Page 17 of Manors & Mischief

I chuckle, stealing it back from her when she sets it down and allowing the spicy flavor to coat my throat and warm my belly. When I get time to myself now, I enjoy it, no matter how short of a time period it is, and let’s face it, it’s been pretty short lately with everything I’m doing at the manor.

“Any more run-ins with Devon?”

I grip the cup tighter as I place it back down on the saucer with a little more force than necessary. “Haven’t seen him.”

Bea shakes her head. “If I hadn’t witnessed his behavior myself, I’m not sure I would have believed you when you told me how he was treating you. In fact, I hear he’s over at the pumpkin patch right now fixing their tractor for when the hayrides start back up again.”

“He brings out the worst in me, too,” I concede. “There’s just something about him.”

Bea smiles to herself, then peers around the seating area. There’s only one other person here right now, sitting in the corner with her laptop out and earbuds in. “Did you ever think it’s, you know, sexual tension?”

I careen backward, dramatically gripping my chest. I admit, the reaction is over-the-top, but no. No, I have definitely not thought that. “Are you feeling well?”

Bea laughs. “You have to admit, he’s… I mean, he’s handsome.”

I don’t want to admit it, but yeah, he definitely is. His cut jaw. The way his t-shirt tugs tightly around his biceps and shoulders. The man is giving off masculine vibes like you wouldn’t believe. I nearly got in a car accident yesterday when he was chopping wood in the center of town for the Harvest Falls Bonfire. “I feel like if I answer that the way I want to I’ll have to give up my feminist card.”

She grips her stomach, chuckling. “Just think about it.”

“Think about what? Asking him if he wants to bone just so we won’t hate each other anymore?”

She lowers her voice. “I hear hate sex is therapeutic.”

I shake my head, refusing to acknowledge the idea. “I doubt he would agree and considering he thinks I’m the spawn of the devil himself for buying the manor out from under him, I don’t think he’d be eager to drop trou.”

“I bet he would,” she singsongs.

I grab her hand across the table, frowning. “I have something to tell you.” Her face pinches, worry fills her gaze. “I think you need to get laid.”

A laugh bursts from her chest. “Girl, yes, I do.” She stands from the table and starts walking toward the counter. “But that’s a discussion for another day. I’m glad you’ve got another guy who might help you with the manor since Devon is out of the question.”

I check my phone for the time. He’ll be here in five minutes to go over an estimate he’s prepared for the work I want done. Sprucing up the ballroom. A little bit of exterior work, including fixing the hole in the porch, and updating the toilets.

If I can get the place ready for the Fall Ball and maybe a kids’ haunted house, I can earn enough money to really put some work into it. The possibilities are endless, especially when I take into account the acreage. A haunted trail, maybe? Candlelight tours with ghost stories. I’ve had brief discussions with the mayor, and she said she’d help push anything I want to do. She’s eager to see Sleepy Hollow Manor alive again, to take its place once more as one of the centerpieces of the community.

Despite my initial reticence, Mrs. Lachey isn’t like her son at all. She’s upbeat and encouraging, and she happens to like me.

I sip my latte again when the bell over the door sounds. Bea and I both look that way when I find Mr. Shue walking in. He’s my possible new handyman. I stand and shake his hand when he reaches me. “Do you want anything?” I ask, gesturing toward the counter.

“I’d love a black coffee.”

“Put it on my tab,” I tell Bea.

As he sits, she makes a face. She thinks customers who order black coffee are psycho. I’ll be hearing about this when he leaves, probably attached to the words, “You can’t hire him. His taste in coffee is terrible.”

“So, tell me you have good news,” I start, leaving the sentence open with a hopeful intake of breath. It took almost all the money I had to purchase the manor, so I can’t afford to bankroll huge repairs. The porch scares me the most. The ballroom just needs sprucing, but the porch could set me back tens of thousands of dollars, but I need it to be fine. Or at least be able to hold up the customers coming in and out for the Fall Ball.

Mr. Shue hands me a piece of paper. I scan down the front and stop on the total. Oh hell yes. That’s not bad!

“That’s for the ballroom.”

Shit. That’s bad.

He starts to hand me another piece of paper when the bell above the door goes off again.

I make myself keep scanning the paper, looking for the bad news when a high-pitched voice says, “Ember, Dear!”

I peer up to find Mrs. Lachey walking toward me. “Hi! You can’t stay away from here, can you? I’m so glad to see you’ve found a friend in Bea. How’s—?” She peers over at my table partner, and her eyes bug out of her head. “Randy Shue. What are you doing in Harvest Falls?”