After spending a week cooped up at home, my night out drained me. I parked Jolene and started toward the front porch, ready to grab a shower and update Woolly on all the gossip we’d missed over the past few weeks. Rustling in the bushes pulled me up short, and I sent up a prayer to Hecate that Taz hadn’t come back for seconds. Creeping around the side of the house, I went to investigate and spotted a flash of red hair. “Linus?”

Dressed in a crisp navy button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms dusted with freckles, Linus made for an elegant gardener. Dark-wash jeans hung low on his hips, the knees damp, and he wore a pair of scuffed, black boots coated in mud. He’d pulled his long hair into a neat topknot, and the same pair of black-framed glasses he’d worn at breakfast perched on the end of his nose. His elegant hands were covered in a mixture of crimson ink and clumps of… Was that concrete?

Skipping my gaze from him to Woolly, I sucked in a sharp breath at the smooth expanse of foundation running along this side of the house.

“I got to thinking about the wards.” He dropped into a crouch in front of a small trough filled with a wet mixture. A trowel handle stuck out of the center like a bulbous candle on a birthday cake. “The only way to repair the damage to the foundation is to first repair the foundation.”

Hardly breaking news, but the blank canvas he’d created made her look so naked, so vulnerable.

“Woolly can’t function with a quarter of her wards down.” I rested my hand against the siding like that might help me feel her heartbeat. “I promised her you wouldn’t do this again. I gave her my word I would protect her. You should have asked me before you started. I could have talked to her, warned her what was happening so she wouldn’t be afraid.”

Linus let me rant at him until I ran out of steam then cocked an eyebrow at me. “Are you finished?”

“No.” I sucked in air for part two then promptly deflated. “Wait. Are you laughing at me?”

He plucked a blade of grass and let it drop. “You don’t trust me much, do you?”

“You broke into my house and kidnapped my bird.”

A grimace twisted up his face. “There is that.”

Whatever excuse I expected him to recite never made it past his lips. He owned the blame for his actions, though he must have known I suspected his mother of issuing the orders. Had he thrown her under the bus, I would have gladly switched it into reverse then taken my own turn behind the wheel.

“I transcribed the existing wards before I mixed the concrete.” He indicated the lowest board on Woolly’s siding. What I had assumed was dirt was actually tiny rows of interlaced sigils. They had been drawn on with a permanent marker with a crimson undertone. Another of his inventions? “Woolly is fine. I talked to her myself, and I asked her permission before I put a hand on her.”

The window above our heads swung open then clicked shut in agreement.

“Oh.” I knelt beside him, thankful I had done all the prep work of scrubbing the foundation clean weeks ago. “Are you sure it will hold?” I tipped back my head and examined the sky. “Neely said it’s going to rain.”

Linus got busy stirring his mixture. “Who’s Neely?”

“Neely Torres. He’s a friend from work.” I patted my hair, not remembering until I touched frizz that he hadn’t painted me into my character tonight. “He does hair and makeup for all the Haints. He’s also a kickass accountant.”

“Oh.” Comprehension dawned across his face. “He’s married to Cruz Torres.”

I blinked at him. “You know Cruz?”

“We do some business with his firm. He manages the Society’s human interests.”

I wet my lips. “How long has he worked for the Society?”

“Three years.” He studied me. “Are you two close?”

The clenching knot in my gut uncoiled a fraction upon learning the Grande Dame hadn’t scooped up Cruz the second the cell door clanged shut behind me. I didn’t like him working for her, but there was no way to convince him to drop what must be lucrative contracts without a thorough explanation. And what would I say when I had no idea why, out of countless attorneys, she had selected him?

“That’s not the word I would use, no.” Cruz didn’t do close. Neely was the sole exception to my knowledge. “More like he’s tolerant of me because Neely values our friendship.” And that was stretching things. “He still gives me stink eye because he found me alone and half-naked in the men’s changing room with Neely once.”

Goop dribbled from his trowel. “Any particular reason why?”

“Why he gives me stink eye, or why I was alone with Neely?”

“I understand why Cruz might find it odd to discover a naked woman with his husband.” Linus didn’t stumble over acknowledging their union, smoothing hackles I hadn’t sensed rising in anticipation of a defense I was grateful to avoid. “What were you doing?”

“Amelie covered the first part of my shift the night Keet died, again, and I had to sneak in to work late in order to avoid getting written up.” Hard to believe there was once a time where that was the worst thing that could happen to me. “He figured the last place she’d look was upstairs, where the guys change, so that’s where he stashed me.”

