by Olivia Dade
He’d reversed his baseball cap to get close, and his warm breath caused little tingles low in her belly. His hand stroked up and down her back, an intimate claim in a public setting.
In the past, she’d shied away from those kinds of displays, but not with Miles. With him, she liked it. With him, she liked everything.
So she had no objection to the PDA. She welcomed his touch, whenever and however she could experience it. And his new ease with physical contact, his new willingness to go out in public, served as welcome evidence of his growing comfort with his changed body and changed life. So did his attendance at several of Sam’s recent hockey practices. Miles hadn’t promised to join the team yet, but she suspected it was a matter of when, not if.
Sure, he still wore his baseball cap everywhere outside his house and preferred to go by his middle name, Sullivan, to strangers. And on the rare occasions when people recognized him from his show, he told them they were mistaken. Because, after all, what would the Naked Carpenter be doing in Nice County, much less without one of his arms?
The lies discomfited her. But she appreciated the further evidence that he wasn’t planning a move back to California. And goodness knew, she didn’t want the attention of paparazzi either.
Their life together now seemed sustainable, in a way it hadn’t when they’d been confined to his cabin and abortive make-out sessions on his couch. Since their first full night together at his house, they’d gone out in public as a couple at least twice a week. They’d bought groceries a few times. She’d dragged him to the movie theater to see The Grief-Filled Life and Inspirational Death of Delores DeVry, and he’d even carried the obligatory box of tissues for them both. He’d met her friends, who taunted her with shirtless posters of him whenever possible.
He’d even met her family, who regarded him with open approval. Their casual welcome had come as a huge relief. She’d worried for weeks about how they’d respond to her bringing home a TV star, but they’d taken it all in stride.
“A good man,” her mom had commented. “Good-looking too. You’re lucky to have found each other.”
What could Mary say? It was the truth. So she’d simply offered her mother a grateful hug and basked in the love of her family and the joy of having Miles by her side.
And unless she was working, he was rarely anywhere else. The two of them had spent pretty much every night together for the past month, and each inch of his body felt familiar against hers. Natural.
She allowed herself to melt into him, torso to torso. “You want to know why Sarah and I are best friends? I’m not sure I understand your question.”
He snorted quietly. “Well, for one, she chose to celebrate the anniversary of her first date with Chris by going to a haunted mini-golf course. And I know for a fact you hate scary movies, so I’m guessing you don’t like scary putt-putt either.”
If she’d had a choice, Mary would have picked any other place in Nice County for tonight’s outing. Possibly any other place in the solar system. Sobs of grief she could handle. Screams of horror? Not so much.
But she’d do just about anything for Sarah, because Sarah would do the same for her.
“They had their first real date here,” Mary told him. “She would’ve gone with Helen and Wes instead, but they refused. According to Sarah, Wes said he wasn’t mayor anymore, so he wasn’t stepping foot on a blankety-blank, scary mini-golf course again without a darn good reason.”
Miles’s lips curved. “I assume he didn’t use the words blankety-blank or darn.”
“I gave you the edited version.”
“I figured. But I still don’t understand why Sarah didn’t come alone with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be more romantic?”
“We’re here to help guide authorities to their lifeless bodies.” She sighed. “And to take the last-known pictures of them alive. Those are direct quotes, by the way.”
He gave a contemplative nod. “That explanation definitely sounds like her.”
All she could do was laugh. Because, yes, this whole outing was vintage Sarah.
“That’s the part I don’t get,” he said. “You’re so calm, and she’s so…”
“Dramatic?” She dropped her head on to his chest. “I love that about her. She is who she is, and she doesn’t apologize for it. She’s hilarious. And most people don’t notice, but she’s really kind and loyal.”
His kiss tickled the crown of her head. “I always figured you two bonded over your teaching backgrounds.”
“That too.” She nibbled her lip. “Don’t you like her? Because I respect your opinion, but she’s my best friend. I’m not giving her up.”
