I’d witnessed only when someone ordered poached eggs or he dropped his glasses in the grease trap. “I’m not hiding anything. Why won’t you let it go?” He hopped to his feet and pinned me with a dark look. “I didn’t do anything. The quicker you get that through your head, the better.”
He stomped toward the swinging doors, leaving me to press my lips together and exchange a worried glance with Sebastian. The gregarious funeral home operator looked as worried as I felt. He obviously had no idea the size of the can of worms he would be opening when he decided to tease Grandpa about Hunter.
“And one more thing,” Grandpa said as he was perched between the doors. “This one might be fun to share a drink with, maybe even hang out with from time to time, but he’ll ruin your dating life if you expect to get back with Hunter.”
Now it was my turn to be defensive. “Stop saying that! I don’t want to get back with Hunter. You’re just trying to irritate me.”
“Apparently it runs in the family.” There was some extra flounce in Grandpa’s step as he disappeared into the kitchen.
“He’s totally going to hide, isn’t he?” Sebastian said after a beat.
“Yup.” I bobbed my head. “He’s been doing it for days. I can’t figure out why.”
“Maybe he killed Roy.”
“He didn’t.”
“Maybe you’re in denial about it.”
“I’m not.”
“Really? You’re in denial about Hunter. He’s right about that.”
I didn’t bother to hide my glare. “I’ll check on your breakfast.”
Sebastian sipped his coffee and grinned. “Apparently you get your denial tendencies and your penchant to hide when a conversation gets tough from your grandfather.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“I’m serious.”
What really terrified me was the possibility that he was right.
10
Ten
Sebastian hung out until I finished my shift and then followed me up to my apartment. His expression was dubious as he glanced around.
“Are you a minimalist? If so, we can’t be friends.”
I laughed at his reaction. “I don’t know that I would say I’m a minimalist. It’s more that I own nothing, so I can’t decorate.”
“I don’t know. Who doesn’t like a painting of a bear catching a fish?” He moved to the lone piece of art on the wall, a piece that was painted by my great-grandmother when she opened the restaurant. The birch bark frame made it all the more tacky in my book, but he seemed intrigued. “Do you know who painted this?”
“I think it was my great-grandmother.”
“Really?” Sebastian looked intrigued. “Is she still alive?”
“Yeah. She lives in Florida. She still comes up once a year to visit the family.”
“She’s the one who gave the restaurant the name, right?”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah. I think my grandfather would’ve changed it long ago if he could. She made keeping the name a point of contention when she sold it to him, so he’s stuck. He thinks Archer’s Fine Dining has a certain ring to it.”
Sebastian chortled. “I don’t know. I like the Two Broomsticks thing. Besides, living so close to Hemlock Cove, I think the name is a bonus these days.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, sliding into the bedroom. I gave the bed a long look, as if I expected to be swept into the air again, and then shook my head. “I’m going to change really quick and then we can head downtown for coffee.”
“That sounds good to me.” His voice told me he was drifting through the apartment. “I have to be back at the funeral home at two o’clock.”
“Oh, yeah? Do the caskets get unruly if you’re not there to supervise them?” I laughed at my own lame joke.
“Vera Axe is coming in to make arrangements for Roy.”
I froze, my shirt halfway over my head. “Vera is going through you for Roy’s arrangements?”
“You sound surprised.” Sebastian’s voice was closer this time, but I didn’t rush to shut my bedroom door. I wasn’t concerned about him seeing me in my bra. “I am the premiere funeral director in Shadow Hills.”
“You’re the only funeral director in Shadow Hills.”
“My statement stands.”
I chuckled as I slipped into a T-shirt and a pair of well-worn capris. By the time I returned to the living room, Sebastian had made himself comfortable on the couch. His gaze was speculative as I moved to join him.
“What?” I was feeling self-conscious. I still couldn’t shake the dream — or the fear that almost caused my heart to pound out of my chest as I tried to rouse myself from it. The panic I’d felt when flying over the