A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(7)
Author: Erin McCarthy

They thought he was here to check up on the plant and, maybe specifically, to check up on them.

The polite thing to do would be to tell them the truth, that he was apparently on the outs with his boss for some unknown atrocity, and that he had no clue why he’d been banished to Cuttersville.

But his pride wouldn’t allow that.

The pride was what had gotten him through childhood, through the heartache and embarrassment when his father had skipped town with a wad of embezzled cash and Boston’s eighteen-year-old babysitter. Pride had earned him a spot at the University of Chicago, and then a job at Samson Plastics.

It had served him well, and all the Shelby Tuckers in Cuttersville couldn’t force him to part with it.

“Well, after lunch, we’ll head back on over and you can show me these fabulous numbers you keep bragging about.”

After all, he did have to do something here, and every one of Samson’s holdings did need to be watchdogged from time to time. He would just self-appoint himself to the task.

Maybe Podunk wasn’t going to be so heinous after all. He had just landed himself a three-month vacation from real work.

Chapter Three

The seniors were getting restless. Shelby recognized the signs. Shuffling of walkers and canes. Griping at their spouses. Fiddling with the false teeth.

She rang the doorbell of the White House again. Gran had told her about the agreement with Boston and she was willing to abide by his rules. But he wasn’t answering the door and she had a whole porch full of people with prosthetic parts. They couldn’t stand around for very long without locking up.

Knocking with enough force to wake the dead, or at least to rouse Boston, since the dead were already awake, she turned to her audience.

“This Victorian home built in 1886 is home to at least seven spirits. From the nanny who continues to watch over every generation of children in the house and the kindly housekeeper who keeps serving meals, to the forlorn and malicious man who lurks in the basement, there is never an empty room in the house. The current resident is only temporary, while the spirits reside for eternity.”

The current resident wasn’t answering his damn door, and she figured she’d fulfilled her end of the bargain. Gran had only said she had to knock. Nobody said anything about waiting for Boston to actually let her in.

Oops. Her key fell in the lock and turned.

Since Boston clearly wasn’t home, she wasn’t going to worry about it. Workaholic like that, he probably would sleep on a couch in his office. Rumpled in his fancy dress clothes, mouth slightly open, arm up, and a sexy little rise and fall of his chest . . .

Hell, what was the matter with her? Fine time for her passionate side to pop up out of nowhere. Hadn’t that been the problem with her and Danny? Her nonexistent passion? She had always gone through the motions, knowing damn well she wasn’t exactly blowing his mind with her slightly elevated breathing and halfhearted hip thrusts. Since her divorce, no man had really caught her sexual eye, and she had concluded she just wasn’t a passionate person.

Until now. Until Boston. She’d felt more urgings today than she had in the past three years, and the man hadn’t even laid a soft, city finger on her. Maybe the conclusion she could draw was that celibacy was an unnatural state, and that even mediocre sex with Danny had been better than no sex, because no sex had made her lose her mind and lust after a pretty boy.

“Come on in, folks, and listen carefully for the mysterious sounds of the dead.” Shelby entered the narrow entry hall and stepped into the parlor on the left to allow room for her six guests.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Shelby jumped at the sound of Boston’s voice coming from behind her. Feeling a guilty blush steal over her cheeks, she turned. “Well, hi there, Boston. How are you?”

He was lying on the couch, damn him, just like her fantasy, only in her dreams he wasn’t scrunched on a Victorian chintz sofa too short for him, wearing a tight T-shirt and a scowl. The little wires dangling from his ears indicated why he hadn’t heard her knock, and he shifted the MP3 player off his lap, along with a laptop computer, as he sat up.

“Shelby, I asked one simple thing of your grandmother. That you not enter the house without my consent, and here I find you standing in my living room.”

The priggish tone set her back up. “That wasn’t the agreement! Gran said I couldn’t come in without knocking first. I knocked, you didn’t answer, then I came in.”

Let him dispute that.

His eyes narrowed.

Shelby became aware that the seniors had gone silent in the entryway, hanging on every embarrassing word. She was about to suggest they head on up the stairs, she’d be along in a minute after her argument with sexy city boy ended, when the pocket door to the parlor started sliding shut.

The seniors must be giving her privacy. As thoughtful as that was, she wasn’t having any of it.

“That’s alright folks, I’m coming on out.” Boston could wait. She couldn’t really abandon her tour-goers; she needed the money too much to risk alienation. Besides, she didn’t want to be closed into a room alone with Boston, even for a minute in broad daylight.

“The door’s closing by itself!” one of the seniors called out. She thought it was Ernie, given the gravelly bellow.

There were various startled gasps from others, and something resembling a scream from one woman.

“What?” She strode forward, reaching out to grab the door. It stopped sliding. She stuck her head out a ways, and saw that indeed, all six adults were standing in the hall, none in touching distance of the door.

They gaped at her. “Must have been the wind,” she said, trying to push the door back open.

It pushed back.

Shelby pushed harder.

The door gave a hefty shove, sending her sailing back into the parlor, fearing for her head getting caught in the door. It slammed into the wall and she heard the click as the pocket door’s little click latch was turned.

“What the hell?” Shelby grabbed the door, rattled it, tried to turn the lock back. Nothing budged.

Boston nudged her, startling her into a yelp. Jesus, she hadn’t even seen him come up behind her, she was that freaked out.

“I’ll get it.”

His ample muscles rippled as he gripped the door and tried to move it. Shelby hadn’t noticed all that bulging when she’d seen him that morning. Of course, her eyes had been glued to another bulge. Now with that faded navy T-shirt straining, she had a great shot of biceps.