Page 11 of Edge of Wonder

“The three main reasons ghosts don’t transition after death.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Money, revenge, and lost love.”

Her gaze drifted over the worn rugs, cracked windows, and shabby state of the cottage. “I think we can safely eliminate money from the list. Unless it’s buried in a box in the yard, I don’t seem to have any, and neither did Julian.”

“Then, revenge it is.”

“Wait.” Her eyebrows drew together, and her lips curled into a snarl. “What about lost love? I could have a suitor waiting for a final goodbye. The poor soul might be despondent, wasting away from my memory. There could be unbearable pining happening as we speak.”

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain pinched my shoulder blades, and I had to forcefully relax my muscles. She was being ridiculous!Unbearable pining. Give me a break.

I looked her up and down, lingering in all the right places until I had her good and flustered. Then I shook my head.

“Sorry, Alice, but my money’s on murder.”

Chapter 5

Alice

Sebastian had a death wish.

I only wished I could grant it.

After schooling me on the three tenets of ghostdom, he unanimously declared me a murder victim, and then had the nerve to call it a night. I followed him as he trudged upstairs, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto the straw mattress.

“That’s it? You’re going to sleep?” I lingered near the edge of the bed, hoping my glare penetrated his closed eyelids. “We only have a few days and a lot of ground to cover. We have to find out how I died—and check for suitors.” I made a last-ditch effort to stress equal consideration of the tenets.

He scowled and punched the pillow into submission. “There aren’t any suitors, Alice.”

“A professional would still check,” I grumbled.

He didn’t answer, and his breathing evened as sleep took over. I watched him for a moment, envious of the simple task of closing your eyes and letting the world fall away. Ghosts didn’t require physical rest, yet I’d give anything for the peaceful release of slumber.

Long hours lay ahead of me, and after our conversation, it was clear I would have to do the heavy lifting in our partnership. I didn’t trust him to solve my unfinished business in a matter of days, and I was not enthusiastic about whatever he had in mind for Plan B.

If only I could remember something useful.

I remained at his bedside for another minute. A lock of dark hair had fallen into his eyes, and I had the strange desire to reach over and brush it behind his ear.

My fingers moved of their own accord, only to pass through the strands. I jerked away as if I’d been burned. The thought caused a wry laugh to escape my lips. I’d happily stick my hand in a fire if it meant I could feel the heat on my skin. Even pain seemed like pleasure when compared to the aching loss of touch.

I curled my fingers into fists at my sides to keep from touching him again. The ghost hunter didn’t know how good he had it. I leaned closer, studying his peaceful features.

He really was annoyingly handsome. I might be dead, but I wasn’t blind. Not that I’d had the indulgence of seeing that many men while trapped inside the cottage. So now that one was here it was natural for my imagination to wander.No harm in that…

My gaze roamed over his broad frame. What would it be like to have the warmth of his skin pressed against mine? To feel the pressure of his skillful hands. To have his lips skim—No! There was harm in that. Those were dangerous thoughts for a ghost who had no means to experience them.

Sebastian chose that moment to roll onto his side, giving me his back.

“Stop hovering, Alice. It’s creepy,” he said, his deep timbre muffled by the pillow.

Creepy?

Here I was craving a simple touch. The most basic act of human connection. Sure, my mind may have wandered to something more intimate—but he didn’t know that!

Sebastian was fortunate I couldn’t smack him. I deepened my glare, imagining two burning holes forming in the back of his shoulders. He must have sensed it because his hand reached around and rubbed the exact spot.

“I’m not hovering. You should be so lucky,” I grumbled, drifting away from the bed. His soft laughter followed me across the room to the small desk where I’d found him reading his family’s letters. The ashes of their remains still lay in the bottom of the wastebasket. I peered inside, noticing one of the letters hadn’t burned completely, and I could still make out a few words in the faint light.

They read:She is the key.

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