Chapter Twelve

      ‘Shoulda brought the spare key.’ Sam muttered to himself as he knocked on the back door of the emporium for the third time to no answer. Having seen Eliza take a couple of bottles out of the pub fridge, he’d assumed they’d be a bit worse for wear that morning and decided to make them breakfast. Beth had left a spare key at the pub, for emergencies, and he’d briefly considered using it so he could set everything out properly, before worrying she might see it as a violation of trust.

      He took a couple of steps back and looked up at the closed curtains over the windows of the flat above. Surprises always seemed great during the planning, but relied on other people to play their part—which was never guaranteed when they didn’t know they even had a part to play. Balancing the cardboard tray in his left hand, he fumbled in his pocket for his phone and scrolled through to find Beth’s number.

      Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. ‘Ungh?’

      ‘Hey, Beth, you wanna come down and answer the door?’ A loud groan echoed in his ear, and he stifled a grin. ‘Beth, you okay?’

      ‘Beth’s dead. This is her ghost.’

      Sam laughed. ‘Can ghosts open doors? I brought you guys breakfast.’

      ‘Ghosts don’t eat. I’m never eating, or drinking again.’ She whimpered. ‘You made me think about drinking, why did you do that? Do you hate me?’

      ‘No, I don’t hate you. I like you very much, that’s why I made you bacon sandwiches and a Mr Barnes’ Secret Hangover Cure shake.’

      ‘Chocolate?’ She sounded almost perky and Sam knew his instinct had been right.

      ‘Yes, chocolate for you, strawberry for Eliza, and caramel for Libs.’ There was no big secret to the milkshakes—the milk helped to hydrate and neutralise an acidic stomach, and the oats and a raw egg provided energy. He added their favourite flavouring to mask any bitterness from the soluble painkillers. The bacon in the sandwiches was grilled rather than fried because, contrary to popular opinion, greasy food was the worst thing going for a hangover.

      ‘What are you waiting for? Bring them up.’

      Sam rested his head against the back door. ‘You need to unlock the door first.’

      ‘But I’m dead and a ghost so I can’t get up. Hold on…’ Sam listened to her as she woke up the others, smiling so hard it made his face ache. God, she was adorable when she was like this—funny, sleepy, with just a little dash of vulnerability.

      The dull sound of footsteps on the stairs sounded from inside and he straightened up in time to catch the full force of Libby’s scowl as she yanked open the door. With her hair stuck up at all angles and the smudges of makeup under her eyes it was like being snarled at by an angry panda. Grabbing one of the tall plastic cups from the cardboard tray he thrust it at her. ‘Caramel.’

      Libby snatched the drink and took a deep slurp from the straw. ‘God, that’s good. I love you.’ She sucked down another mouthful. ‘Not feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you, I’ll leave that to Beth.’

      ‘Excuse me?’ He tried to ignore the heat rising on his face. What the hell had Beth been telling them?

      The cheeky minx grinned at him, then clutched her head with a groan. ‘Damn, it’s hard to be smug when you’re full of Lambrini regrets.’ She pointed at the padded bag in his hand. ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Bacon sandwiches.’

      ‘Forget what I said before. I do feed-me-amazing-things-then-kiss-my-face-off love you.’ She grabbed his hand and Sam found himself being dragged up the stairs. Halfway up, Libby called out, ‘Beth, I’m stealing your boyfriend, all right?’

      Beth shuffled out of the bedroom, tugging down the rumpled leg of her pyjama shorts. Her normally sleek hair straggled around her face which was so pale her dark eyes dominated her elfin features. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, but if you’re referring to Sam, you can do what you want with him if you stop shouting.’ She held out her hand and Sam gave her the chocolate shake.

      He’d never seen her grumpy before, and he had to admit he kind of liked it. ‘I’ll take these into the kitchen and plate up. Did you two break my sister?’

      The bathroom door opened. ‘I’m alive…I think.’ Eliza pushed her wild curls off her forehead and frowned at him. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ She made to push past him, then stopped to grab the final milkshake from the holder. ‘Traitor.’ She stomped towards the kitchen.

      Sam followed hot on her heels. ‘What? What the hell did I do?’

      His sister spun around to raise a shaky finger in his face. ‘You kissed her!’ She hissed through her teeth. ‘She’s my best friend, Sam, and she’s been through a lot in the past few months. The last thing she needs is you fooling around with her. What were you thinking?’

      Dodging the finger she was jabbing at his face, Sam crowded close to his sister. ‘Woah! Back up there a little, missy.’ He glanced over his shoulder to check they were alone, then lowered his voice. ‘I’m not fooling around with Beth. It was something and nothing, it happened on the spur of the moment and we’ve both agreed to forget about it. Get your facts straight before you start throwing accusations around.’ So why had she told them?

      Clutching her head, Eliza slumped into the chair he’d hung his jacket on. ‘Shh. I’m sorry, all right? I’m just worried about you, that’s all.’

      Sam abandoned his search for the plates and took the chair next to her. Looking past the pale face, the messy hair and smudged remains of her makeup, he could see the concern in her eyes. ‘Hey, kiddo, what’s got your knickers in a twist?’

      ‘Don’t tease me, this is serious.’ Her hand closed over his forearm. ‘I don’t want her getting hurt.’

      ‘No one’s getting hurt. We’re friends. Nothing more.’ He paused, then frowned. ‘Why aren’t you worried about me getting hurt?’

      Eliza made a rude noise. ‘You’re my brother, and I love you, but you’re a bit of a player. When was the last time you were involved with any woman for more than a couple of dates?’ Without giving him a chance, she answered her own question. ‘I’ll tell you when—never. Beth’s not like that, she’s had one serious boyfriend and he broke her heart.’

      Damn.