Page 8 of Ghost of a Chance
Brad hesitated with a piece of cake close to his lips as his eyes narrowed at his poodle's assumption that alphas shouldn’t feel scared.Anyone can be scared of anything. Maybe he had a traumatic event in the dark as a child?He warmed to the idea even when Brad’s heartached at the possibility.
Then we need to find him and give him a cuddle.
Brad agreed, and that brought him back to how to find out who the mystery lion was.
“You’re awfully quiet there, boss man. Was it something that happened at your ghost thingy?” Willy, a big alpha bear, asked from his crouched position between the shower stall and sink, fixing the piping. For his size, he always seemed to fit even in the most restrictive spaces.
Brad added the grouting to the tiles he was placing up the wall on the other side of the bathroom. The blue Morty had picked had flecks of silver that reminded him of stars in the night sky before full dark.Was he quiet?
He supposed he was. The email he had sent to Remy early this morning, apologizing for leaving the way he did was whatoccupied his thoughts. He’d explained the reason for leaving was because of the lion. Everyone there had heard him screech, so it wasn’t like Remy hadn’t a clue that the lion was frightened.
“In around about way, I suppose it was,” he answered, continuing to lay tile and not looking directly at Willy.
After a sleepless night of debating how to glean information on his mate, Brad had told a small white lie. He’d explained the guy had gone off with something of Brad’s—which wasn’t a total lie, he had… the opportunity to mate—and he wanted to ask for it back. He was still waiting for Remy to reply, and yes, he’d checked his cell like thirty times since he’d arrived on site. Who could blame him?
The clang of a wrench on metal filled the silence for a minute before Willy questioned, “What roundabout way? You’re bein’ real cryptic, boss. It ain’t like you.” Willy sat back on his heels and stared up at him. “Did you scare yourself?” His grin was wide as he chuckled. “Is that why you ain’t talkin’ ‘bout it?”
“Behave!” Brad matched Willy’s grin.
“Hellooo… Brad, are you in here?” Morty called from one of the other rooms, and the scent of warm cherry muffins came through the doorway.
“I am if you got me some muffins with cherries in them!” he exclaimed, already placing down his things and wiping the excess grout from his fingers down the legs of his work jeans.
“Don’t eat them all!” Willy shouted behind him as he hustled into the bedroom.
“Did he call your name?” Brad fired back over his shoulder, moving through the building debris scattered about.
“Not fair,” Willy muttered loud enough for Brad to hear, “you could at least save me one.”
Chuckling, he entered the main living area and stopped at the sight of Morty, who was grinning widely, turning in a slow circle.
“Every time I come up, it seems something else has changed.” His arm swept wide to encompass the changes, and Brad took a step back to avoid getting a slap in the face.
Morty had little spatial awareness and was more than a little clumsy. The plate he held tilted, and Brad reached to take it before the muffins ended up on the dusty floor as Morty went to turn again.
“We’re keeping to the deadline,” he answered, his gaze dropping to Morty’s growing belly. The clock was ticking for all of them.
“I can see it now.” Morty met Brad’s gaze, blushing. “I’m gonna confess it was harder for me to see you getting it all done in time.” He cupped his belly. “Let’s hope the baby listens to reason and doesn’t decide to arrive early.”
Brad hid a wince at trying to adjust the already impossibly tight deadline. “We’ll figure it out,” he answered reassuringly, while sending a prayer that they wouldn’t have to.
He held up the plate looking for a distraction. “What did I do to get special treatment today?” He usually went down to the café to grab a treat, so was intrigued enough to ask now he thought about it.
Morty’s hands fluttered about his sides, his gaze not quite meeting Brad’s. “How was the ghost walk? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
The hairs on the back of Brad’s neck rose. “I didn’t get to meet many folks.”
The frown was immediate, as was the look of confusion Morty wore as his shoulders slumped. “You didn’t? So, you never got the chance to meet Lionel?”
“Lionel?” he asked, a little breathless for reasons he couldn’t fathom.
“Hector’s friend,” Morty said, his confusion increasing. “We got him a ticket to the event to thank him.”
“Thank him?”
Morty nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, he got Hector to the Bucket List Buddies event we met at, and we thought it would be nice to return the favor and send him to another event.”
“Oh…what does he look like?” Brad asked, holding back the desire to demand a full head-to-toe description.
