Page 11 of Chasing Your Ghost

“I guess I’ll just bring the bags in myself,” Riley muttered after Edith marched up to the front door without a single glance back, her heels clicking the tune of a high-powered businesswoman even as she wiped at her cheeks.

Riley marched to the back of the car. She opened the trunk and froze with her hand reaching toward the handle of one of her suitcases when she felt prickles on the back of her neck. Riley slowly turned around, her pulse climbing as the feeling persisted.

She saw movement out the corner of her eye, and her neck clicked as her head wrenched to the side to spot whatever or whoever it was. She caught sight of someone—a young man—walking across the front yard as though he’d come out of Edith’s house. His head was tilted down, his eyes fixed on the ground, but as he neared the enormous tree that stood proudly in the front yard of Edith’s house, he looked up and to the side. Pale eyes met her hazel ones, and Riley’s lips parted in a silent gasp.

The first thing she noticed about him was he was the kind of attractive that made Hollywood stars, well, Hollywood stars. A few strands of his wavy black hair draped over his forehead to rest just above his pale eyes, and the sharp lines of his jaw and nose contrasted with the round and full curves of his lips.

The second thing Riley noticed about him was, to put it bluntly, he was dead.

His brows pulled together, and he stumbled to a stop. He let his gaze rest on her for a few more seconds before he jerked his head from side to side. His lips moved as he muttered something Riley couldn’t hear. Before she could call out to him or wave to show that she could see him, he started moving again and walked behind the tree.

Riley didn’t need to wait to know that the ghost wouldn’t reappear on the other side of the trunk. She knew he was gone. She only got that prickle at the back of her neck when a ghost was around, and the sensation was no longer there.

Sighing and trying to shake off thoughts of why a ghost would have been lingering outside Edith’s house, Riley returned to her task. She heaved her three suitcases out of the car before moving on to the boxes in the back, doing her best not to pull a muscle under their weight.

A throat cleared behind her, and Riley abandoned the box she’d been trying to lift off the backseat to turn around. A young blonde guy stood a few feet away, a hesitant smile on his face. In trainers, shorts, and a damp shirt that was firmly plastered to his chest, he had obviously been in the middle of a jog.

“Do you need help?” he asked, pointing to the boxes.

“Uh…”

Riley looked between him and the trunk, trying to think of a polite way to say no. Accepting help from strangers was basically the first thing her dad had ever taught her, and she didn’t care that it was broad daylight and she was now in the suburbs, where people were friendlier. There were still creeps living in suburbia. They just had to hide it better. Or so she assumed.

“I’m Brett,” he said, sending her a smile that looked more neighborly than serial-killery. He pointed down the street. “I live a few blocks down. I just moved here recently too.”

Riley sighed. He seemed like a nice guy, but she was not about to let a stranger help her carry boxes into her new house. “Look, Brett. I’m from New York.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Okay,” he said, drawing the word out.

“You’re a stranger,” she added. “You know? Stranger danger and all that.”

Brett’s eyes widened in sudden understanding, and instead of getting offended, he let out a laugh. “Say no more,” he said, backing away with his hands lifted. “I’ll leave you to it, new neighbor from New York.”

“It’s really nothing personal,” she told him, though she was relieved that he’d backed off so easily and quickly. He actually seemed like one of the good ones.

“No need to explain,” he replied with an amused smile. “Good luck, and maybe I’ll see you around again. I’ll be sure to keep a safe distance and not offer any assistance.”

Riley bit back a grin. “That would be great.”

“I won’t even acknowledge you if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

“That would be amazing,” she joked. “Don’t even make eye contact if you can help it.”

He chuckled and saluted her. “You got it.”

With that, he jogged off, and Riley returned her attention to the boxes in the trunk, muttering swears under her breath as she worked and kind of regretting sending Brett on his way. He’d seemed like a nice guy, and if she weren’t such a paranoid and slow-to-trust person, she would have taken him up on his offer.

“Thanks for waiting, Edith,” she mocked as she took the last one out. “So kind of you to offer your help, Edith,” she added through gritted teeth as she slammed the back door closed.

“Well, I’m not Edith, but you’re very welcome,” an amused male voice said.

Riley jumped and turned to find a brown-haired man around her age watching her with a grin on his face and laughter in his warm blue eyes—the same eyes as his father’s.

“Geez, you scared me,” she said breathlessly. “Noah?” she asked with a wince once it no longer felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest.

“That would be me,” he confirmed, uncrossing his folded arms and offering his hand. The bruise-like circles under his eyes spoke of little sleep, but his smile was lively, and his eyes danced with mirth. “And you must be Riley.”

She nodded and shook his hand, grateful for the gesture. She had half-expected him to greet her with a barb about her stealing his pool house, and a handshake was a far step up from that. “How did you know?” she asked dryly.

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