The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet Read online

  “Something keeping you up?” He fought a surge of irrational jealousy at the picture of her with another guy. Maybe she was dating more than one man. Maybe he was just a number to her.

  Worry crossed her face. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy.” Just spit it out, already. If she was making this big of a deal about it, it wasn’t good news.

  She bit her lip. “I have a ghost.”

  Of all the things he’d expected to hear, that wasn’t on the list. Not even remotely. He couldn’t help it; he smiled.

  “See?” She said, smiling through her exasperation. “I told you you’d think I was crazy.”

  He studied her for a minute to see if she was fucking with him. Underneath that sweet exterior, was there a crystal-rubbing, patchouli-loving nut job? He didn’t know. So all he said was, “You sure it’s a ghost?”

  Emily gave him a rueful look. “We were told it was haunted when we bought it. I just didn’t believe the stories”

  “Wait. You knew it was haunted when you bought it? And you still wanted to buy it?” He didn’t miss that ‘we’ in there either.

  She grimaced and took a sip of her soda as another couple came into the theater. Then she looked over at him and lowered her voice. “So I should probably explain something about my ex-husband.”

  “Is he dead?” Oh shit, was she a widow? Those were rough to date.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! No – it’s not his ghost. My ex is Braden Smith of Spooky Society.”

  He had no clue what that was. “Okaaay.”

  She waved her hands and pulled out her phone. “Okay, you’re not a fan of the show, which brings you up a notch in my book.” She typed a few things into the screen of the phone and then handed it to him. “It’s a cable show ‘dedicated to exploring and cataloguing the paranormal and unexplained.’” Her voice turned mocking.

  Jericho gazed down at the screen. There was a crew of men in matching polo shirts – all with arms crossed – standing in front of an ominous house. The SPOOKY SOCIETY logo was emblazoned across the screen and at the bottom there were links for cast photos, videos, and additional information. “I…see.”

  “So, when we first got married, we were college sweethearts. Braden was a computer programmer. I was a business major and wanted to open my own bakery. In his spare time, Braden ran a ghost hunting volunteer group. I was never into it, but he liked to go on ghost hunting expeditions every weekend. Some husbands fish or hunt.” Her look was a patient one. “Mine liked to go to people’s houses and try to connect with spirits. I ignored it and did my own thing for the most part.”

  He offered the phone back to her. So her ex was a celebrity of sorts. And probably loaded. Well, that was two strikes against Jericho’s resume. He didn’t have two nickels to rub together, and he sure as shit wasn’t famous. Maybe infamous around Bluebonnet for his tats and his hair, but that was about it. “So the house was a house on the show?”

  She shook her head. “Actually, the house came before the show. We bought it two years ago. I thought the stained glass windows were pretty and liked the idea of a fixer-upper. Braden liked the idea of a ghost in the attic. I didn’t believe in ghosts despite his hobby, so I was fine with buying the house. But right after we purchased it, he got an offer from the television network to create a show based around him and his crew.” Emily’s look became less patient, more pinched. “It meant him basing out of Los Angeles instead of here in Texas. I didn’t want him to do it. We’d just gotten married, just bought the house, and were talking about starting a family in the future. At least, I thought that’s what we were doing. He accused me of not supporting him or believing in him.” She plucked at an imaginary bit of lint on her cardigan. “He went to do the TV show anyhow, and we divorced. I got the house since he didn’t want to be in Texas. And the ironic thing is that it really is haunted.”

  “You’ve seen something?”

  “Not yet. But I hear things moving around in the attic at night, when I’m the only one in the house. It’s a big house to be alone in anyhow, but add in the ghosts, and it scares the crap out of me.” She looked unhappy, fiddling with one of the buttons on her sweater before taking another sip of her drink. “I have the police come by on the worst nights, but I think they’re getting tired of it. I know they think I’m crazy because they never find anything. But I don’t have anyone else to call on.”

  Something about her seemed so sad and woebegone, Jericho wanted to grab her and kiss her until that forlorn expression left her face. “What about Bradley?” he asked.

