Tis the Season

by Jill Sanders

  Matt held in a groan. “The perks of living in a small town,” he said.

  “Do you need to go talk to them?” Blake asked.

  “No, they’re on date night.” He waved back. “If they want to chat, they’ll come over.” He shifted and tried to ignore the fact that he knew everyone in the restaurant, including the crew in the back that had worked hard to make his steak dinner. “You don’t want to talk about your family, let’s not talk about mine during dinner either,” he suggested between bites.

  “Fair enough.” She smiled. “Tell me about your job. What exactly do you do?” she asked.

  Over the next hour, they ate their dinners and talked about his work, about how he’d been raised traveling with his father all over the globe, just as his father had been raised.

  “So, it’s kind of a Jordan tradition?” she asked once their table was clear of empty plates.

  “Something like that.” He nodded. “Just as this place is. My uncle Iian took over this place early on. Someday one of his sons, Connor or Jacob, will take it on. Or”—he shrugged—“one of the other cousins.”

  “Is it only men in your family that it falls to then?”

  He chuckled. “No. My sister Sara runs the place now, but she’s already taking on fewer responsibilities with the baby due. She’d decided to take a full year off after the kid is born.”

  Blake nodded. “Who’s taking over for her while she’s on maternity leave?”

  “Connor, Riley’s older brother. He’s coming back from college to cover.” He shrugged. “The guy had a few bumps and when his folks suggested it, he agreed. My aunt has a way of persuading her children.” He smiled.

  “I like Allison.” Blake sighed. “Her art is amazing.” She nodded to the piece across the way. “Of course, that mermaid is out of this world.”

  He turned and smiled at his great-grandmother’s art. “It’s funny, my dad says my mother looks like her.”

  Blake tilted her head. “She does. You have the green eyes.”

  He leaned closer and lowered his tone. “There is a story I’ve heard floating around about my great-grandmother.”

  “Oh?” She leaned forward as well.

  “Back when my great-grandparents moved here, the story was that my great-grandmother was a witch.” He smiled. “That she had made a deal with the devil to gain her talents. That she had foresight into other worlds.”

  Blake’s eyebrows shot up. “So, she knew things ahead of time, like your family eyes.” She nodded back to the mermaid. “She knew ahead of time that green eyes would be a Jordan trait someday?”

  He chuckled. “I guess spooky stories run in my family.” His smile fell away when he thought of the woman in his bedroom. “My uncle Iian swears he saw my grandfather a few times long ago.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “He died in a boating accident on Iian’s eighteenth birthday.”

  She frowned. “I think someone mentioned something to me about it. Riley, I think.”

  He nodded. “It was a Jordan tradition, still is. The eighteenth birthday sailing trip.” He sighed remembering his own with his parents. “George, my grandfather, took Iian out. They encountered a huge storm, the boat capsized, and George sacrificed his life to save his son. That’s how my uncle lost his hearing. He had hit his head and was in the water for a long time.”

  Blake reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He smiled. “It hasn’t slowed him down any. Still, when he told me the story of seeing Grandpa George, I laughed.” Again, his smile slipped. “Now, I’m not so sure he was crazy.”

  “Why?”

  He shook his head. Suddenly, it felt too hot and stuffy. “How about a walk?”

  She glanced out the windows. “It’s still snowing.”

  He shrugged. “Then how about we go stand out on the back patio. I could use some fresh air.”

  “Sure.” She slipped on her jacket while he paid the bill.

  They walked onto the large back deck, which looked over the water. Distant lights along the coast could be seen through the falling snow.

  Leaning on the railing, he took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing a woman,” he said, turning towards her.

  Her eyebrows shot up and she took a step back. He watched as anger flashed over her face. Then he laughed and laughed.

  “God,” he said between laughs, “not like that.” He chuckled and reached out for her. When he pulled her closer, he felt her stiffen. “A ghost. In my bedroom.”

  “What?” She pulled back and looked up into his eyes.

  “You heard me. At least I think it’s a ghost. Otherwise someone is Scooby Doo’ing me.” He chuckled again, then shook his head. “You know, like the cartoon show, someone wearing a mask and tricking—”

  “Yes,” she interrupted, “I understand.” She smiled then nodded. “Go on,” she said after a moment.

  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, realizing that the snow was soaking them. He took a seat in a chair under the overhang and she followed.

  “That first night I spent in the place, I was tired. I assumed when I saw her it was due to that, you know?” He shrugged, suddenly feeling stupid.

  “How many times have you seen her?” she asked. He was surprised she was taking him seriously.

  “A few.” He shrugged. “Every night that I’ve been at the house.”

  She was silent for a while, then she surprised him even more by asking. “Where do you see her?”

  “In my bedroom.” He could tell she was thinking.

  “What does she look like?” She shivered.

  Standing up, he held out his hand. “Let’s head back to the house.” He helped her stand. “You can see for yourself. I’m sure she’ll be there again tonight.” She chuckled, and he turned to look at her.

