Italian Roast and Wedding Ghosts: A Witch & Ghost Mystery (Mystic Brews Mysteries Book 6) by Alyn Troy

Author:Alyn Troy [Troy, Alyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-15T16:00:00+00:00

16

I stopped by the coffee bar right as the bells in the tower rang at six in the morning. I had Punkin in his carrier. Lino raised an eyebrow as he wiped the counter down. Punkin hopped out and put his paws on the clean spot Lino had just wiped.

“Latte, please,” I said. “And Fuzzbutt’s half-strength latte.”

“Pour the other half into your cup?”

I nodded and settled in at a stool. After my ghostly visitor, Elain and I had sat out on the balcony for about an hour, not talking, each of us lost in our own thoughts. That dream was bothering me. Was it something I made up, or was it from outside my mind? And whose spirit did I see waving me on?

“Lady Ebrel,” Lino said and pointed to the order tablet in front of me. Punkin was already sipping his latte.

A tap of my wand later, I took a sip, then nodded. Lino’s eyes hadn’t left mine.

“Very good.” I raised the cup in salute.

“Better than Thomlin’s?”

“Stop. Enough.” I pointed at the back counter. “Give me a tray. We’ll take these out to the pool deck.”

“Why do you always run?” He shook his head but handed me one of the plastic trays the waitresses used to deliver drink orders.

“She likes you, imbecile,” Punkin said. “She wants to be friends, and you keep shoving your foot in your mouth.”

“Foot in my mouth?”

“You’re too competitive.” I loaded the tray, then slung the backpack over a shoulder. Punkin could walk, it wasn’t far. “I’m over you now. Just keep dreaming of beating Kyle. He’s not competing any longer. Neither am I.” Punkin jumped down and walked beside me. I stopped and turned to push the door open with my shoulder. Lino was still staring at me, his mouth open.

“Like I said, train your staff,” I said. “Show the world how good you are by raising others up to your level.”

Outside, I set the tray on the table, then dropped the backpack into an empty chair.

“You didn’t give me time to hop in the carrier,” Punkin said. “I could have squirted him for you.”

“Elain took your cannon, remember?”

“She took one cannon,” Punkin said, then started lapping at his latte again.

“Problems, young lady?” Rex, er, Rick Roddy plopped down across from me.

“Her potential boyfriend won’t stop being a jerk, so she prematurely ended the non-relationship before it could start.”

“Ah, a lover’s spat,” Roddy said with a grin. “The barista inside, I’d wager. Handsome fellow. Definitely full of himself. Got a streak of that myself, so I know how it is.”

“Just a streak?” I grinned to show him I was teasing. Mostly.

“I’m mellowing in my middle centuries.” He leaned in closer. “What did you think of that tense moment last night between Parsons and Fromm?”

“Probably not the wisest course to pop a broach like that out here, in front of Siarl.” I shrugged. “But he could be more mellow.”

“The miffed party has probably thought better of it,” Roddy said. “I suspect we’ll see a calmer Siarl Parsons today.

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