Page 4 of Ghost of a Chance
Right at the time he’d decided to do something fun that had been on the list of things he’d like to try—his bucket list—was the time he’d seen the flyer for tonight's ghost tour. Bubbles of excitement tickled the back of his throat as he chuckled, locking his front door and skipping down the steps to his car. He pocketed his house keys and searched for his car keys in his jacket pocket.
He typed the address into the GPS for where he needed to go. It wasn’t a part of town he’d been to before, which was unusual with how many building jobs he’d worked over the last ten years.
He hummed along to the rock tune blaring out of the radio as he didn’t listen to the voice. He’d changed the station several times because they were all annoying, while he kept his eye on the arrow that showed him which turnings to take.
His anticipation grew when he saw the number of cars parked in the lot his lights illuminated as he turned in and slowed down, looking for a space to park. The lack of streetlights made his grin reappear.This is going to be so spooky, I can feel it already!
There were some large, shadowy buildings he could see in the distance before he switched off the engine and his lights. Darkness shrouded the car before he opened the door, and the interior light flicked on.
His nose twitched at an enticing smell of warm honey and an undertone of peach. His mouth watered so much he had to swallow as he squinted into the darkness to catch glimpses of faces in the large group. All men, all types and sizes. Blond, dark, red-heads, some large, big built, other men smaller than Brad. Brad couldn’t figure out who the delicious scent was coming from in the group with how they all gathered together.
The sound of voices drifting to him didn’t drown out the voice asking, “Are you Bradley by any chance?”
“I am, but no one calls me Bradley, it’s Brad.”
“Wonderful. You’re the last person we were waiting on,” a man with fine features stated with an air of confidence, peering over the open car door making him realize he was sitting with one leg out of the car, like he’d changed his mind about staying.
“Sorry if I’ve held you up, I thought we didn’t leave until eight p.m.?” he said in way of an apology as he got out of the car, surreptitiously checking the dash clock, hating that he caused a delay to the night. He hated it when folks did that.
“Nice to meet you, Brad. I’m Remy, the organizer of tonight's ghost hunting walk. And no, you’re not late, you are right on time for the fun evening ahead of spookiness,” Remy assured him offering an encouraging smile before Brad shut the car door and killed the only light there was in the parking lot.
From his right, somewhere, he thought he heard a groan and a muttered curse, but it was hard to tell exactly where it came from. He glanced in that direction, aiming a buoyant smile, hoping whoever it was could see it despite the darkness. A lot of shifters had excellent night vision, he just wasn’t one of them.
“Now that we have everybody here, let me explain what happens next,” Remy said in a voice that would carry across the group.
Conversations happening in the group ceased, and a sense of anticipation buzzed through the chilly night air making the hair at the back of Brad’s neck rise.
Oh, this is going to be so much fun.
“It’s a three-hour walk through some of the most reputed haunted areas of the city. I hope you all have your walking shoes on and a warm jacket.” Remy giggled. “It won’t be to fight the chilly evening air, no. It’s to combat the icy chill inside the haunted buildings.”
“He can’t be fucking real.”
Brad glanced at the throng of people, doing his best to see who was muttering even as Remy continued. “Alexander, your tour guide, will recant stories of murder and hauntings that go back centuries. The type that nightmares are made of.”
“Great,” the same deep husky voice said.
“So, if you’ll all follow me,” Remy held up his phone, the flashlight swinging above his head. “I’ll walk you over to where Alexander will start tonight's ghost haunting tour. The tour will finish in a bar with a history steeped in mystery and intrigue where you will get to wander about on your own in the basement. For those who need it, you can buy some Dutch courage at the bar.”
The same voice, Brad became convinced, muttering throughout Remy’s talk, said, “Try several.”
There were chuckles and snorts of laughter, except Brad didn’t think the guy sounded like he was joking. He squinted in the darkness trying to find the person the voice belonged to.
There were a couple of short guys at the back, where he thought the voice had come from. Brad figured it was one of them. After locking his car, he tagged along with the back of the group as they walked through the lot following Remy’s waving hand toward the shadowy buildings Brad had noted when he’d arrived.
He was here to make friends—maybe find more than that—so he’d show he could be supportive if someone was a little scared. Although why anyone would come if they didn’t like this sort of thing was beyond Brad. Why waste their money?
The night air shifted direction as the wind picked up, the teasing scent he’d smelled when he’d opened his car door surrounded him. His cock pressed firmly against the zipper of his slacks so fast, he stumbled into the two men in front of him he was following. “Sorry,” he muttered, not looking at them because the smell wasn’t coming from them.
“It is dark,” a guy said. A hand appeared in front of Brad, making him shift his attention back to the two men he’d knocked into. “I’m Mikey”—the guy nodded to the man next to him, eyeing Brad with interest—“and this is Ven.”
“Hey, Brad,” he answered distractedly. Then the scent increased, and Brad found it hard to be polite when his body was reacting so strongly to the smell. It wasn’t like him to spring wood like this, and it was seriously off putting when the two guys eyeing him could think it had to do with them if they scented his arousal.
“You from around here?” Ven asked stepping closer to Brad, his nose twitching.
Brad didn’t need to guess why with his pheromones stinking up the lot. It had been several months since he’d gotten laid. “Yep, I’m a building contractor,” he replied, his gaze shifting over the crowd as they continued to make their way to wherever Alexander was.
“A building contractor?” a skeptical Ven asked, chuckling as if Brad had just said he was a real-life fire breathing dragon.
