Double Dating with the Dead by Karen Kelley (best fiction novels to read .txt) 📗

want to talk about them, and she opened her mouth to tell him exactly that, but stopped at the last minute. Maybe if she talked about Dixie and Wesley, they would seem more real to him. Then when they finally decided to do something that would make a believer out of him, he wouldn’t have the crap scared out of him. He looked healthy enough, but the shock might cause him to have a coronary.

Wouldn’t that be a damn shame, she thought with more than a little derision.

“Fine, I’ll tell you what I know, but not in here. It’s too stuffy.” And he could take that any way he wanted.

She started out of the kitchen, but he held up the bottle of Merlot.

“Refill?”

Sure, why not. She raised her glass, and he topped it off. Again, she mentally thanked Paige and her thoughtfulness; then she headed toward the front porch.

Summer was drawing to a close. The temperature was still in the high seventies to low eighties. Pleasant, not as hot as it had been in July.

October was her favorite time of the year. The leaves were turning a golden hue. The colors of fall. A new season, a new beginning.

The sun was low in the western sky as she sat in one of the rockers and pushed it into motion with the toe of her sandal. Someone was cooking on a grill. For just a second she closed her eyes and drank in the sounds and smells of the day. The spirit of the old hotel washed over her, bathing her in peacefulness.

Like people, sometimes a place or object had an essence of its own. She sensed that about the hotel. It had a good soul, wrapping her in a sense of peace. For a moment, she let her anger toward Trent fade.

“Do you know anything about the hotel?” she asked as she opened her eyes and took a drink of her wine. She leaned her head back against the top rung of the chair, the mellowness of the wine further relaxing her.

“I’ve heard all the wild tales about it being haunted if that’s what you’re asking.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m talking about the history.” She looked at him. His mocking expression changed, and she caught a glimpse of the man he could be. Who had made him so cynical? So untrusting?

“I know some. Not a lot,” he hedged.

She caught the way he hesitated. Did he think she’d lie? Probably. Skeptics were often like that. Just waiting to pounce on one wrong piece of information so they could condemn someone. She’d done her research and read up on everything about the hotel.

“It hasn’t always been a hotel,” she began. “It started out as a saloon. Some say Jessie James slept here. Can you imagine that you might be walking across the same floor that the notorious outlaw once crossed?”

“Any relation?” he asked with more sarcasm than she cared for.

She wouldn’t let him goad her into losing her temper. She wouldn’t. She slowly exhaled, releasing all the bad vibes that were around her. Only a few seconds passed before she felt calmer. To hell with self-help books, she had to remember to thank Paige for the wine. It worked wonders.

“My grandmother claimed we were related to the James gang, but who knows. It doesn’t really matter. Don’t you feel there’s more to the old hotel than wood and nails?”

No, Trent didn’t, but he could imagine what it would be like to lie next to her. When she closed her eyes and began to speak, it was all he could do to pay attention. Her voice was like music to his ears. The soft melody of her words caressed his senses and filled his thoughts with sensuous visions.

He took a deep breath and straightened in his chair. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable around her. So far, what she’d told him was what he’d discovered on his own. Of course he’d researched the hotel. He’d be a fool not to know something about where he’d be staying. If she lied about anything, he’d catch her. Then let her try to explain herself.

“There was a shooting,” she continued. “A man and woman were killed.”

“I suppose that would be your ghosts.”

When she frowned, she looked even more tempting. Maybe that was what he’d have to do to keep her at arm’s length—keep her pissed off at him. So far, he was doing an excellent job.

“I’m assuming the spirits here are the same ones who were shot. I haven’t had a chance to ask.”

“Are they here now?” He looked around.

“No.” She drained the wine in her glass and leaned forward to set it on the rail. Her top pulled taut against her breasts, and he realized just how sad his social life had been.

He dragged his gaze away from her breasts and looked across the yard. He really needed to focus on something besides her body.

Like maybe the condition of the place?

Okay, he could do that. The hotel wasn’t as run-down as he’d first thought. In fact, this wouldn’t be a bad place if it were cleaned up a little. Not a bad investment with the history behind it.

“It hasn’t sold because the buyers always back out at the last minute,” Selena said.

Now she was reading his mind. Not good, seeing as where his mind had been earlier.

“After the shooting it was turned into a hotel. The town had grown over the years, and the good citizens were trying to get rid of the riffraff.”

“And did it work?”

“The hotel never really took off because everyone said it was haunted. The owners barely scraped by making a living. When they died, the place closed. Garvey County finally took it over for back taxes, but it was never developed or reopened.”

“A shame,” he murmured as he let his gaze roam.

“You think so?”

“You sound surprised that I would.”

“I was positive you wouldn’t see beneath the shabbiness.”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t kiss and make it better. Get a Band–Aid.”

“Cute.” He wouldn’t