Page 47 of The Accidental Ghost

Shamus’s jaw worked, a tic in it pulsing. “I was trying to hedge my bets. I didn’t want you to have false hope if I was wrong. What’s happening to you is new to me. I’ve never run into anything like what’s going on with you, Ralph. Maybe that was wrong, but I’d do it again if it meant not putting something else on your plate, especially something that might not ever see fruition.”

She reached over, putting her hand on his knee. “I get it. I do. I was triggered and took it out on you, and that was wrong.”

Finally, he took her hand, making her heart skip in her chest. “Can I ask why you were triggered?”

Looking down at the pale wood floor, she found she couldn’t look him in the eye. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous has levels. How about you let me decide if it’s ridiculous? I mean, it’s up to you. I won’t push.”

Popping her lips, Ralph forced herself to level her gaze at him. “My mother…she protected me from everything. Everything. She protected me so well, I didn’t learn the kind of life skills one needs to survive because I was never allowed to do anything—which is how my love of reading was born. I was home all the time, with her, under her watchful eye.”

Shamus nodded, but he remained silent.

“Instead of being a kid, doing all the things kids like me did back in the eighties, like roller-skating rinks and sleepovers, movies and carnivals, I stayed at home with her, afraid. Of everything. Because my mother always had the worst-case scenario ready for any requests I might make. She didn’t just warn me that there were dangers out there, then trust that she’d taught me well enough to avoid them. She constantly reminded me that sometimes the danger gets you no matter how hard you try to avoid it.”

“That’s a hard way to live,” Shamus said, his voice deep.

“It was. I lived in fear that I was going to be snatched up by some guy in a white van, tempting me with cookies, until I was fourteen, for the love of Pete. And when I wasn’t worried about some faceless kidnapper, I was worried the devil would get me for doing something wrong.”

“She was religious, too?” Shamus asked softly.

“She was very religious, and for the most part, joyless. Don’t get me wrong, she was a good mother in other ways, but I think her need to protect me also involved keeping me to herself, to a degree. She didn’t have any friends, she never went out. She worked, she came home, she made us dinner, and she did needlepoint or crocheted, while I read books she deemed appropriate. I didn’t really have any friends either, until Hazel, and that wasn’t until college.”

“What about your father?”

“He died of cancer when I was a toddler. I never knew him. I only have some pictures and a few memories she shared along the way. I don’t have any family on either side. They were long gone when I came onto the scene.”

He laced their fingers together, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “Maybe her fear had to do with him? Maybe it stems from the fact that she couldn’t save him, protect him. As a result, maybe she poured all her fears into you?”

She was sure the look on her face said it all. “Well excuse you, Dr. Ransom, look at you diagnosing.”

Now he laughed, finally, making her feel a little less awful. “I see a lot of family issues. I guess I’ve learned a thing or two.”

Squeezing his hand, she smiled. “Anyway, Mom made me afraid to make decisions, afraid to do anything wrong, afraid of life. She never let me explore, discover. She smothered me, and you’d think that would have made me rebel, but it didn’t. I went in the opposite direction, never causing trouble or questioning…and letting my resentment fester until it bubbled over. I guess, because everything’s such a jumble, I took it out on you. It felt like you were keeping me from making decisions about my life, something my mother always did, and I got defensive. But again, that was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

He grinned deliciously, whether he knew it or not. “Apology accepted.”

“That’s it?” she asked, her eyes wide. “You’re not going to hold my potty mouth against me? Grudge for a little while at least? I’d deserve it.”

“Nah. I’ve seen what grudges can do to a person, a family, and it ain’t pretty. All’s forgiven.”

Her cheeks felt hot, even though that seemed a ridiculous possibility as a ghost. Maybe her penchant for blushing was one earthly property she’d keep. “Thank you, Shamus…”

“You’re welcome.”

His deep voice crackled through her, embedding itself with its richness.

On impulse—an earthly property exceptionally rare for her—Ralph leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek, closing her eyes and savoring his flesh against her lips. “I promise not to overreact again,” she whispered.

Shamus didn’t say anything…but he turned his cheek until his mouth met hers.

And her senses exploded. Caught on fire. Blew her mind.

Shamus’s lips on hers commanded she respond, and when he slipped his tongue into her mouth, let its raspy, silky texture slide against hers, Ralph’s limbs melted against him. She found herself sinking into his hard form.

She refused to overthink this moment. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, let him pull her in close until their chests touched.

A soft moan escaped her throat, mingling with Shamus’s groan. Her pulse slammed in her veins; her heart crashed against her ribs. She’d never experienced a kiss like this.

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