They wouldn’t understand my decision to work for a better life.
And they’d mock you for it.
The host was droning on about the history of the farm. Meanwhile, his wife lit candles around the room. The modern overheads faded out until we were plunged into the flickering glow.
It was going to start any minute now!
I looked about for false panels. Someone was controlling the lights. They would probably make other chilling revelations to enhance our experience. The creak of the opening door made me look over.
Gooseflesh broke over my skin.
How in tarnation….
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be happening!
Yet there was no mistaking the ghostly apparition stepping into the back of the group. As if he felt my gaze, Nico turned to look in my direction. A slow smile spread over his face.
I shook my head.
Pushing through the crowd, he sidled up next to me. “Evening, little cherry-bomb.”
“Little bomb?” I hissed, wrinkling my nose. “What a horrid name!”
The larger woman in front of me shot me a glare from under her visor. She had no idea that the mafia prince’s arrival saved her fanny pack from being picked.
Nico slipped behind me, putting his back flat against the wall and bent to whisper in my ear. “Since you call your Camaro Cherry Pie, it fit. Plus”—his breath skated over my skin—“calling you my sweet little thief would bring too much suspicion to your terrible little klepto habit.”
I snorted softly. “Well, thanks?”
He hummed. Another exhale fanned over my neck. The skin prickled in response, and a tiny shiver rattled down my spine.
“Okay, next question: What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.
The tourist crossed her arms under her generous bosom and pursed her lips.
“Sightseeing,” came the dark response. “You’re a hard one to track down, cherry-bomb.”
“If there are any spirits here tonight, make your presence known!” the hostess called out, fully invested in the part she played of old-timey farmer’s wife.
The scratch-boom of a prerecorded cannon sounded from a hidden speaker.
None of it was as powerful as the echo of Nico’s explanation for his presence. My blood ran hot, knowing he’d followed me here. A million good reasons for putting space between us drifted through my mind.
I stepped back, into his body instead. Electricity shot through me.
He stilled, as if surprised I made contact. I wondered if he felt it too.
“Why don’t we pretend we’re just a couple of tourists who met at this lame haunting?” I suggested softly. “What would be your next move?”
“Oh, ragazza mia, are you sure that’s the card you want to play?” Nico murmured against my ear.
I shrugged. “More fun that this lot.”
“Will you two be quiet?” the visor-wearing-fanny-packing tourist snapped. “Some of us want to meet the ghosts.”
Nico stifled a laugh. “Dio sacro, she believes this shit.”
I bit my lip to keep from bursting out laughing.
