Page 10 of Grave Expectations

“Allow me,” Alaric said, reaching for one of the buckets. His hands slid right through them. “Ah—yes. A day of being able to speak with you has me forgetting my condition.”

Roz’s heart ached for him. “Well, just this morning you were invisible and I couldn’t hear you. Now we’re chatting. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

Alaric gave her a halfhearted smile. “You are always so optimistic. It is one of the many things I like about you.”

Roz turned to head toward the gardening shed before he could see the red that bloomed across her cheeks. He meant platonically, like a ghost companion, she chided herself. Not at all like the movie with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.

She considered taking up pottery to test the theory.

NO. No. This was the town founder, who wanted his soul to pass on to the afterlife. He was being kind; he was probably awfully lonely. She shouldn’t take any of this personally, no matter how attractive he was.

She glanced at him, the heat rising to her cheeks once more. Even in his tattered, bloodied robe, he was a grade-A hottie. Strong jaw, stubble, piercing green eyes. If he was the town handyman, she bet there was a nice body under that robe…

Stop fantasizing about the ghost founder that somehow only you can see.

She shoved the items into the shed and turned toward her home. Alaric paused at her door, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” he said.

“Did you want to…come in?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“You can watch me eat a microwave meal and then…maybe a movie?”

Alaric paused, and Roz tried not to let it get to her. Of course he didn’t want to go inside and watch a damn movie. He wanted her to figure out his curse, maybe how to break it, how to untether them. He wanted freedom, and she was lollygagging around, inviting him into her house for a movie.

“Without a chaperone?” he said at last.

Roz couldn’t contain her laughter. “You don’t need to worry about my virtue, my dating prospects have long since dried up. Besides, you can’t even touch me.”

She didn’t know why she said it. Her jaw snapped shut.

Alaric sighed, his hand trailing the air by her ear. She could have sworn she felt him then, a heat against her skin. But he was a ghost, so that was impossible. He dropped his hand to his side, then nodded.

“If you are sure,” he said.

“I’m sure. Company would be nice.” She opened the door wider to let him in. He hesitated a moment more before nodding, his gaze suddenly intense on her.

“Alright. I find I am reluctant to leave your side.” Then he stepped over the threshold.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ifind I am reluctant to leave your side.

Alaric grimaced at the line as he crossed the threshold into Rosalin’s home, Albie trotting after him. His gaze travelled over the small space, crammed to the brim with items. The walls were covered with posters, most of which were of insects or birds. Bookshelves lined the walls, organized by color, interrupted by an occasional plant or statue of a deity. A dark brown, well-loved couch sat against a far wall, opposite a television. The kitchen was similarly decorated—plants, cookbooks, cabinets without doors to expose the mismatched plates and bowls.

“It’s a bit dirty,” Rosalin said, ducking her head to avoid looking at him. She set her keys into a bowl by the door and kicked her boots off.

“You don’t need to take your shoes off,” she told him, affording him one of her sly grins.

“What of my robe?” he asked, hoping to coax another one from her.

“Depends. What’s under it?” she asked, then turned suddenly to her kitchen and cleared her throat.

“I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, wearing that for hundreds of years,” she said as she moved to her refrigerator and dug around in it.

“I am dead, nothing is uncomfortable except the silence,” he said, hovering just inside the doorway. He wasn’t sure where to go or stand, what was considered proper. His gaze darted to the half-opened door, revealing a glimpse of her bedroom.