knees. In that position, the air of fragility around her seemed emphasized. The slant of the sun hit the window behind her head and the light flared. For the barest second, he saw an after-image of another woman with the same troubled expression—it was like seeing double. He squinted, shifted, and suddenly the double image was gone. Weird . That had happened before, the first time he’d met Mac. Had to be the way the afternoon light hit the windows on the house.
“I’ve seen a ghost,” she said suddenly.
The certainty in her voice sent prickles of ice up his spine. “What?” Was she joking with him? Or serious? The wryness of her expression didn’t elaborate.
“You heard me.” She glanced down at her tea and picked at an imaginary thread on the cuff of her denim shorts.
“Ghosts aren’t real, Mac,” he said, forcing himself not to be harsh. “They provide an easy answer to what goes bump in the night, but they aren’t real.” And it irritated the hell out of him that she would think they were.
“Wow, considering why you wanted to buy this place, I guess I didn’t think you’d be such a skeptic.” Lightness echoed in her words, but disappointment turned her smile down, and she stood. “Look at the ugly gates—have you ever seen anything like them around here? Some poor woman was held captive here. Trapped in this house. When ugly things happen in places, the memory of it lingers. That’s not really a stretch.”
“It’s a hell of a stretch. It’s a house—things happened. Maybe it does have a painful history, but that doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”
“Explain the gates. I’ve checked—those hinges were chiseled out on purpose. Why do that?”
“Maybe they warped.” They were metal. Winters brought ice and snow. Cold air could twist even iron. “A good part of this place is in disrepair. So you’re working with flimsy evidence if you think some broken gates and an old wives’ tale makes for a ghost.” Raking a hand through his hair, he shook his head. Mac seemed practical and down to earth most of the time. Focused—he liked the determination and the grit—but this pandering to the local mythology? No. He got enough of that from Jock’s “psychic” insights.
“Wow. That’s pretty harsh.”
It took him a moment to register the tight lines around her mouth and her frown. Disappointment flared in her eyes, and his jaw locked.
“I’m sorry.” Even if the words tasted like gravel on his tongue. “I’m not a big fan of supernatural explanations for totally normal occurrences. It creates a lot of drama and hysteria for no reason.”
“In your opinion.” She raised her brows in challenge.
Justin gritted his teeth. Would it kill him to agree with her? Probably not. Still, it didn’t feel right. “In my opinion.” He could concede that much, but felt the need to add, “And in my experience.”
Mac blew out a breath. “So you are professional debunker of ghosts?”
“No.” He didn’t laugh, because it would have been rude. Her outrage, however, returned the color to her cheeks and lit the fire in her eyes. Pissing her off may not have been wise, but he did like the results.
She wasn’t done. “So you’ve proven ghosts weren’t there when someone else saw them? Or felt them?”
“Mac…”
“Yes or no?” she demanded, and bounced to her feet.
“No, I haven’t disproven the existence of ghosts. Hard to disprove something that isn’t real.” If she wanted to argue, he didn’t have a problem with that. Especially not when she appeared healthier than she had when she’d first come outside.
“Then your experience is your opinion.” Mac grinned, enormously satisfied with her conclusion.
He sucked in a breath. Everything about her was vibrant, alive, and passionate. God, she would be great in bed.
Her triumph vanished behind a wary expression when she caught him gazing at her. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re
“I’ve seen a ghost,” she said suddenly.
The certainty in her voice sent prickles of ice up his spine. “What?” Was she joking with him? Or serious? The wryness of her expression didn’t elaborate.
“You heard me.” She glanced down at her tea and picked at an imaginary thread on the cuff of her denim shorts.
“Ghosts aren’t real, Mac,” he said, forcing himself not to be harsh. “They provide an easy answer to what goes bump in the night, but they aren’t real.” And it irritated the hell out of him that she would think they were.
“Wow, considering why you wanted to buy this place, I guess I didn’t think you’d be such a skeptic.” Lightness echoed in her words, but disappointment turned her smile down, and she stood. “Look at the ugly gates—have you ever seen anything like them around here? Some poor woman was held captive here. Trapped in this house. When ugly things happen in places, the memory of it lingers. That’s not really a stretch.”
“It’s a hell of a stretch. It’s a house—things happened. Maybe it does have a painful history, but that doesn’t mean it’s haunted.”
“Explain the gates. I’ve checked—those hinges were chiseled out on purpose. Why do that?”
“Maybe they warped.” They were metal. Winters brought ice and snow. Cold air could twist even iron. “A good part of this place is in disrepair. So you’re working with flimsy evidence if you think some broken gates and an old wives’ tale makes for a ghost.” Raking a hand through his hair, he shook his head. Mac seemed practical and down to earth most of the time. Focused—he liked the determination and the grit—but this pandering to the local mythology? No. He got enough of that from Jock’s “psychic” insights.
“Wow. That’s pretty harsh.”
It took him a moment to register the tight lines around her mouth and her frown. Disappointment flared in her eyes, and his jaw locked.
“I’m sorry.” Even if the words tasted like gravel on his tongue. “I’m not a big fan of supernatural explanations for totally normal occurrences. It creates a lot of drama and hysteria for no reason.”
“In your opinion.” She raised her brows in challenge.
Justin gritted his teeth. Would it kill him to agree with her? Probably not. Still, it didn’t feel right. “In my opinion.” He could concede that much, but felt the need to add, “And in my experience.”
Mac blew out a breath. “So you are professional debunker of ghosts?”
“No.” He didn’t laugh, because it would have been rude. Her outrage, however, returned the color to her cheeks and lit the fire in her eyes. Pissing her off may not have been wise, but he did like the results.
She wasn’t done. “So you’ve proven ghosts weren’t there when someone else saw them? Or felt them?”
“Mac…”
“Yes or no?” she demanded, and bounced to her feet.
“No, I haven’t disproven the existence of ghosts. Hard to disprove something that isn’t real.” If she wanted to argue, he didn’t have a problem with that. Especially not when she appeared healthier than she had when she’d first come outside.
“Then your experience is your opinion.” Mac grinned, enormously satisfied with her conclusion.
He sucked in a breath. Everything about her was vibrant, alive, and passionate. God, she would be great in bed.
Her triumph vanished behind a wary expression when she caught him gazing at her. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re
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