A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(18)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“No reason to get smart with me.”

Boston gave a little laugh. “Come on, Shelby. If I had paranormal powers, I wouldn’t flicker the lights. I’d vaporize your clothes or something.”

She was too frightened to even feel the kick of lust Boston’s words should have given. Not as big a kick as usual anyway. “That’s not funny!”

And why the hell was he always strutting around without a shirt? Didn’t he know it was a bad idea to start anything between them? That any flirtation they engaged in had nowhere to go since he was hightailing it out of town as soon as he could and she’d be here until the day she died? And maybe beyond, knowing Cuttersville.

Nope, any sort of . . . thingy between them had nowhere to go. Except to Boston’s big four-poster bed with the antique eyelet spread. Just three feet away from them. Where she’d already witnessed how impressive he could be, and that had been without any provocation.

“Where’s your cell phone?” she demanded, ready to pat down the pockets of his shorts to find it. She had to get out of this house now, and she wasn’t sure which was scarier—that ghosts were picking on her, or that she suddenly knew if she stayed with Boston, she would leap on him and beg for sex.

“It’s downstairs in the kitchen by my laptop.”

“Why isn’t it with you? Someone could be trying to reach you!” Shelby paced back and forth, her breathing ragged.

Why after never once showing their pale dead faces in three years were the White House ghosts suddenly slamming doors left and right? It wasn’t right. It was rude just to leap out of the afterworld like that and start fiddling with people’s property.

Of course, Rachel had lived in this house first.

“I was in the shower, Shelby. I don’t answer my phone when I’m in the shower.”

“Did you see ghosts in Chicago?” Rubbing her elbows, Shelby went over to the window and undid the latch.

It was a long drop down, but maybe if they got it open, they could yell like loons until someone heard them.

“No. And I’m still not seeing ghosts.”

Shelby stopped tugging on the window, which was stuck shut, and thought that through. Boston had a point. They weren’t actually seeing anything and she ought to be grateful for that, especially since Gran had told her about the Old Colonel traipsing around naked.

“You’re right. I’m panicking and I don’t really know why.”

But she was getting an idea. It had to do with the realization that for the first time in her adult life she was so physically attracted to a man it was making her nuts.

Boston came up behind her and put his hands on her arms, rubbing up and down softly. “It’s okay, everything is fine.”

That was not helping.

Shelby stepped away from him and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “It’s not fine. We’re trapped! Again.”

“Don’t tell me you have to go to the bathroom again.”

“No.”

“So what’s the big deal?” Boston sat down on the bed. Then he lay down, sticking his hands behind his head, like he didn’t have a ding-dong care in the world.

Shelby watched his broad chest rise and fall, and tried not to think about the fact that his shorts were loose enough for her to slip a hand inside, right below his washboard stomach. His skin still looked warm and damp from the shower, and the unmistakable feeling of a hot blush stole over her face.

If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Did you tell anyone you were coming over here?”

“Well, Harriet Danforth knew, which means the whole town knows.”

He nodded. “See? So when you don’t come home tonight, your gran will come looking for you, or send someone over to find you. Especially after what happened last time in the parlor.”

Shelby took a deep breath. “You’re right. That’s a good point. Dang, I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Of course someone will come looking for me.”

Jessie Stritmeyer was strolling down Main Street at half past seven, looking to get herself some peach ice cream, when Harriet Danforth flagged her down.

Harriet got on her nerves, with all that teased-up hair and big earrings that matched her too-bright blouse. Jessie paused on the sidewalk, stifling a sigh, and leaned against the old metal parking meter that nobody had bothered to stick a nickel in for about twenty years.

“Now, Jessie, I’m sure you’ve warned her, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea for Shelby to be running around with that city boy, Mac Boston.”

“Boston Macnamara.”

“That’s what I said.” Harriet looked perplexed. “And don’t you think it’s unsafe for Shelby to be alone with him?”

Jessie couldn’t resist a snort. If Shelby was in danger from Boston, Jessie would eat her petunias. “He’s not a serial killer, Harriet, just a Samson executive.”

“But you know how Shelby is.” Harriet pursed her lips, and those wide-set eyes held a vicious gleam. “And if she finds herself pregnant this time, I highly doubt a Chicago businessman will want to marry her.”

That was below the belt, implying that Shelby was a hussy, and Jessie was about to tell Harriet she could shove her fuchsia earrings where the sun don’t shine, when she thought of something. “So, are you saying Shelby’s with Boston right now? They’re off alone somewhere?”

“Boston inquired about a private Haunted Cuttersville Tour. Shelby said she’d meet him at the White House at seven tonight.”

Jessie grinned. That boy was finally getting the lead out. Private tour, indeed.

“I still don’t see why Shelby left poor Danny Tucker after he did the right thing and married her when she was in trouble.”

Trouble that Danny had gotten her into, if Jessie remembered correctly. She didn’t even bother to hold back an eye roll. “They were young and stupid, Harriet, and got carried away one night. Sort of like you and Clyde, if my memory serves.”

Harriet blustered and Jessie chortled. That was the fun thing about sanctimonious busybodies. They were so much fun to rankle. “Shelby leaving Danny isn’t any of your damn business, and it’s nearly three years ago now anyway. And if Shelby wants to give Mr. Moneybags a haunted house tour, that’s not any of your or my business either.”

That was stretching it a bit. Jessie did think it was her business, but not in the way Harriet intended.

Harriet waved a fly away from her nose. “How modern of you, Jessie. But you mark my words, Shelby won’t be coming home tonight. If she were my daughter, I’d send Clyde around to haul her home.”