by Abby Brooks
I frowned. “Are you smoking?”
“What? Eww. No. Darian was here, so I did a sage smudge to clean up all the negativity he left behind. What’s up with you, other than the fact that you’re apparently one half of Wildrose Landing’s newest power couple and didn’t bother to tell me?”
Excuse me? How did she even know about that? Maybe Amelia’s spirit guides were a real thing—and stronger than I thought. “The reason I haven’t told you anything is because there’s nothing to say. Alex and I aren’t a couple.”
“Not according to Greta Macmillan’s Facebook page.” The camera bounced as she dropped onto her bed. “You should really return her casserole dish by the way.”
“How do you know about Greta Macmillan’s Facebook page?”
“She sent me a friend request the other day. Accepting was the best decision of my life.” Amelia propped a pillow behind her head. “Reading her posts about you are the highlight of my day. Especially the ones where she wonders if you and I are lovers. Poor thing was worried about me until she realized you’re much better off with Alex.”
“Am I, though?” Amelia was eccentric and extreme. Her over the top personality put people off, but once you got past that layer, her sweetness, her loyalty, and her genuine desire to lift up the people around her made it easy to forgive her woo-woo weirdness. At least for me, especially because she went out of her way to take care of me while gently—or maybe not so gently—pushing me out of my comfort zone.
“Well, spill it.” Amelia grinned. “There’s something on your mind. I can see it right there in the tension between your eyebrows. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face?”
“Alex asked me why I’m afraid to write today.” I bit my lip, half wishing I’d just bit the bullet and filled him in on the whole story.
“And you told him everything and now you’re feeling vulnerable.” Amelia shifted, her face zooming large on the screen. “That’s totally normal—”
“I didn’t tell him anything. It’s the second time he brought it up and the second time I dodged.”
“Eveline Grace McAllister! Why in the world would you keep something that important from the man Greta Macmillan says looks at you like a goddess?”
“First of all, my middle name isn’t Grace. And second of all, you really shouldn’t believe everything Greta says. She has this habit of jumping to conclusions—you know, like you and me being in a lesbian relationship.”
“Aww. Come on. You can totally see how she jumped to that conclusion. You and me? We’re super close and it shows. I wouldn’t want to be in a pseudo-lesbian relationship with anyone else.” She blew a kiss at the screen. “When are you going to tell Alex about Drew?”
I stared at my closed curtain, wondering if Alex was doing the same. Part of me wondered what I’d find if I tossed the thing open. Would he be there? Waiting for me?
I pushed those thoughts away with a sigh. “I’d rather not think about that whole debacle ever again.”
“Sweetheart. You have to think about what happened to process it and you have to process it to move past it. And with all due respect, it’s time for you to leave the past in the past.”
I sighed again as I moved to the window. The temptation to peek out was almost too much. I missed my connection to Alex. If he was waiting for a glimpse of me…
“You haven’t been the same since it happened. Your fire just…” Amelia made a poofing gesture. “It’s gone. Like your volume’s been turned down.”
“That’s how it feels.” I leaned against the wall. “Like I’m afraid to…I don’t know…I’m just afraid.”
“And life provided you with the perfect situation to embrace your fearlessness. Step one, tell Alex what happened with Drew. Step two, write a book. Step three, give in to the chemistry everyone in Wildrose Landing sees between you.”
“Now it’s everyone who sees it?”
“You should see the comments on this woman’s post. You guys are spewing chemistry so far and wide, marriages are being saved. It’s like a pheromone wildfire, burning through that little town at a crazy pace.”
“I miss you,” I said through a laugh.
“I miss you too, babycakes. You’re gonna tell him tomorrow, aren’t you? Just sit his handsome butt down, plop your notebooks in front of him, and rip off the bandage.”
“I’ll think about it.” Though what I actually meant was “not a chance in hell.”
Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna suggest you go with what you said out loud and not what you thought in your head. Your higher self already knows what you need to do. If you sit quietly and meditate on it, the answer will come. And if you don’t listen, you’ll get a hint. Another little nudge. Then another. And another. Not all of them will be pleasant.”
We said our goodbyes and I sat on my bed, phone in hand, staring around the room. Amelia had been right about so many things lately, maybe she was right about my higher self, too. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, doing my best imitation of her meditating.
When my mind felt appropriately empty, I asked, “Should I tell Alex about Drew?”
My eyes flew open and I practically screamed, “Hell no!”
The reaction was so visceral, I laughed. Loudly.
I asked, and I got my answer. I would never talk about Drew again—especially not with Alex. The second I finished the thought, my phone buzzed.
Alex: Just thought you should know, I’m really glad to know you and don’t regret what almost happened today at all.
Alex: Also, your curtains are closed and that makes me sad.
Alex: Also also, I’ve never shared a baby plot idea with anyone, but I’m really glad I shared one with you. That scene has turned into one of my favorites, because of your feedback. We should definitely share more.
