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Needing to change the subject and lift the heavy mood in the kitchen, I lean into him.
“What do you need me to help with?”
“I think I got it covered.”
“Then do you mind if I get a drink?”
“Get whatever you want, baby,” he tells me, then adds, “I got some wine this afternoon if you want a glass.”
“Thanks,” I say, and he points me in the direction of his wineglasses but takes the bottle of wine from me to open it after he salts the asparagus and puts it in the oven. As I sip my wine, he gets a beer, and we stand in his kitchen and talk about nothing really important, but he does tell me about the guys at the sheriff’s office giving him a hard time about the signs that the girls and I made, which makes me laugh like an idiot, and every time I do, he gets a look on his face I wish I could get a picture of. I also wish I could bottle up how it makes me feel. When dinner is done, we hang out for a while longer before he and Storm walk me home, and he leaves me with a very sweet good night kiss on my front porch. I don’t know what any of it means, or what is going on between us, but I do know that I’m not going to overthink it. My focus right now is getting my feet back under me. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a giddy teenager with a crush.
Chapter 16:
Ghost
Wyatt
Lying in bed, trying to find sleep, I glance over at my phone when it pings with a text and grab it off my nightstand.
I think I have a ghost. Seeing that text from Genevieve, I shake my head with a smile on my face. Fuck, I’ve smiled more in the last couple of days than I have in the last ten years.
You don’t have a ghost.
I’m pretty sure I do
Having never been the kind of person who enjoys texting, I dial her number.
“Hey,” she answers.
“Tell me why you think you have a ghost.” I rest my arm behind my head.
“I keep hearing creaking.”
“That house is old.”
“I know, but Mrs. Carberry lived here for a long time, and she said there was a ghost, so I must have inherited it when I moved in.”
“Again, there is no such thing as ghosts, baby.”
“Then why are there TV shows about ghost hunting, and why do Catholics have a whole special ops team just for exorcisms?” she asks, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Special ops team?”
“I’m being serious.”
“You don’t have a ghost.”
“I think I do,” she grumbles. “And now, because I’ve freaked myself out about it, I’m not going to be able to fall asleep until I’m completely exhausted, which will probably be when the sun comes up.”
“Do you wanna sleep here?” I ask, and the line goes quiet. “Genevieve.”
“That would be really stupid,” she whispers, and I can tell by her tone that she is not thinking about sleep, and now neither am I.
“We don’t have to be stupid. We can just sleep.”
“I have a meeting in the morning with your inspector.”
“I have work in the morning,” I return, and the line once more goes quiet.