A soft laugh escaped him. “Sometimes I forget how human you can be.”

The same hackles I’d thought soothed snapped to bristling attention. How common. That’s what he meant. Low Society necromancers had little to no magic. They earned human degrees, worked human jobs, lived human lives, albeit much longer ones, and the two people I loved most hailed from that caste. Factor in Neely, and I had an actual human friend. Compare that against my whopping zero High Society pals, and yeah, I wasn’t the caliber of girl Linus was acclimated to by a long shot. In hindsight, maybe his mother had only sent him over for playdates with me as a social experiment.

“Maud raised me to be integrated into their world.” Now I had to wonder why, and I hated questioning her ghost. Not in the literal sense. Thank goodness for small mercies. “The previous Grande Dame stripped me of almost everything I had and tossed me in a hole to rot. The High Society, including your mother, did nothing to protect me. Humans, and my Low Society friends, offered me a hand up when I had nothing.” I stood and dusted off my knees. “Forgive me if I can’t find the insult in being human. It beats being inhumane by a mile.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He reached for me, and his fingertips trailed down the seam of my jeans. “Grier, please.”

“I’m going to bed.” I stepped out of his reach. “Keep your wraith out of my room from now on.”

Picking my way over his supplies, I shoved through the gate. From the corner of my eye, I saw him sigh as if I frustrated him before he returned to his work. And the hell of it was, I felt guilty for giving him a hard time when he had insulted me.

Oh, yes. The Grande Dame had chosen my tutor well. Her spies would have told her I was clinging to my childhood friends. While Linus wasn’t exactly that, given his antisocial tendencies, she must have figured I would still prefer someone I shared history with over a stranger. She was right about that. But she was wrong if she thought tossing us together like salad fixings would make us mix any better than last time.

* * *

Linus had the good sense not to send Cletus to wake me from my nightmare the following dusk. He let me come aware on my own, screaming bloody murder as usual. Woolly made inquiring noises, but she let me off the hook when I assured her the dream was the same as always.

I had ideas about what it meant, what repressed memories skittered through my brain at night like cockroaches while my consciousness thinned enough for them to press into the forefront of my mind. But grasping for the fading tendrils was like raking a hand through a wraith. You came away empty-handed and disturbed by the experience.

Determined to be a model student, I showered and dressed casually before tucking the grimoire, who I decided to name Eileen in honor of its plentitude of eyeballs, under my arm. The flutter of its paper-thin lids against my skin made me grateful for the absence of ticklish eyelashes. That would have been too weird, too humanizing.

The carriage house smelled as delicious when I arrived as it had last night, and my stomach gurgled a greeting when Linus met me at the door. Pretty sure when your intestinal tract starts holding conversations with people it’s cause for alarm. But bacon.

“I’m sorry I blew up at you.” I had a right to be angry about a lot of things, but not even half of them were his fault, and when had stomping away ever solved a problem? “You know how Maud raised me. You know who my friends are, what they are, and you know what I think of the High Society.” And your mother. “Can we agree to avoid hot-button topics?”

“I apologize for intimating there was anything wrong with being who you are, and I didn’t mean the comment on your humanity as an insult against you or your friends.” He lowered his chin, his attention catching on the grimoire. “You won’t believe me, but I meant it as a compliment.”

He was right. I couldn’t fathom him using human in a positive context. But breakfast smelled good, progress was happening on Woolly, and I wasn’t in a mood to argue this early. “What’s my lesson for today?”

“First, we eat.” He stepped back then escorted me to the table. “I got distracted with a book I’m reading, so I went simple. I hope you like omelets. And bacon, of course.”

“I like anything I don’t have to cook,” I answered honestly as he passed me a plate that looked picture perfect, the browned crescent of fluffy egg overflowing with ham, bacon, and cheddar. “This looks incredible.” A thought hit me as I took my first bite. “Are you feeding me because you were told the way to my heart was through my stomach? I mean, it’s true. Obviously. I’m just curious.”

“I’m feeding you because I don’t like dining alone. Usually I eat in the cafeteria with the other faculty members.” He kept his eyes on his plate, moving food around with his fork. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. You need the calories.” He took a bite and puckered his brow like the flavor wasn’t quite what he’d aimed for, though I had no complaints. I wolfed mine down in record time. “Consider it a trade. You keep me company, and I’ll help you replace all the calories Taz burns.”

The reminder I had a session with her in a few hours made me groan. “It’s a deal, but I’m pitching in on the groceries. It’s not fair for you to foot the bill and cook. Actually, make me a list, and I’ll supply all the food since you’re providing me with a personal chef.”