I stared at his last sentence, terrified my higher self had provided the answer.
Chapter Twenty
Evie
My eyes sprang open and I stared at the ceiling in my darkened room, blinking, confused. Typically, I slept like the dead. If I was awake in the middle of the night, there was a reason…
A series of scrapes and bumps downstairs shot me up straight, blanket clutched to chest…
Chills ran down the back of my neck…
Something was in the house.
A very loud, clumsy something.
“What in the world…?” My voice was a whisper and even that was too loud.
I clamped a hand over my mouth as I channeled my inner Amelia to decide what to do. The answer was simple. Investigate. The down comforter floofed to the ground. My flannel PJ pants (fool me once) swished across the hardwood floors as I crept, crept, crept into the hallway. Quiet as a mouse, I tiptoed down the stairs, my phone in one hand, one of Alex’s hardcovers in the other. I’d either take pictures of a ghost or bludgeon it back to death with a critically acclaimed masterpiece.
Like always, the ruckus came from the kitchen. Thumping footsteps. The scrape of a chair. A muttered “Aha!” followed by a series of whispers too low for me to understand.
My heart stammered as I rounded the corner. I opened my camera app. Readied the book. A shadow danced in the corner. It turned and uttered a manly yelp as I entered the room. I shrieked in return, raising the book and clicking the capture button on my phone like a madwoman.
“Wait! Evie!” The ghost flung his hands over his head as I advanced.
Hold on a tick…
I knew those curls…
That voice…
That ass…
I squinted through the low light. “Alex?”
He turned, staggering, as his eyes tried to focus through a smile. His feet were bare and covered in leaves. His chest was also bare, meaning my sexy neighbor had traipsed across our yards in freezing autumn temps, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. He had a gift bag in one hand and a paper in the other, which he shuffled around to wiggle his fingers in greeting.
“Nice PJs.” Ale
x staggered and gripped the back of a chair.
My jaw dropped as he grinned like a kid at Christmas. “What in the world are you doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night?”
He held out the paper in one hand and the gift bag in the other. “I wrote something. And it’s the best something I’ve ever written but I won’t be able to use one word of it. I can’t fictionalize this. It’s too real. Too raw. Too…us.” As he straightened, he stumbled, laughing to himself as his eyes locked on mine. “This is how you make me feel, Evie. All of it. Every word.”
He shoved the paper into my hand.
What the hell was he talking about? Too raw? Too us?
“And this.” Alex rattled the bag, then handed it over. “This is for you, too.”
“Are you drunk?”
“On you.” His gaze skimmed my face, then he pointed to the crumbled paper in my hand. “And that. Oh, and whiskey. I did drink too much of the stuff, it seems. Total accident.” He waved a hand as if to erase that truth from the record. “Open your gift.”
I peered into the bag, shifting a metric ton of tissue paper out of the way to find…
…socks.
Many, many socks. White ones. Pink ones. Striped ones. Printed ones.
“So you won’t slip and fall anymore.” Alex reached in to pull out a pair. “See? They have grippers on the bottom.”
Shaking my head, I took the bundle. Sure enough, rows of rubber paw prints on the sole would ensure I never hit the ground racing for the door again. “This is ridiculously sweet—and weird—of you.”
Emphasis on ridiculous.
I pulled out a chair and helped him into it, then scrubbed my hands over my face to chase away the cobwebs sleep left behind. “But did you really need to break in at…” I checked my phone. “Three thirty in the morning? Alex! What were you thinking?”
He stood right back up and frowned. “I have a confession to make and I’m afraid you’ll be very, very mad at me. I don’t want you to be very, very mad at me. I like it when you like me. But if you’re gonna be mad, I’ll just go.” He jerked his thumb toward the backdoor and stumbled that way.
My heart thundered a warning. The last time someone had a confession for me, my life flipped on its axis. Though, Drew hadn’t been nearly as worried about my reaction as Alex seemed to be.
I bit my bottom lip. “I’ll do my best not to be angry with—”
“I’m the ghost.” Alex turned and wiggled his hands at his side. “Tada!”
“Come again?”
“The ghost. The one that haunts your house. That’s me. Tada!” Once again, he wiggled his hands beside his face, though with decidedly less enthusiasm. “This went over better when I practiced it,” he finished as he plopped back into the chair next to me.
“Maybe it’d go over better if I understood what you’re talking about.”
I listened as Alex explained that my Aunt Ruth gave him a key the month before she passed. “She said, ‘I don’t know my niece all that well, but if she’s anything like me, she’ll need some nudging to get her ass over here. The house’ll probably be vacant for a bit.’” Alex spoke in a trembling falsetto, then smiled, dropping his voice back to his normal register. “Which was true, apparently.”
“I definitely needed some nudging.”
Alex picked at dog hair on his pants, utterly oblivious to the leaves caught between his toes. “So that’s what I did. Took care of the house. Kept it clean. Made sure everything worked. That kinda stuff. But then, I realized how great the light was here at this table.” He patted the object in question. “And I could see the story and hear the characters better when I was here, so I started coming over to write.”
