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I wink at her, an indication of the promise of fucking her, and when she leaves, blushing, Smith turns a glare in my direction. “I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
My eyebrows raise. “That’s not up to you.”
“She’s a good girl,” he hisses, his cheeks reddening. “And if you weren’t standing there, she would have agreed to some time away from you.”
I stuff my free hand in my pocket. “If you weren’t standing there,” I throw back in his face, “she wouldn’t have needed me to make an excuse for her to leave.”
His eyes narrow even more. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”
The way I roll my eyes is as dramatic as he’s being. “Who I happen to like is none of your business.”
“She doesn’t need you tainting her. Does she know about your past?”
I shrug a little, refraining from saying that she only knows a small portion of it.
He pokes a finger in my direction, stopping inches from touching my chest. “She has a right to know, and if you don’t tell her, I will. She should know who she’s dealing with, of the prick who’s trying to get in her pants.”
“Are you saying that because of what I did to yourcousin? Or because you think she needs to be tucked under your wing?”
His entire face reddens this time at the mention of his cousin. “Both,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Right.” I rock back on my heels and exhale with a smirk. “Do your worst, Smith, but I get the feeling she likes to make decisions for herself.”
“We’ll see, Garner. When she finds out what kind of man you are, she’ll come running to me and mine, begging us to put you back where you belong. You’re a murderer, and sooner or later, she’s going to know all about your dark and twisted past.”
And with that, he turns on the heel of his boot, shoves the shop’s door open, and strides out to his car. I stand there, watching him go, wondering if, by chance, he might be right.
Because I am a murderer. At the age of seventeen, I was arrested for manslaughter. And secrets like that don’t stay secret for long in a place like this.
Chapter 13
Cole Garner
She had arrived looking even moreexhausted than when I saw her that morning. I had barely stood up from fixing a cabinet door when she started in on what she wanted to tell me. Her words were slow and tired, and I listened intently as she explained how she thought the house was haunted and who it was haunted by.
I have to admit, I was a little shocked by everything that goes on here at night, but I also admit to finding a few rose petals here and there. I just thought she enjoyed picking them. Some women are weird like that.
Now, she rubs her face, giving me a moment to collect my thoughts. I have never put much weight into ghosts, but I also don’t think Tegan is the crazy type. I believe she saw something, and I believe that she believes it was Neil Wordon from beyond his death.
She drops her hand down at her sides and blinks hard. “You believe me, don’t you?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and then prop a hip against the counter to keep my fidgeting from being too obvious. “I believe you,” is all I say.
Her shoulders sag in relief, and she looks down at my shoes. “Tori does too. I don’t know if I can take much more death.”
I scowl. “What do you mean?”
Her gaze flicks up to mine. “I worked at a funeral home before I up and left Chicago. I quit when the director made me work and attend my parents' funeral at the same time.”
My expression widens before I blow out a breath. I can’t imagine what that had to feel like. I found out my sister was dead through the grapevine. But to work her funeral and lay her to rest? I would have refused. It takes a certain kind of prick to force Tegan to do that.
She scrubs her face again. “Just a lot of death. It’s no real surprise that I’m terrified of it.”
“Everyone dies, Tegan,” I say quietly. “It’s only a matter of when and how.”
She drops her hands back to her sides once more. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not die at all.”
I smile a little. “Live immortally?”
