Page 42 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

The wine was much brighter than she was used to, a pinkish-gold that almost glowed in the noon sun. The smell of peaches was verystrong. “To new friends,” said Hazel, and lifted her glass. That was both really cliché and the only toast she could think of right then.

Embarrassment made her first sip larger than it would have been normally. It filled her mouth, cold and sweet, tasting like peaches and cinnamon and another ingredient she couldn’t quite name. She could barely detect the alcohol underneath, though it warmed her throat and stomach almost instantly when she swallowed.

“Wow,” she said. “Dangerous.”

Maxwell’s chuckle was a quick, rich ripple. “I ought to have warned you. She’s the bane of Christmas dinner.”

“Somebody has to be,” said Hazel, slightly giddy.

Even such a strong wine wouldn’t get her drunk in one sip, but the rush of sensation left her oddly aware of everything else around her. The wooden plank was suddenly warmer and harder under her thighs, the sky was a more piercing shade of blue, and the smell of earth and grass a vivid background to the scent of peaches.

Maxwell only sat beside her and sipped his soda, but she noticed every small motion, every time his lips touched the glass.

Down, girl.

The natural suspicion rose up in her mind. Hazel examined it for a moment, then pushed it away. He wasn’t the one who’d suggested a drink, and she didn’t feel drugged at all. If anything, she was more awake than normal.

Still, she was probably better off pacing herself.Low and slow, like they’d said in college, although Hazel wasn’t surelowwas on the table any longer. She lowered the glass to her lap and cupped her hand around the base. “It’s delicious. I’ll have to return the favor sometime, though I’m afraid mine won’t be handmade.”

“It’d be a bit much if she expectedeveryoneto make their own wine. Even for Susan.”

“I don’t really make much by hand at all. I guess brownies if the boxed kind count.” She’d made her runes herself, but she didn’t want to bring up mediumship just yet. That was a cowardly impulse, andshe was going to indulge it anyway. “Macaroni and cheese.”

“A well-balanced diet. Not that I have a leg to stand on—though I used to do a decent beans and toast.”

“With our powers combined, we…still need green vegetables.”

“I suppose absinthe doesn’t qualify,” said Maxwell, theatrically put-upon, and Hazel giggled again. The faint breeze tousled her hair like a massage, and she relaxed under its touch—and the wine, of course. She took another small, cautious sip.

“How have you been holding up out here?” Maxwell asked.

Not bad, except for the hauntingscame to mind, and Hazel squashed the thought. Sitting on the porch beside him made confiding seem easy. Maxwell was mostly a stranger, though. She didn’t need him spreading stories that would bring people over to gawk, and she didn’t want to hear him laugh when she mentioned ghosts or see contempt creep into his expression.

“Not too bad,” she said, and shifted to a slightly more comfortable position on the stairs. “The solitude has been an adjustment, but I’m getting used to it. I never was a Times-Square-at-midnight kind of girl.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head, smiling. “What kind of girl are you?”

The possible meanings of the question made Hazel flush. She eyed Maxwell, trying to figure out what he’d intended, and defaulted to the innocent interpretation when she couldn’t decide. “The old movies and cookies kind, I guess. I know it sounds boring.”

“You’re talking to a bird-watcher, Miss Lewis.”

“Hazel.”

“Hazel.” Since diet soda wasn’t the kind of thing you had to drink slowly, Maxwell had finished his. He set the glass carefully to one side. “And when I’m not tramping about in other people’s woods, I sit around and read. I also play the piano, but not very excitingly.”

“I took flute lessons for three years, but I wouldn’t want anybody I liked to hear me now. And I wasn’t very exciting back then.” Hazel sipped her wine once more, then set her own glass aside—plenty oftime to finish it later.

“Did you like to play?”

“It was all right. The playing itself, I mean. People gotreallycompetitive about the recitals—or our parents did. Even when there wasn’t any official ranking, if one of us missed a note, you could bet everyone else would notice. And talk.”

Maxwell winced sympathetically. “My parents didn’t take that much interest, thank God, but I’ve seen the jostling for rank. Unpleasant business, especially when they rope in the children.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The wine’s initial rush had settled down, but Hazel’s perception remained sharper than normal. Each tree stood out against a vividly blue sky, and when a red shape zipped from a pine to one of the maples, she tracked it. “Is that a cardinal, do you think?” she asked, pointing.

Maxwell shifted closer to follow her gesture, his thigh nearly brushing against hers, and just the proximity tugged at Hazel’s heightened senses. She shifted restlessly on the step.