Page 47 of Haunted Spurs

Summoning Ghosts is Easy; Figuring Out Selene Dusk, Not So Much

Ron

“Elizabeth Dawes.”

The candlelight flickers, throwing sharp shadows across Cole’s face from below.

“Elizabeth Dawes.”

Silence settles over the room, broken only by the wind starting to slam against the windowpanes.

“Elizabeth Dawes.”

Cole holds Carolina’s gaze for a beat, his eyes glinting in the dark with pure challenge.

“Elizabeth Dawes.”

Then, with a sharp breath, he blows out the candle.

Darkness drops over us instantly. A thin trail of smoke curls into the air, carrying the bitter smell of burnt wax.

Of course it had to end like this—a ridiculous dare turning into a makeshift séance.

One. Two. Three seconds of complete stillness.

No ghost. No wailing.

Then, with a sharp click, Josh flips on the large floor lamp in the corner. Light floods the living room, and he claps his hands, breaking into a loud laugh. The whole group follows, erupting into cheers and laughter.

“Alright, Princess,” Cole says, running a hand through his hair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You lost the bet. That means you owe me a kiss.”

Carolina doesn’t even blink. She grabs her bottle from the floor, takes a slow sip of beer, then stands up and stretches, her Cowboy Pillow T-shirt riding up slightly as she moves.

“Let’s see if you’re worth it,” she taunts, stepping closer.

Cole doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs her hip and pulls her in.

“Oh, darlin’,” he murmurs with a crooked smirk, leaning down toward her. “Nobody’s ever complained.”

They kiss.

It’s not soft or playful—it’s all heat and no hesitation. Full-on, unapologetic.

The room explodes the second it happens—hoots, whistles, laughter, chaos.

I raise my handheld camcorder and frame myself.

“Night one. Paranormal Truth or Dare,” I say into the lens, keeping my voice easy.

Truth is, I’m just looking for a distraction.

Watching two people devour each other six feet away makes my fingers twitch, reminding me exactly what I’d rather be doing right now—with the woman sitting one couch over from me.

Selene is… acting weird.

Weirder than usual.

More specifically, she’s been cold ever since I brought her a bottle of Smithwick’s from the kitchen.