Or maybe not. There was a boot and a bit of a leg showing on a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the top layer of sketches. He tried to pull it out from the stack, but his fingers slipped right through the paper. On a good day, he could sometimes move something a little, like when he’d made the saloon door swing.
Considering he’d only just pulled himself back together again, he shouldn’t risk trying any harder to dislodge the paper. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away, though, not when there was something about that boot that stirred his curiosity. Finally, he decided to risk it.
Concentrating all of his energy into his right hand took longer than usual. Using the tips of his thumb and forefinger, he grasped the paper and tugged and then tugged again. At first the paper stubbornly stayed right where it was, but then it gave way and flew out of the stack, scattering papers all over the place.
He let it drift back down to the table and waited to see if he’d overextended himself again. His fingertips faded out of view for a few seconds but then snapped back into focus. Good. No real harm done.
Now that he knew he wasn’t headed for oblivion again, he moved around to get a better look at the paper. What the hell? She’d drawn him, not just once, but half a dozen times. No wonder that boot looked familiar. He’d been wearing the damn thing for longer than he’d been dead.
He leaned in closer, wishing he could hold the picture up in better light. If that’s how she saw him, it was a wonder she’d let him get within spitting distance of her. He’d spent much of his adult life earning his livelihood with his guns. That amount of killing showed in a man’s eyes, and he recognized the look in his own. He should. He’d crossed paths with enough killers in his time.
But then he looked at the last picture she’d drawn. It was different than the others, although at first he couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason. Then it hit him. In the others he looked angry, cold, determined. In this last one, he looked hungry, his eyes reflecting his desire for Rayanne. This was what she’d seen in his face right before they’d kissed.
Memory of that moment wrapped him in warmth, making him smile, something he’d rarely done even in life and almost never since he’d started dying on a regular basis.
“Wyatt?”
His hand automatically went for his guns, but he managed to stop short of drawing them.
He yanked off his hat and slapped it against his leg in frustration. “Damn it, woman, don’t sneak up on a man like that!”
Rayanne hovered in the doorway, neither in nor out. He waited for her to make up her mind which way she was going to go. When she stepped inside, he suspected what he was feeling was relief.
She nodded toward his guns. “Would the bullets have hurt me?”
An image of her stumbling backward, a circle of red blooming on her chest, filled his head. Even the idea of something hurting her that badly made him want to howl. His voice felt like gravel when he spoke. “I don’t know, but do you really want to find out the hard way if they can?”
She’d started out watching his mouth, but then she looked up in surprise. What was wrong now?
“What?” he mouthed slowly so she’d understand.
“I can hear you.” She took a cautious step toward him. “Why? What’s different?”
How the hell was he supposed to know? It’s not like anyone ever gave him a book of rules that explained how any of this stuff worked. She could see him when no one else did. That she could also hear him at times was just more mystery.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t count on it lasting.”
The bright green eyes studied him for the longest time before she finally spoke again. “I’ve been worried about you. Where have you been?”
He didn’t know how to deal with her first statement so he focused on the second. “Something else I don’t know. One minute I was there by the porch and then I was gone. Not sure where I go when—” he waved his hand around to indicate the town “—I leave here. Nowhere, maybe. Eventually, I’m back with no idea how I got here.”
She nodded, chewing on that full lower lip. “So what we did shorted you out somehow.”
What did that mean? “I’m no shorter. I’m always the same.”
A bit of humor sparked in her eyes. “Sorry, I forgot they didn’t use electricity much in your day. What I mean was that when we, uh...”
Her cheeks turned a bit rosy. Cute. He finished her sentence for her. “When we kissed?”
Looking exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, that. Maybe somehow it was like dumping boiling water into a cold glass jar, making it shatter. Everything inside pours out, leaving it empty.”
He shrugged, although it was as good a description as any. “That’s sounds about right.”
“So we should avoid physical contact, not if there’s a chance you wouldn’t make it back next time.”
Was that disappointment in her voice? He hoped so, because he wasn’t all that happy about the idea himself. They’d been in the same room for less than five minutes, and she already had him thinking about how it had felt to touch her. For those precious few seconds, he’d been a man again, not this shadow who haunted a dead town.
What choice did he have? “Agreed.”
There was a sadness in her pretty face that hadn’t been there before. Could one kiss have meant that much to her? If so, either modern men were idiots or she was picky about who she kissed. He liked both of those possibilities.
Time to move on. “You’ve gotten a lot done while I was gone.”
“I’ve had a week without interruptions to concentrate on my work.”
Okay, he wasn’t sure he liked being referred to as an interruption. A distraction, maybe, but it was enough to know that he bothered her as much as she did him. He nodded in the direction of the tables.
“What is all of this for, anyway?”
