Page 29 of Second Down Fake

A family of five strode toward me. The boy pulled his mother’s hand, pantingly excitedly toward me as his older sister pocketed her phone with an eye roll and a sigh.

“You must be the Rogers. I’m Cassandra,” I smiled and extended my hand.

The father took it. “Sorry, we’re a little early. He’s really excited.”

“No problem. We’ve got another party joining us, though, so once they’re here, we’ll head out.”

I scanned the street for Diego.

True to his word, he’d bought out the tour and a few more besides. I appreciated the gesture, as unnecessary as that was. I didn’t expect the inaugural weekend of my ghost tour to pull the city out in droves.

Unlike Boston or Salem, I didn’t have a batch of friends ready to drive across the city or the state to support me. And while I’d mapped out the route, the possibility of getting lost still existed and I wanted as few people as possible to witness me flail in a new city.

“So, happy birthday!” I said to the kid. “I hope I don’t make this tour too scary for you!”

He grinned, ducking out of the way as his father attempted to muss his hair. “I’m thirteen. I don’t get scared anymore.”

His sister sighed, eyes meandering to her brother with a scowl before fixating on the space behind me. Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Is that…?”

I followed her gaze to find Diego striding in our direction and completely understood the awe. Not that there should have been anything awe-inspiring about how Diego looked. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt obscured by a basic black jacket. But the way he moved, the way he walked down the street like he owned it? No wonder people took notice.

“Hey, Diego.” I gave him a friendly wave, pushing away the surge of pure lust when his eyes landed on mine.

“Cassandra.” His easy grin warped into a smile as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. The contact threw me for its own kind of loop, while my eyes stayed on the twenty guys behind him. “The offensive line does a team bonding day before the start of the season, so I added this to the itinerary.”

A giant of a man waved at me from behind Diego. “Hi, I’m Noa. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard only good things.”

My chest tightened. Only Diego would have said nice things. I’d fall on my ass if I found out Becca had ever talked to the players about me.

Diego hugged me tight, his face buried in my hair as he murmured, “we’re going past the Topaz, right? There’ll be some photographers out front.”

Right. Photographers. The entire reason Diego bought out the tour. He let me go and turned to the family. “Sorry to crash the tour with our giant group. I promise we won’t get too rowdy.”

The birthday boy looked ready to burst with excitement. And maybe his sister did too.

“Can I take a picture with you guys? The kids at school will never believe it,” he enthused.

Diego nodded. “Let’s get a group pic before it gets too dark and then let Cassandra do her thing.”

“I’ll take a couple of pictures before we get started,” I said, slipping my phone out of my pocket.

Diego shook his head, flagging down a passerby. “No, you need to be in the shot.”

The football players got in line, clearly used to being smashed together for group pictures. The family and I made up a dwarfed front line to the photo. I held my breath when Diego grabbed my waist, pulling me close to him while the agog pedestrian took a handful of snapshots with my phone.

I’d need to get used to touching Diego, clearly. In my stoic New England family, I was the touchy one. I made my parents and my sister uncomfortable with hugs and kisses and cuddles any chance I could get.

I loved contact, loved being close to people I loved, platonic and not. But lackadaisical touching felt a lot different with Diego. His touch felt charged somehow, frighteningly both familiar and new. And strangely sterile once I remembered that the touching was just for show.

I shook off the thought and the flutters in my stomach, reorienting myself to my job. “The year was 1647…”

* * *

Diego saved me from taking a wrong turn down a side street, and Noa established himself firmly as my favorite football player ever after he befriended the birthday boy. Hell, even his sister seemed thrilled with the tour at the halfway point, flanked by two players who answered all her questions and took photos with her at every stop. And everyone seemed to enjoy the tour. Or at least they were too kind to act bored.

“After Mrs. Haskins’ untimely demise, the house was sold fifteen times in the next two decades. The owners would only stay a year or two before the house would be back on the market. Rumors spread that her spirit haunted the house and residents claimed to see a Victorian era woman stomping through the house with a knife and a blood-soaked dress.

“In 1953, after sitting empty for nearly two decades, a commercial real estate company purchased the house, and converted the homes into storefronts. But rumor has it, if you’re in the basement at exactly 9:23, you’ll hear the cries of Mrs. Haskins.

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