Ghost for Sale

by Sandra Cox

I thumped the can on the gleaming counter. “You’ve got to be going with someone to break up with them. Clayton and I aren’t an item. We just occasionally keep each other company. But enough about Clayton. While I get ready for my—er, our—date, I have a job for you.” I headed for the bedroom, soda in hand.

  He pulled out a pocket watch and snapped it open with his thumb. “It’s only three o’clock.”

  “I need to decide what I’m going to wear, take a shower, fix my hair, put on fresh makeup, and a fresh coat of polish.”

  He shook his head.

  “Never mind. Only another woman would understand.” I splayed my fingers in front of my face. “I don’t even know what color I want. Or what shoes to wear. Or…”

  “What do you want me to do?” Liam interrupted, clutching his hair. “It’s only a picnic,” he muttered.

  “Make a list of every guy you can think of who was interested in Anna.” I pretended I hadn’t heard the last comment.

  He snorted. “That would be half the men in town.”

  “Then the sooner you get started, the better.” I walked into the living room. “Marceee.”

  Silence answered. I backtracked to the dining room and found a note on the table that said not to expect her home till late.

  The remote floated through the air. “I’ll think better with the television on.” We returned to the living room where he began surfing channels.

  I stopped in my tracks and slapped my forehead.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “When we were at the hotel, I should have asked to see the guest registry.”

  “I’m sure that’s a great idea, but why in particular?” His gaze on the television, he sank into the couch and stretched out his legs.

  Our link was such I was surprised he didn’t figure it out immediately. “You said you got sucked up with some kind of Ghost Buster paraphernalia.”

  “Ghost Buster paraphernalia?” The look he sent me was less than complimentary.

  “I should have checked the registry to see if Jonas Bromwell stayed in your room or Anna’s.” Back and forth. Back and forth. I strode in front of the sofa. Liam pulled in his legs so I wouldn’t step on them. “I bet we’ll find he stayed in one room, then made up some story to get in the other, like he’d forgotten his key. It may or may not help us figure out who your visiting spirit is, but it’s another piece of the puzzle.”

  “Very clever deduction, but that comes as no surprise. You’re an amazing woman, Caitlin.” His glance lost its censure and his smile warmed me all the way to my toes. One minute he’d been sitting on the couch, the next he stood a breath away from me.

  “And you’re an amazing man-ghost.” He was too. Even though he was nineteen and technically still a teenager, the term boy didn’t apply to him. His features were rugged and his eyes held knowledge much older than any nineteen-year-old I knew.

  We stared at each other while seconds ticked away. The physical tension between us felt like warm thick butter, and I forgot to breath. Desire stabbed me sharp and strong.

  Liam cleared his throat and took a step back, clear across the room. “Well, I guess I better get on that list.”

  “Right. And I better polish my nails.” I backed into the couch and sat down abruptly. He swept forward, reached out a hand to help me up, and then dropped it to his side. In his eyes burned the same longing that consumed me. He hurtled backward as I pushed off the couch and hurried to the bedroom. Once there, I shut the door and leaned against it, eyes closed, breathing heavy.

  What am I doing? I can’t be falling in love with a ghost.

  Chapter 9

  Shaken, I took a deep breath and decided a bubble bath would be good Zen. I lit candles and sank into water with bubbles to my chin. The tension in my shoulders and neck eased. I had a date with a charming young man. I would help Anna and Liam cross over to the other side. If my heart cracked a little in the process, it would heal. I was almost certain of it.

  I soaked till my skin turned pruny and the water cooled. By the time I polished my nails with a coat of Fairy Wing Lilac and figured out what to wear, it was almost six. I’d changed a dozen times, finally deciding on a lavender and white striped shirt and jeans. I grabbed chunky amethyst earrings and headed for the living room just as the doorbell rang.

  Before Liam could open it, I hurried to the door.

  “You look sweeter than sugar, lass.” He popped up at my elbow. I barely jumped. I was getting used to his appearing-disappearing act. “I like the little lavender straps on your feet. Sandals,” he corrected himself.

