“So what’s the dog doing here?”
She shrugged. “Maybe Kelly dropped him off. I’ll ask Mama in the morning.”
Stealing the tweezers from my bed, she flopped to the ground in front of me and grabbed my leg. The protest I was about to voice died on my lips as her fingers played with the fine blonde hair on my leg.
I should tell her to stop.
It felt too good to ask her to stop.
“Poor Evan.”
Poor Evan was right. Ginny seemed to have made up her mind to push me into trouble. “Miss Ginny…”
“Just lie down and let me take care of this, okay?”
“Look, I’m not inter–”
“Hush now.”
Yeah, I wasn’t going to argue. Not when she was feathering her thumb behind my knee like that.
At least, not until she poured half a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on my knee, and I had to nearly bite my tongue off to keep from screaming at her. Everyone thought hydrogen peroxide didn’t burn, but pour enough on and it sure as hell did.
“Ooo, so stoic. You can sit up now. I’m done.” Her hand trailed along my leg as she walked past me, and I almost groaned out loud. This girl was torture, and I hadn’t even known her for a day.
Lord almighty. Tom was right. I need to stay away from her.
“You know, I haven’t been in this room since…”
She trailed off, and I finally put myself back together enough to sit up, to see Ginny staring at my dresser.
“Since what?”
Ginny gave a curt shake of her head, and picked up the one photo I had. “I never could get into Bradbury. Who’s in the picture?”
I walked up behind her and gently took the frame away. “My foster sister.”
“That’s so nice that your parents took in foster kids!”
I shook my head as I set the photo back down. “It was nice of them. But I was the one they took in, not Michelle.”
“Oh. How do they feel about you being out here for the summer?”
I looked away. The truth was that nobody gave a damn that I was out here. “I wouldn’t know. They’re not my family anymore. Michelle was diagnosed with cancer, and fostering a kid was just too much to deal with.” There was a lot more to it than that, but I wasn’t ready to go into it with a girl I’d only just met. The Stevens had been the first and last family to care about me, and it still hurt.
“I’m sorry, Evan. Did she…?”
“She died.”
Her hand settled on my chest with the lightest touch, but she didn’t look at me. Just stared at the picture. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t want your pity.
I shrugged. “I’m not in foster care anymore, anyway. It ends when you turn eighteen.” There wasn’t anything else polite I could make myself say, so I didn’t. Especially since I couldn’t place the undertone I could hear in her words. Her fingers snaked up to graze my collarbone, and I sucked in a breath.
Oh, that’s what that was. Interest.
My hand reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling it away from me.
“Look, Miss Ginny—”
“Just Ginny, sugar.” Honey-gold eyes flashed at me, and her grin was back. “So you’re a tattooed orphan who rides a motorcycle. Bad boy Evan. It’s like you stepped right out of a cliché.”
I dropped her wrist with a sigh. Ginny winked at me, tapped my bottom lip with her finger, and turned to the door.
“Sleep well, bad boy Evan.” She didn’t even have to snap her fingers. Pilot just jumped up the moment she looked at him and followed her out the door.
I kept staring at the closed door for a while after they had left. I couldn’t figure her out. The ghost of her touch still lingered on my chest and leg, and as I turned away from the door, I wondered how I was going to sleep in the same house as her. She had me so wired up and electrified I didn’t know if sleep was ever going to be possible again.
It wasn’t good. All I wanted was a summer free from attachments. Work hard, finally get out of Charleston. I didn’t even care where I went, just away. But Ginny Eyre was trouble. The more I reminded myself of that, the better off I’d be.
I walked over to the window and flung it wide. I needed to smell something other than Ginny’s intoxicating mix of coconut oil and sunshine and heat. The wind blew in, chasing her away with Spanish moss and sea salt and ozone. A chorus of tree frogs joined the creaks and groans of Eyre House settling in for the night. A week had given me time to get mostly used to the footstep-like scraping in the walls and ceiling. Mostly. I still hadn’t remembered to ask about an attic. Lightning turned the sky bright, interrupting my thoughts. I hadn’t realized the storm had arrived.
