Curious, Della turned the page to read on, but there wasn’t more. What was Natasha talking about? What lie had her mother told her? Della closed the book, her feelings toward her father’s lies stinging while she felt Natasha’s pain.

Della put the diary down on her bedside table and watched it fly off and hit the wall. And the cold in the room grew more intense.

“Why are you unhappy?” Della looked up and saw white crystals of ice cascading from the ceiling. It was freaking snowing in her bedroom.

“Enough of the cold crap,” she said and sat up. “Why can’t we just talk? Tell me where Natasha is and I’ll save her. Tell me how you two are connected.”

Her words caused more wisps of steam to billow up. It hung a few inches from her lips. “Tell me … tell me who killed you. And I swear to God, if you say my father, I’ll know you’re a liar.”

Della held her breath. Her heart took her back to the father-daughter time she’d spent with her dad in his office. The laughter they’d shared. The love they’d shared. Her father might not have died like Natasha’s, but she missed him just the same.

“Talk to me,” she said again. No answer came. And that pissed Della off. “Fine! If you’re not going to talk, then get your icy ass out of here.” She dropped back onto her pillow.

Footsteps sounded in the cabin. Her door swung open. Kylie stood there. “You okay?”

“I have no patience for ghosts,” Della said with a tight voice and batted a snowflake from her lashes.

“Want me to sleep with you?”

“I’m not scared, just pissed.” Her heart did an abnormal jolt. If Kylie was in vamp mode she would have heard it. Della didn’t check. She was too tired to lift her head.

Kylie crawled into bed with her. Even tired, Della found the strength to tell Kylie about her day. From the vision in the closet, Chase taking the diary, to the fight at the park behind the pond. Her frustration that time was running out for Natasha and Liam.

“You can only do so much,” Kylie said, but in her voice Della heard it. She, like Holiday, still held doubts that Natasha and Liam were really alive. Della refused to believe it.

Eventually, the room’s temperature went back to normal. With a protector at her side, Della pulled her covers up to her chin—not to hide from the cold, but to keep away thoughts of murder, ghosts, and two people trapped somewhere and running out of time.

Della was almost asleep when Kylie asked one last question. “Did you do what Miranda told you to?”

“What?” Della murmured.

“Did you open your heart enough to Chase to know if he was a prince or a toad?”

“I think he’s both,” Della said, and she recalled how his hands had felt on her br**sts when she’d come out of the vision. How it felt to touch him. She suddenly felt too warm and wished the ghost would come back and make it snow again.

*   *   *

Wednesday morning, the ring of her phone jarred Della awake. She sat up and recalled hearing Kylie getting out of her bed and listening to her and Miranda getting dressed for school. Glancing at the window, she saw the sun pouring in.

“Crap!” She must have fallen back to sleep. If she started sleeping in and missing school, Burnett would probably start curtailing her time working.

She grabbed her phone. Her heart did a jolt when she considered it might be Steve. Looking at the number, she closed her eyes, dropped back on the bed, and berated herself for even wanting it to be Steve.

Then she begrudgingly answered the call. “What do you want?”

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go to hell.”

Chase laughed.

His laugh went through her like warm syrup. Damn him! That’s when she remembered what she’d told Kylie. Both prince and toad.

She heard him shift, almost as if he was still in bed himself. “You know, the only thing better than hearing your raspy morning voice, would be waking up beside you. Your hair kind of messy, the sunshine streaming into the window shining off your soft skin. I’ll bet you’re sexy as hell.”

She ran a hand through her hair and looked down and realized she was wearing her Smurf PJs.

“You’d lose that bet.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re wearing the Smurf pajamas, aren’t you?”

She bit her lip to keep from giving him directions to hell. She refrained, not because she wasn’t aggravated, but because he’d know he was right.

“Do you have matching underwear?” he asked, no doubt baiting her.

“You really are a panty perv!” she said.

“A what?”

“A panty pervert!”

He laughed. “Nah, I’m just a Della perv,” he said and sounded sincere. “You okay?”

“Of course I am. Why?”

“You’re sleeping late. Did you stay awake thinking about me?”

She started to say a big hell no, but it would have come off as a lie. “The ghost came to see me,” she said the truth, instead of answering his question. “What’s your excuse?” Had he been thinking about her? No wait, she didn’t want to know.

“My excuse for what?” he asked.

She couldn’t find a way to blow off the question, so she just put it out there. “It sounds like you’re still in bed, too. Or wasn’t that the mattress I heard sigh?”

“I am. Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”