Page 49 of Feel It in the Air

“You okay?”

He cocks his head to the side, his gaze once again roaming over my body. But this time it’s a thorough examination—thoughtful care to make sure that no harm has come my way, rather than a committing to memory for potential use later on. My body reacts in much the same way though, his eyes on me making me feel special—adored—regardless of the reason.

“Yeah…I just…” I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. “I just heard something.”

“Margeaux, are you afraid of ghosts?” he teases, tightening his grip.

Defiance rises in me. He did not just go there. Does he not know who he’s talking to? Where I grew up?

“No,” I inform him, rocking back, putting some space between us. Cocking one hip to the side, I fold my arms across my chest, fully aware of what it does to my boobs in this towel. And frankly, I don’t care one bit.

“Maybe it was Anna.”

“Anna?”

My voice comes out a little more strangled than I would like. Then again, he did just drop another woman’s name while I’m standing in a towel, so I feel I’m justified here.

“The ghost that haunts the inn.”

Oh…is that all…

“Folklore says she was a bride from an arranged marriage who fell in love with a sailor back in the early 1800s, and threw herself out of a window when his ship sailed away rather than marry the guy she was supposed to. Apparently she’s pretty friendly though, and just likes to make her presence known by moving some things around.”

I shiver at Gus’s words. I’m not sure if it’s from Anna’s tragic story or the thought of her moving my things while I was in the shower. But either way, the thought of having her here—friendly or not—puts me slightly on edge.

“Ohhhh…”

“So you are afraid of ghosts…”

That same defiance surges again, but this time mixed with the need to prove a point. Because I’m not afraid. Not exactly.

“No. I am not afraid. I believe in giving them the space and respect they deserve.”

Gus chuckles, seeing right through my answer. “My little New Orleans firecracker is afraid of ghosts. Would have thought with all that voodoo⁠—”

“First off,” I cut him off. He wants to call me a firecracker, then he’ll get to see sparks. “My family is French Cajun and Irish. So we’re Catholic. Second, like I said, having been raised in New Orleans, I believe in giving the spirits the space and respect they deserve and⁠—”

Bam!

The loud slam of the bathroom door echoes throughout the entire room, even making the floor rattle. My heart leaps out of my chest, the rest of me following, lunging straight into Gus’s open arms.

Sans towel.

The cotton of his dress shirt feels soft against my bare skin, my nipples already starting to contract from the combination of contact and cool air. Not to mention the way Gus’s hands feel on me—one making its way down my back, the other trailing up my arm to tuck a wisp of still damp hair behind my ear.

“Looks like Anna is on my side here.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm.” His smirk quirks upward, devilish and knowing. It’s more than enough to get me going, my pulse quickening with each second. “Why else would you be naked in my arms?”

“Towel slipped.”

“Oh, I see.”

Sliding his hand around my body, lazily dragging his fingertips along my skin, Gus finds my breasts, cupping each one in a hand. My breath hitches as I try to keep my composure, which isn’t easy to do as he stares me down like I’m his next meal.

Yes, please…