  “Braden?” She shook her head. “He’ll only come check out the house if I let him film it for his show, and I refuse.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a business. You could probably use the income, right? I imagine lots of people would flock to see a haunted bed and breakfast.”

  “I don’t want notoriety. I want peace and quiet.” She looked distressed at the thought. “I don’t want to be that bed and breakfast, you know? I want people to come because they like the house and enjoy the cooking. Not because they’re hoping to meet a ghost.”

  Oddly enough, Jericho understood. Despite his tattoos and hair and Harley, he was a pretty low-key guy himself. His parents had been vagabonds and scammers, floating from town to town and making a quick buck where they could. He’d hated that lifestyle and had ran away from home to join the Army as soon as he was old enough. Served a few years, just long enough to realize that he wasn’t really cut out for being told what to do, and apprenticed with a friend who had a fix-it business. The rest was history. After a crazy childhood, he liked nothing more than to relax at home with a beer.

  She reached for her popcorn and nibbled on a handful before looking over at him. “So that’s why I can’t sleep. I’m a chicken and I’m scared of ghosts. But it’s hard to tell myself it’s nothing when I can plainly hear strange noises all night long.”

  “Huh,” was all he said.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “Nah, I just…” He shrugged. “Never believed in ghosts before, you know? But if you say it’s haunted, I believe you. And your ex said it was haunted, and it sounds like he’s an expert.”

  It also sounded like he was a douchebag, but he wasn’t sure if Emily wanted to hear that.

  “The house is a hundred years old,” Emily said. “You’d expect someone died in it at some point, right? Maybe they just stuck around.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “But enough about the house. I’ve lived in Bluebonnet for two years and I’ve never seen you. You new?”

  He nodded. “To the area, yeah. Decided I’d see if I could make a go of business here. Last town wasn’t so friendly.”

  Emily’s brows furrowed. “How come?”

  He pointed at his face and recognition dawned on hers.

  “Ah. People can be a bit…conservative in small towns, I’ve noticed.” She grimaced. “They’re not really fond of a bad boy. I hope work’s treating you all right.”

  “It’s slow,” he said. “But I heard this lady has a ramshackle Victorian she needs help updating. Cha-ching.”

  He watched as a smile spread across Emily’s face, making her delicate features utterly gorgeous in the shadowy theater. Damn, he really wanted to kiss her. “Cha-ching, huh?” she murmured.

  “I hear she’s a pretty good cook, too.”

  “Best in town, or so I’ve heard,” Emily said, playing along. She shifted in her seat and leaned toward him. “She was really pleased with the eaves you helped her with the other day. Don’t suppose you’re good with toilets? And lighting?”

  “I know a thing or two,” he said casually.

  “I heard there’s a few shaky ones over at the old Victorian that probably need to be re-seated and sealed,” Emily said casually. “I bet the lady with the Victorian would hire you to help with that.”

  Her playful, sultry tone of voice was making his cock hard, right in the middle of the damn
movie theater. “Think she’d cook something for me?”

  “I bet. What’s your favorite?”

  Jericho thought for a moment. “Oatmeal raisin cookies?”

  “Done.” She smiled up at him. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

  “Sounds like I’m putting in a few toilets.” He leaned toward her, curious to see if she’d flinch away from him or if she’d keep snuggling closer. When she didn’t pull away, he brushed his mouth over hers.

  She gave a small gasp.

  “That okay?” he whispered.

  “The kiss?” Emily sounded dazed.

  “That, too. I was thinking more about the toilets, though. Tomorrow is good for me as long as you won’t feel weird about it?”

  She shook her head. “I won’t feel weird.” Then she tilted her head. “Where are you staying right now? If you just moved to the area?”

  “With friends a couple of towns over.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with me while I don’t have any guests,” she said. Then, she quickly added, “Not in a sexual way, of course.”

  What the fuck? Just like that, his boner died. “Gosh, no,” he said flatly. Where the hell was she going with this? “I’d never be interested in you in a sexual way.”