“There’s one small problem with your generous offer. I usually don’t know what I’m going to cook until I’m doing it.”

“Oh.” I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Then I’ll load up on the usual suspects and let you do with them what you will.”

A spark of amusement glinted in his eyes. He must think it ridiculous that I cared about pulling my own weight or paying him back when neither of us was hurting for money, but it mattered to me. A few weeks ago, I had been living off ramen and oatmeal without a penny to my name. As fast as I had been named an heiress, it could all vanish. It had once already. There was nothing stopping it from happening again. Solving all my problems with plastic in the meantime would only make things worse if it did.

“That sounds fair,” he agreed with a tiny smile, and he opened a notebook with the word syllabus scrawled in cursive across the front. “As for your assignment, I hope you don’t mind the clothes you’re wearing getting dirty. We’re working outside today. We need to focus on the physical foundation repairs before we start on the magical ones. Woolly is our priority.”

Heartened by the sentiment—one I wholeheartedly shared—I forgot my earlier annoyance. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“We’re going to apply a second layer of concrete to the foundation. I primed all four sides last night to ensure I had perfected the mixture. The next is your responsibility.”

“I can handle that.”

“Your homework tonight will be practicing the sigils for hardening and waterproofing.”

“Hear that, Eileen?” I petted the grimoire. “I’ll be defiling your pages tonight.”

Linus hesitated, lips parted, and I wasn’t certain which part of what I’d said had stalled him out. Was my pun that terrible? Or was he worried what I meant by defiling? Either way, he shook his head and kept reading from the paper.

“We’ll also be using ink from Maud’s supplies.” Before I could argue over the waste, he raised a hand. “We don’t know what mixing in your blood would do to Woolly, and using mine would fundamentally link me to her. You don’t want that, so we don’t have many options. Any blood used in the repairs will give that person a back door into the wards.”

As much as I hated parting with even a drop of such a precious resource, I understood his concerns. “I appreciate you explaining this to me. You could have used your blood, and I wouldn’t have known the difference.” Until it jumped up and bit me on the butt, at least. I felt like a heel, but I put it out there anyway. “Why did you tell me? A back door would save you the headache the next time you need an in.”

“The fact you’ve realized there will be a next time should be answer enough.”

“You’re protecting me from yourself.” Again, I had to ask, “Why?”

“Do you need to change?” He carried his plate to the sink and fed his omelet to the disposal. “You might want to tie your hair back so it doesn’t get in your face once we start.”

Tempted as I was to press him for an answer, I decided his reasons didn’t matter as much as the outcome. Though I was starting to get curious about his dietary needs. The man loved to cook, that much was obvious, but he pecked at his food like a bird.

“I’m good.” I had dressed nice for him, but even my nice was thrift store-caliber nice. I carried my plate and our cups to the sink while he filled one side with sudsy water. I almost suggested the dishwasher, but then I remembered what he’d said about cleaning when he needed to think, and I claimed the spot beside him. “I wanted to thank you.”

The rag in his hand stilled. “You shouldn’t thank me for doing what any decent person would do.”

It took a beat for me to realize he must think I was still hung up on using Maud’s blood. “No, I mean dropping your life to race down here and play tutor for me. I appreciate it. There’s so much I don’t know, and it’s nice having someone around I can ask.”

His hand resumed its scrubbing circles. “I’m happy to help, but you understand this isn’t an act of altruism on my part?”

Yes, I had known that. Too bad he brought it up right when I was feeling charitable toward him. “Your mother—”

“No.” He leaned his hip against the counter, angling his body toward me. “My field of study is necromantic evolution. I catalog the growth and change of our powers over time in an effort to predict what they might become during the next generations as well as how to maximize the current magics we possess.”

“I’m a research project for you.”

“Yes.” He examined my face. “The promise of working with you is how Mother lured me down here.”

“Okay.” I gusted out an exhale and felt ten pounds lighter. “I can deal with that.”

More than dealing with his admission, I embraced it with both hands. It was oddly reassuring to know he was here, at least in part, to sate his own curiosity. While I didn’t love the idea of being the topic of future research papers, I did need his help figuring out how my magic worked, and he would be more driven if he was quenching his own thirst for knowledge at the same time. And, to be honest, it was easier trusting a man who experimented on himself too. It made the whole thing feel less…clinical.

“You’re not upset?” The plate he had almost scrubbed a hole in slipped from his hand into the dingy water. “You don’t mind me chronicling your journey?”

