Snowbound With Ghost

by Ani Gonzalez

  He gaped, aghast at his transformed refuge. An antique-looking leather couch sat in front of the fireplace, flanked by wooden side tables. A stained glass floor lamp cast warm shadows on the wall. A green and gold rug with curvy patterns lay on the wood floor, its colors matching the lamp perfectly. It looked—he didn't know what it looked like, maybe some kind of rom-com movie set or the home of a grizzled town sheriff in a mystery TV show. It was the kind of tasteful, masculine space women imagined that men lived in, but which ultimately only existed in the female imagination or in cable television.

  He knew exactly what it didn't resemble.

  His home.

  Lily stood in the middle of the living room, as beautiful as ever, with green eyes and long black hair, and a luscious, curvy body that was unlike anything that could be found in L.A. She didn't seem like she had a care in the world and he felt anger swell inside him. How dare she? This was his sanctuary, the one place where he could be at peace. How dare she invade it?

  His anger must have shown on his face, because the culprit took a step back, hands raised in apology.

  "Whoa." Her green eyes narrowed. "Don't give me your god-of-war-smiting-enemies glare. This was not my idea. Your mom hired me, and your brother Gabe paid for it. If you're going to blame anyone, blame them."

  "Wait, my mom hired you?" he asked, his spider sense suddenly alert. His mom had hired his ex-girlfriend? His mom had asked his ex-girlfriend to refurbish his cabin the day he was coming back home?

  "Don't look so surprised." She gestured toward the new furniture. "This is what I do for a living, and I'm darn good at it. Your mom wanted to fix up your place as a Christmas present and she wanted it done right. That's why she hired me."

  His mind raced, calculating.

  "When exactly did she hire you?" he asked, trying to recall when he'd told his brothers about the situation with Ariel. Gabe had visited L.A. on a business trip and they'd gone out to Napa for a wine tasting. Was it sometime in the fall?

  "Right after Thanksgiving. And let me tell you, doing a remodel this big in just a few weeks is no easy feat. Everyone in town pitched in to make sure it was done in time. You could be a bit more grateful."

  Thanksgiving. That sounded about right. His mom heard about his broken engagement and immediately hired his ex-girlfriend to do a crazy remodel on his vacation home. That was fast work, even for Isabel Franco, matchmaker supreme.

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was Lily in on his mom's matchmaking scheme? He gave her an assessing glance. She had no make-up and her hair was pulled into a messy braid, with black strands curling over her cheek. She was wearing blue jeans and a v-neck sweater. The sweater curved to fit her waist and the jeans appeared expensive, but, other than that, this was pretty much the same outfit she used to wear to build sets at Banshee Creek High School. Her clothes reminded him of chilly spring evenings spent reading lines and necking under the scaffolding. The thought made his neck warm and he aimed his gaze at the furry boots with bouncy pom-poms. Those were new. They were also a sure-fire libido killer.

  No, she wasn't aware of his mom's matchmaking. No one, not even Lily, would plan a seduction wearing desiccated mammals on her feet.

  No, this wasn't Lily's fault. This was his mother's doing.

  He sighed. At least the cabin was more functional. He could admit that now that he'd gotten over his surprise. The decor was a bit over the top, but Lily had done a good job with the space. The dingy sectional used to take up most of the space, but not anymore, now he had an eating area, and a breakfast bar with stools in the new kitchen.

  He did a double take. What new kitchen?

  "You messed up my kitchen?" he bellowed, striding toward the back of the cabin.

  Lilly winced at his tone, but recovered quickly. "I did not mess up your kitchen. I expanded your kitchen, you ingrate."

  She followed him to the kitchen, sat at the breakfast bar, elbows on the table, and scowled at him.

  "You changed the cabinets," he said, opening the doors and checking the contents. Where the hell were his pans?

  "Oh, forgive me," she said, rolling her eyes. "I didn't know about your intense attachment to speckled laminate. I guess you'll have to live with the custom-built cherry. Woe is you."

  "And what did you do with my cookware?"