  “Thank you. Shoot, I don’t have time to change to my lavender shoulder bag. Oh well, my tan canvas will have to do.” Liam wisely said nothing, just shook his head.

  I opened the door to find Patrick wearing a Duke T-shirt that had seen better days and scruffy jeans, frayed at the edges, with holes in the knees. One comprehensive look told me they hadn’t come that way from the manufacturer. Why had I spent so long on my appearance? But the smile that lit up his face when he saw me made me decide maybe his clothes weren’t so important after all.

  “I know you hear this all the time but you are beautiful.” He placed his hands on the doorjamb and just looked at me, his expression warm and appreciative.

  “I feel overdressed,” Liam commented, perusing Patrick much the same as I had a moment ago.

  I bit my lips to keep from giggling. Would I be able to maintain a normal conversation with another person when there wasn’t a running commentary from a ghost?

  “If it looks like I didn’t make an effort for you, I’m sorry. I had to work on a friend’s car today and by the time I got it up and running, there wasn’t time to throw my clothes in the laundry. This is all I had clean,” Patrick explained.

  “We’re just going to the park anyway.”

  “Yeah, just pretend I’ve got on a better pair of jeans and a T-shirt without paint stains.” He gave me his endearing quirky smile.

  “Done.” I walked out the door, relaxed and at ease with Patrick. “You’re easy to be around and you’re genuine.”

  “I try to be.”

  “A lot of my crowd isn’t.”

  “Huh.” He let the subject drop.

  Of course, Patrick wasn’t the only one who’d given me a different perspective on my values and that of my friends. Liam glided along on my other side, a look of disdain on his face. He was looking at Patrick’s car, an older model compact. While not sexy, it was clean and looked to be in good condition. The ghost was becoming a car snob.

  “I’d rather take your cousin’s car,” Liam sulked.

  “You can’t,” I mumbled.

  “Pardon me?” Patrick asked as he and Liam reached for my door.

  “You can’t imagine how I’m looking forward to the bands.”

  “Oof.” Patrick apparently wasn’t prepared for the ease with which his door swung open. I pretended not to notice as I slid inside the little car.

  “It’s got plenty of leg room,” I pointed out to Liam as Patrick walked around to the other side.

  “I’d still rather take Marcy’s.” He sat in the back, his arms crossed, his lips turned down.

  “I just bet you would.” Whether the male of the species was from the nineteenth or twenty-first century, when it came to boy toys, their response was the same.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Patrick folded his long frame into the car.

  “I was just commenting on the leg room in your car.”

  “It has to have that.” He laughed. “She’s not pretty, but she’s dependable, low maintenance, and high on fuel efficiency. If she were a woman, she’d be a cheap date.”

  Patrick dropped his hand from the key. He twisted in his seat to face me. “If that sounds like I’m a self-serving penny-pincher, I’m sorry. I try not to be self-serving. I do pinch pennies. I plan to go to medical school someday. It’s not cheap.” He quirked his lips and shrugged.
>
  “Can your parents help you?” Paying for my education was a nonissue for me. To think about the kids who had to put themselves through school was humbling, especially when you were talking about years of education.

  “They try, but my dad had a bout with cancer recently. They had to get into my college fund to pay the bills.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reached over and grasped his hand. He flicked it over, palm up to clasp mine, his skin warm and vital.

  Electricity jolted us. We jumped and dropped hands.

  Liam’s look was frosty. “I’m sorry for the lad, but you don’t need to get all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s not polite.” He stared at me, unrepentant.

  Touchy-feely? Liam had been watching too much TV.

  “Wow, if touching your hand gives off sparks, I can’t imagine what a kiss would be like.” Patrick stared, his eyes wide, his hair on end.

  A growl sounded from the back seat. Thunder boomed in a sharp crack directly over his side of the car. Patrick jumped, grabbed the steering wheel, and looked wildly around.

