“You didn’t recognize him?” he asks.
“Newp.”
“Would you if you saw him again?”
“I guess.” I think for a minute. “Are you going to compile a list of every twenty-something in LA? ‘Cause I’m gonna need to solve this before I die.”
He sighs. Apparently, it’s not the time for caustic humor.
“We have other problems too.”
“Oh great.” I chug from the water bottle he brought me. Okay, that’s pretty thoughtful. “Please, do tell.”
“I ‘ran into’ Zebulund earlier.”
I freeze. His use of air quotes throws me off but hearing that name causes me to get serious.
“He’s thinking of canceling the séance.”
“What?” My stomach knots.
“I got the impression he was testing me out. Like, he wanted to see if I was going to press the invite to his house.” Roe leans against the sink.
He’s wearing a polo and khaki shorts. As always, when out in public, he has a baseball cap pulled low and dark glasses. Of course, he’s even cute in that dorky-ass get up.
“What did you do?” I trust his instinct.
“I didn’t push it. But now I’m not sure that he’s going to go through with it at all.”
“Damn.”
Roe pushes off the sink with a sigh. He looks up at me from under the bill of his hat and I feel an unexpected surge of attraction. I clamp it down and focus on the task.
“Maybe he needs a sign that he’s still being haunted?” he suggests.
“Well, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight.”
He smiles.
“Now, how are we getting out of here?”
He takes off his hat and collects all my hair into a messy heap on my head. He uses the cap to hold it all in place. I’m unable to move because the sensation of his fingertips grazing my neck is almost too much to handle. I’m at war with myself. I physically fight my hands from reaching up to grab him by slipping them into the pockets of my newly acquired jeans.
“Here.” He lingers around my neck to tuck an extra strand of hair away. “I’ll leave and make sure there’re no cameras or stalkers. And after ten minutes, if you get the go-ahead from me, head out.”
I can’t seem to stop staring into his dark eyes. Brown pupil blending perfectly into the iris. In the direct light do they lighten like a cup of coffee?
“Okay,” I manage.
His hand slips and his thumb rests on my bottom lip. His fingertips rest on my dancing heartbeat. He must feel it pounding against them.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
He turns and leaves and it’s only five minutes after he’s gone that I realize I have no idea what the plan is for tonight.
14
Roe
