Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2)

by Gonzalez, Ani

  He placed the dishes in the sink. Many of the plates were chipped, but his mom had refused to change the china. The old-fashioned blue-and-white pattern was somewhat comforting.

  Washing dishes usually relaxed him, but not tonight. Tonight, the soapy water made him wonder what Elizabeth would look like covered only with soapy bubbles. He pictured her rubbing the soap over her breasts. The minx would make sure the bubbles covered up her nipples. Would she make him beg for a look? Most likely.

  He shook his head, trying desperately to dislodge the image.

  He needed to stop daydreaming and find a way to convince Elizabeth that they were meant to be together. That was going to be a tricky proposition. Caine's brilliant idea gave him the perfect opportunity to implement his new plan. That meant, however, he had to crush Elizabeth's dream and also convince her that they belonged together. His genius-level IQ should be able to square this circle, but picturing soapy bubbles sliding across her naked body wasn't conducive to effective planning.

  His mom carried a dirty serving dish into the kitchen, effectively killing his daydream. "This is the last one," she said as she set the dish down. She raised her eyes and looked around the kitchen, a frown darkening her face. "Did your brothers all leave before cleanup?"

  "Of course they did," he said with a smile. His siblings always skipped cleaning up. "But I don't mind."

  It wasn't an excuse, it was the truth. Nowadays his staff did everything—cooking, cleaning, even picking clothes. He wondered why his mother didn't have more help. She had plenty of money and could have catered the party or hired a cleanup crew. Still, here she was, humming happily as she scraped leftovers and stacked dirty dishes.

  The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

  "Anyway, they had to take the girls home," he said, stifling a chuckle.

  "I don't know where I went wrong with you boys. It's like you were raised by wolves." She put the dish next to the sink and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "And where's your girl? Shouldn't you be taking her home?" Trust Mom to come straight to the point.

  "She left as soon as you and Patricia started talking about centerpieces. Not a smooth move on your part."

  "No matter." She folded the dishtowel into squares. She was the only person he knew who folded dirty towels before putting them away to be washed. "She has to come back and take you house hunting."

  "I already found a house."

  "She'll find you another one. A good one this time."

  "I'm done with the house-hunting. We'll have your Mother's Day party in the terrace. You'll love it."

  She aimed a murderous glare at him. "I talked to Mary." Her voice was cold as steel. "Elizabeth has two more houses to show you tomorrow. You're meeting her at nine."

  Gabe stifled a sigh. His head hurt, his shoulder hurt, and his back hurt. He really wasn't sure he'd survive another bout of house hunting. Still, it would be another afternoon with Elizabeth, and he couldn't really say no to that. What would she come up with now? A serial killer hideout? A refurbished morgue?

  "Fine, I'll check out a few more listings. But I've already spent too much time on this project. I have to wrap it up and get back to work."

  He had a queue of voicemail messages from Salvador reminding him of this fact. His business partner was growing more and more desperate.

  "All you do is work, Gabe. You need a break." She unfolded the dishtowel then refolded it. Then she did it again. She did that when she was nervous. "At least when Cole was alive, he pushed you into things. True, they were crazy things like looking for alien spores in Canada and chasing the cryptowhatevers in the Caribbean."

  "It's called cryptozoology," Gabe interrupted.

  "Yes, that. It was crazy, but at least it wasn't work."

  He smiled in fond remembrance. "Yes, work doesn't involve frostbite, or dengue fever, or figuring out how to say 'blood-sucking mutant goat' in Creole."

  "Frostbite notwithstanding, you relaxed with Cole. You relax with Elizabeth too. I haven't seen you this happy in years. Admit it, you've enjoyed the crazy house-hunting."

  Gabe sighed. She was right. He had enjoyed working with Elizabeth, even if the house hunting had turned out to be more dangerous than chasing Yetis in the Himalayas.

  His mom smiled at him meaningfully. "She's a lovely girl."

  Gabe avoided her eyes and focused on the dishes. The green potatoes were simply not coming off the plates. His mom had created a new super-adhesive. She should try to patent it.