  I cringed and closed my eyes. The chance of developing a love life with Liam around was slim to none.

  “That was very weird.” Patrick flexed his fingers before he started the car.

  “Yes, wasn’t it?” I responded, my voice as well as my throat dry. “Listen, Patrick, I hope you aren’t looking for a relationship, my life’s complicated right now,” was the best I could come up with.

  “I understand.” He put his arm across the back of the seat and eased out of the drive.

  “I doubt it.” What an understatement.

  “The other guy, right?”

  You mean the other ghost?

  “Clayton?” Liam and I said together. I rubbed my forehead where pressure built between my eyes. “No. Clayton and I aren’t an item. What’s your father do for a living?”

  Patrick gave me a quick glance but took the hint. “My dad teaches history at the local community college and my mom’s an admin assist at the same college.”

  “Really? That’s pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, it is.” His lips curved up in a smile that lit his whole face. “There was never a lot of money while I was growing up, but we never lacked for anything, especially in the things that counted. You?”

  “My family’s pretty tight too.” I tried to include Liam in the conversation but his focus was elsewhere. My breath caught in my throat as he slid through the two-inch opening on the passenger window. What the heck was he doing?

  “I need some air.” He loped alongside the car, arms pumping, legs extended, looking around as he ran.

  Who would have thought a ghost could move so fast? As one block turned into two and two into three with no mishaps, I relaxed. What trouble could he possibly get in? I shifted in my seat and chatted with Patrick.

  Gliding alongside the passenger side of the moving car, Liam tapped on the window. Eyes bright with excitement, he pointed up the street at a shiny black sports car. He cut in front of Patrick’s car to get a better look and slowed his pace.

  Unfortunately, Patrick didn’t. My heart rose in my throat as Patrick’s car rolled straight through him.

  Oh my God. Oh my God. I whipped around in my seat. Liam still stood in the middle of the road. I don’t know who looked more astonished, me or the ghost. Luckily, Patrick was nearly at the park and paying attention to traffic.

  Liam leaped to the car and slid in the back window. I opened my mouth to ask if he was all right, but my throat was too dry to say a word. It was just as well. By the disgusted look on his face, I gathered he was unharmed.

  His next words confirmed it. “Lover boy needs to watch where he’s going.” Arms crossed, he glared at Patrick.

  I didn’t bother to point out the obvious, that Patrick couldn’t see him. Even a ghost was entitled to be disgruntled after a car drives through him.

  “We’re here.” Patrick flicked on the blinker and turned into the park. Adults, children, and dogs filled the recreation area. Blankets spread across the hillside like a crazy patchwork quilt. Patrick inched along behind a long line of cars, looking for a parking spot.

  “This could take forever. I’m going to look for a place to park. Tell lover boy not to run over me.” Liam disappeared through the roof of the car. Moments later, he was back. “Four cars up on the right. It’s too tight for anything but a small car.”

  I took my cue, pressed my nose to the glass, and pointed. “Up there on the right.”

  “I don’t see anything.” Patrick hunched forward, squinting. He inched past a couple more cars. “I see it,” he said, and flipped on his turn signal. “What, have you got x-ray vision?”

  “Nope, a ghost whispered it in my ear.”

  Liam glared at me.

  “Ha-ha. Good one.” Patrick eased his car into the parking space and turned off the motor.

  As we got out, a heavy metal band tuned up.

  “This is going to be fun.” Liam rubbed his hands together and eyed all the people strolling around the park.

  “Yes, it is.” His excitement contagious, I rose on my tiptoes trying to see the band.

  “Excuse me?” Patrick had the trunk up. He pulled out a wicker basket, with a red and white checkered tablecloth folded over it, and a blue blanket.

  “I said this is going to be fun.” I borrowed Liam’s phrase.

  “It must be the music in the background, I could have sworn you said, ‘yes it is.’” He shook his head.

  He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and slipped his arm through mine. “Let’s go find a place to sit.”