  “Is this your way of getting me into your bed again?” she asked.

  He frowned. “No.” Then he smiled. “You’ll know when I’m trying to get you in my bed.” He watched her face heat and liked the look on her. “Come on, how about a nightcap of hot chocolate? My coffee maker does both. I might even have some Baileys to put in it.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” She sighed. “I love the snow, I just hate driving in it.”

  He opened the Jeep door for her and waited until she climbed in, then got in on the driver’s side.

  “I’ve done a little research into your house. The only person I found who died there was the original owner,” she said.

  He glanced over at her as he pulled out of the lot. “Yeah, Dr. Phillip Stratton. English aristocrat that came over from England. He’d fallen in love with a young woman of Swedish descent. When she married the captain of the ship that brought her over to the States, he hung himself in the house. Or so the story goes.”

  “Who do you think the woman is then?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell what time she’s from, you know, from what she’s wearing.” He felt like a fool when he realized he was talking about a ghost’s fashion.

  “What is she wearing?”

  “A flowing gown. Her hair is down. It looks blonde, but it’s hard to tell since she’s see-through.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked.

  “Do you?” He glanced at her as they headed up the steep road that led to his driveway.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never seen one.”

  He chuckled. “Most people haven’t seen God but believe in him.”

  “True.” She nodded. “My family wasn’t very religious,” she added.

  “You were raised by your mother most of the time, right?” he asked as they pulled into the drive.

  “Yes.”

  “In LA?” He parked in the garage.

  “Yes,” she started to get out. “What’s under there?” She motioned to the third bay, where his project sat under the tarp.

  He smiled. “Do you like cars?”

  She shrugged. “Depends.” />
  He walked over and flipped on the overhead lights he’d installed before parking the car there. Then he pulled back the cover.

  Her eyes widened. “Is that a GTO?”

  “Classic green goat, 1969.” He smiled. “I’m going to fix her up. Some guy had this beauty parked in his mother’s garage for twenty years after she passed.” He shook his head. “What a shame.” He walked around the car. “Most of the hoses are dry rotted. All the fluids will have to be flushed, the carburetor will need cleaning. She’ll need new plugs and wires, as well as a new distributor cap and rotor, and a battery. I’ll have to check the brakes and put some new tires on her, but then I’m sure she’ll purr like a kitten.”

  “Do you work on cars like this often?” she asked.

  “This will be my fourth.” He walked over to her again.

  “Do you sell them after?”

  “Sometimes.” He covered it back up. “Sometimes my family takes them over.” He smiled. “How about that hot chocolate?”

  They walked into his new kitchen. He had the coffee machine set up on the long, empty countertop. Taking out two mugs from a new cupboard, he started the machine, then pulled out a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream and made them both drinks.

  “Does she show up at a certain time?” she asked him.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Usually when I lay my head down and close my eyes.”

  “Then how do you know she’s there?”

  “It’s the feeling you get when you’re being watched.” They moved into the living room, and she sat down on the sofa. He walked over and started a fire in the fireplace. Once the room was heating, he sat beside her.

  “You were telling me about your mother?” he suggested.

  She sighed and leaned back, sipping the drink. “She’s a model.”

  His eyebrows shot up and she gave him a look that told him instantly that she was used to that reaction.

  “Sorry.” He smiled. “I am a guy here.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m used to it.”

  “Model for what?” he asked, curious now, since the tone and look she was giving him bordered on annoyance.

  She shrugged. “Magazine covers, that sort.”

  He thought about it, then gasped.

  “Holy shit, your mom is Vaya Shelby?”

  Chapter 6

  She was used to the excitement when everyone found out who her mother was.

  “Yes.” She sighed. “That’s my mother.”

  “Then, who’s your dad?” He frowned. “Vaya has never been married. If my memory serves me.”

  “She met my father one summer almost twenty-six years ago. He was from an upper-class Italian family that owns one of the largest wineries in Italy. After his family retired from the wine business, they purchased an island.”

  “A whole island?” he asked, interrupting her story.

  She nodded. “Giglio Island.”

  “I’ve been there.” He frowned. “Isn’t it run by a mob fam—” He dropped off and his eyes got huge. “Hershel Ricci is your father.” It wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

  “Yes.” She smiled and set down her empty mug. “That’s my dad.”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Wow.” He was silent for a moment. “And I thought my family was connected.”

  She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Now you see why I don’t talk about my family and why I changed my name.”

  “Yes. Why did you go by Ricci before, if your parents never married?”

  “My father insisted on it. So that, someday, I could inherit his fortune.” She rolled her eyes. “He still hounds me about taking over the family business.”

  “Which is…” He leaned forward.

  “Wine, still…” She smiled. “Officially. Even thought my father has officially retired, the family is still drowning it the business.”

  He chuckled. “With a little import export on the side?”

  She groaned. “It’s more than just him. My uncles—I have three of them, all younger than my father—want their own kids to get a share. They are constantly fighting one another for more.” She glanced towards the fire. “Not like your family at all. I doubt anyone of them would fill in for someone on maternity leave.”