  "You couldn't take your eyes off her today."

  He scrubbed at a particularly sticky piece of cheese.

  "And I couldn't see your hands during most of the meal."

  Gabe raised his soapy hands. "Whoa. Mom, stop. Just stop."

  Her eyes twinkled. "She may be the one for you."

  "What makes you think she's interested in being 'the one'?" He finally managed to clean a crusty pan. One down, a hundred or so left to go. "She ran away as fast as she could today."

  He stepped away to grab a drying towel. When he turned around, he saw his mother standing in his spot in front of the sink rewashing the pan. Some things never changed.

  "Elizabeth has been running away for a very long time." She frowned and scrubbed meticulously at an invisible food particle. "Just like her brother."

  "That one's clean, Mom. Leave it alone. And Cole had his reasons." So did Elizabeth. But he didn't want to dwell on those reasons.

  "Forgiveness is a virtue. Especially with family." She rinsed the pan, squinted at it, and reached for the sponge. "Mary knew that."

  "She shouldn't have taken him back."

  His mom placed the pan on the sink carefully. "He's her husband. The father of her children," she said with exaggerated calm. "Or course she had to take him back."

  He shook his head.

  "He made a mistake," she continued. "He wasn't a bad man. Everyone loved Jonathan. Well, everyone except your father, who said Jonathan moved his pawns in a shady manner. But you used to worship him."

  Elizabeth's father had been the most successful businessman in Banshee Creek. He'd grown a local bail bonds business into a respected credit union and sold to a national bank chain for a tidy profit. As a kid, he'd wanted to grow up to be exactly like Cole's dad. He'd wanted to wear a suit and tie. He'd wanted to have his own company. He'd wanted to be an investor. He'd wanted to have a big, beautiful house.

  He'd wanted to be just like Jonathan Hunt.

  But that changed the day Mr. Hunt left his family and moved to Middleburg with his secretary. Gonzalo Franco might be a mediocre restaurateur with an expensive chess habit, but he was a loyal husband and a loving father. Some things were more important than fancy suits and nice houses.

  "You seem to have forgotten a couple of things. Cole's dad was gone for two years. He cleaned out their bank accounts, and Mary was left to build a real estate business in the middle of the worst real estate recession in decades. Cole took a gardening job to make ends meet, but that wasn't enough."

  She sighed.

  "The pizzeria wasn't doing well," Gabe continued, "but Dad still told Cole we needed help with deliveries, and he took all my routes. We couldn't really afford to do that, but they needed the money more than we did."

  His mom stared into the sink. The perfectly clean pan stared back.

  "Elizabeth started dressing in black and listening to weird music," he went on mercilessly. "Cole was frantic, thinking she'd get into drugs or worse. He even asked Dad to lend the drama club the parking lot so he could watch over Elizabeth while she painted scenery."

  A very small smile crossed her face. She picked up the pan and reached for a dishtowel. "Poor Zach," she said. "Your father thought he'd glittered the driveway on purpose. He scrubbed it for weeks, and the paint never came off."

  "Well, Zach remodeled the pizzeria to match the glitter, so it's all good now."

  His mom chuckled as she dried the pan.

  "They went through hell, Mom. And then, just when th
ings started to get better, Mary took Jonathan back, and Cole had to pretend that nothing happened."

  "She had to forgive him." His mom's voice was laced with stubbornness. "He was her husband."

  "Well, Cole never forgave him," Gabe continued. "He left the house and joined the Army as soon as he could."

  And never returned. The thought made his chest tighten. He felt his mom place her hand on her shoulder, but he shrugged it away. He was fine.

  She picked up another dish. "Poor Mary." She swept the dishtowel over the dish, polishing it to perfection. "I thank God every day that Elizabeth came back. She likes to save people." She smiled at him, eyes twinkling. "That's something you two have in common."

  "She doesn't think we have all that much in common." He picked up a stack of dinner plates and went back to washing dishes.

