Page 132 of Love at First Fright

“Are you even trying?”

Small mercies.

After what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes, I straightened, wiping sweat from my forehead. My shirt stuck to my back and blisters threatened to form on my palms.

“I’m getting water for us,” I announced.

Brad grunted, not looking up from his digging.

I climbed out of the deepening hole—already almost waist-deep, courtesy of Brad’s relentless pace—and headed towards the manor.

Bat floated backwards in front of me, studying my face. “You look knackered.”

“Cheers.”

We reached the kitchen. I filled two glasses with water from the tap, downing both of them back to back, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. Then I carried them back through the garden at a slower pace. No rush to return to manual labour.

The apple tree came into view. Shockingly, Brad seemed to be taking a break—he stood by the hole, stretching his arms above his head in a vaguely professional manner. Sunlight caught the sweat on his shoulders. Muscles moved beneath skin as he stretched out his right leg. His thighs flexed with each movement, the tight navy shorts revealing a truly impressive amount of bare skin, tanned a golden brown.

I slowed further, my eyes stubbornly refusing to look anywhere else.

“Admiring the view?”

My head snapped to Bat’s to find his lips pursed like he’d sucked something sour.

“What? No. I’m just—I’m tired. Catching my breath.”

“Sure. Nothing to do with Brad’s ass.”

“It’s not—I wasn’t—”

“His thighs, then. Can’t really miss them, can you?” Bat’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Shall I give you and his rugby thighs some privacy?”

“Stop being ridiculous. You know I hate Brad.”

“You seemed pretty into him the other day!”

“What?!” I spluttered. “Yeah, when you were possessing him! You know how much I hate him!”

“You know…” Bat drifted closer, voice dropping. “I could possess him again. If you like that body of his so much. We could have some fun with it.”

I nearly dropped both water glasses. “What? No. Bat—”

“Come on. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me falling through floors. Or losing my grip on reality mid-thrust.”

The joke didn’t land. His voice carried something horribly sharp underneath.

“Hey.” I softened my voice. “I don’t want Brad’s hideous body. I want you.”

“Yeah, but I come with complications—”

“So? Who doesn’t?” I gestured at myself with one of the glasses, water sloshing. “I’m currently digging up a ghost’s corpse because my life choices are spectacular. Trust me, complications don’t scare me off.”

Bat’s gaze flicked between me and Brad.

“Besides,” I added, “it’s still Brad’s body. That would be wrong. And also—imagine if you suddenly lost your grip on him halfway through and he came around to find my naked ass under his.”

“He’d punch your lights out,” Bat finished, lips twitching.