Ghost in the Spell, page 18
He’d left the bathroom door open. Perv.
I couldn’t believe it, less than an hour in a new town and I’d witnessed a Red Shoe Diary moment, and the star was lathering up less than ten feet away. I would’ve been downright disgusted by the whole morning if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with thoughts of slippery suds sliding along his perfectly formed pecs. (Now I understand how bad porn gets started. Bow chick-a bow-wow.)
I will not go stare at the naked man. I repeated this mantra in my head over and over as I ran down the stairs to the kitchen.
Grabbing his clothes from the freezer, I contemplated where they’d been and how they got there as I carried them back upstairs. They were cold and held the scent of sweat, but at least he’d have something to put on so he could go away. I placed them on the couch, and dear Lord, it was a really ugly couch. It would be the first piece of furniture to go when Chav and I started fixing the place up. And with that thought, I went downstairs to wait for him.
Fifteen minutes later, the light flickered on in the stairwell. Babel’s arms and face glistened with dewy goodness as he walked down the steps. He rubbed a tea towel, barely big enough to dry a fish’s butt, against his loose mane of wet hair. His blue T-shirt clung to his chest. Water soaking through the fabric made spots the color of midnight.
He must have felt me staring, because he dropped his arm to his side and looked at me. “Where’d you find my clothes?”
“The freezer.” I wrapped my knuckle on the counter. “Guess you can go home now.”
“Guess so.” He shrugged as he stretched his body to tuck in his shirt. “But we should probably talk.”
“I’m in no mood.” For talk. Damn, he was super-fine.
“Well, you kind of need to get in the mood.” He shook his hair out, droplets spraying out around him. It began to feel like a bad (or really good, depending on who you asked) shampoo commercial. “There’s been a mistake. My sister should’ve never invited you out here, Sunny.”
“You’ve said that already, but unfortunately for you, my name’s on the property, same as hers, all legal and binding. I’m staying. Period. End of discussion. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until I find Chav.”
Babel chewed his lower lip and narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t think you understand the situation.”
“Oh, I think I do. You don’t like me. Fine. I get that.”
“It’s a might more complicated than that.” He scratched at his five o’clock shadow.
I resisted the temptation to offer him a hand. “Why do you care, anyway? Don’t you have a real life you want to get back to? You seem awfully concerned for a guy who isn’t even sticking around.”
“And what makes you think that?” Babel asked.
“Uh…” Fair question. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d heard him tell his cuh-razy lover in a vision. “Well, you didn’t exactly stick around after the search was called off for Judah.”
A pained expression crossed his face. I instantly regretted being such an ass. It was a low blow, and petty even.
“I stayed for as long as I could stand it.” He shook his head. “I’m not meant for this place, Sunny. And neither are you.”
Another twinge. “It doesn’t matter.” We would find Chavvah, then he would be gone. “Have you heard anything? Are the police searching for her?”
“No and yes. I haven’t heard from Chavvie, but Sheriff Taylor isn’t giving up.” He flicked his thumbnail against his ring fingernail. “Not yet, anyways.”
“She’ll show up, Babel. I just know it.” But I didn’t know it. In my heart, I believed she was alive, and not because of any vision. “She’s my best friend. I’d feel it if she was gone. Now, go on back to wherever you’re staying…” Oh, crap. Maybe he’d been staying here. “You do have another place to stay don’t you?”
Babel nodded once. “I’ve been staying at Chavvie’s cabin down by the lake.”
“Good,” I whispered. I’d want to check out her place later for clues to what happened. “It’s been a long drive for me, and I need a nap so I can figure out what I have to do next to find her.”
He shook his head as if he was having an argument with himself. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours with some cleaning supplies and get the floor behind the counter scrubbed.”
I didn’t want to talk anymore. I wanted to get my bags out of the truck. I’d hassle with unpacking the U-Haul later, but the bags were a must. I needed something personal, something of mine in this place. I held out my hand. “That’s a nice offer. I can manage. Thanks.”
Babel took my hand, and gave me a tight-lipped smile. “You don’t handle blood very well. After I clean it up, maybe we can compare notes about Chavvie.”
I nodded, afraid that if I spoke the dams would open and I wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. Then I heard a voice like a whisper in my ear.
Save her.
Babel let go of my hand. “I’ll be back.” The way he said it sounded more like a threat than a promise. As he walked out the front door, he added, “You’ve got an audience.”
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“Grimoires of a Middle Aged Witch is my new favorite series! I want a gnome named Linda of my own. Trust me. Read the series. You will not regret a single delightfully hilarious and heartwarming moment.
~ Robyn Peterman, NYT and USA Today Bestselling Author of Good to the Last Death series.
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~Yasmine Galenorn, New York Times Bestselling Author
“Renee George has crafted a fantastic start to this magical midlife adventure. Pick up Earth Spells Are Easy today! You won’t be disappointed.”
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-- Michelle M. Pillow, NYT & USAT Bestselling Author
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a USA Today Bestselling author who writes paranormal mysteries and romances because I love all things whodunit, Otherworldly, and weird. Also, I wish my pittie, the adorable Kona Princess Warrior and my two cats Ash and Simon could talk. Or at least be more like Scooby-Doo and help me unmask villains at the haunted house up the street.
When I'm not writing about mystery-solving werecougars or the adventures of a hapless psychic living among shapeshifters, I am preyed upon by stray kittens who end up living in my house because I can't say no to those sweet, furry faces. (Someone stop telling them where I live!)
I live in Mid-Missouri with my family and I spend my non-writing time doing really cool stuff...like watching TV and cleaning up dog poop
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Renee George, Ghost in the Spell
