Page 11 of The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet

Luanne’s eyes widened. “Oh, Em. Did you lose control of your mouth or something?”

“I was just nervous. Really nervous.” Emily shoved the pot back onto the warmer and waited for more coffee to dribble out. “Like you said, it was my first date since the divorce and I haven’t been sleeping and I kept wondering what a guy like him was doing dating someone as boring as me—“

“Stop, Emily, stop!” Luanne raised her hands in the air. “What on earth are you going on about? You’re not boring.”

Maybe not to her sister, who loved her unconditionally. But to someone like Jericho? All she did was bake cookies and keep a big house. How could someone like that be exciting to him? She shook her head. “Braden thought I was boring.”

“Braden was a pompous douchebag and he’s only gotten worse since he started hanging out with those Ghostbuster nuts. I bet he’s insufferable on his TV show.”

Emily kind of bet that he was, too. Luanne was a good sister for making her feel better. “Well, I ruined the date. I’m just not confident like you.”

“Confident like me?” Luanne snorted. “Hank’s the first one that wanted to date the real me ever since, well, forever. You want something to do a number on your ego, have guys ask you to ‘dress up’ as your alter-ego in bed.”

Emily nodded, remembering Luanne’s stunt videos as ‘The Legend of Jane’, a web blogger with roller-derby style and zany antics. She knew her sister had tired of the persona long before her audience had, and appreciated being ‘normal’, working as an administrator and computer guru for Bluebonnet’s tiny police department.

“And if there’s one thing that being Jane taught me,” Luanne said, sipping her coffee. “It’s that you fake confidence and the rest sort of follows. Next time you see that guy, you be your brilliant self and act like you’re the best thing since sliced bread.” She grinned. “Sinceyoursliced bread. Which is pretty awesome. And speaking of, got anything I can take to the station with me?”

~~ * * * ~~

To Emily’s surprise, Jericho showed up that next afternoon with his plumbing tools. “Oh,” she said at the sight of him. “I didn’t expect you over.”

He gave her an odd look. “Did you not want me to work on your toilets? I thought—“

She waved a hand. “No, no, of course I do. Come on in.”

He hauled his toolbox inside and she noticed today there was no leather jacket – just a black concert tee and jeans and a tool belt that emphasized his tight ass. She caught herself staring and then shook her head.

“Sorry about the delay,” he said casually. “The elementary school’s gymnasium was knee deep in shit from some backed up pipes and a friend needed some help with the job.”

Emily was surprised. “Oh wow, really?”

He set down his tool box and gave her an odd look. “Didn’t you get my text message?”

“Well, yes, but I thought…you know what? Never mind.” Emily smiled at him and gestured at a door down the hall. “Let me show you one of the bathrooms where I need the toilet re-seated.”

“Sure,” Jericho said, his smile a little hesitant, but still sexy. “By the way, you look nice today.”

Boy, she’d really messed this one up, hadn’t she? “Thank you. Right over here.” She showed him the bathroom and then hurried to the kitchen.

Time to make some cookies.

~~ * * * ~~

Emily rolled over and squinted at her alarm clock. 2:47 AM. She blinked at the red numerals, not quite sure what had woken her up.

Something heavy shuffled upstairs.

Instantly, every nerve in Emily’s body fired awake. She stared up at the ceiling with a mixture of dread and terror. Maybe she’d imagined that noise. Maybe it was just a bad dream carrying over to wakefulness.

A thump, then a low dragging noise echoed across the ceiling.

Her body broke out in goose bumps. Not again.

Emily reached over the side of the bed and gripped her cross. Another heavy foot slid across the floor upstairs in the attic. She wanted to cry. She’d had such a good day earlier. She and Jericho had chatted for hours, the awkwardness left over from the movie date gone. She’d asked him to stay for dinner but he’d declined, since he had another client to run out to. He’d taken a plate of cookies with him and told her to call him for any other repairs.

It hadn’t quite been romantic, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable, either. And it had made her happy.

But now, staring up at the ceiling, all she felt was dread and sheer loneliness. Here she was again, at three in the morning, terrified out of her mind and no one to call on. She could call Luanne, but her sister only laughed at Emily’s fears. She was a bit of a daredevil and didn’t understand Emily’s distress over the thought of having a ghost in the attic and having to deal with it by herself. The police department hadn’t exactly been super receptive the last time they’d come out, so she’d baked double batches of their favorite treats and promised not to call again for a few weeks.

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