  "Your extremely expensive Mauviel copper pots?" she drawled leaning forward over the countertop. "They're hanging over the stove. And the stove? Yeah, sorry about your vintage 1976 avocado green range. It's gone to meet its maker. I guess you'll just have to settle for this insanely fabulous French appliance. At least the copper trim matches your pots."

  Lily stretched out a hand to point to the range and the gesture made the neckline of her sweater dip down, showing a lot of cleavage. He swallowed hard. Why was the sight of Lily's body affecting him so much? He'd seen lots of breasts in his time, expensive ones at that.

  "I know a La Cornue range when I see it." His tone was sharper than he intended. He tried to focus on the appliance, but his eyes kept wandering toward Lily's cleavage.

  "Really?" Her voice dripped skepticism. "Well, I guess that explains the gourmet cookware."

  "A craftsman is only as good as his tools, Lily. That applies to acting and cooking and a whole lot of other things."

  She leaned forward, displaying even more enticing décolletage. Her attitude was anything but seductive, but the sight still made his blood flow to uncomfortable places.

  "Good grief, Sebastian, your family's pizzeria was a no-frills, canned tomato sauce type of establishment. When did you go foodie?"

  He tore his gaze away from her enticing flesh and tried to concentrate. Unfortunately, his gaze landed on her lips, curved into a taunting smile. What would it feel like to kiss grown-up Lily?

  He pushed the thought away. Food. Cooking. They were talking about cooking.

  "When I got to L.A. I applied for a job at a local pizzeria." That brought up a lot of memories about his early Hollywood days. The endless auditions, the macaroni and cheese...

  And the fact that Lily hadn't been there.

  He slammed the cabinet shut. "I expected it to be like my parents' place. Boy, was I in for a surprise."

  That wasn't the only surprise. He'd found himself alone in L.A., which had most definitely not been the plan. He'd been angry at Lily then, very angry. Hell, he was still angry now.

  No, angry wasn't quite it. He knew anger, he'd felt anger toward Ariel, volcanic anger in fact. His feelings toward Lily were more complicated. The anger was tainted with a whole bunch of other feelings, including hurt, grief, and regret.

  He frowned. Lily had abandoned him in L.A., tied him up in bungee cords, and desecrated his home. Yet all he wanted to do right now was kiss her senseless. Yep, Lily Holroyd was entirely too tempting.

  He examined the room, trying to find a distraction, and found that a nearby closet door led to a neatly organized pantry. It wasn't a walk-in, but compared to the tiny cupboard he'd had before it was huge. It was also full. His mother must have gone shopping. He now had enough diced tomatoes in this place to stage his own tomatina.

  He knew she hadn't filled the pantry. Lily wouldn't know quality Italian canned tomatoes if they came up and bit her on the butt.

  "Did you get the pizzeria job?" she asked, in an overly disinterested tone that made him instantly suspicious.

  Was she curious about his early Hollywood days? He was beginning to realize that the wound caused by Lily's betrayal had not healed. The realization both surprised and displeased him. What about her? Did she wonder what it had been like? What would it have been like if she had gone with him?

  He pushed the thought away. A lo hecho, pecho, as his mom would say. What's done is done.

  "I started as a dishwasher," he said, choosing not to sugarcoat his experience. He could taunt her with tales of overnight success, but he had always been truthful to Lily. And he was proud of his stint as a restaurant peon. He'd been a damned good dishwasher.

/>   "Very glamorous."

  The sarcastic tone was exactly what he expected from her. She was congratulating herself for avoiding several years of drudgery.

  "Actually, it was," he said, taking a couple of cans out of the pantry. "They were making stuff I had never heard of, let alone tasted. I washed dishes and made deliveries, but I also learned a lot about cooking. It was a good time for me."

  "You sound nostalgic."

  The incisive comment was not a surprise. Lily had a way of getting to the heart of things; she'd had it even as a teenager. If only she'd used her powers for good.

  "Do I?" he paused to think about that. "I shouldn't. My life is much better now."

  He had fame, fortune, success. He had everything you were supposed to desire in life. He even had a lifetime supply of authentic San Marzano canned tomatoes in his pantry. What else could a man want? That mental digression led his focus back to Lily's cleavage. He shook his head and turned to the range.

