familiar marker.
William Archer. My grandfather’s father. His mother was still alive — and on her third husband — but his father had died when I was fairly young. I had only one memory of him, and it wasn’t exactly illuminating. He’d been sitting at the formal dining table in my grandparents’ house, playing chess with Brad, and talking about some ridiculous political conspiracy theory that involved ranking members of the first family being aliens.
I smiled at the memory. Perhaps that’s where Brad got it. He was especially close with my great-grandfather. It was possible he’d inherited that part of his personality. Lord knows I’d picked up a few unsavory tendencies from my grandfather.
I bent over long enough to clear away a few weeds, jerking up my head when a shadow passed over me. I scanned the nearby graves, frowning when I found no one near me before returning to my task.
The shadow appeared again.
“Okay, who is here?” I hopped to my feet and planted my hands on my hips. I was positive someone was messing with me. “Sebastian, is that you?” I shook my head, disgust rolling through me. “It’s not funny. You know this place has always freaked me out.”
He didn’t immediately show himself. I was convinced it was him — until I remembered I’d seen the movement ten seconds after I’d left the funeral home. There was no way he could’ve made it to the cemetery that quickly. Even if he was in a playful mood, he wouldn’t go out of his way to frighten me.
“I’m serious,” I shouted as my heartbeat ratcheted up. I could feel someone watching me. No matter where I looked, though, I couldn’t find a source for my agitation. “This is not funny.”
No one responded. No one was there. That only served to weird me out further.
“Screw this,” I muttered, picking up my pace and scurrying toward the far end of the cemetery. I wanted out of there. In fact, I couldn’t move fast enough to escape the fear rushing through me. I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was giving chase. That would’ve been a welcome development. The more distance I traveled without seeing anyone, the more unsettled I felt.
I was three-quarters of the way across the cemetery when the sky opened up. It had been sunny only an hour before. Now it was overcast and pouring.
“Great,” I growled as I put my head down. I would be soaked by the time I got back to the restaurant.
I didn’t regain my composure until I hit the sidewalk on the other side of the cemetery. My heart was still pounding. Now I just had to walk a mile in the rain to get home.
A truck pulled to a stop next to me. I didn’t bother looking up. I knew better than to get inside a vehicle with a stranger. I was better off walking in the deluge.
“Stormy, what are you doing?”
I recognized Hunter’s voice and jerked up my chin, my eyes going wide when I found him sitting in the cab of his truck, an exasperated look on his face. If that wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t alone. Monica was with him — and she didn’t look happy.
“I was at Sebastian’s place,” I offered. “It didn’t start raining until I was already heading back.”
“And you’re just going to walk home in this?” He looked exasperated.
“I don’t have much of a choice. I’m already wet.”
He let loose a low growl. “Get in the truck.”
One glance at Monica told me that was the exact opposite of what she wanted. “I’m good.”
“Get in the truck,” he repeated.
“Um ... really, it’s fine. I’m already wet. It’s not cold out. It’s just rain. I’ll survive.”
As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder filled the air and a flash of lighting illuminated the sky.
“Get in the truck,” Hunter ordered, his tone no-nonsense.
“You heard her, Hunter,” Monica argued. “She’s fine walking. It’s not that far.”
“A big thunderstorm is coming,” Hunter shot back. “She’s not walking back to the restaurant in it. That’s, like, a mile. She could be struck by lightning.”
Monica wasn’t about to back down. “Do you know the odds of that?”
Hunter held her gaze for a long moment and then focused on me. “Get in the truck, Stormy. If I have to wrestle you in the entire town will be talking. Do you want that?”
Part of me did because I knew it would agitate Monica. The other part, though, recognized it would be bad