“And people started seeing you…”
“And thinking I was a ghost…”
“And you just let them?” The idea was so preposterous, I didn’t know what to do with it.
“I mean…” He shrugged, grinning wider than I’d ever seen him. “They seemed so excited to have something to talk about. I didn’t want to let anyone down.” Alex gave me a charming grin, laced with heat and intention. “Do you forgive me?”
Adrenaline spiraled through my system and tangled with the realization he’d been in my house without permission at least twice since I’d moved in. “Why didn’t you stop breaking in once I started living here? You have to admit, that’s really creepy, Alex.”
He dropped his forehead to the table, then rolled it to the side and peered up at me. “The first time I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t left anything here. The next time? You’d just kissed me and I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t write and I couldn’t stop thinking about you and it all made perfect sense right up until you woke up, so I ran away like a coward and promised I’d never come into your house without permission again.”
“Then why are you here now, Alex? It’s the middle of the night and you’re drunk.”
He plucked the paper out of my lap and ran his hands down the page. “I wrote this and couldn’t wait ‘til morning to show you.” He lifted his gaze. “Couldn’t wait ‘til morning to see you. I should have kissed you today, Evie. I shouldn’t have let you run away.”
Our eyes locked.
He licked his lips, his gaze on my mouth. “Evie…”
My name, dressed in his rasping voice, was sin.
It sent chills down my spine and warmth pooled in my belly.
Mustering all the restraint I’d ever been given, I slid my chair back from the table and stood, purposefully avoiding eye contact. This whole thing needed further discussion, but not while he was too drunk to do the conversation justice. “Come on, Boss. Let’s get you back home.”
I reached for Alex’s hand to help him out of the chair. His fingers threaded with mine and he pulled me into his lap, one hand sliding into my hair to angle my face, then his lips whispered against my own. My breath caught as the faintest trace of a kiss set my body ablaze. He tilted his head, delicate, gentle, as if appraising the perfect angle. A master crafter planning a masterpiece.
I melted into him, meeting him kiss for kiss, breath for breath. My hands traveled the hard planes of his back and shoulders, and I tasted whiskey on his tongue…
…whiskey on his tongue…
“Alex…” I pressed my forehead to his. “You’re drunk.”
“I am.” He licked his lips. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes enough. I don’t want to be something you regret in the morning.”
“I won’t regret you.”
I closed my eyes. “You might.”
“I won’t.”
With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself out of his lap. “We’ll see how you feel about that in the morning.”
Alex stared up at me for one long second, then nodded and stood. “Do you see what you do to me?” He took my hand and placed it on the erection straining against his sweats. He groaned at the contact, eyes sliding closed, before releasing my hand. I let it drop and backed away, despite the urge to step into his arms and forget everything but him, us.
“That’s very impressive.”
“You think so?” His grin was so sexy I didn’t think I’d ever recover.
“I know so.” I placed both hands on his shoulders and spun him around. “Now, let’s get you and your impressive man-parts home and into bed.”
Alex kept turning until he was facing me again. “I’d like to get you into my bed. So would my man-parts.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but you’ll thank me for this in the morning.” I spun him back around to face the door. “Are you safe to get home? Or do you need an escort?”
He turned over his shoulder and started to speak. The gleam in his eyes warned me he wasn’t going to give up as easily as I’d like.
“Safe to get yourself home it is,” I said with a laugh.
His face fell. “Fine.” His shoulders slumped. “Are you sure you forgive me?”
“For impersonating a ghost or the sexual harassment
I just handled brilliantly?”
“Both.”
“We can talk about that in the morning, Alex. Now, get yourself home and into bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I closed the door and leaned my head against the wood, trying to make sense of everything that happened and how I felt about it. As I turned to head back to bed, Alex’s poem caught my eyes. I swept the paper off the table and read.
Dark and dull
A thousand shades of gray
Fading away
And then…
You.
Stumbling into my life
Bare
Open
Bright and vibrant
You.
I am better
I am warm
Because you…
You
Are a thousand shades of
Autumn leaves and rushing waves
You
Are so beautiful the sun blushes
You
Are comfort and joy
You
You
You
I am better
I am warm
I am
Yours.
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex
Evie shifted and the entire bed bounced with the movement. I groaned as my eyes blinked open, then smiled as she nuzzled into my back. Honestly, who hadn’t seen this coming? Greta Macmillan saw it. Izzy saw it. The whole town knew Evie and I would end up together sooner or later.
“Good morning, beautiful.” I rolled over and threw an arm around…
…Morgan.
He rewarded me with a face-sized lick, and I sat up too fast for my own good. My head pounded as the real events of last night came back to me. I did not woo Evie into my bed with my genius poem like I thought I would. I did, however, get caught breaking into her house. In my sweats. In the middle of the night. To deliver socks.
I also made many moves.