She moved past him and picked up the sketch she’d started of the shipping office. “I’m doing a detailed survey of the town, starting with how it is now. Once I’ve finished with the existing buildings, I’m going to look for evidence of the ones that are gone. I figure there might be corner posts left in the ground, bits and pieces of dishes and things.”
“You want to look for trash? Why would you waste your time doing something like that?”
Rayanne lowered the paper she’d been studying to frown at him. “It’s not trash, Wyatt. It’s evidence of how people lived. I’m a history professor with a specialty in the American West. If I can gather enough information, I’m hoping to write the history of Blessing.”
He understood that she was excited by the prospect, even though he didn’t understand why. From what he could see, modern people had it so much better than people had back in his day. But if helping her find what she was looking for meant spending more time in her company, he’d do it even if the last thing he wanted to do was relive his past.
It hadn’t been that good the first time around, and now it just reminded him of everything that had gone wrong. Even so, for the first time he had someone who could see and hear him. Talking about the past wasn’t nearly as painful as drifting through the hours and days alone.
“I didn’t live here in Blessing, not for long, anyway. But I can share what I remember about the place.”
His begrudging offer was rewarded with a huge smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“You might not always be able to hear me or even see me, but I’ll try to let you know when I’m around.”
“Sounds great.”
She picked up the sketch of the shipping office. “Well, I should get started.”
Then she frowned. “What happened over here?”
Rayanne bent down to gather up the papers he’d accidentally sent flying when he got curious about the sketch of the boot. His boot.
“Maybe a breeze caught them. I noticed them on the floor but couldn’t pick them up.”
Luckily, she was too busy straightening her artwork to question his explanation. Those sketches were on the table farthest from the door, so it would be unlikely a breeze would send them flying and leave the other two tables undisturbed. When she picked up the sketches of him, she blushed again and shoved them to the bottom of the stack.
He pretended an interest in the floor plans she’d drawn out. What would her family think of her work? It was clear that her mother had disapproved of Rayanne’s decision to spend the summer in Blessing. He could only imagine what the woman would say if Rayanne ever told her about him.
“That smile is a tad scary, Mr. McCain.”
He toned it down. “I was just thinking about that history you’re planning to write. How would people down below react if they found out you’d gotten some of your facts from the likes of me?”
She picked up her pack and headed for the door, making sure not to brush against him on her way out. “Let’s just say that I’m going to make darn sure they don’t find out.”
“That’s what I figured.”
He followed her out into the sunshine. Stirring up old memories wasn’t going to be any fun, but he couldn’t find it in him to walk away.
* * *
Three more weeks had flown by. Other than a quick trip down to Phil’s for supplies and the answering machine she’d promised to buy, Rayanne had spent every possible minute with Wyatt McCain. They’d wandered the streets of Blessing together as he pointed out everything he could remember about the town. With his help, she’d been able to fill in a lot of the empty spaces on her hand-drawn map.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain to anyone else how she knew where the schoolteacher lived and that some of the miners had lived in tents pitched outside the edge of town. She also had a list of names to research, ones she had no way of knowing other than that Wyatt had told her.
Wyatt stayed with her as much as he could, but there were times that he simply melted out of sight with no warning. The first few times had startled her. One minute they’d be having a conversation, and the next she was talking to herself. Evidently he only had so much energy to expend, and maintaining visibility ate it up pretty quickly.
Right now, he was nowhere to be found. She shivered despite the heat of the day. Common sense said she should be a bit scared to be up there alone with no one but a ghost for company, but she wasn’t. But then Wyatt was more real to her than any other man she’d ever known.
She lived for the odd moments when he found something amusing, and the rough sound of his laughter would ring out over the streets of Blessing. From the little he’d told her about his past, the man hadn’t had much to laugh about. The one thing they never talked about was the gunfight that had claimed his life.
She couldn’t blame him, but his story was an integral part of the history of Blessing. Her work wouldn’t be complete without it. But anytime her questions skirted anywhere near the subject, he’d fade right out of view.
“Good morning.”
His deep voice slid over her skin like warm honey, making her think about things she shouldn’t. The trouble was, that particular subject was never far from her mind since that single kiss they’d shared. For both their sakes, she hadn’t mentioned it since the day he’d reappeared. That didn’t mean her days, and especially her nights, weren’t filled with dreams of how things might have progressed beyond that first kiss.
And a few of those moments had been incredibly intense and real, as if somehow the two of them were connecting in her dreams in a way they couldn’t in the real world. It was unsettling, to say the least.
For a lot of reasons, it would be far smarter to keep herself firmly grounded in the present, her focus on her work. Although she appreciated Wyatt’s companionship, if even the slightest touch damaged him, they needed to keep some distance between them.
Which was easier said than done, especially when she seemed to be hyperaware of him at all times.
