Page 3 of Your Masked Haunting

Lifting my tennis shoe, I kick his butt, pushing him into the cart and stumbling a couple of steps. Kol bursts out laughing, and Bates flips me off.

A swoosh of black hair draws my attention down an aisle to my left. With one glance, I know I would let that woman ruin my entire life. Her wavy black hair is pulled half up in a messy bun with a big scrunchie. Worn combat boots are impatiently tapping against the tiles, as if her own indecisiveness is pissing her off. It’s fucking adorable.

My eyes wander up her body. Over the fishnet tights and up to well-loved destroyed jean shorts with an oversize tee tucked into the front, the rest hanging down to the frayed denim edges.

Peppering her nearly ghostly pale skin are black-and-white tattoos. From all the way over here, I can only make out so much of their details, but I like the dancing skeleton fairies. They’re sick.

Maybe I should get a couple of skeleton fairies. They’d go great with my stabby mushroom guy on my wrist or the plants that grow sheet ghosts wrapping around my upper arm.

She must sense my presence, and by the time I pull myself from my stupor, it’s too late for me to slip away, unnoticed. Maybe she’ll be just as infatuated with me as I am with her.

Her neck twists as she turns her head to face me, and I quickly realize we are not on the same page.

Her brows immediately pinch together as a grimace takes over her burgundy-painted lips. Jesus Christ, she’s beautiful when she’s mad. Although I doubt there’s a time she wouldn’t steal my breath.

Her green eyes brand themselves into my mind. Her cute button nose upturns as she throws her arms to her sides, her phone tightly gripped in her right hand. “Can I fucking help you?”

I hear the rolling wheels of a cart approach behind me and an inaudible whisper pass between Bates and Kol.

I wonder if she'd want to go on a date with me.

Whatever she wants to do, I’m in.

“Well, I mean⁠—”

She sticks her hand up in the air, cutting me off with a curl of her lips. “I didn’t actually care. Stop staring at me.”

Raising my hands in defeat, I can’t help the shit-eating grin that stretches across my lips. Immediately, her eyes fall to it, and the slightest pink hue colors her cheeks.

“My apologies.” Nodding in surrender, I lower my hands and tuck them into my jogger pockets. “It was hard not to. You’re gorgeous.”

Her face softens, only for a second, but long enough to give me a glimpse behind those intense fortress walls that have been sky-high this entire interaction.

“Compliments won’t get you anywhere with me, pretty boy. And this conversation has gone on long enough. Thanks though.” She gestures with her hands for me to continue on my way, standing her ground in front of an impressive array of face paints with no intention of leaving.

Biting down on my bottom lip, I feel a giddiness in my next few steps as the three of us head to the paper aisle. “Shit.”

Bates pats my back. “Damn. That was tough to watch.”

Kol chuckles, immediately trying to cover it up with a fake cough.

“I hate you both.” I groan. “Go pick out paper, and I’ll meet you by the stickers. I’ll be right back.”

“Leave the girl alone, Cas. She’s clearly not interested.” Bates encourages me to behave, and I fully intend to … for now.

“First of all, that’s rich, coming from you, Mr. I Pursued My Coach’s Daughter as Her Masked Man. Then spent six months stalking her and infiltrating her life with hidden cameras. You did a phenomenal job at leaving that girl alone.”

He clenches his jaw, amusement in the flicker of his smile.

“Secondly, I’m not going to bother her.”

Before they can add any new smart-ass comments or concerns, I spin on my heel and head to the register, where one of the older ladies who works here is sitting in her chair, sorting scraps of fabric.

She greets me with the kindest smile. “All ready to go?”

“Not quite.” I dig my wallet out of my sweats. “This might sound like an odd request. But there’s a girl shopping in here—black hair, tights, tattoos of dancing skeleton fairies. She’s a … friend of mine. Can you use this to purchase her haul? Just give her the leftover change.”

I hand her three hundred-dollar bills, and she takes them with a beat of hesitation, mulling my words over in her mind.