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She took a deep breath like she was struggling to keep her cool. “So you’re a non-believer. I get that. But what would it hurt to let me spend the night? I’m thinking I could write an expose,” her voice rose with excitement. “My own personal experience of a night spent in a haunted building a la American Horror Story. The readers will eat it up.”
Rusty’s eyes grew impossibly large. “That’s real brave of you, Allie. Real brave.”
Allie gave Rusty another sweet smile. Only this time, the smile was for real and Tom couldn’t help but feel envious. Once, he’d been the recipient of those smiles. He doubted she would ever smile at hi
m like that again. At least not in this lifetime.
His gaze drifted back to those legs he’d been trying not to stare at. A thin trickle of blood ran down Allie’s right shin. He pointed to her skinned up knee. “That happen on your way inside?”
“It’s just a scratch.” But her voice sounded hollow.
“That could have just as easily been a cut requiring stitches or a broken skull. The fact is that if you stay the night, then I have to stay, and that’s not going to happen. It’s already close to midnight and I have to be back here in less than nine hours to supervise the demolition.”
“But once this building gets torn down, it will be impossible to ascertain the validity of the ghost. Can’t you delay things? Just for one day?” she asked.
He wanted to say yes. Partly for old time’s sake, and partly for…shit. He didn’t know what for, except when she looked at him like that it was hard not to give her whatever she wanted. But he wasn’t eighteen anymore. And she’d been right earlier. Except for the one time he’d screwed up, he’d always been the responsible one. Twelve years hadn’t changed that. If anything, the years had reinforced it.
“Sorry, but postponing the demolition means going off schedule, which means going off budget.” And going off budget meant no bonus, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Maybe the ghost will relocate somewhere else?” Rusty suggested. “There’s lots of old buildings in this town.”
“Don’t encourage her, Rusty,” Tom said.
“He can encourage me all he wants,” Allie shot back.
They stared at one another, neither of them backing down at first, then after a few long seconds she began to shift from leg to leg, like she was nervous. “Okay, buddy, obviously, I need to go above your head on this. Maybe your boss will be a little more accommodating.”
So he now he was buddy. Definitely a step down from pal.
“My boss is Steve Pappas. Go ahead and give him a call. Tell him you need him to delay the demolition on the building so you and Casper can have a one-on-one.”
“All right, I will. And I’ll be sure to tell him you suggested it.” She pulled out her cell phone. “Um, you don’t happen to have his number, do you?”
She had hutzpah, he’d give her that. “Sorry, I’m not about to give you my boss’s personal cell phone number so you can ask him to delay a job that he’s already doing pro bono. But hey, I’m sure Rusty here will be happy to give you his home address if you ask real nice.”
She looked ready to spit.
God, he could be a dick. He didn’t mean to be. And he normally wasn’t. His momma had taught him early on how to talk to a lady. But there was something about Allie Grant that pushed all his buttons. The bad ones, as well as the good.
Rusty looked alarmed. “Allie, I know you’re Zeke’s sister and all, but I really can’t give you Steve Pappas’s home address.”
“I know that, Rusty,” she said, sounding sincere again. “But thanks anyway.”
“Good! So, if Tom isn’t pressing charges, then yeah, we’re all done here. Except I should probably run your license and give you a verbal warning. Only cause that’s what I would do for anyone else. Don’t want Zeke to think I’m giving his kin any special treatment. Considering you did actually break into the place.”
“No problem.” She limped over to her car to retrieve her driver’s license then handed it to Rusty.
“This will just take a sec,” Rusty said. “Then it will be all nice and proper.” He gave her a friendly wink and trotted off to his police cruiser.
Now that they were alone again, she seemed to have lost some of her earlier steam. He tried to think of a way to ease some of the awkwardness. “So you work for Florida! magazine, huh?” Tom asked, mostly because he was genuinely interested, and hell…what else were they going to talk about?
“I freelance for them. Why? You a subscriber?”
“I pick it up every now and then at the grocery. Good fishing articles.”
“Yeah, I don’t write those.”
“What do you write?”
