

"Don't think you can steal our ideas just because we work together," I snapped before I could stop myself. I was really showing my ass with this woman, and I was starting to question why she unraveled me so much. I was never this illogical or immature.

Chip rolled her dark eyes. "You're exhausting, Monroe. You really think you're the only person who thought to make magical trinkets? Have you not seen Bow Ties? That shop is loaded with them. You're a damned mage . . . this shouldn't be a shocker."

I started to speak, but she wasn't done.

"Did you accuse Holden of stealing your idea when he had a necklace custom made for my sister?"

I scoffed. "Of course not."

She arched one dark eyebrow at me and used her sugar cookie to point in my direction. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I got the idea from the necklace hanging around my sister's throat? Or are you really that self-absorbed?"

"Right. Convenient. And what's your excuse for Fae Night when you copied our idea to do organized groups?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Pull your head out of your ass or start shitting diamonds."

Dawson snorted, then buried his face in his hands to hide his laughter.

She gestured between her and Pickles. "We spent an hour with a group of sirens painting those little pumpkins for Fae Night . Do you know how many kids sat there painting next to us and were upset their parents didn't want to take them around to play? Do you?"

Pickles smirked. "Forty-six. That's how many showed up. And then a few adults too. I may not be interested in this war you're having, but I have to call bullshit when I see it. We're all travel agents, or we're trying to be, and therefore our goals and focus are the same. It shouldn't be such a surprise that we think alike. Or should I say that Chip thinks like you, since she's been our idea factory."

Dawson looked to me with pleading eyes. "Just think how great we're going to be once we combine all of our ideas into one machine."

"Fine." I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms over my chest. "If Chip is such an idea factory, then how about she give us an idea for the home decor contest tour this Saturday."

Chip sat up straight. "Right, so what is that? Mr. Prescott mentioned it, but we've never been?—"

"OH, wait!" Pickles gasped and spun to her soulmate. "That's when everyone decorates the houses, like inside?"

Dawson nodded. "It's indoors, yes. Everyone sees the houses all day, every day from the outside. And Christmas season we do the exterior decoration contest with all the lights. But for Halloween, it's an interior tour. Everyone who signed up will decorate inside their house however they want and then the whole Island tours the homes. Then they drop their vote for their favorite at the festival."

"A lot of people do this?"

"At least half the island."

I shrugged. "Either you sign up for the tour and your house is marked as off-limits or your house is a victim on Mischief Monday."

Chip's brow scrunched. "That seems unfair. Do a lot of work to decorate your whole house inside or do a lot of work to clean up all the pranks done to your house?"

"Actually, this was set up as a way to control both events. One, more people sign up for the tour which makes it more fun. Two, the Vaunteros know which houses to keep an eye on for Mischief Night. It's fairly logical. It's become quite the tradition every year."

Dawson nodded. "The Bow family never does the tour. Everyone voted that would be unfair given Peggy being Peggy."

We all chuckled.

Dawson continued, "The Graham family intentionally lets themselves be victims on Mischief Night because Kate's students love to pull cute little pranks on her. Which then extends to Jude's house and their parents. Plus, they're Peggy's best friends so no one is worried they can't handle the cleanup."

Pickles twirled her finger around her hair. "I'm surprised no one pranks our hut."

Dawson looked to me with pointed eyes. The girls frowned.

I sighed. "I asked the King and Queen to mark your hut, and all siren huts, as off-limits."

Chip gasped, her eyes widening. "Why?"

"I thought it unfair since the sirens never, ever participate." That wasn't my only reason, but I wasn't getting into that in this moment.

"Oh." She held her chin high. "Well . . . thank you."

I nodded my head.

"Right. So, basically, we get to decorate any way we want to inside." Dawson cleared his throat to regain Chip's attention since she was staring at me. "That's the beauty of it. We're not forced to do a Halloween theme."

"Do we need a theme?" Pickles tapped her chin. "Like all the rooms have to go together?"

"Most people do a theme for the whole house, yeah." Dawson sat my tablet back down. "Thing is, every year Starlight Tours uses Monroe's house for the event, and we try to use it as a marketing tactic at the same time. The idea is to make them love what we did so much that they want to hire us to plan their vacations."

