Page 12 of Boats, Moats, & Root Beer Floats

“Bags not,” called Lindy, liberating the broomstick and tucking it back into the pantry. “Oooh.”

“What?” I followed her and paused. My mind barely registered as I settled my hands on her wait and stared at thereformed column of salmon tins. “Promise me you didn’t do that?” I squeezed her waist just hard enough to elicit a squeak.

A really fucking cute squeak.

“Nope. But you can do that again.”

Damn, she was trouble. My kind, which was worse. Or maybe better.

I pulled her back against me, her body all soft curves in the right places to fit against my lean form as she offered me no resistance whatsoever.

The words poured out of me and I blamed the insanity of the situation. Or her. Or me and her.

Whoever we were together, it would be spectacular.

“Want me to fuck you upstairs while the ghost watches, Lindy?” I muttered into her ear for the pure perverse pleasure of watching her pink stained cheeks turn white.

“We have a ghost?”

I smiled into her eyes and dipped my head to brush my mouth over hers before either I lost my damn nerve again, or she could protest.

“We do.”

CHAPTER FIVE

LINDY

Witnot Castle had a ghost.

A real, honest to goodness ghost that threw salmon tins at us.

That spooky specter just made my entire Christmas.

I detangled myself from Dustman, pretending my insides didn’t warm like freshly baked gingerbread and that my lips didn’t zing from his tender kiss so at odds with his harsh words.

Thoseleft a different sort of zing in a different place, but now wasn’t the time to focus on that. Well, not entirely.

“Do you make other sorts of sculptures?” I called to the roof, noting the soot stains with a grimace.

“Damn. That’s a job for a ladder and an upside down mop,” Covin muttered at my side, his hand resting possessively on my hip.

The contact felt so freaking good, but I didn’t want it.

Lie, lie, lie.

I didn’t deserve it.

Panties on fire.

Especially aroundthisman, who was anything but dusty in the smooth moves department.

“Did you just proposition me with a paranormal threesome?” I asked, my voice lower and huskier than it should have been.

At least I wasn’t squeaking like a prepubescent teen waiting for their voice to break. Maybe that would come later. Or…

I banished the image attempting to form in my mind while Covin’s hand on my hip tightened. A brisk rub of my knuckles across the back of his loosened his touch. I stepped away from him a second time, not looking back to see if he was hurt or not. I couldn’t deal with his disappointment too.

Or breathe. At least, not around him.

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