Blame The Moonlight by Donna MacMeans

Author:Donna MacMeans
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-07-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The phone woke him the next morning after a near sleepless night.

“Good morning, Sunshine. How did the interview go?”

Natalie. Crap. He had hoped it would be Chelsea and answered without checking the screen. He looked now. Seven am! Natalie was truly set on making him pay for avoiding her advances.

“It went,” he said, trying to chase the sleep from his brain. “I just have to transcribe my tape and do some editing. Jimmy got some good photos.”

“Great. So I’ll see you in the office later today.” She hesitated. “How’s the other story going? The one on the invisible people.”

Crap. He’d forgotten he’d mentioned the possible story to her in the first place.

“That depends on whether I get to cover the world series,” he hedged.

“Do you think you’re the only studly guy in the sports department?” Natalie asked. “You blew your chance. I’ve already promised the seats to Tommy Beech. Just finish up your work and check out of the hotel by noon. I don’t want to pay for an extra day.”

“And if I don’t?” he challenged, annoyed that she continued to treat him like an inexperienced cub reporter when he had credentials to prove he wasn’t.

“Then don’t bother coming in,” she replied, without missing a beat. “I can live without Halloween preparations and a B-movie interview. Can you live without a job?”

Click.

Good question.

He finished the write-up of Anton and Darcy’s interview and submitted it online to the paper. Then, he wrote a couple of inches about Haven Harbor’s Samhain celebration. He’d been told the celebration would be rather low key as the town had just sponsored a big September festival to celebrate the Witches Walk from Salem. For a town of witches, they celebrated Halloween much like everyone else with costumes and candy…except for the mysterious Samhain ball. No one really spoke about it, except to say it was invitation only.

He was leaving today and wouldn’t be around on Samhain, but he still would have liked to take Chelsea to the ball. He hadn’t forgotten the joy in her face when she learned of the dance. His imagination had her beautifully attired and smiling in her whimsical way, bathed in the glow of the hundreds of candles. She’d flow with the music while trapped in his arms. Lord, he’d love to see it.

“I’m sorry, Babe,” he murmured, as he typed the finishing lines to an article that did not do justice to his unforgettable experiences on this assignment.

Two stories down and now for the one that may or may not be submitted to the paper. He hadn’t decided. If Chelsea was to be believed, exposing an entire race of invisible beings could ultimately be dangerous for her. While he didn’t want to put her at risk, he did want to learn more about this incredible race. Writing a story on the Nevidimi would help him get his thoughts in order. At least that way he would know what he could expect if he and Chelsea were to get serious. There were, after all, newspapers in Los Angeles.

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