  The look on her face was awkward. “I probably should explain that. I mean, it’s not that you’re a bad looking guy or anything. You’re not! I just don’t know that I’m ready to jump into a new relationship. With sex. And like, commitment. Actually mostly just sex. Staying with me doesn’t mean commitment.” She blinked as if getting lost in her own words. “I’m messing this up, I think. What I meant to say was, I just have extra rooms sitting there and I’d appreciate the company…Any company…”

  Even a bad boy like him? Gee, didn’t he feel special. Any company, indeed. “I’ll think about it,” he told her. “‘Preciate the offer, though.”

  “Of course. Free of charge, too.” She gave him a faint smile. “I mostly just want the company.”

  Jesus, she was putting a chill on his erection, that was for sure. Shame, too. He liked her, and after all that flirting, he was feeling kinda riled up. Too bad that died an ugly death. He fell back to an old safeguard – teasing. “Free rooms? That’s no way to run a bed and breakfast.”

  She sighed. “So I hear.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Emily absently gazed at the contents of her baking pantry, trying not to let her bad mood ruin a perfectly good day of baking. The rolled oats and organic raisins on the shelf taunted her. She glared at them before pulling out chocolate chips instead.

  Stupid Jericho. Stupid man. Stupid stupid.

  Their date hadn’t gone swimmingly. Or at least, it seemed like it had until he’d kissed her. Then she’d gotten all freaked out, asked him to move in, babbled on about how she didn’t want him sexually, and then things kind of went south from there. She’d spent most of the movie shoveling greasy popcorn into her mouth and kicking herself mentally.

  Why on earth had she told a man that she was out on a date with that she wasn’t ready for a relationship? Especially after he’d kissed her and her entire body had responded? She must be three kinds of stupid.

  It was just…gosh. She hadn’t been on a date since college. What was that, seven years? And then she’d babbled on horribly about her ex, and got all weirded out by her own words. So yeah. When the movie ended, they’d driven back to her place and he’d dropped her off without even trying to come in.

  So much for that.

  He’d even chickened out of work the next day. Cited a ‘plumbing emergency’ for another client and asked if they could reschedule. Emily knew a blow-off as well as anyone, and didn’t give him a hard time about it.

  But she’d be damned if she made him cookies.

  And really, she could fix her own toilets. Eventually. Maybe after she stripped the wallpaper from the bathroom. There was no rush. She’d just add it to her laundry list of things that needed to be done. Her Victorian was pretty, but it required constant upkeep.

  Someone knocked at the front door. Emily’s heart thumped. Maybe he’d come by after all? She rushed for the foyer…only to see her storky, crazy sister Luanne. Her hair was pulled up into two pink-and-blonde knots and she wore a pink tank top with jeans and no makeup. “Hey, Em! How’s it hanging? Thought I’d swing by for some java and eats before heading to work.”

  “Hey, Luanne,” Emily said, forcing a smile to her face. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

  “Don’t look so thrilled to see me,” Luanne teased, heading into the kitchen after Emily. “I can drink the station coffee if you’re busy. It just tastes a bit like tire treads is all.”

  “You’re fine,” Emily said. She headed back into the kitchen and poured water into the coffee pot, then flipped it on. “I was just about to bake some chocolate chip cookies. Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. I haven’t decided.”

  Luanne moved to Emily’s side and pressed a hand against her sister’s forehead. “Not baking? You? You feeling okay, kiddo?”

  Emily snorted. “Don’t call me kiddo. I’m two years older than you.”

  “Yeah, but I’m taller. And wiser. Now fess up. What’s bugging you?” Luanne smoothed Emily’s hair back over her shoulder and then went and sat down at the breakfast bar, her watchful gaze on her sister.

  Darn Luanne for being so intuitive. Emily pulled out a pair of coffee cups and debated lying to her sister. Truth was easier, though. “I had a date last night.”

  “Oh snap! Your first one since the big divorce. Who was it with?”

  “Jericho Lozada. Handyman. He’s new to town.”

