Page 81 of Love At First Fright
“Boyfriend?”
“If you like.”
“I would love that.”
Just then, Rosemary heard it. A quiet humming, slightly out of tune. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. She looked over at one of the bookshelves and there was the faintest outline in silver, of a portly man carrying a tray of loaves. They might have belonged to the spirit world, but Rosemary could swear she saw them steaming.
“There’s a remnant,” she whispered, though it was clear the man couldn’t see them. He wasn’t really a man. More of an impression of a person who had once been here, who had loved this work, the bakery.
“A remnant? Like the ghost impressions you told me about?” Ellis looked around the room and sniffed the air. “The bread?” he asked.
“Yeah. There’s a baker, right there. He’s faded, already. He must come and go, and he’s probably here whenever you smell fresh bread.”
“Whoa.” Ellis was wide-eyed. “A bakery ghost.”
“As hauntings go, I think you lucked out.” Rosemarygrinned, and started back down the hallway. “What’s in there?” Rosemary gestured towards a closed door to the right of the living room.
“Nothing,” Ellis said far too quickly.
“Nothing?”
“I mean, it’s not ready yet. Just don’t go in there, okay?”
“Why do I feel like you’ve installed some kind of sex dungeon?” Rosemary deadpanned.
“No sex dungeon, but hey”—Ellis wagged his eyebrows—“there’s a couple of spare bedrooms upstairs that could do with a makeover.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes, letting Ellis guide her into the kitchen.
It was the kind of kitchen that haunts the dreams of every twenty-nine-year-old living in a cramped apartment. Navy cupboards with brass handles and white marble countertops curved around to the left with a floating island, and after it, two steps led down to a sunny conservatory with another sofa and big wooden dining table. A row of copper pots and a full set of orange Le Creuset saucepans were arranged artfully in the kitchen. Beyond the cosiness of the kitchen and the sunny conservatory, a row of glass doors opened to the garden, where green surrounded them on all sides.
“Holy shit, Ellis. You could probably fit three of my New York studios in here.”
“It’s good for dinner parties.” He grinned and stepped close behind her, pulling Rosemary flush with his chest. “I’ve been dreaming about doing some filthy things to you on that breakfast counter,” he whispered in his low, honeyed voice. “And over there, on that sofa. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single place in this house I haven’t pictured fucking you.”
“Which one first?” She turned around, her hands splayingout on his hard chest, feeling the way his heart thrummed faster under her touch.
“First, I want to show you the garden.”
He went back to grab their shoes and coats since the English weather had now dropped down significantly. From inside, Rosemary could kid herself that the sun and clear blue skies meant it was warm, but she was suddenly glad that Ellis had brought back her jacket. It was freezing, the air crisp and frosty.
Ellis was in his element. Rosemary realised that the tour of the ground floor of this house was only a prologue compared to Ellis’s real pride and joy: his garden.
“This is the vegetable patch. There will be potatoes and carrots in time for Christmas.” He pointed at the shrubs that lined the garden walls and the patches of empty soil beneath them. “Most of these are evergreens but I’ve planted lots of tulip, daffodil, and bluebell bulbs over the years, so in spring it’s a real riot of colour.”
“Tulips are my favourite,” Rosemary said.
“Are they? I need to plant more then,” Ellis said, incredibly seriously.
He took her hand, his warmth encompassing hers, and led her down a twisting, cobblestoned path lined with ferns and what looked like wildflower stems, to another small green glade.
“How big is your garden?” she mused.
“Bigger than the house.” He smirked. “I don’t think I ever told you, but I grew up in a really small flat. It didn’t matter that we had no garden, my dad had window baskets hanging out of every single window—our kitchen was filled with plants, too—so we could grow all the herbs and flowers they wanted. I always loved tending to those little pots with him, so I told myself that when I could afford to buy my own place, I would get a big garden of my own.”
“That’s lovely, Ellis. What do your parents think of it?”
“They’re big fans. Prepare yourself for lots of family barbeques…well, when they’re in the country anyway. They’re on a trip to Jordan at the moment, spending their retirement seeing the world.”