  For a moment, Liam’s outline flickered with electricity. I stiffened. Then he shrugged. Apparently, he’d decided linking arms was not classified as touchy-feely.

  The sun had gone down, leaving the sky a dull gray with a wisp of red where it met the earth. Stars began to twinkle. Soft grass tickled the sides of my feet, and the smell of hot dogs made my mouth water. Tension in my shoulders loosened as two young boys raced past us, then vanished altogether. “Thanks, Patrick, this was a great idea.”

  “I like the outdoors.” He placed the blanket on the grass and lowered the picnic basket. “Do you like to hike?”

  “My idea of hiking is trekking from one sale to the next.”

  Patrick laughed as he flipped a wrinkle out of the blanket.

  “I do like to swim, though.” I plopped down on the blanket. A thousand cushy blades of grass pricked through the cloth. Liam hovered beside me, his chin in his hand, his legs stretched out.

  “Good for you.” Patrick dug into the basket and pulled out a couple of bottles of water, biscuits, fried chicken, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, and brownies.

  “I’m impressed.” I reached for a bottle of water.

  “I stopped at the local deli.” He grinned, loaded up a plate, and handed it to me.

  The band tuned up as the sky darkened. Fireflies blinked on and off as young children chased them.

  “I’m going to stroll around.” Liam floated to his feet and headed in the direction of the band.

  I nodded and bit into my chicken.

  Patrick gave me a quizzical look.

  “What?” I said around a mouthful of food, my hand over my mouth.

  “You do that a lot.”

  I swallowed. “Do what?”

  “Nod, like you’re carrying on a conversation I’m not aware of.” He picked up a chicken leg and chewed thoughtfully.

  “So I talk to myself. So what?” I jammed a forkful of mashed potatoes in my mouth. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so much fun after all.

  He reached over and touched my cheek with his finger. “It’s not like you’re talking to yourself. It’s like you’re talking to someone I can’t see.”

  I choked. Patrick set down his plate and pounded me on the back. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I whispered, in a hoarse voice.

  “I didn’t mean to
upset you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Patrick continued to watch me, his features hard to read.

  “You think I’m crazy.” I put down my plate, my appetite gone.

  “I think you’re beautiful and mysterious. If you occasionally nod or shrug to yourself, you’re entitled.”

  My insides warmed. Patrick was kind, caring, and fun. He made me feel good… When he wasn’t commenting on me talking to myself.

  “So are you excited about going to Virginia Tech this fall?” Patrick asked around a mouthful of coleslaw.

  I nodded, then swallowed. We’d talked about schools last night. To both our delight we discovered we’d be at the same school. “I’ll be rooming with Marcy. She’ll be a sophomore this year.”

  Patrick set his plate aside and sprawled on the blanket belly side down, his lanky legs stretched out, his elbows propping up his shoulders. “Didn’t you say you planned to major in journalism?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Journalism,” he repeated, his forehead scrunched. “King!” He snapped his fingers. “Don King, Pulitzer prize winner.”

  “Um-hum.”

  “Your dad?” His eyebrows rose.

  “Yup.”

  He whistled. “Wow. I’m impressed. His pieces on the oil spill and whale hunting were outstanding. Do you think I could meet him sometime?”

  “Sure. Be warned, he’ll talk your ear off. Dad loves nothing better than to pontificate on subjects near and dear to him.”

  Patrick grinned. “You must be very proud of him.”

  “I am.” The band had switched out. The new group played blues. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but the lonely wail of a saxophone drifting on the air added a touch of romance to the evening. “Let me repeat, this was a great idea.”

  “Thank you.” Head cocked to the side, he studied me.

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that.” I shifted my position on the blanket.

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me like I’m a bug under a microscope.”

  “It’s the biology major in me. Did I mention you’re a very attractive bug?” he teased.

  A laugh spilled out of my throat. “No one’s ever said that to me before.” I set my plate aside and stretched out on my stomach, my position mimicking Patrick’s, our faces inches apart.