She loved the way he moved, all power and confidence. It was hard not to stop and stare when he appeared at the end of the street and walked toward her. Maybe she could get past it and see him just as a friend, but it was obvious the attraction ran both ways.
He might not think she noticed the way he stared at her backside whenever she bent down to take measurements. Then there was the day she’d worn a halter top to town. He’d been unable to tear his eyes away from her chest for the longest time, his pale eyes glittering with a delicious hunger. That the weight of his gaze had left her nipples pebbled up hard and achy hadn’t helped the situation.
“Are you all right?”
His question sounded amused rather than worried, a clear sign that he’d picked up on the direction her thoughts had taken again. She’d also failed to answer his greeting.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking about what I want to do next.”
Wyatt didn’t even try to hide his smirk, but at least he didn’t push it. “You still haven’t surveyed the church.”
No, she hadn’t. What’s more, she had no explanation for her reluctance to do so. Right now, it was just a blank square on her map of the town, and she hadn’t set foot in the place since her first day back on the mountain. No photos. No diagram. All because she associated it with Wyatt’s death. Not going into the building wouldn’t change anything, but—
Wyatt was no longer looking at her. Instead, he was staring off in the direction of the woods, his expression dark.
“What’s wrong?”
His eyes were chilling as he shoved his duster back to rest his hands on his guns. “Someone is coming up the mountain.”
She didn’t doubt him for a minute, but still she had to ask, “How do you know?”
He’d also moved to stand between her and the perceived threat. “The energy changes.”
It was unlikely that whoever was making the long drive up the mountain had done so by mistake. That narrowed the field of possibilities to a handful of people. Best-case scenario, Phil had taken her up on her invitation to come for lunch sometime, but she wasn’t holding out much hope for that. He’d said he’d call first.
None of the other options were good, but she’d never find out standing here in Blessing.
“Well, there goes my morning’s work.”
She shouldered her pack. “I’ll be back after I deal with this.”
Wyatt still radiated a whole lot of tension. “I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He just stared at her, clearly unwilling to budge on the issue.
Heck, if it was her mother who’d decided to drop in, Rayanne would need all the moral support she could get. “Fine, but it’s your funeral.”
As soon as the words slipped out, her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Oh, Wyatt, I can’t believe I said that. It’s just a saying. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
His expression softened a little. “Rayanne, you don’t have to watch what you say around me. I know I’m dead. Nothing’s going to change that.”
She started to reach out to touch his arm, but stopped herself just in time. “I know, but I’m the one who forgets sometimes. Don’t you?”
The sadness in his handsome face hurt her heart. “I wish I could.”
He stared past her, toward the far end of town. “We need to get moving. That car will be here soon.”
The two of them walked through the woods in silence. The closer they got to the cabin, the bigger the knot in her stomach grew. She was in no mood to fight with her mother, and confronting her father wouldn’t be any picnic, either. Together, well, she’d rather bang her head on the wall.
But then it wasn’t her mother’s car rolling into sight. Oh, no, nothing that simple. She coasted
to a stop.
“Well, rats. What’s he doing here?”
Especially uninvited and unannounced. Her temper flared hot. Yeah, Shawn had mentioned wanting to visit her and to see the town that was holding her captive for the summer. His words, not hers. She hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings by telling him that he wasn’t welcome up here on the mountain, but she’d made it clear that she was too busy to entertain guests.
Wyatt stared at the man climbing out of the SUV parked next to hers. “Who is he?”
The deep rumble of Wyatt’s voice startled her, not that she’d forgotten he was standing there. “His name is Dr. Shawn Randolph. He teaches at the same college that I do.”
“Somehow I doubt he drove all the way up here just to check on a colleague.” Wyatt’s eyes were ice cold as he moved up to stand between her and the clearing. Doubt dripped from his every word. “I’m guessing he’s more than that. Is he your lover?”
Honesty had her saying, “No, but he wants to be.”
With that, she stepped around Wyatt and marched off to greet Shawn, already counting the minutes until he left.
Chapter 10
“Shawn.”
Her smile felt brittle, but her guest didn’t appear to notice that Rayanne’s greeting lacked something in the enthusiasm department. Maybe that was a good thing. He set his overnight bag down at his feet and started right for her, his smile bright and his arms held out for a hug.
She let him enfold her and reluctantly hugged him back. After all, they’d been friends long before they’d started dating. It would be a shame if they couldn’t find their way back to that. At this point, she wished they hadn’t taken their relationship in that other direction at all. With Wyatt around somewhere, she was relieved that Shawn didn’t try to kiss her.
Instead, he held her at arm’s length and smiled approvingly. “You’re looking good, Rayanne. The mountain air must agree with you, and I like the tan. You’re obviously spending a lot of time outdoors.”
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