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It was four o’clock in the morning before she finally set everything aside on the desk and went back upstairs. Puffalump was curled up in his bed like a big roll of cotton, his tail twitching even in sleep.
“All’s quiet on the ghostly front.” Adam walked down from the mezzanine, carrying a thick book under his arm. “We can wrap it up for the night. Go get some sleep.”
“Are you staying here?” Bee asked.
“I’ll grab a few hours’ sleep in my trailer.” Adam retrieved a backpack from the conference room and hitched one of the straps over his shoulder. “Find anything about Marcus?”
“I’ve organized some of his letters and diaries, but I’ll read them in more detail tomorrow.” Bee picked up her bag from behind the counter, pausing to kiss Puffalump between the ears before following Adam to the front door.
He held it open for her as they walked out into the gray dawn. The sun hadn’t yet started to peek over the horizon, and the sky was coated in a thick layer of marine fog. The production vans, cars, and trailers lined the edges of the parking lot. In a spot near the side of the house, the Airstream bookmobile glowed like a silver Twinkie.
“A lot of people we talked to in town had great things to say about the bookmobile,” Adam said. “How you drive it out to rural communities that don’t have libraries so everyone has access to books. Not only is it a great service, they think it’s a great representation of the town.”
“It is,” Bee agreed, looking fondly at the bookmobile. “I just wish everyone felt that way about the Gardenia House too. One of our assistants, Ray, drove the bookmobile all over the county this past summer. We’ve had to start increasing the number of days we take it out because so many communities want us to stop by. I love it, and it really is a fantastic way to expand the library’s services, but now I wish I’d used some of the money for the house. I hadn’t known at the time that the Gardenia House was in trouble.”
“If you had used the money for repairs, you might not have had such success with the bookmobile,” Adam pointed out.
“True.” Bee pulled her keys from her purse and stopped beside her car. “Thank you.”
Adam lifted his eyebrows. “For what?”
“I don’t know.” She chuckled and pushed the button to unlock her car. “This has been an interesting night. And oddly enough, it was also kind of fun.”
“Agreed.” He smiled at her, and her heart did its little hopscotch. “You know, as a scientist, even on the show, I do a lot of experiments.”
“I can imagine.”
“Experiments provide the basis for scientific knowledge,” Adam continued. “It’s how you test and either prove or disprove a hypothesis.”
Wondering where he was going with this, Bee nodded. “I appreciate experiments. Depending on what you’re trying to prove, of course.”
He rested one hand on the top of the open car door. The parking lot lights cast his strong features into shadows of light and dark.
Although he’d been clean-shaven that morning, a layer of scruff now covered his jaw. Bee wondered what that rough stubble would feel like rubbing against her skin.
Her breath shortened. Adam leaned closer. His blue-green eyes glinted.
“Your hypothesis is that your ghost has been interrupting us,” he said.
“Even you have to admit it was a highly coincidental series of…coincidences.”
“Okay.” He nodded, almost as if he agreed with her. “So we’ll put it to the test. The interruptions all happened inside the house.”
“Well, technically, we were outside on the widow’s walk,” Bee said. “But it all happened within the footprint of the house, yes.”
“Has Marcus ever been seen in the parking lot?”
“No. He doesn’t go beyond the boundaries of the house. Which, asyousaid, means he might be trapped there.”
“So if the ghost was the reason for the interruptions”—Adam raised an eyebrow—“then he shouldn’t bother us if we’re not in the house or within its footprint.”
Bee’s heart was beginning to speed up like a little engine. “Are you saying we should…experiment in other locations?”
“If you want proof.” His gaze drifted to her mouth. “Or a lack thereof.”
Although Bee wanted to kiss Adam again more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time, she was suddenly hesitant about the idea of her hypothesis being either proven or disproven. Because that meant one of them would be wrong.
And while Bee very much enjoyed being right and still needed absolute proof of the ghost, she didn’t love the idea of Adam’s belief system—or him—taking a hit.