  He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Thankfully, we are not our parents.”

  She glanced at him and thought about it. “What exactly have your parents done that would be embarrassing?”

  “Nothing.” He smiled. “However, my mother was married prior to finding my father.”

  “I think Lilly mentioned something to me about it. What happened?” She raised her eyebrows, curious now.

  “Her first husband was abusive. She came to her senses one day after he kidnapped her and held her in a hotel for a week. She divorced him and slapped a restraining order on him, then he busted in one night and broke her arm. Thankfully, the neighbors called the police. During that same time, my uncle, whom I’m named after”—he looked towards the fire and she thought she noticed sadness fill his eyes—“passed away in a car accident. Mom flew out here to deal with everything and met my father. They started to fall in love and created me.” He turned and smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m a bastard too, if you want to get technical.” She chuckled. “Anyway, her ex escaped from a prison transfer, killed a cop, and took his IDs. Used them to hop on a plane. That wouldn’t fly now, after 911. Anyway, kidnapped her again. He would have killed her—and me—if my father hadn’t hunted them down.”

  “Oh my god.” She realized she’d been holding her breath during the entire story. “What happened?’

  “Dad busted him up good. I’m told his face never was the same again. They married shortly after and eight months later, I arrived.”

  “I watched them tonight, across the room,” she admitted. “They looked so in love. Like it was their first night together.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s kind of sickening.”

  She smiled. “Be thankful. My parents are polite strangers.” She leaned back on the sofa dropping his hand.

  He leaned back as well, and she realized just how close they were.

  “Remember that first night?” His voice had turned soft. His green eyes searched hers as his hand came up and brushed against her face. “When I walked you home after work?” She nodded and swallowed, not trusting her voice. “How I kissed you by the river?”

  “The Arno.” She said the river’s name like it was important.

  “Eri così bello,” he whispered clearly, and then he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

  Her heart jumped in her chest. The feeling of his lips pressed against hers had her body vibrating. Her hands shook as they bunched in his shirt.

  He was so warm, so strong, so hard. Yet his body fit against hers like they were made for one another.

  He nudged slightly and had her back resting against the sofa as he hovered over her. “You’re still so beautiful,” he whispered as his lips trailed over her skin.

  The sweater she was wearing was big and bulky, and it was in the way. She wrapped her legs around his jean-clad hips, holding herself to him as his hands wandered over her sweater. His hands traveled down until he nudged the material up, and his calloused finger tips brushed against the skin on her belly.

  She must have moaned, because he mentioned something about missing the sexy sounds she made when he touched her.

  Suddenly, she realized what they were doing and froze.

  “Matthew,” her use of his full name caused him to wince slightly. “I… let me up.”

  He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “Too fast?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. “Things have changed.”

  “Yes, they have.” He nodded and leaned up, helping her sit up. “I wish…” He sighed and then shook his head. “Let’s go see if my ghost is here.” He stood and looked back at her. “And that’s not just a euphemism to get you in my bedroom.”

 
She laughed and stood up next to him. “I know.”

  She followed him down the hallway. She realized she was holding her breath and that she felt a little anxious.

  He stopped at the door, his hand on the handle. “She only appears when the lights are off,” he whispered. She reached for his hand and he turned towards her. “She’s not scary. She looks… sad. Almost as if she wants me to do something.”

  Nodding her head, she motioned to the door. “I’m ready.” She took a deep breath as he opened the door.

  “She usually stands in the bay windows.”

  Blake felt a shiver run up her spine and glanced down the dark hallway.

  “She’s not here,” Matt said, gaining her attention again. Her head turned towards the gold silk curtains as they stepped into the room.

  “Maybe if you lie down,” she suggested.

  “Above the covers.” He smiled at her. “You take the right.” He motioned to the nearest side of the bed, closest to the door. They moved around the room and she toed off her boots before lying on top of his comforter.

  Her eyes moved towards the window and she waited.

  “Hmm,” he said after about a full minute.

  “Maybe she’s a smart ghost?” she suggested.

  “Maybe. Or shy?”

  She felt the shiver again and looked towards the door.

  “Have you ever felt something out there?” She nodded towards the open door.

  “Felt?” he asked. “No, just in here.” He motioned to the windows. Her eyes turned back to the window.

  They waited in silence for a few minutes.

  “I think she’s a no-show.” He sighed and flipped on the lights. “I won’t keep you awake longer. I know you have a full day ahead of you.” She got up and grabbed her boots. “I have to head out in the morning,” he said.

  “Oh?”

  “Just to the office.” He smiled. “I’ve been gone a few weeks.”

  She nodded. “Right, you must have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Yeah, but Parker and the guys will be coming and going. They have their instructions. You have free rein to start in here. If you need anything moved, just yell at the guys. I’ve given them a heads up to help when you need it. Also, if you have any pointers or changes for them, let them know.”