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

“If you want to continue, go for it. Three miles is my limit.”

“And your reasoning is?” He slowed to her pace.

She relaxed just a little. “I want to do just enough to get my heart pumping, to feel alive and to offset the chocolate doughnuts I plan to eat when I get back to the hotel.”

He laughed. Different from the way he’d laughed since she’d been around him. There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm in it. In fact, she liked the rich warmth of the sound. It sent shivers over her. Trent wouldn’t be such a bad guy if it weren’t for his hardheaded convictions. Why did he have to think that anyone who believed in the paranormal was out to rip off the public?

“What are you thinking?”

Could he tell she was thinking about him and his beliefs? No, of course not. She was the psychic, not him. But why shouldn’t she tell him what she thought?

She glanced in his direction. His hair was damp, mussed from the run. Damn, it only made him look more attractive, more disreputable. She quickly looked away. Temptation wasn’t a good thing.

“I was thinking how wrong you are,” she told him as she went up the steps of the hotel.

“About the books I write?”

“Yeah.” She opened the door and went inside, going toward the kitchen. When she reached the refrigerator, she got out a bottle of water, started to close the door, but instead, handed it to Trent, then reached for another.

She drank a third of her water before heading back to the front porch. He followed. As she stepped outside, a light breeze fanned her heated skin. Nice.

“And why should I believe what you’re doing is right?” he asked. “Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

“Sometimes the first step is an act of faith,” she told him as she set her water down and stretched her arms above her head. For just a second she closed her eyes and let the world move forward without her.

“But your mother believes and she doesn’t see ghosts.”

“Mom tries too hard. She wants to see a spirit around every corner. She believes what she thinks should be there.” She’d tried to teach her mother meditation, but it hadn’t worked. Her mother was always thinking of what she needed to do or what she wanted to do. She probably had a million mental sticky notes.

“Tell me about your visions,” he prodded.

She chuckled, looking in his direction. He was humoring her again. “They’re not visions. They’re people who for one reason or another are earthbound.”

“Why don’t you tell them about the white light?” He sat down in the rocker.

Since he seemed at least a little interested, she made herself comfortable on the rail, leaning against the post. “It’s not that easy. Some haven’t finished what they’re supposed to do, some are afraid to cross and some just plain don’t want to.”

“And you know this how?”

“It’s actually my own theory, mixed with a little fact, that I’ve put together over the years.” She frowned. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

He opened his hands. “I’m interested.”

“In something you don’t believe?”

“But then, aren’t you trying to convince me otherwise?”

He had a point.

“When did you first start seeing ghosts?” He leaned back in his chair, looking quite comfortable.

Get out the couch. Therapy was about to start.

She didn’t quite trust him. And why should she. On the other hand, she wanted to educate people. It was okay that he didn’t believe the same way she did, but he didn’t have the right to condemn her because her beliefs were different from his.

So, okay, she’d tell him more. “I was about six. My mother was having a séance.” Selena laughed. “Mom might’ve even called the ghost forward accidentally. Whatever his reason for being there, no one could see him except me. When I pointed him out, the women practically fell all over themselves running out of the house.”

“And the ghost?” he prodded when she paused.

“I never saw him again. Maybe they scared him toward the light. Who knows?”

“And after that you…saw ghosts all the time. What, do they just appear?”

She didn’t think she liked his attitude. It was getting snarky again. “Wesley is standing near your chair.”

“Should I be afraid?” He smiled.

Wesley pulled out his gun and twirled it a few times before popping it back in his holster. “Want me to shoot him?”

Not a bad idea. “You can’t.”

“I can’t be afraid?” Trent asked.

“Not you.” She frowned at Trent. She really hated these double conversations.

He glanced around. “The ghost is here? Which one? Whistle or Ditsy?”

Please don’t let me get caught in the crossfire, she silently prayed. She cringed when Wesley pulled his gun and fired. Trent slapped his arm, then looked around.

“Mosquito,” he said.

“Wesley shot you.”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. Why had she even told him? Ghosts couldn’t do any really damage—most of the time. Unless you crossed paths with a really bad and powerful spirit.

“He shot me?” Trent laughed.

Oh, this wasn’t good. She looked at Wesley. His aura was turning red. Damn, he was really pissed. She came to her feet and eased behind the post.

Trent grabbed his chest and pushed the rocker back with his foot, still laughing. “Quick, call an ambulance before I bleed all over the porch.”

In a burst of flame, Dixie appeared and swung her arm wide. The rocker Trent was sitting in collapsed beneath him, and he went to the floor with a loud crash.

Oh, no, she’d been afraid of something like this. “Are you okay?” She ran to him and knelt down. He looked a little dazed.

“That’ll teach him!” Dixie looped her arm through Wesley’s, and they were gone in a streak of blue light.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Trent grumbled. “I should’ve known not to trust these old rockers.” When she looked at him, his expression turned grim. “I guess you’re going to tell me it was Wesley. What’d he do? Shoot me again?”

She