About the Author: Skye CallahanSkye Callahan was born and raised in Ohio and has seen enough unbelievable stuff to feed a lifetime of paranormal stories. When not writing or working at the dayjob, she hangs out with her ethnomusicologist husband and pet ferrets, reads, and takes long walks through the cemetery. Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Blog
As soon as Jonah’s foot hit the top stair, he heard Kaylyn’s voice in the first office. “What gives Sir Ass the right to come here and piss on everything?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and waited in the middle of the hallway. If either of them bothered to look around, he’d be in plain sight.
“Kay,” Cole said, “He wasn’t that bad. He’s doing his job.”
“His job is to be a condescending jack-ass in suit pants? Who does he think he is? He’s barely older than me. And his last name is Troyer. He must be Nathan Troyer’s son. “
Jonah’s jaw clenched tighter.
Cole looked up, meeting Jonah’s gaze. Her eyes went wide as she tapped the back of her pen against the desk. “Um, Kay—”
“So, what? Being a council leader’s son, gives him the right to walk in, take over our office, and critique everything we’ve done? We may not do it his way but—”
“Kay!” Cole shouted.
Kaylyn froze, then her body went slack. “All of the signs we came up with growing up and we never invented one for ‘he’s standing right behind you’?”