Page 6 of Hallowed Tree
He put his fingertips to his temple. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”
“Really?” I asked, acting clueless. Like I didn’t know that he couldn’t get a headache. I did that sometimes—act like I didn’t understand what could or couldn’t happen now that we’d passed on from our mortal lives.
For example, Harry found my clothes distasteful and had been trying to teach me for weeks how to change my wardrobe. I knew how, of course. That was one of the things I’d mastered back when I lived at the pond behind the manor. I had a whole collection of vintage rock band t-shirts stored in my brain that I cycled through. Harry thought they’d all been in my wardrobe when I died, and that was why I could conjure them. Wrong. Most of them were my favorite designs from when I’d been younger and a whole lot thinner. But if he knew that I’d mastered conjuring any ol’ thing, he’d have me dressed like him, in suits and ties, and I wasn’t about that life.
Harry sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Baseboards. Now.”
I obediently followed him, first to the mudroom to get cleaning supplies and then into the parlor. As I expected, Harry immediately dropped to his hands and knees and began showing me how he expected me to clean, like we hadn’t done this dozens of times. It wasn’t the first time he showed me, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. If he knew how much I enjoyed watching his pert little bottom wave around in the air, he’d be horrified. The man’s body really was a work of art.
“Buck,” he spat, glaring at me over his shoulder. “Are you going to just stand there and watch or are you going to help me?”
Playfully, I saluted him, chuckling as he huffed and got back to work. For motivation, I drank in one last look at him on his knees, then got busy. Somehow, someway, I was getting Harry out of the manor today.
Harry
Buck was like a machine today. Normally, he goofed around and chatted nonstop while we worked on a project together. In the past, he’d told me all about his childhood, the friends he’d left behind, and the world outside of Willowhope.
While I hadn’t left the property in a century, I’d kept up on the changes in society through the guests that had come to stay at the B&B over the years. Granted, it was different hearing it from Buck than picking up on things here and there as our visitors spoke amongst themselves. Whatever. That was all inconsequential to me. My only priority was Willowhope Manor, Mr. Chance and Mr. Jetty, and running an efficient, slightly haunted bed and breakfast.
Since I’d only accomplished one baseboard, and Buck was finishing up his third, I walked around, inspecting his work. If he’d taken any shortcuts, he’d be redoing his sections. As I searched for even a hint of dust or dirt, I’d reached the final corner, standing directly behind him, before admitting to myself that he’d done a good job.
“What ya think, Harry?” He grinned at me over his shoulder. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, shaking his…his…his derriere.
No. Surely, he wouldn’t try to draw my attention to his body. The big goofy man was merely dancing in place, convinced that he’d won this round, and I’d go out to the pond with him.As if.My gaze strayed back to his backside. He really did have a nice bottom, though. Juicy and round.
“Mr. Harry,” Mr. Chance said from the doorway, startling me.
Spinning around to the entrance of the parlor, I adjusted my tie and cleared my throat. “Sir. Yes, sir. How can I help you?”
Mr. Chance’s gaze moved from me to Buck, then back to my face, searching. “Are you okay?” he asked with concern. “Didn’t you hear us come down the stairs?”
Mr. Jetty stepped into the room next to his boyfriend, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you blushing?” He turned to Mr. Chance. “Ghosts can blush? Did you know that?”
It took everything in me not to cover my cheeks with my hands. Blushing? Me? That was absurd. I didn’t do such things. Plus, what would I have to be embarrassed about? So I didn’t hear them come downstairs. Or notice Mr. Jetty coming home for them to go upstairs in the first place. And no one knew that I’d been eyeing Buck’s…uh, backside. But it was like a piece of art. There was nothing wrong with appreciating a thing of beauty, was there?
Mr. Jetty pointed at my face. “Okay, your cheeks just went from pink to scarlet. Are you feeling okay?”
Buck scrambled to his feet and threw his arm over my shoulders. Before I could shake him off, he said, “I think he needs some fresh air.”
Mr. Chance nodded. “I think you’re right, Buck. Why don’t you two go for a walk?”
“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Jetty agreed. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Dumbfounded, I gaped at the two of them. Why in the world would they agree with Buck? What did I need fresh air for? I was dead for goodness’ sake.
Chapter Three
Buck
Before he had a chance to argue, I steered a sputtering Harry out the front door of the mansion. We’d reached the bottom of the steps before he regained his composure and yanked out from under my arm.
“I have things to do. I can’t be strolling the property. I know you don’t mind lollygagging, but I take my job here very seriously.”
Affronted, I straightened my spine, pulling myself to my full height. “Now, Harry—”
“Mr. Harry,” he snapped. “Everyone calls me Mr. Harry. You can’t just go around taking such, such, such liberties.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. If he thought this was me taking liberties, he’d be shocked to know how often I’d imagined stripping the older man down and having my way with him. Or he could have his way with me. I didn’t care much as long as we were touching.
