Page 15 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
She stared at Rebel. “Whoa, whoa, I never saidanythingabout a ghost.”
“You said ‘Casper.’ He’s a ghost.”
Man, this kid was quick. “Again, I never said ghost. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Rebel giggled. “My grandma says that to me too.”
“I bet she does.” She grinned.
By then, Maverick had reached the top of the porch. “Lucky.” He breathed her name as if it were an enraptured, thankful prayer.
Meeting him felt like the thrill of a lifetime. Hearing him say her name like that threatened to send her gasping into the afterlife. So strange. So bizarre. So dangerously against her nature that she felt a little lightheaded from the emerging dynamic.
But his grateful smile vanished as his gaze drifted from her to Rebel. His entire body deflated with relief-tinged disappointment. She’d seen that look dozens of times. Rebel was safe. She wasn’t hurt. Still, ten minutes might as well have been an eternity.
Maverick asked, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
The situation was worse than Lucky had initially thought. Rebel had turned on airplane mode. Once reconnected, an avalanche of messages pinged one after another.
Rebel shrugged. “I didn’t want my video to get messed up.”
Maverick’s expression slid into a passive mask, but she read the tension in his eyes with ease. A speechless parent who mastered self-control out of sheer determination to be better.
“Not cool, little miss.” A young woman, presumably Georgia, stood next to Maverick. She was only a little bit taller than Rebel, with golden skin, bone-straight black hair, sharp features, anddark eyes that dominated her face. She crossed her arms while glowering. “Rule number one?”
Rebel mumbled, “We don’t go no contact.”
“No radio silence. No airplane mode. And number two?”
“Answer when called and always call for backup.”
“Oh, so you do know what you’re not supposed to do.”
“Sorry, Georgia.”
Stephen said, “Chase, why don’t you and Georgia go inside? We’ll be in shortly.”
Chase guided the still-brooding Georgia toward the open front door. Average height and stocky, his immaculately styled curly red hair matched the freckles on his fair-skinned face. As he passed, he said to Rebel, “Thanks for the heart attack. Been wondering what one of those felt like.”
“Sorry, Chase.”
Stephen clasped his hands together and addressed Rebel directly. “You obviously have to stay here but are hereby being symbolically sent home with no pay.” He gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze on his way inside. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Watching them each talk to Rebel was fascinating. Under the hurt and disappointment, Lucky realized they were taking Rebel seriously. Being an intern wasn’t some fun, honorary title because Maverick couldn’t find a sitter. She really was a part of their team, held to the same standards as everyone else. Progressive discipline and all.
She respected them for it instantly. Anyone who saw fit to treat tiny humans as such were all right in her book.
“Lucky, can you give us a minute?” Maverick asked.
“Of course.” She turned to Rebel, saying, “See you on the other side, Shortcake.”
7
Hennessee House’s interior looked different when touched by sunshine. The wood seemed brighter, tinged with a reddish hue Lucky didn’t notice before. The air felt lighter, as if pulling the curtains back finally allowed the house to breathe.
Georgia, the curtain culprit, had opened them in the parlor room to the left and Lucky watched as she finished in the sitting room on the right. Chase and Stephen stood nearby behind a loveseat with dark green velvet cushions and carved wood trim.
“You forgot one.” The final curtained window was dead center on the far wall. Lucky headed for it with the aim of being helpful.