  “I don’t know him, so he hasn’t been to the police station,” she said with a grin. “Cute?”

  Emily thought of Jericho’s wild hair, his gorgeous smile and tight pants. “Real cute.”

  “Clearly it did not go well, hence the funky mood? Closet douchebag? Skeezy sex-hound?”

  Emily shook her head. “I kind of wish he had been a sex-hound. Didn’t even kiss me goodnight. I think I kind of killed the mood with mentioning my ex.” She grabbed the coffee pot out from under the drip and poured a cup. “And then I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship. And then I offered for him to move in to the house in a purely platonic fashion because I needed company and not a relationship.”

  Luanne’s eyes widened. “Oh, Em. Did you lose control of your mouth or something?”

  “I was just nervous. Really nervous.” Emily shoved the pot back onto the warmer and waited for more coffee to dribble out. “Like you said, it was my first date since the divorce and I haven’t been sleeping and I kept wondering what a guy like him was doing dating someone as boring as me—“

  “Stop, Emily, stop!” Luanne raised her hands in the air. “What on earth are you going on about? You’re not boring.”

  Maybe not to her sister, who loved her unconditionally. But to someone like Jericho? All she did was bake cookies and keep a big house. How could someone like that be exciting to him? She shook her head. “Braden thought I was boring.”

  “Braden was a pompous douchebag and he’s only gotten worse since he started hanging out with those Ghostbuster nuts. I bet he’s insufferable on his TV show.”

  Emily kind of bet that he was, too. Luanne was a good sister for making her feel better. “Well, I ruined the date. I’m just not confident like you.”

  “Confident like me?” Luanne snorted. “Hank’s the first one that wanted to date the real me ever since, well, forever. You want something to do a number on your ego, have guys ask you to ‘dress up’ as your alter-ego in bed.”

  Emily nodded, remembering Luanne’s stunt videos as ‘The Legend of Jane’, a web blogger with roller-derby style and zany antics. She knew her sister had tired of the persona long before her audience had, and appreciated being ‘normal’, working as an administrator and computer guru for Bluebonnet’s tiny police department.

  “And if there’s one thing that being Jane taught me,” Luanne said
, sipping her coffee. “It’s that you fake confidence and the rest sort of follows. Next time you see that guy, you be your brilliant self and act like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.” She grinned. “Since your sliced bread. Which is pretty awesome. And speaking of, got anything I can take to the station with me?”

  ~~ * * * ~~

  To Emily’s surprise, Jericho showed up that next afternoon with his plumbing tools. “Oh,” she said at the sight of him. “I didn’t expect you over.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Did you not want me to work on your toilets? I thought—“

  She waved a hand. “No, no, of course I do. Come on in.”

  He hauled his toolbox inside and she noticed today there was no leather jacket – just a black concert tee and jeans and a tool belt that emphasized his tight ass. She caught herself staring and then shook her head.

  “Sorry about the delay,” he said casually. “The elementary school’s gymnasium was knee deep in shit from some backed up pipes and a friend needed some help with the job.”

  Emily was surprised. “Oh wow, really?”

  He set down his tool box and gave her an odd look. “Didn’t you get my text message?”

  “Well, yes, but I thought…you know what? Never mind.” Emily smiled at him and gestured at a door down the hall. “Let me show you one of the bathrooms where I need the toilet re-seated.”

  “Sure,” Jericho said, his smile a little hesitant, but still sexy. “By the way, you look nice today.”

  Boy, she’d really messed this one up, hadn’t she? “Thank you. Right over here.” She showed him the bathroom and then hurried to the kitchen.

  Time to make some cookies.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  Emily rolled over and squinted at her alarm clock. 2:47 AM. She blinked at the red numerals, not quite sure what had woken her up.

  Something heavy shuffled upstairs.

  Instantly, every nerve in Emily’s body fired awake. She stared up at the ceiling with a mixture of dread and terror. Maybe she’d imagined that noise. Maybe it was just a bad dream carrying over to wakefulness.