The ceiling above my head creaked, like someone had stood in the same place forever and then finally moved. I stared up at it and brushed the idea off. I’d check tomorrow for rats.
I don’t know how long I stayed there, breathing in the wind and the approaching storm, practically feeling the house settle. It was like Eyre House knew Ginny was back, and it was too excited to sleep, too. So we stood there together. Long enough to push Ginny’s scent from the room. Long enough to feel tired again. Long enough for the house to sink into silence and for the groaning of the trees and the wind to be the only thing on my mind.
Lightning flickered again, scattering the sky and lighting the grounds for a brief moment. I wasn’t expecting to see anything. I wasn’t sure I actually did. But if I did, it wasn’t a dog. It was human—a pale, ghostly face that stared back at me from beyond the garage.
My heart thundered awake again.
My eyes squinted, searching the darkness, waiting for another flash. I shut off the lamp on my dresser, but it didn’t help. When the lightning hit again, there was nothing that shouldn’t have been there. No figure lurking behind any building. No face in the trees. Just the rain that finally started falling. Again.
I shook my head and turned to my bed, ready to blame Ginny for the weird state of my head. I could only hope sleep would sort me out.
Even if I knew it wouldn’t.
I woke sometime in the night. The storm had blown itself out, leaving a clear sky and a sliver of a moon. I lay there in bed and listened to the creaking noises the old house made, and waited to drift back off. The wind blew lazily through the oaks, singing me a lullaby. I was almost asleep again when I heard it.
The soft sound of clothing shifting, the quiet groan of a floorboard.
There’s somebody in my room.
I gave a small moan and rolled over. I’d had a lot of practice faking sleep. One of the benefits of shifting from foster house to foster house, where sleep was sometimes the only defense. I stared through barely slit eyes, waiting for them to adjust while I reached under my pillow. Ginny hadn’t really been right when she’d called me a bad boy. I had no record, no interest in acting out. Aside from the tattoo, I’d never done anything illegal, and that was only borderline. But I had grown up on the wrong side of Charleston, and I was no stranger to having to defend myself.
Hence the switchblade that lived under my pillow.
The darkness by the door shifted. My fist tightened on the knife handle. I half-expected it to be Ginny, sneaking in, but the figure stayed away from my bed, drifting along the wall instead, out of my line of sight.
Not good.
It was too soon to roll over again. I ran through my options. Fake a nightmare. Fall off the bed. Fake sleep apnea. I didn’t like where any of them would get me. So I mumbled in my sleep.
“Mm. Jus…uugh. Ginny.”
I figured pretending to have a dream about a girl was legit. I just hoped it wasn’t actually Ginny sneaking around my room. Or if it was, that she’d be flattered. The noises vanished, like whoever it was had frozen. After giving it another minute, I rolled onto my back, leaving my hand under the pillow, and moaned. Hopefully, my intruder thought I was having a good dream.
More silence. I let my eyes slip open again.
My room was
empty.
Impossible.
I grabbed my knife and yanked the sheet off me. I knew I hadn’t imagined the noise, or the shadow. I couldn’t have. I switched on the light, blinking at the brightness, and opened the closet, looked under the bed and in the bathroom. Nothing. I checked my door and found it locked, just like I’d left it. But I still eased it open, wincing at the slight squeak in the hinge. I made a mental note to find the WD-40 in the morning.
Nothing there.
I shut the door, turned the light back off, and stood there. Heart pounding. Head spinning. I hadn’t been dreaming. It had happened.
Somebody’d been in my room, and I wanted to know how and why.
Chapter Four
“Ginny!”
She looked up at me as she danced down the stairs, flashing her all-kinds-of-trouble smile.
“My, my, Evan. A shirt! What’s the world coming to?”
I resisted the urge to either roll my eyes or glance down at the t-shirt I’d tossed on. “I do own a few.”
She still looked at me like I wasn’t wearing one.
“Got a minute?”
Ginny shrugged and smiled again. “I was getting ready to meet Hanna and Alix, but they won’t mind waiting for a few minutes. What’s up?”
