Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(60)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Simon looked down at her. “I was also told you’d say that. Regardless, Mr. Fraser was pretty clear he wanted a report by close of business today as to how the system could be updated promptly and then he’s stated he wants me to move forward and get it done.”

Abby read between the lines. Cash wanted it done even if Abby refused. And it would get done, no matter what Abby said.

Yes, Abby realised, her blood pressure was rising.

“You’re here on a wasted errand,” she explained to Simon on another kind of lie. “They’re almost finished.”

Simon looked toward the stairs. “I’ll just have a look.”

“Really, it isn’t…” Abby started but Simon was on the move and Abby began to follow him. “Excuse me,” she called up the steps and he turned.

“You don’t have to come, I’ll find my way,” Simon told her and then he kept right on going.

Abby stared at his departing back.

Then the bell clanked again.

Abby turned slowly to the door but looked back at Mrs. Truman and Jenny.

“Well, see who it is,” Mrs. Truman prompted sharply and Abby and the three spaniels went back to the door.

She opened it and a man three inches shorter than Abby and about twenty years older stood outside carrying a tool box.

“Abigail Butler?” he asked.

What now?

“Yes,” she answered.

“I’m Nigel. Mr. Fraser asked me to pop by and fix your bell,” he told her.

Abby looked at Nigel then at the bell in her door then to Jenny and Mrs. Truman who’d come out into the hall.

When she looked back at Nigel, he was bent, had put his tool box on the stoop and was petting two of Mrs. Truman’s panting, happy dogs.

“Cute little fellas,” Nigel remarked.

“Um, there isn’t anything wrong with my bell,” Abby told him.

Nigel’s head tilted back and he looked at her then he reached out and turned the bell.

It clanked cacophonously.

Abby closed her eyes.

She opened them when she heard Nigel say, “Probably just needs a good cleaning. Won’t take but a minute. I’ll just get started.”

Then he grabbed his tool box, straightened, pushed in through Abby and the dogs, closed the door, dropped immediately to his knees and got to work.

Abby stared at him.

Then she turned and stiffly walked to Mrs. Truman and Jenny.

“Did that just happen?” she asked them.

“Yes,” Mrs. Truman said shortly and then vanished back into living room.

Jenny came forward and stopped when she was close to Abby.

“Remember, it’s just a job,” she whispered.

“We talked about this,” Abby whispered back, “Cash and I. He said he wouldn’t interfere.”

“It’s just a job,” Jenny repeated.

“But –” Abby began and Jenny’s hand grasped hers and squeezed.

“Let him do what he wants to do. It’s his thing. If he’s getting off on taking care of you, let him do it,” Jenny said and then went on. “Just don’t get used to it.”

“I don’t think –” Abby started again and Jenny squeezed her hand again.

“It’s his thing. Not yours. Just let it go and keep focused.”

“Jenny,” Abby breathed.

“Focus,” Jenny repeated firmly.

Abby understood what Jenny was trying to do but she was way too freaked out to let her do it.

“It’s my house. It’s Gram’s house. Ben loved this house. It’s theirs. This house is the only place I can still be with them. I can’t be thinking of Cash every time I hear the door bell or take a shower!” she cried but under her breath so Nigel couldn’t hear.

“Too late for that,” Jenny said logically.

“Jenny!” Abby exclaimed.

Jenny got even closer. “I know it’s tough and it’s going to get tougher. But you can do it.”

“I don’t think I can,” Abby admitted and Jenny gave her another hand squeeze.

“I know you can. And anyway, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. There’s a ghost who wants to kill you, for goodness sakes.”

This, Abby thought, was true.

“Priorities,” Jenny finished, gave Abby’s hand another squeeze, let her go and then walked back into the living room.

Abby took a deep breath then followed her friend back to the donuts.

* * * * *

Abby felt the hair being shifted off her neck and she opened her eyes to see a man’s thigh encased in black trousers with thin pinstripes set wide.

She looked up and saw a wine-coloured shirt, collar open at a muscular neck.

Then up further and she saw Cash.

He was sitting in the crook of her lap, one hand on her hip, his eyes warm on her face. Abby was lying on her side on the couch in the seating area off his kitchen.

“Did I fall asleep?” she asked in somnolent surprise.

Cash smiled, leaned forward and picked something up from the floor. He came up with her book which she must have dropped after she fell asleep while reading.

“I think you lost your place,” he murmured, setting the book by her still full but now probably cold mug of herbal tea on the low table in front of the couch.

Abby’s eyes went from the book to the digital clock on the microwave over the stove.

When she saw it was a quarter to eight, she shot to sitting position, dodging around Cash, and jumped to her feet crying, “Oh God! The dumplings!”

She rushed to the kitchen, registering that her nagging headache which she’d been keeping at bay all day with pain medication had come back. With it being way late, and with the dumplings to sort, she didn’t have time to do anything about it.

Abby hurried to the counter saying, “I meant to have everything ready for you when you got home. This is going to take at least another half an hour.”

As Abby threw the tea towel off the dumpling dough, Cash’s voice said from behind her, “Darling, relax.” She turned to walk to the drawer to get a spoon as he went on, “Martini or amaretto?”

He was at the cupboard containing the liquor, looking at ease and unperturbed, making drinks in his kitchen while she cooked.

This she found vaguely alarming because it was not-so-vaguely appealing.

Abby decided to focus on the drink rather than the appeal of Cash and herself doing normal boyfriend/girlfriend stuff in his kitchen and replied, “Martini.”

While Cash started to make the drinks, Abby opened the crock pot and the aroma from the food wafted strongly into the room. Without delay, she began to spoon in the dumpling dough.