  "Are you going to cook?" Lily asked, staring at the tomato cans doubtfully. "The pantry is full, but we didn't put anything in the fridge. Well, except for the delicious Bloody Hook cider which already got me into trouble."

  He smiled. "I've owned this place for a decade and only got the generator installed last year. Trust me, I know how to cook without perishables."

  "Yes," she replied, the skeptical expression still on her face. "But will it be edible? I still remember your infamous tiramisu s'mores."

  "I don't make those anymore," he said, heading to the living room. "But my penne puttanesca is out of this world. Or you could always resort to one of the chocolate mint granola bars you always keep in your purse."

  "My granola bar habit is none of your business." She followed him. "Where are you going?"

  "To bring in my supplies." He grabbed his coat. "I want to check the generator after I cook, so I'll need flashlights."

  He also wanted to put some space between himself and Lily. Something about this tableaux, sitting around the kitchen talking about food, was entirely too familiar and comfortable. Part of him wanted to grab a drink from the fridge, sit down and tell her all about his stupid blockbuster movie and how the script doctors mixed up Ares and Eris and gave him a suit of armor engraved with golden apples. He cursed under his breath. Lovers could be discarded, but friends were a bit more complicated.

  Even the traitorous ones.

  "I'll go with you," she said quickly, grabbing her jacket and shrugging into it with a practiced motion.

  "No, stay warm. I'll be right back," he said, but she was already at the door, fireplace poker in her hand.

  "That thing could still be out there," she said stubbornly.

  He sighed. "There's nothing out there but moonlight and snow." He glanced meaningfully at her fingers, tightly wrapped around the iron pole. "And a weaponized Lily Holroyd is much more frightening than any of the cryptozoological beasties in the PRoVe archives." He paused.

  "Besides, courage was never your strong point, was it?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  COURAGE WAS never your strong point.

  The words rang in Lily's ears as she trudged through the snow toward Sebastian's car. The snowflakes were gone and the night acquired an expectant stillness, waiting for the storm to resume. Sebastian was not referring to her fear of the devil monkey.

  He was talking about California.

  With his expensive car and posh clothes he really did look like he belonged in L.A., or at least in a place far more sophisticated than Banshee Creek. His coat and boots appeared warm, but with an elegant air that suggested winters in London or Berlin. She looked down at her furry boots. She loved her shoes, but they weren't Viennese coffee shop boots. They were hot-cocoa-and-apple-cider-donuts-at-Banshee-Creek-Bakery boots.

  Well, fine. So she didn't go to Hollywood to become a big shot set designer. She'd chickened out. She'd been a scaredy-cat, a spineless, yellow-bellied coward. She accepted it.

  But it had turned out all right in the end. She'd built a great career. True, interior design in Banshee Creek, Virginia, was not anyone's idea of big time success, but it suited her. And the staging she did for House Haunters was set design. Sort of. Sure, it would be fun to travel to exotic locales and do set design on location, and it would be nice to do something non-Victorian for a change—a spaceship, for example, she'd always wanted to do a spaceship—but that didn't mean she'd made the wrong decision.

  She watched as Sebastian walked toward the cars, fists clenched.

  Sebastian Franco could take his Golden Globes nomination and stuff it. His success was great, she was happy for him, but she liked her life in Banshee Creek just fine.

  A rustle in the bushes interrupted her train of thought. She glanced warily at a snow-covered bush. What had the deejay said? The devil monkeys were attracted to heat.

  The bush didn't move and she relaxed. She was being an idiot. There was nothing there.

  "They're just stories, Lily."

  Sebastian's whisper made her jump. He'd walked up to her as she stared into the landscape.

  "See?" He gestured toward the snow-covered forest, chuckling. "Nothing but white stuff as far as the eye can see."

  The comment stung. He really did think she was a cowardly idiot, didn't he?

  "I know that," she said firmly. "I'm just trying to figure out what hit my car. It must have been a raccoon. Or maybe a small bear."

  But a small bear would imply a big, bad momma bear nearby, wouldn't it? She quickly discarded the small bear hypothesis. Raccoon, definitely a raccoon.