Pickles let out a deep breath. "So, no pressure."

Chip jumped up and started pacing my office.

"I won't say mine first, so don't bother stalling," I said. Not that I have one, but she doesn't need to know that.

Chip spun on me and looked me dead in the eye with a straight face. " Tour your future destinations. That's our theme."

I opened my mouth, then shut it.

"And that's Chip's idea NOT Monroe's," Chip said with a cocky grin. "For the record."

Dawson's jaw dropped. Pickles giggled and clapped her hands.

I cursed and scrubbed my face with my hands. "Fine. Fine. That's a . . . that's a good idea. Nicely done."

The smile she gave me was not the sassy, annoying one I'd been getting from her. It was genuine and excited . . . and flattered. I must've made a face because that smile turned right back to the arrogant one I hated so much.

"Did you want to tell us your idea, Monroe? We can vote?" Pickles asked in her sweet voice. "Or combine them?"

I sighed and it came out as a little grumble. "I didn't have one. That's why we haven't started."

Chip's eyes widened. "All that sass and you didn't even have an idea?"

"I stay true to character. What can I say?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You're something else. But I refuse to sink to your level anymore. This tour is on Saturday and it's Thursday morning. We don't have much time, so we better get moving."

"So . . . Tour your future destinations , eh?" I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. "How exactly do you see us doing that?"

She gnawed on her bottom lip. "Well, we will pick a destination for each room and then make the room look like it?"

"Like installation art?" Dawson grinned. "I love that."

"But make it fun so people aren't bored."

"We need photo ops like Carter set up at the festival." I snapped my fingers and reached for my tablet so I could start making notes. "We want them to love each room?—"

"Oh, like the surfboard I saw in Key West!" Chip was bouncing now, literally bouncing. "It was like a simulator, like you stand on an actual surfboard and it's like you're actually surfing those big waves in Hawaii!"

Pickles scowled. "Where the hell was I with this?"

Chip cocked her head to the side. "I don't know?"

"We've been to Hawaii." I grabbed my stylus pen and began writing. "Dawson, remember how we did the guest bath a few years ago?—"

"Yes! Perfect. I still have a lot of that stuff, so I'll be able to get that going easy." Dawson pointed to my tablet. "But we need to get a projection screen for this."

Chip was standing at the doorway and looking into the foyer. "We need to use those stairs. What about . . . um . . . what do you call it when you surf down a snowy mountain?"

"Skiing?" I jumped to my feet and hurried into the hall, stopping at her side. "Those stairs are really wide. We could put a divider so people can go up one side, like on a ski lift but we'll just have them walk. And then after they look around upstairs, they can ski down?—"

"Maybe tubing instead?" Dawson grimaced. "Feels safer."

Chip and I nodded, and it made me want to scream. We were working together and agreeing on things. Even worse, we were helping each other. I felt sick to my stomach.

Pickles raised her hand. "Okay, so which rooms are we allowed to use, Monroe?"

I tapped my stylus on my tablet screen. "Well, we already designated the foyer and hallway, and then the upstairs guest bath. My bedroom is off-limits, as is my office. And preferably my library. The last time I let that be open, people ruined some of my books, and I'm still salty about that."

"Everything else is fair game?"

I nodded.

"OH." Pickles jumped up. "Can we have food? Like for people to eat?"

Dawson reached in and grabbed an apple cider doughnut. "We could have a make your own pizza thing setup? Like make the kitchen look like Italy? Connor gave me that old pizza oven of his when they got the new ones at the restaurant. It cooks super-fast, like Peggy defies the laws of physics fast."

Chip's stomach growled and we all looked at her. She grimaced. "Shut up. Give me a doughnut."

Dawson laughed and handed his doughnut to her. "So, then, for downstairs we need a destination for the living room and dining room. Upstairs we have two guest bedrooms, the billiard room, and the balcony terrace. And of course, out back by the pool could be fun to use."

Chip looked up at me under thick black eyelashes. I hated all the reddish speckles in her dark eyes that I was suddenly noticing. "May I see the rest of the house?"