“I beg to differ,” she said, holding up her bandaged hand. “No matter what you think about this old house, I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said, shaking off her true feelings, allowing the wine to fill her with courage.
“No matter what you think, things exist whether you’re aware of them or not.”
“Are you saying something’s in this house?” she asked. “Really? The Prescott Ghost?”
Sarah scoffed and took another drink. She was starting to feel a little woozy but brave, nonetheless. “Whatcha got to say to me, Prescott Ghost?” she asked, looking to the ceiling of the kitchen.
“I admire your courage, however misguided it may be,” he said.
Shuddering from a cold draft that wafted past them, she searched his face for clues to what he knew but wasn’t …show more content…
Coffey She tried to tell herself that the chill in the pit of her stomach was from the breeze of a half-opened window and not the memory of Brant’s lifeless eyes. That the accident hadn’t been her fault. That there was no reason for his spirit to contact her from beyond the grave.
But she was a damn liar.
“Me?” Sarah scoffed at the handsome neighbor, watching her with wolfish intensity over the rim of his wineglass. “I’m an open book. Just a widow looking to make a fresh start in a familiar place. Nothing to hide here.” Her voice only shook a little.
“Indeed.” Eric’s tone, and the way his gaze pierced her, spoke volumes. He smiled again. There was a pregnant pause. Thunder rattled the rafters overhead. Her ears popped and the moment passed, fading like his smile in the dusk.
“I should go.”
“Should you?” She bit off the end of her question. Any more wine on her empty stomach and she’d be inviting him to stay the night. And not just because the house that she now called home was giving her the creeps. Because she liked the way his broad shoulders made her feel protected. The heat blossoming between her thighs made her hotter than any bonfire.
His gaze up and down the length of her was like warm caramel. “Might be best. Besides, you have some unpacking to …show more content…
Ha! Plasma critters better not mess with her.
She changed her clothes in record time and rode the banister down to the main floor. No sense overstaying her welcome. Maybe the couch wasn’t so uncomfortable. She reheated the kettle and made her tea. Now that she’d survived a terrifying incident, she was ready to take on the world. Or at least the last of her unpacking.
She wandered into the dining room and stared at the boxes piled in the corner. Every box labelled with Brant’s name. They weren’t filled with his clothes or anything gruesome like his used toothbrush. Merely his baseball card collection, his bobble-head collection, and his team pennant collection.
Hell, no wonder she’d been reluctant to unpack. As much as she loved her late husband, and hadn’t minded him filling every nook and cranny of their old house with this stuff, she honestly had no desire to display commemorative footballs from the previous nineteen Super Bowls. No, it was twenty, the last one still in it’s packaging since it arrived after the accident.
She reached to switch off the light when a gentle puff of warm air touched her cheek.
“Okay, I’ll unpack your stuff, but don’t expect me to line the mantel with your
“No matter what you think, things exist whether you’re aware of them or not.”
“Are you saying something’s in this house?” she asked. “Really? The Prescott Ghost?”
Sarah scoffed and took another drink. She was starting to feel a little woozy but brave, nonetheless. “Whatcha got to say to me, Prescott Ghost?” she asked, looking to the ceiling of the kitchen.
“I admire your courage, however misguided it may be,” he said.
Shuddering from a cold draft that wafted past them, she searched his face for clues to what he knew but wasn’t …show more content…
Coffey She tried to tell herself that the chill in the pit of her stomach was from the breeze of a half-opened window and not the memory of Brant’s lifeless eyes. That the accident hadn’t been her fault. That there was no reason for his spirit to contact her from beyond the grave.
But she was a damn liar.
“Me?” Sarah scoffed at the handsome neighbor, watching her with wolfish intensity over the rim of his wineglass. “I’m an open book. Just a widow looking to make a fresh start in a familiar place. Nothing to hide here.” Her voice only shook a little.
“Indeed.” Eric’s tone, and the way his gaze pierced her, spoke volumes. He smiled again. There was a pregnant pause. Thunder rattled the rafters overhead. Her ears popped and the moment passed, fading like his smile in the dusk.
“I should go.”
“Should you?” She bit off the end of her question. Any more wine on her empty stomach and she’d be inviting him to stay the night. And not just because the house that she now called home was giving her the creeps. Because she liked the way his broad shoulders made her feel protected. The heat blossoming between her thighs made her hotter than any bonfire.
His gaze up and down the length of her was like warm caramel. “Might be best. Besides, you have some unpacking to …show more content…
Ha! Plasma critters better not mess with her.
She changed her clothes in record time and rode the banister down to the main floor. No sense overstaying her welcome. Maybe the couch wasn’t so uncomfortable. She reheated the kettle and made her tea. Now that she’d survived a terrifying incident, she was ready to take on the world. Or at least the last of her unpacking.
She wandered into the dining room and stared at the boxes piled in the corner. Every box labelled with Brant’s name. They weren’t filled with his clothes or anything gruesome like his used toothbrush. Merely his baseball card collection, his bobble-head collection, and his team pennant collection.
Hell, no wonder she’d been reluctant to unpack. As much as she loved her late husband, and hadn’t minded him filling every nook and cranny of their old house with this stuff, she honestly had no desire to display commemorative footballs from the previous nineteen Super Bowls. No, it was twenty, the last one still in it’s packaging since it arrived after the accident.
She reached to switch off the light when a gentle puff of warm air touched her cheek.
“Okay, I’ll unpack your stuff, but don’t expect me to line the mantel with your