  Sebastian just laughed. "It was just some snow from a broken branch." He pointed at the pile of white fluff on the Cherokee's hood.

  Lily walked to the car, inspecting the snow around it with care. She could see Sebastian's footsteps, and her own.

  That was it. No other tracks, just a big pile of snow lying on top of the car.

  She hated to admit it, but Sebastian was right. "You must think I'm an idiot."

  Sebastian smiled. It was his movie star smile, a smile she was sure he'd practiced many times in front of the mirror, but it was also an extremely effective smile. Hypnotizing.

  "No," he said. "Just someone who shouldn't be listening to WPRV. Your fears often get the best of you, Lil, they always have. Oh, I almost forgot. I have to return this to you."

  He dug into his pocket and dug out her keys. She stretched out a hand to take them and his fingers brushed her palm. The quick touch sent an electric current surging through her skin. She pulled her hand back quickly.

  Sebastian's lips tightened and he took a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on. Lily found the sight of the bulky gloves sliding over his long fingers oddly fascinating. When she came out of her trance she found that Sebastian had stepped forward and he was standing directly next to her. His nearness shocked her and a thrill ran through her. What was he going to do?

  But he only put his hand in her coat pocket and pulled out her gloves.

  "Put these on. It's cold."

  He gave her the gloves, put his hands in his pockets and turned toward the parked vehicles.

  She pulled the gloves on. Sebastian was right, it was getting colder.

  "I should've recognized your car," he said. "But the snow obscured the paint. You should put this baby to pasture, Lily."

  "Are you kidding? It's a great car,"

  She brushed snow off the Jeep's hood. Was the snow from a broken branch? Maybe, but where was the branch? Did it walk off into the forest?

  "It's purple," he said, walking to his perfectly classy black Range Rover.

  "It looks navy at night, sort of."

  But Sebastian ignored her and pressed a button on his keychain. The trunk of the Range Rover opened with regal smoothness.

  She fingered the mounds of snow that remained on top of her car. Show off.

  "And it's old," he continued, peering into the trunk. "You should get rid of it."

  "We can't all afford luxury SUVs with
self-opening doors, Sebastian."

  She picked up a handful of snow. It was a little wet and it stuck together easily in her hands. Really, it was perfect snow. It would be a shame to waste it. She glanced at the SUV, thinking fast.

  Sebastian pulled a shopping bag out of the trunk, and her eyes focused on the back of his head, where a few strands of black hair curled over his nape.

  "You should call Rafe at Vintage Motors," he continued. "He can get you a good price for your little eggplant of death. And he can get you a new car with features invented in the last twenty years, like air bags and anti-lock brakes. Imagine the possibilities."

  "My car works fine," she said mulishly, packing the snow into a compact sphere.

  "When it's not being attacked by the local cryptofauna, you mean?" His laughter rang out into the quiet darkness.

  The arrogant laugh was the last straw. The snowball flew through the air, tracing a perfect arc. Lily's gaze followed the parabolic trajectory, entranced, until the frozen projectile landed squarely on Sebastian's head.

  Time stood still.

  He turned around, his dark curls covered with snow, and she quickly crossed her arms, hiding her snow-covered hands.

  "Did something fall?" she asked with exaggerated innocence. "You know, from a branch?"

  His eyes narrowed.

  "That didn't fall." He stepped forward, shaking the snow out of his hair. "That was thrown."

  "But, Sebastian," she cooed, backing away. "There's nothing out there but fallen snow."

  "Oh, I don't know." He smiled and bent down to scoop up some snow. "I think we may have found some devil monkey evidence, right over here."

  She intended to dodge the snowball, but something about Sebastian's laughter paralyzed her, rooting her to the spot. It wasn't his snooty movie star laughter. This was his old laugh, the one that, let's be honest, sounded a bit like a braying donkey.

  The sound was such a shock that she forgot to dodge and the ice-cold missile hit her smack in the stomach.

  The impact shocked her out of her reverie and she dropped to the ground, gathering ammunition as fast as she could. In a couple of seconds the fight was on. Powdery white missiles flew back and forth.