Never Sweeter (Dark Obsession #1)(56)

“Ah, so the owner of the death barn practiced his evil trade on animals first.”

“They always do. They always, always do,” Tate said.

“You’re ridiculous. But I like it enough to tell Lydia I’ll see her later, and then join you in the probable nightmare barn,” she said as she turned to do just that. Though not before she saw him grin wildly.

Then pump his fist, like a kid who’d just won the world.





Chapter 19


He was wrong about the place. It was dark and hollowed out, but not exactly spooky. Or at least she thought so until she stood inside, listening to the wind rattle the possible skeletons hiding in every shadowy corner. She even thought she saw something very skeletonlike, over by the tarpaulin-covered monster that lurked beneath the loft.

It turned out to be just rusted tools.

That looked like they were covered in blood.

“Tate, come on. You know I’m afraid of being murdered by the scythe-wielding ghost of a disgruntled farmer. Even though I wasn’t until I saw something that looks very scythelike standing in the corner.”

There was no reply—unless you counted the now-howling wind.

So she just kept talking. Loudly, so as to ward off evil.

“I mean, seriously, how old is this place that there is a scythe here? Was it abandoned in 1763? I feel like it can’t have been, considering the amount of corrugated steel. Which probably just leaves me with option three: the barn murderer is really into disemboweling people with old farm tools.”

Still nothing. Eerily nothing, this time. It made her think of movies where the girl goes to look for her boyfriend, after they decide to have filthy, sinful sex. And then she opens a door like the one attached to the only stall in the place and— “Mwahahahaha, Letty, here I come to disem your bowels!”

She did her best not to scream. And if he had only shouted such a ridiculous thing, she might have managed it. But he didn’t. He swooped in from somewhere behind her and got her right around the middle, then proceeded to lift her off her feet. The panicked shout was practically required.

The gasp that followed, on the other hand…

Well, that was something else altogether.

And if it sounded a little like excitement, that was purely because it totally was. It always made her neglected, thrill-less heart lurch into her mouth, to feel him haul her up like that and swing her around. Doubly so when she thought about what he was to her. This was pretty much her boyfriend behaving like this. Having fun with her, as if this really was a horror movie with some cool couple who’d made it to the end.

Still, she tried to play it off like it was nothing.

“I want to kill you. I would kill you, if it were not for that awesome wordplay.”

“Yeah I was pretty proud of that. Little bit worried you’d believe I thought disem was a word.”

“I believe you are a huge jackass, that’s what I believe. How are we supposed to make out if I poop my pants? Tell me that, Tate. Tell me what the plan was then.”

“Baby, I would still totally tongue kiss you if you messed yourself.”

“That is the least romantic while still being the sexiest thing I ever heard.”

“I’m just trying to keep your expectations low so that when we go up there it will seem way more awesome than it actually is. And also not at all creepy.”

She glanced in the direction of his pointing finger—to the shadowy loft above.

The one that you got up to using a ladder most likely made of old bones.

“Why? What did you do? Dare I ask?”

“It’s not so bad that you have to dare yourself to ask about it!”

“Okay, but do I need protective face gear? Should I brace myself?”

“I’m honestly not one hundred percent sure, because I’ve never actually tried anything like this. Plus you’re a real smart-ass, so it could end with your mockery ringing in my ears until the end of time.”

She was pretty sure he didn’t intend to sound vulnerable. It just came out that way, sort of faint on the end and with too much emphasis on mockery.

Plus there was the woolly hat.

The woolly hat really didn’t help. It somehow made him look younger—like a big kid playing around in emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

“I won’t do that, come on. I promise, okay—I’ll be totally cool about it.”

“Swear on the undead soul of the barn disemboweler.”

“I swear. And you know it must be true now because if I’m lying, he gets to, like, eat my eyeballs.”

“Right, exactly,” he said.

But he still didn’t move. She had to prompt him, with a flourish of her hand and a lead the way, then. Followed by a lot of pretending that this was not a big deal. Sure, he had clearly planned this. And he had done so knowing that she might behave in front of everyone as if they were just study friends, and never come with him to this place at all. But none of that really meant anything.

Not until she climbed the surprisingly sturdy ladder up to the loft and saw exactly how much he had done, with very little hope of it ever being recognized. He’d strung fairy lights across the hay-covered floor, and somehow powered them. They winked in the darkness like diamonds. And it didn’t stop there. There was also an honest-to-god picnic basket, full of the kinds of goodies she liked. A bottle of sparkling elderflower wine, because he knew she hated champagne; a tiny speaker playing the music she loved.