  "Oh, I don't know, Ingrid Lebensburg said Elizabeth was very concerned about you yesterday." His mom kept drying dishes. "Elizabeth asked her for a particularly thorough checkup and insisted on special stitches. Ingrid thought it was very cute."

  He disagreed. Dr. Frankensburg's special stitches were not cute at all. "That was Elizabeth's own brand of mischief, Mom, not concern for my welfare."

  "She's always had a soft spot for you."

  "That was just a crush." Which was the worrisome part. What if it was still just a crush?

  "It looked like a lot more than a crush last night. Mary's very happy about her daughter's—" she paused, "—how does she put it? Nefarious intentions?"

  Gabe winced. He really didn't want to discuss Elizabeth's intentions with his mom.

  "Mary's been worried about her daughter for a long time," she continued. "Elizabeth has dated but she hasn't had any serious relationships."

  Now that was an interesting piece of information. "I thought she was seeing a movie star."

  "It lasted a couple of months. Then there was a producer, but he wasn't very nice. Cole flew to L.A. and broke his nose."

  Not surprising. Cole was a geek, but he was a military geek. He took his hand-to-hand combat training seriously.

  "She also dated a computer guy. He did an app called centaur or something."

  He frowned. Zentaur wasn't an app, it was a hybrid file-sharing system that made incompatible platforms work together. It had revolutionized the industry and made millions.

  "Now, he was a really nice guy, head over heels in love with her. He even proposed. Mary was really excited."

  His hands slipped on a plate, and he lunged to catch it before it hit the sink. He couldn't break his mom's precious, tragically discontinued, not-to-be found, not even on eBay, plates. She'd kill him.

  "But it didn't last. Mary thinks Elizabeth's not really into the business type. She says it's because they're too serious." She went back to drying. "I think it's because of her father."

  He felt his heart sink. He was the epitome of the business type. He'd assumed Elizabeth's skittishness was a reaction to family pressure and the Banshee Creek gossip mill. What if it was something more?

  "She needs someone though," his mom continued. "Everyone has an empty space, a missing puzzle piece they need to be made whole." She smiled. "Even you."

  "You two should stop meddling." Especially when his missing piece may want a completely different puzzle.

  His mom laughed. "Parents always meddle. Who knows where you kids would end up without me? And if I hadn't meddled, you wouldn't have approached Elizabeth."

  True, she deserved someone better than him. He was good at making money and not so good at other stuff. Like family, friendships, relationships—he sucked at all of them. His best friend was gone. His relationships with his brothers were shaky at best. His romantic relationships were ephemeral. Well, he was good at sex. So, sex and money, that was all he was good at. And she was smart enough to figure that out.

  "Listen to me." His mom's blue eyes bored into his. "When I met your father, I knew I'd found my missing puzzle piece. He was sitting at a table in the plaza in front of the Libreria Nacional. It was my first day at work in the library, and he dared me to a match. I left my dream job and followed him across mountains and oceans. I abandoned the books and ended up kneading pizza dough and figuring out the perfect melting temperature for mozzarella." Her eyes were moist with tears. "I love your father. I wouldn't trade one single day. Even the hard ones."

  He reached out to hold her, but she shook her head.

  "But this isn't about me. It's about you, you and Elizabeth." She took a deep breath. "To find a love like that, you have to take the chance." She looked steadily into his eyes. "You have to risk and you have to fight, but it's worth it."

  She turned her attention back to the dishes, and he was left staring at the countertop. He'd heard about the chess game in front of the library many times. His parents' love had stayed strong through thick and thin, and there'd been a lot of thin. He'd always known that he'd fight for a love like that. Hell, he'd risk anything for a love like that.

  Unfortunately, Elizabeth was the one who wasn't willing to take the risk.

  But the talk with his mother had sent his brain gears whirring. He now knew how to convince her to support the ghost tours.

  This would work. It had to.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ELIZABETH TRIED not to fidget on the buttery-soft leather car seat. She should've refused to go on this house hunt. The Franco lunch had seriously freaked her out. She didn't care how sinfully handsome he looked or how he made her insides melt. She should be done with Gabe. The no had been on the tip of her tongue. But then she'd spied one of the listings and an evil thought had entered her mind.