“No, no, no. I like her.” He pulled her in closer. “I was just curious about what drew you two together. And the question was kind of a red herring, honestly. I mostly wanted an excuse to drag you into the darkness.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “And do what?”
“This.” Without further ado, his mouth lowered to hers and claimed it.
Her lips parted under the persuasion of his talented tongue, and the kiss turned from G-rated to PG-13 with a speed she should have expected by now. How did their combustible chemistry still startle her every time?
The embrace lasted until a discreet throat-clearing interrupted her daze. She tore her mouth from Miles’s and turned to see Sarah and Chris standing a few feet away, matching grins on their faces.
Sarah looped her arm around her boyfriend’s waist. Or, more accurately, his backside, since he towered over her. “We got two holes ahead of you, and then we started worrying you’d been kidnapped by roving, putt-putt-loving cannibals.”
“Sarah started worrying,” Chris clarified. “I figured you were making out.”
She beamed up at him. “So we followed your example and did that for a while too. But since we didn’t want to make babies on a mini-golf course, we called a halt to the proceedings and came back this way. Which is a shame, because we could have named our child Minnie. Or Putter. Or maybe Massacre, if he or she turned out to be a goth.”
Miles let go of Mary so he could put his baseball cap on the right way. “Can someone explain the name of this place to me? Or who exactly came up with the idea of a haunted mini-golf course?”
The group began moving toward the eighth hole, and he circled her shoulders with his arm. She snuggled close, as content as she could ever remember being.
Chris gave a characteristically laconic explanation. “Earl, the guy who owns the place, decided to make an iconic cartoon mouse the mascot for his course. He got sued, lost, defaced the sign, and let the place fall to pieces while he ran his car wash.”
“Is that why poor Minnie’s mouse brain is exposed on the billboard?” Mary asked. “I’ve always wondered.”
“He did that because he lost a lawsuit?” Miles blinked down at Mary. “Earl sounds disturbed.”
Yes. Definitely. “I don’t know the man, so I can’t really say.”
Leaning over, he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Which means yes, you sweet lady.”
She couldn’t help but smile. That man could read her like a children’s board book.
“Then Earl’s car wash went under, and he didn’t have money to fix up the course.” Chris made a putt with his rusty club, avoiding its jagged edges with all due caution.
Sarah finished the story for him. “Last year, locals chose Minnie’s Mini-Golf as Nice County’s most nightmare-inducing Halloween attraction. Also Nice County’s most likely spot to get drugged and have your kidneys stolen. And finally, Nice County’s favorite place to dispose of wealthy relatives who plan to change their wills and leave everything to their cats instead of you.”
As Sarah made her own swing, Chris cast a long-suffering glance at Miles and Mary. But as always, Mary could see him fighting a laugh. “Those last two aren’t true.”
Sarah propped her fists on her ample hips. “The first one is, though. Earl hadn’t actually intended a Hal
loween theme, of course. But after that vote, he started getting a ton of kids.”
Miles’s grin gleamed in the dim light. “Let me guess. They all dared each other to complete the course, and it became a cult destination.”
He made a hole-in-one with a single, easy swing of his crooked club.
“Nice shot, ringer,” Sarah said. “Anyway, Earl added ‘massacre’ to the name and started calling the course haunted to capitalize on his success. It’s basically the same course, only with higher ticket prices and a waiver to sign before you enter the premises. And, of course, he’s installed barbed wire around the property to keep unsuspecting mini-golfers caged and doomed to imprisonment in his secret dungeon.”
Chris patted her bottom fondly. “Kids were climbing over the fence to avoid the high ticket prices.”
“Ah.” Miles nodded. “That makes sense.”
When they finished their hole, they approached the murky blue river that bisected the course. Although that river looked shallow and sluggish, they regarded it with caution.
“Anyone care to guess how many flesh-eating diseases the water could give us?” Sarah asked. “I’m thinking at least forty-two.”
