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“Well then start loving it.”
The bathroom was no better. A small pedestal sink and an old mirror made up half the amenities. The other half was a tiny shower stall and vintage toilet, the kind where the basin was mounted high up on the wall. A greasy-looking pull-chain dangled beneath it.
The place was quaint. Most people would agree it had charm.
She hated it anyway.
Kara unzipped a tiny travel bag and began brushing her teeth vigorously.
“You sure this place is haunted?” Logan called in to her. “I mean, I could think of much better places to be spending my afterlife.”
“Oh yeah, like where?”
“Like the Plaza. Or the Four Seasons. Or—”
“You read the file,” she said, spitting into the sink. “You tell me your theory on why this place has so much paranormal activity.”
Kara cocked an ear, but Logan went silent. For once it was disappointing. After spending so much time with the file, Kara was hoping he’d actually had an idea. She really didn’t want to read the file herself.
When she re-emerged from the bathroom, she stopped instantly short. Logan was standing at the window, one arm up, looking out into the raging snowstorm. He’d already changed. And by ‘changed’, he’d stripped down to nothing but a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts.
Jesus Christ.
He was every bit as dashing as she remembered him. Broad, well-defined shoulders. Strong, corded arms. And his chest… his chest was bare and beautiful. Memories came flooding back to her, completely unbidden. Memories of sleeping on that chest. Of feeling it crushed against her…
“Y—You’re sleeping like that?”
Kara regretted the words immediately.
“Of course,” he replied. “How else would I sleep?” Logan examined her expression, and his mouth stretched into a knowing smile. “Besides, you’ve slept with me dozens of times. You know what I like to sleep in—”
“Alright, alright.”
“Besides,” he said, turning back to the window. “This room’s like a million degrees.”
That much was true. Kara was amazed at how much heat the old cast iron radiator in the corner of room 207 was giving off. She didn’t see a thermostat either. Nor had she expected one.
“Want me to open the window?”
“No,” Kara said. “Fuck the window.”
Normally she’d sleep in her panties and a T-shirt. In this case, she’d thrown on a pair of sweatpants for good measure. Kara sank to the bed, ass-first. The mattress was old but firm, the way she liked it.
“Uh… that bed is kinda big,” Logan hinted. “You sure we can’t—”
“NO.”
It was hot. Way too hot to sleep.
This is bullshit, thought Kara. She’d abandoned the sweatpants long ago. For the last half hour she’d been staring up at the ceiling, wondering when the sun would come up. It was still very dark outside. She still had a few hours, but not many. And without any sleep…
She regretted telling Logan not to open the window. Right now she’d do just about anything for some fresh air. She debated calling out to him, asking him if he was asleep yet. But she also didn’t want to deal with him any more than was necessary.
You’re being an asshole again, she told herself. Or you’re being lazy. Just get up and—
A cool rush of wind tore through the room. Which was stranger than anything, because the window — and the door — were both securely closed.
“Logan?”