I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say was going to sound awful. “You weren’t in my room last night, were you?”
She laughed, a sound I was really beginning to like. “I’m guessing you mean after I cleaned out your knee and made embarrassing small talk. How is your knee, by the way?”
“It’s fine. And yes, I mean after that.”
She shook her head. “Now what kind of lady do you take me for? I went straight to my room and went to bed. Why?”
I ran my hand through my short hair and grimaced. I didn’t like what that left me with. Either I was crazy, or there was some weird creeper hanging around my room. “Dammit. Someone was in my room last night. I was really hoping it was you, and there was an easy explanation.”
“You’re shittin’ me. Did you actually see them? Are you missing anything?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing missing. And I didn’t really get a look. One minute they were there, and then they were gone. And they didn’t go out the door—it was still locked. They just vanished.”
Ginny’s serious face disappeared, split wide by a smile. “Sounds like you had a visit from one of our ghosts!” She winked and then laughed.
“Ginny…”
Her smile dropped in wattage. “Evan, I’m sure no one has reason to be in your room. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”
“I know, I just…I am sure I didn’t dream it. Or…I was sure last night.” I didn’t say anything about the face I could have sworn I saw by the garage after she’d left.
“But you’re sure nothin’s missing.”
I shook my head and heaved a sigh. “Maybe it was just your ghost.” I knew it wasn’t, though. It couldn’t have been.
She laughed and threaded her arm through mine, steering me towards the garage. “I wonder which one it was! The dashing Confederate captain who died defending Edisto Island from the invading Union Army? His blushing bride? Or maybe the cruel Union soldier who killed them both, doomed to wander the island for eternity as penance! Ooo, maybe one of the many Spanish pirates, Alix would know more about them…”
Ginny rambled on about ghosts going as far back as the Gullah settlements until we reached the garage. I just clamped my jaw tight and reminded myself she was way more trouble than I needed.
“Nice bike, by the way,” she said, giving it a long, caressing look on her way to the Jeep. Her hand followed her eyes, fingertips sliding along the leather of the seat. “What is it?”
I smiled, surprised. I loved my bike, and usually couldn’t abide anyone touching it. But Ginny touched it like a lover. “It’s a 1947 Indian Chief.”
“I love classics.” She stroked the flared fender, and I could feel the memory of her touch the night before. Just watching her was giving me a hard-on. “How did a tatted up guy in the system come by something so nice?”
“I found it in a junk yard, falling apart. Took me a year and a half to rebuild it, and a lot of overtime work to afford the parts.” I was ridiculously glad my near-wreck on the bridge had only shaken a piece loose, and that the repair hadn’t taken hardly any time.
“And where’d you learn to do that?”
“You pick up all kinds of useful skills when nobody gives a damn about you.”
She stopped ogling my bike and looked back up at me through golden-red lashes. One heartbeat, and then two, before that coy smile crept back onto her face. “You’ll have to take me for a ride sometime.”
I shook my head. “Easy there, boss-lady’s daughter. I need this job, so only if I hear your mother give permission with my own ears.”
“Spoilsport.” She stuck her tongue out at me. “Mama’ll say yes.”
“Only if I hear it.”
“For a bad boy, you’re really kind of…straight-laced.”
“Maybe I’m not the bad boy you think I am.”
That got a laugh. “Well, you can’t be too bad, or Mama wouldn’t have hired you. Maybe you’re reformed,” she added, her tone turning dangerously thoughtful.
I shook my head slowly. “Hanna and Alix are waiting for you.”
She pouted slightly, and then smiled. “They’re fine. We’re not done here, Mr. Evan… Oh dear Lord, I just realized I don’t know your last name.” A tickling laugh followed her revelation.
“Richardson.”
“Evan Richardson. Not bad.”
I shrugged. “It’s a name. Like yours is Ginny, not Jenny.”
She laughed again. “It’s actually Virginia. Virginia Jane Eyre, Mr. Evan Richardson,” she added with a perfect curtsey. “And if you tell anyone, I might just sneak into your room and kill you in your sleep. Or have one of the ghosts do it for me,” she added with a wink.