  Evil thoughts had always been her downfall.

  This particular one was quite insidious, based, as it was, on teenage memories and a sexy scene from Holly's book. She should be strong. The evil thought should remain a fantasy. A thrilling secret known only to her and the TurboGasm 2000.

  But where this man was concerned, she wasn't strong at all.

  "I can't believe you talked me into looking at more stuff," Mr. Temptation said, shaking his head ruefully.

  "Wrong pronoun," she corrected. "Your mom talked you into looking at more houses. I just came up with listings."

  He winced, and she smiled. Baiting Gabe was highly entertaining. The next property would be even more special than the Fortress of Solitude they'd just visited. Did she really have the guts to go through with this? It wasn't too late. She could tell him that they were done for the day. He'd probably be ecstatic.

  She pushed the cowardly thought out of her mind. She'd never get a chance to do this again. Never. And she'd been thinking about it since the Sunday lunch. He should pay for making her all hot and bothered at the lunch. And she would make him pay. Watch out, world, Sex Kitten Elizabeth was baring her claws.

  She took a deep breath. Okay, Hunt, try to keep the conversation running until we get to the next property. "I thought you'd like the house we just saw. It's very modern." That was good. Let's keep talking about the last house. That will keep him from wondering about the next one.

  Gabe shook his head.

  "It's a techy playground. It has all the gadgets and screens you could ever want," she continued. "The wiring alone must have cost the earth."

  "Did you like it?" he asked.

  She didn't answer. Why did he care about whether she liked the house? Her distaste for the yucky grotto house had made little impression on him.

  She looked at his profile. He was relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Gabe could ever be. He hadn't even checked his smartphone. The house hunting was going well. Maybe he'd even pick the techy house over the grotto house. True, the techy house was cold and sterile, but it was very hygienic. And definitely ghost-free. That was his main requirement wasn't it? No haunted houses.

  The next house definitely didn't meet that requirement.

  "It didn't have any furniture," Gabe complained. "And the brochure recommended that you don't buy any."

  "The egg-shape
d things were furniture." She'd expected a lot more enthusiasm for the Fortress of Solitude house. Tony Stark would love it, and Gabe was definitely a Tony Stark type.

  "No, they weren't. They were sensors."

  "They were sensors and furniture."

  "They sense your butt?"

  That made her giggle. "You can learn a lot from a person's gluteus."

  He seemed to agree with her as he gave her butt an appreciative glance.

  She smiled. She was wearing a very short skirt today, so he had plenty to admire. She'd considered stiletto heels, but she'd grown tired of the shoe mishaps. Instead, she was wearing trustworthy black boots with a solid, easy-to-manage heel. She had, however, found a pack of garters with matching dark hose in the back of her closet.

  Dark hose was Gabe's weakness.

  She smiled and leaned back in the passenger seat of the Ferrari. Her skirt hiked up, and the lacy top of her garter stockings peeked out. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Oh, yes, the house hunting was going splendidly. Gabe pressed the accelerator, and the Ferrari sped up. He seemed to be having trouble focusing on the road. Elizabeth crossed her legs, exposing a bit of flesh, and smiled in satisfaction when the car lurched unpleasantly.

  Elizabeth 1, Ferrari 0.

  "You'd better stop that if you want to get to your destination," he growled.

  "That's an intriguing thought, but I'm going to have to take a rain check. We've arrived."

  A Victorian mansion rose in front of them. It was big and purple with a sweeping porch, round shingles, and white gingerbread trim. A tall, round turret, topped by a metal weathervane, rose behind the house. The sign said Rosemoor Inn Bed and Breakfast.

  He parked the car and looked up, horrified. "This is a hotel, I thought we were looking for a house."

  "The Rosemoor used to be a house," Elizabeth replied. He still looked skeptical. "Okay, so that was a long time ago, but it could be turned into a house again."

  "I also thought we were through looking at haunted properties," he said, still looking a bit shell-shocked.