Page 96 of Love at First Fright

Charlie snapped the book shut. “We’ve sent Brad on a wild goose chase, then.” He pushed back from the table, gathering the bowls. “Come upstairs to my room.”

I swallowed the “Baby, I thought you’d never ask,” that threatened to escape and followed him up the stairs.

His small space already smelt like him. A sugary, fruity sweetness. His rucksack sat in the corner, clothes spilling out. Next to it were the bags he’d carried up here earlier.

“So.” Charlie turned to face me, hands shoved in his pockets. “I only got eighty pounds for all that stuff you gave me.”

“Eighty!” I grinned. “Nice! So you managed the television, yeah?”

“Ha ha. Have you heard of this little thing called inflation?”

“Guess I’ll never get to see how Friends ended, then.”

“Well, you won’t believe this, but Ross and Rachel get together, Monica and Chandler adopt twins, and Phoebe marries Paul Rudd,” Charlie said, dumping the shopping bags onto the bed. “Also, Joey gets his own spin-off show that everyone pretends never happened.”

“Devastating,” I said. “My entire afterlife, ruined.”

Charlie snorted, pulling items from the bags one by one. Salmon treats. A battered chess set. Colouring books. Several thick paperbacks with shirtless men on the covers. And there—tucked at the bottom—science fiction novels with worn spines and cover art that screamed space battles.

My throat tightened. He really got me everything I asked for. Aside from the TV. But he’d made an effort. Carried it all back here, for me.

Charlie caught me staring. That pleased little smile tugged at his lips, the one that made him look younger, less exhausted by life’s bullshit. He held up the books. “Found these in the charity shop. Thought you might like them? They’re proper space opera. Galactic empires, sentient ships, that sort of thing. Lady Grimthorne hopefully won’t be as interested in them, and they’re long enough to last you ages.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment. Just floated there like an absolute melt, staring at this man who’d thought so much about books for a dead bloke he’d only just met.

“Thank you,” I managed finally. The words felt inadequate. “Seriously, Charlie. You did brilliant.”

His flush started at his collar, creeping up his neck in splotches of pink. He ducked his head, fiddling with the chess set box suddenly. “It’s nothing. Just… you know. Thought you deserved something for yourself.”

Christ, he was going to be the death of me. Again.

I picked up one of the hefty Outlander books, with a cover of a man in a kilt looking brooding and windswept on a Scottish moor, all muscles and flowing hair. “Hundreds and hundreds of pages of sexy, half-dressed men? You’ve outdone yourself. Lady G is going to weep with joy. She probably won’t leave you alone now.” I paused, letting my voice drop. “I’ll have competition.”

He glanced away, that adorable pink flush deepening to something closer to red.

I floated closer to the bed, gesturing at the space opera novels. “These, though. I’ll treasure these always.” I meant it. Every word. “You did great, Charlie. Really great.”

His hands stilled on the chess set. The crimson spread across his entire face, right to the tips of his ears.

Delicious.

I drifted even closer, letting my voice drip with barely concealed seduction. “Do let me know how I could possibly thank you, kind sir.”

Charlie cleared his throat. Once. Twice. “You can help me with my job. Our manor investigation.”

I pouted, floating in a lazy circle around him. “I can think of at least five different things that would be much more fun. And that’s just with clothes on.”

“You’re a nightmare,” Charlie groaned, now fully refusing eye contact, pretending intense fascination with a colouring book featuring a mermaid riding a dolphin.

“Well, zap me with your gun.”

When Charlie groaned even deeper, I admitted defeat. I’d never had much “game” when I was alive, so I wasn’t overly surprised my flirting as a ghost was sub-par.

I sighed, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, then, let’s go see Lady G. She’ll tell you there’s no bloody witch here.”

Charlie lugged the books all the way to the library, arms straining under the weight. I offered to carry some, which earned me an eye roll.

Lady Grimthorne sat in her usual armchair by the fire. Upon seeing us enter, she rose to her feet—a feat I rarely witnessed. Usually, she preferred to hold court from her seat like the aristocrat she’d been in life.