Page 69 of Hot Ghost Summer

He gives me the kind of look that might make a lesser mortal shrivel. I turn my cap sideways so I can lie down on the dry dirt and sparse patches of grass.

Brigid eases some, allowing her ears to drop and losing some tension across her shoulders, but she continues to eye Hollis with a healthy dose of suspicion.

Settling in, I cross my feet at the ankles. My cow and my wee ghostie both need to relax. Brigid’ll get used to him—eventually—and Hollis just needs to reconnect with the part of him that’s still human. “Tell me about home?”

“Home?”

“Your estate in the Alpines, describe it for me.”

The corner of Hollis’s mouth quirks up the smallest fraction. Sitting beside me, he presents image after image of the Ötschergräben Canyon on the screen. Hooking his knees with his arms, he watches over my shoulder with an unreadable expression.

Austria looks beautiful. I’ve never been, but the rugged limestone rocks and towering waterfalls that carve through verdant green conifers speak to my soul. I hope one day I can visit.

“Imagine back t’ when this farm was like that,” I say wistfully. “Well, not exactly like that because no canyon here, but I mean just… in the countryside. No London. No urbanisation. Just nature.”

I breathe deeply, filling my lungs, but it’s not the same. “Why do you think Mister Bowen sold it? He had all this beauty right at his fingertips, and he gave it up for what? A couple of million?”

Hollis mirrors me and inhales.

Do ghosts breathe? Or is he just going through the motions? Keeping in touch with his human habits? That’s what nature’s good at. No one goes to the middle of a busy shopping centre to calm down. The thought makes me chuckle. “It’s no wonder Londoners are so uptight and defensive; they’ve got no grass left t’ touch.”

“People find other ways to destress,” Hollis states thoughtfully.

“Like wanking,” I joke. “They’re all massive wankers ’ere.”

He stares at me, but I only see the smile he’s trying to hide.

I push. “I wank when I’m stressed.”

He releases a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

I laugh, because yeah, he does. And Brigid, finally at ease, drops onto her haunches, but I keep my gaze on Hollis. Is that his problem? He hasn’t found how to destress in his new form yet? I could help with that…

Casually, I lift the hem of my T-shirt to expose my belly. “Speaking o’ wanking, I am so relaxed after last night. It’s as if I’m in a bubble of zen, and nothing can faze me.”

Hollis smirks. “Brat.” But his gaze is on my abs.

“You like that about me. Besides…” I push my T-shirt higher, showing my ribs. “If you’d let me fuck you—instead o’ torturing me like you did—you wouldn’t be so grumpy today.”

“I’m not discussing this.”

“Fine. No talking.” I arch up and whip my top over my head. It takes my cap with it. “You sit there with your blue balls.”

“I don’t have blue balls.”

“You don’t?”

Hollis doesn’t answer. Even forces his gaze onto Brigid, but I know he’s still paying attention.

“So, if I were t’ lie here, mouth open, you wouldn’t think about…” I poke the inside of my cheek with my tongue.

His spine stiffens—a nonverbal answer.

“You know why I left Cumbria? Because I couldn’t live there and live as me. I’d have been making a choice between the comfort o’ what I’d always known, and who I knew I could become. So, although London does my head in, at least I’m not selling myself a lie.”

Hollis’s polar-white eyes stay fixed on Brigid as several long minutes pass in silence.

Just when I think he’s taking the “no talking” thing literally, he quietly says, “Thank you for your concern, but I am being true to myself. I understand that I’m dead, and we’re working to resolve that.”