“The river’s too wide to cross. So I guess our only real option is the bridge.” In Mary’s opinion, that choice wasn’t a heck of a lot better. “I hate to complain, but is it even safe?”
Sarah contemplated the structure with narrowed eyes. “That thing looks like the first two little pigs built it. If a single asthmatic wolf comes along, we’re all tumbling into the Stream of Death.”
“Let me take a look.” Removing a mini-flashlight from his pocket, Miles shined the thin beam at the bridge’s supports and overall structure. “It should hold us, although I suggest we go one at a time to be safe.” He shook his head. “Someone needs to tell the owner he could rebuild the bridge so it would appear even more rickety and dangerous, but would actually support much more weight. The man needs an engineer and a good carpenter.”
Chris was watching Miles, his expression thoughtful. “You might be able to tell him that yourself. He often takes naps inside the terrifying windmill up ahead.”
“He yells at kids when they disturb him, which only makes them shriek more. They love it. As far as they’re concerned, he’s a feature of the course, not a bug.” Sarah shrugged. “Of course, they have no idea he’s using the opportunity to study his eventual captives.”
They crossed the bridge one by one, eyeing the wood beneath their feet with suspicion, and headed for the next hole. But just as they reached the cracked concrete tee at the next hole, Miles’s phone rang.
That had been happening more and more frequently. When she’d first started dating him, he’d gotten a call or two every so often, which he’d promptly rejected. In recent weeks, though, his phone had been ringing day and night, up to a dozen times daily, and she had no idea why.
He might not know either, since he still didn’t answer his calls. And as far as she could tell, he never called anyone back.
Sure enough, after a single glance at his phone, he tapped the screen and put the device back in his pocket. Then he wandered over to the hole and began to heckle Chris’s putt attempts.
Sarah stayed by Mary’s side, close to the bridge. “Is everything okay? Miles looks a little unhappy.”
“I think so.” Mary blew out a slow breath. “Those phone calls make him tense, and I don’t know why.”
Her friend furrowed her brows. “Have you asked him who’s calling?”
“He always says it’s no one important, and I haven’t pressed him on it. I figure it’s not my business.” Although she’d begun to second guess that conclusion in recent weeks. Should she demand more details? Was she being naïve?
“Maybe reporters have gotten his number,” Sarah guessed. “And he doesn’t want to upset you by talking about it.”
Mary spread her hands. “Maybe. I have no idea.”
Before Sarah could say more, Miles’s familiar voice rose over the background noise of the other mini-golfers.
“Hey, Mary Louise and DQ!” He waved from the far side of the hole. “It’s windmill time. Come and protect your men!”
“Oh, Jesus,” Sarah muttered. “Protect your internal organs at all costs, Mary.”
As they approached the feature, Mary noticed that the steps leading up to the windmill looked like they’d been broken at some point and only partially repaired. But goodness help her, they needed to climb through the dark, dilapidated structure before they could proceed on the course, even though doing so seemed like a truly terrible idea.
Sarah pointed at the steps. “My man-beast of a boyfriend did that.”
“Why?” Miles had come back to Mary’s side. “Did he Hulk out when someone made him angry? Or is that standard behavior from a giant created in a catastrophic laboratory accident?”
Chris scowled as Miles and Sarah high-fived each other.
“Oh, man.” Sarah kept giggling, even after Chris gave her a gentle swat on her backside. “I knew I liked you, O’Connor.”
A sudden, wordless roar emanated from inside the windmill, and all four of them jumped. Her heart pounding in her chest, Mary was half-tempted to run for her life, double date be darned. And for once, Sarah’s wide eyes reflected genuine alarm.
In a flash, Chris shoved both women behind him, positioning himself between them and the windmill and wielding his club like a sword. “I’ll take care of this,” he declared. “Don’t come any closer. It’s not safe.”
Miles laughed. “I think you can put down your weapon, dude. I’m sure that’s just Earl. We probably woke him from his nap in the windmill.”
