Turning, Mack made his way to the old flight of stairs that creaked with every step he ventured. Goosebumps popped up on his flesh the more he ascended. Breathing heavily, Mack took the last step and cautiously made his way down the hallway. The air hung thick, and he almost choked on it. The closer he got to room 212, the more his flight instinct raised its red flag. The only reason he kept going was that he did not want to embarrass himself by returning empty-handed because he had been spooked.

Standing in front of the door, Mack’s hand trembled as he reached for the handle, finally turning it. Blowing out a breath, Mack decided to just get it over with. As fast as he could, he entered the room, searching for the box that held the spare linens.

Out of nowhere, a blast of freezing cold air hit him in the face, knocking him on his ass. Whipping his head around, Mack searched for an open window, only to find that all of them were tightly shut.

I’m getting the fuck out of here.

Climbing to his feet, he grabbed a box, praying that it was the right one and took off out of the room, not even bothering to close the door as he descended the steps two at a time.

Clutching the box to his chest, he leaned against the wall at the base of the stairs and caught his breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nick came up to him, relieving him of the box.

Mack wiped his sweat-soaked forehead. What the hell was that? His heart was still pumping, and his mouth couldn’t even form the words to lie to Nick and tell him he was okay.

Megan came up next to Nick. “You all right?”

Nodding, Mack rasped out, “I’m fine…just…” He just couldn’t say it. There was no way he was going to say something weird happened upstairs, especially when he actually didn’t see anything. Hell, was it all in his head because he was freaked about going upstairs? Possibly.

Shaking it off, he finally answered, “I’m fine. Let’s go, Nick, and get the Ivy Room set up.”

“Are you sure?” Megan eyed him with concern.

“Yes, tea starts in forty-five minutes. I better get moving.”

For the next half hour, Mack and Nick set up the room. The linens were placed on the tables—thankfully Mack had grabbed the right box. They both worked in unison, setting the silverware up and getting the china out for each member of the party coming in.

“I’m just going to fill up their water glasses,” Mack called over to Nick who was doing the final touches on center pieces.

Going behind the bar, Mack grabbed a pitcher and began getting ice out of the bar well. As they both worked, the curtains billowed as a gust of wind came into the room. Mack shot a look toward Nick to see him wide eyed as the room’s temperature suddenly plummeted. Before Mack even had time to think, the bar rack above him came crashing down upon him.

“Mack!” Nick cried out from across the room as glasses began shattering all around him.

Stunned, Mack couldn’t even move an inch as the shards of glass surrounded him. The floor, the bar, even his body was covered in the sharp glass. He feared if he moved so much as an inch, he would cut himself. The sounds of people screaming and hollering broke him out of his shock, and he slowly raised his head, feeling glass fall from his hair, to stare at Megan from across the room.

“Don’t move, Mack. We’re coming to help you.” Megan gingerly made her way to him, accompanied by the sound of glass crunching under her feet.

“Not…moving.” Mack felt the glass slide down from the top of his head and fuck if that didn’t give him the biggest case of the willies.

“I’m going to need some help and a pair of gloves,” Megan called to Nick.

Nick nodded and ran out of the room.

Megan pursed her lips as she began pulling large pieces of glass off him.

“Are you okay?” Megan asked quietly as she worked the glass out of his hair.

“Not even close.” Mack’s voice trembled, and he hated that.

“What happened?” Megan asked.

Nick came up behind them and answered. “There was this blast of cold air, and then the whole bar rack came crashing down on Mack. It was a ghost.”

“It wasn’t,” Mack denied. If he denied it enough, maybe he would eventually believe it himself. Maybe.

“Hon, that rack is oak. It’s as solid as they come. Wind wouldn’t have caused it to break. Plus the windows aren’t open. I think you had an encounter, and a violent one at that. I think I’m going to need to make a call.”

“It’s not that bad.” Even as Mack said that, he knew it was a lie. Something inside him felt violated, and an air of malice hung thick over him.

“Then let’s just have it checked out for peace of mind. Okay?” Megan grabbed the gloves from Nick and began plucking the tiny shards off his shoulder and neck. Her gloves came away from his skin with a trace of blood.

Swallowing, Mack gave in. “Maybe you’re right. Make the call.”