“My lips are sealed.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you later, Mr. Richardson.”
I resisted the urge to smile back, and instead rolled my eyes. “My pleasure, Miss Eyre.”
Ginny gave me one last look over before climbing in her Jeep with a whistle to Pilot. “You could come with me. We’re going out for breakfast.”
“I have work do to, remember? Besides, I don’t know if I can survive you and your friends that long.”
The look she gave me was completely unrepentant. “Are you saying you don’t like my friends, Mr. Richardson?”
“I’m saying your friends are intense. And you’re trouble, Miss Ginny.”
She grinned and lowered her sunglasses. “I’d say it’s my middle name, but you know better.”
I hesitated as she jammed her keys in the ignition. “Ginny…”
“Yes, Mr. Richardson?”
“Are you sure nobody could’ve been in my room?”
She cocked her head and gave me a look that said, You’re cute, but a little bit crazy. And with a roar of the Jeep’s engine, she was gone, leaving me standing staring after her.
I rotated the bolt on the Mercedes’ oil pan one last time, tightening it into place with a grunt. Ms. Catherine had stuck me with changing the oil on all the House vehicles after she’d learned I knew my way around cars. After, of course, making sure I’d eaten, and shoving a few biscuits in my hands. It worked for me. I didn’t mind getting dirty, and it let me keep to myself. She didn’t even mind the alt rock I had pumping through the speakers someone had installed in the corner.
Besides, it kept my thoughts off my intruder, something I’d struggled with all day.
My foot was tapping to the music when a hand grabbed my ankle, yanking me out from under the Merc.
The giggles that followed made me drop the wrench with a groan as my head fell back to the sled. Ginny leaned down until her face was just inches from mine, and smiled.
“You finished under there yet?”
Alix and Hanna
giggled again from the door.
I sat up, grabbing the wrench and setting it aside, and picked up a towel to wipe the grease off my hands. Ginny’s arrival brought all my uncertainty from the morning right back. “I might be. Why?”
“Because you’re coming with us.”
“You keep forgetting I work here. For your mother. Things to do.” Standing, I stomped my foot down on the edge of the sled, popping it upright so I could grab it to set it against the far wall before collecting my tools. “Where’s Pilot? He was with you when you left this morning.”
She made a face and waved her hand. “I met up with Ben’s girlfriend. And Mama said to take the afternoon off. Apparently, you’ve been working that cute little ass of yours off, and she thinks you deserve a break. So do I.”
“So you’re kidnapping me.”
“Is it still kidnapping if you’re a legal adult?”
I snorted. “I don’t think it matters. But I’m only eighteen, leastways until the end of the summer. Thought Ms. Catherine would’ve filled you in on that.”
Ginny burst out laughing. “Wait, if you’re only eighteen, how did you manage the tat? It looks like you’ve had it a few years.”
“Foster kid, remember? Nobody gives a shit what we do.”
“I don’t buy it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You’re right. I actually paid an older friend to find me a tattoo parlor that wouldn’t ask, and then stand in as my ‘guardian,’ just in case.”
Ginny tilted her head and looked impressed. “Nice. But you’re not distracting me from our mission. We’re still kidnapping you, so go shower.” Her eyes tracked me up and down. “Or not. I don’t mind grease.”
I pretended not to hear. “Do I get to know where you’re taking me?”
“Come see. Shoes and shirt are optional.”
I cocked my head and thought for a minute, and then decided to just roll with it. If Ms. Catherine thought I deserved some time off, I’d take it and enjoy it. Maybe it would get my mind off my midnight intruder.
But I’d check with her first, just in case.
I tossed the rag I’d been using onto the shelf behind me and walked out past Ginny. Her eyes flickered up and down my body again. I was beginning to enjoy her overt flirting a little too much, but I figured as long as I played things smart, a little turn-about shouldn’t hurt. Give her a taste of her own medicine, see how she reacted.
Eyre House Page 4