A grumpy voice echoed inside the structure. “Freakin’ kids. Can’t a hardworking business owner get some rest once in a while?”
Chris didn’t lower his club. “Earl?”
“No, it’s a troll.” The man’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Of course it’s Earl, you jackass. Hurry up and get through the damn windmill before I kick you off the course.”
Chris’s glower didn’t disappear, and his club didn’t move. “If you try to hurt any of us, I swear I’ll make you sorry.”
“What are you, the knight of the putt-putt course?” A man’s head, covered in rumpled white hair, poked out of the windmill doorway. “Just move on through before I stick your putter where the sun don’t shine, Sir Panics-a-Lot.”
Miles had been studying the steps and the rest of the windmill with his little flashlight while Chris and Earl exchanged mutual threats, and he interrupted the rapidly deteriorating conversation without apology. “Hey, Earl? I think you have a problem here.”
“Oh, Jesus.” The man trudged down the windmill steps. “This one thinks he’s an inspector.”
“Not an inspector. Just a carpenter.” Miles pointed his flashlight at a particularly ragged section of the structure. “You’ve got termite damage. This windmill might not last too much longer if you don’t fix it. And the bridge could use some work too.”
“I’m not made of money, you know.” Earl glared at the group. “Do you think it’s cheap to maintain a place like this?”
“Uh, yeah,” Sarah piped up. “Since you don’t actually maintain it at all, as far as I can tell.”
“It wouldn’t cost too much.” Miles inserted himself between Chris and the increasingly dyspeptic-looking owner of the course. “And like I was telling them, you could easily make your features look even more dangerous while actually improving their safety. You just need an engineer and a decent carpenter.”
Earl’s anger seemed to dissipate. “Really?”
“Really. You should invest the money to fix the bridge and windmill. It’ll bring you more customers in the long run, and it’ll protect you from another lawsuit.”
That seemed to decide the elderly man.
“You.” He pointed a shaking finger at Miles. “I want you to do the work.”
Turning so Earl c
ould see his pinned sleeve, Miles smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I’d need someone to give me a hand.”
Another bit of evidence that he’d lost most of his self-consciousness. Thank goodness.
“Puns are the lowest form of humor, boy.” Earl squinted at him. “And I don’t see why a missing arm would stop you from doing some of the work. No matter what, you could always supervise.”
A startled look crossed Miles’s face. “Yeah. I guess I could.”
“Think about it. You know where to find me.” The man waved a hand at the course.
“Yeah. Snoring in a dirty, termite-infested windmill-slash-deathtrap,” Sarah muttered.
Earl scowled at her. “What’d you say, girlie?”
“Nothing.” Miles gently nudged Mary forward. “The structure should hold for now, but let’s go one at a time again. No sudden moves. And no stomping with your enormous, mutant feet, Gigantor.”
Chris grumbled, his putter at the ready once more as he led the way for Sarah.
Earl stepped aside with clear reluctance. “Freakin’ kids.”
* * *
An hour or so later, the couples had said their goodbyes and separated. Miles held Mary’s hand as they headed back to the parking lot. As they got close, she paused to let him take in the full effect of Earl’s altered sign once more. Minnie’s missing ears. The exposed mouse brain. The black dress. The mustache.
“I salute Earl’s artistry,” Miles finally said.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “Poor mousie.”
Most cars, she noticed, had parked in the darkened corners of the lot, no doubt to begin their nightmarish experience in appropriate style. She, on the other hand, had maneuvered as close to the lone functioning light as possible. “That was an interesting night.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t say more, and he appeared lost in thought.
“What did you think of the job offer from Earl?”
Honestly, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Earl seemed kind of…well, odd. But he was offering Miles the chance to do work he loved again, if only in a supervisory role. And who knew how much Miles could actually do with his tools if he tried? Maybe there were modifications that could be made to accommodate one-handed use?
