They made faces at him before they ran out of the room.
Just when Freddie had gotten rid of the pixies, he found himself saddled with two new wards. He wondered which were better—delinquent pixies or little mortals who cried and hiccupped and asked prying questions? Ah well. He had wanted to be a dad, hadn’t he? You get what you wish for.
When he walked into the living room, Hannah was waiting, and together they went to find Floppy.
chapter twenty-nine
My Boyfriend’s Back
A wheel on the book cart wobbled. I need to fix that, thought Ingrid as she pushed it along an aisle in the library. She could ask Hudson, but he was even less mechanically inclined than she was. Tabitha, her belly resembling a dirigible, could barely bend over. The squeaky wheel echoed throughout the empty, quiet library.
Troy Overbrook had called the very same day Ingrid and Hudson had run into him. Then he had called the next, and the next, until she finally acquiesced, agreeing to meet for that one cup of coffee. Troy had even insisted on picking her up at the library today.
She came around a bend, rolling the broken cart into the nook by the window that faced the sea. It was past five o’clock and the sun would be setting soon. She was glad to be inside the quiet library, with the constant, soothing whir of the heater.
She placed The Great Gatsby in its rightful spot in the F section and felt a hand gently scoop around her waist. She jumped from the sudden unexpected touch.
Matt stood there in his civilian attire, a collared shirt and dark trousers, giving her a slow, sexy grin.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, immediately regretting her words.
He stared at her silently, cocking his head. “What do you mean? I dropped by. I do that sometimes, don’t I? Is something wrong?”
She adjusted her glasses, pushing them up farther on her nose with an index finger. “No, no, nothing’s wrong.” She shook her head in an exaggerated way. “It’s good to see you!” She smiled and moved forward, tripping over her own feet, giving him a hug.
Matt stood there a bit stiffly, holding out his arms, as if not knowing what to do with his hands for a moment before he hugged her back. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
She felt immediately guilty, thinking about Troy, even if it was just a casual coffee thing. To make up for it she lifted up onto her toes and kissed him on the lips.
“Get a room, you two!” Hudson teased from the front desk, where he and Tabitha were sitting. Tabitha yawned hello and Hudson yawned, too. The lack of work, along with the hum of the heater, seemed to be making everyone drowsy.
Matt nuzzled her neck. “Mmm, that’s better,” he said.
Hudson coughed. “Um, Ingrid, Troy’s here.”
Matt released her from his embrace and gave Ingrid a puzzled look. Who’s Troy? he mouthed, just as Troy strolled into view. The strapping redhead seemed to suck all the air in the room—even Tabitha looked enamored.
Ingrid looked between the two men standing in front of her. “Hey, Troy, this is Matt, Matthew Noble. He’s a detective for the NHPD. The detective, that is, of our little town,” she said, fumbling with her words a little. “And Matt, this is Troy Overbrook, an old friend from way back. We knew each other when we were, uh… kids… Troy and I ran into each other—”
Matt nodded. “Hey, Troy, how’s it going, man?” he said, offering a hand to shake.
“Hey, Matt,” Troy said.
They released hands, and Matt swung an arm over Ingrid’s shoulders. “So you’re visiting? You in town for a while?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious, friendly even.
Troy hesitated. “Um, yeah… I guess you could say that.” He nodded.
“We should all go out for drinks sometime. North Inn’s always a blast,” said Matt.
Ingrid put a hand on his shoulder, her heart pounding hard. “Actually, honey, Troy and I had plans to go out for coffee now… to catch up on old times.”
Matt’s grin looked painful. “Fantastic!” he said. “You have fun, babe.” He gave Ingrid a smack on the butt, which made her stand to attention.
Babe? Matt had never called her that before.
“Cool,” said Troy, bobbing his head.
Matt kissed her good-bye, a kiss that seemed to go on forever and left her a little dizzy. When he let her go, he gave her a salacious once-over, and Ingrid worried he would slap her behind once more. “Later,” he said.
Matt left, and Ingrid and Troy were alone with the wobbly cart. She pushed it toward the nearest bookshelf.
“You need help with that?” Troy asked, kneeling down to fix the wheel. He looked up at her. “So that’s the new boyfriend.” He whistled.
“Shut it,” Ingrid warned. “Not a word!”
Troy twirled the wheel expertly into its rightful place. “Just one. Mortal?”
“Uh-huh,” said Ingrid, sighing. “Look, he knows about me, okay?”
“I’m not worried about him, I’m worried about you. You know what mortal means…”
It meant she would outlive Matt, it meant she would get her heart broken. Yes, she knew exactly what it meant. Perhaps Troy was right to question her choice of mate.
Outside the coffee shop window, the sky tinted pink and orange as the sun sank into the waves. Out on the beach, a lone couple watched the sunset, while a few people strolled along the shore, walking their dogs.
She told Troy what had happened to Freya, her voice shaking. Across from her, Troy peered at her from behind his cappuccino and torn sugar packets. His eyes shone, as if he were tearing up, too. The muscle at his jaw twitched, and he reached out a hand, enfolding hers.
She’d forgotten what a steadying presence Thor possessed. She didn’t have to explain or make excuses for any of the details. He understood because he was like her.
“It seems the passages have closed,” she continued. “We can’t get through. Our powers…”
“Are ineffective,” he completed the sentence.
“More like gone,” she said wistfully.
“It has crossed my mind that I might be turning into a mortal,” he said with a grin.
“Oh dear!” Ingrid said, and they both laughed.
She talked about what she had discovered in her research on Salem, the similarities between the accusers’ actions to those in the pamphlet she had found. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? To think that maybe the girls did this… to get out of their chores? I mean their lives were rough—and here was a chance for them to be treated like… well, like celebrities.”