“No.” I rescued the dish and rinsed it clean. “This is more honest than any reason I had assigned you.”

“Ah.” His laughter was brittle. “I see.”

The sound made me flinch. “It’s hard for me to trust anyone these days.”

“I understand.” His sudsy hand covered mine, chilly despite the warm water. “Come on. We don’t have long before Taz arrives.” He retrieved a fresh dish towel for me while he dried off. “Are you working tonight?”

“I’m not sure. I lost my job at Haint Misbehavin’. Cricket, the owner, has agreed to let me fill in as needed.” Sort of. “She bought a haunted riverboat that’s apparently been in the news recently. There’s a chance I’ll get picked as a hostess after the launch, but until then I’m in limbo, really.”

“You’ll have to drop down to part-time hours once our studies become more intensive,” he warned. “We’ll be taking field trips in the weeks to come, some of them overnight, and there will be assignments you can’t perform indoors without access to a basement. Meaning we may have to rent an underground space.”

“That sounds fair.” It’s not like I planned on being a Haint forever. I only wanted that tiny dose of normal each night for as long as it lasted. “Just give me a heads-up so I can let Cricket know in advance.”

Maybe the third time would be the charm and I could manage a two-week notice.

Together we finished cleaning up our mess and gathered our supplies. I left Eileen on the table, uncovered, so she could entertain herself while we were outside. I figured the worst thing to do to a multi-eyed book was blind it with darkness. Actually, that was the worst thing you could do to anyone.

Mixing the concrete was easy-peasy thanks to the machine Linus had the foresight to rent for the job. The resulting goop held a faint pink tint, courtesy of Maud’s blood, but it cleared up after we blended in some powdered hawthorn berries and calendula.

The process of slathering it on the foundation like icing on a cake required a technique Linus had, of course, mastered. Me? Not so much. Mostly I slopped trowels full of the stuff over his tidy work from the previous night while he followed behind me scraping off the excess and finessing the remainder to a smooth finish.

We completed two sides before Taz announced herself with a playful yank on my ponytail that made my eyes water and might have dislocated a few vertebrae.

“What are you two doing?” She peered over our shoulders. “Why does it smell like that? Coppery?”

I wasn’t sure what worried me more—that she had been playing with me and almost broken my neck in the process, or that she could smell blood through the herbs and wet concrete scents.

“Just some home improvements.” I skirted the truth. “Linus was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“This couldn’t keep until tomorrow?” Her thin eyebrows winged higher. “Boaz will be here by then.”

Beside me, Linus curled his fingers around the handle of his trowel until his knuckles pushed against his skin.

“Boaz is coming home?” A glob of concrete plopped onto my knee. I couldn’t stop the smile stretching my cheeks. “That dirty sneak. He didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t know?” Her face screwed up into a scowl. “He should have told me it was a surprise.”

“It’s fine.” I scraped my tools clean. “Linus, do you need help tidying before Taz and I get started?”

“I’ll keep going if you don’t mind.” He wasn’t looking at me now. “I want to smooth these edges before they set.”

I leaned into his field of vision. “I can stay and help if—”

“You should practice.” The wraith moved behind his eyes, his lips almost blue in the shadows. “You don’t have much time before work.”

Shrinking back, I got to my feet and rolled my shoulders. I didn’t bother dusting off my pants. I would be rolling in the dirt again soon enough.

* * *

Cricket met me in the parking lot at HQ with a scowl pinned on her puckered mouth. Dressed in a black satin swing dress, this one with spiderweb lace overlaying the fabric, she looked like she’d stepped out of a funeral photo from the fifties. Her personal style clashed with the Southern belle shtick she pedaled, but she made it work. Skirts rustling in agitation, she crossed to me in neck-breaker stilettos. “You went to Sean Voorhees behind my back.”

“Sean Voorhees?” I echoed. “I’m not familiar with—”

“He owns River Street Steam. He’s my new partner for the haunted history cruises.”

“Oh.” So that was the name of Neely’s contact. “Since janitorial work is too light at the main office for both Dom and me, I thought I would check and see if he needed extra hands.”

The unlit cigarette stuck to her bottom lip gave a perilous wiggle. “You called a man up and asked for a job without first learning his name?”

Put that way, it did sound bad. “Yes?”

“You’ve got more balls than brains, hon.” She pursed her lips. “I could use a girl on the inside. I’m not saying Voorhees is swindling me, he quoted me a fair price for my share of the business, but the restorations we agreed on shouldn’t take half as long as he’s estimating. We need to get that boat back paddling water as soon as possible so we can cash in on the summer rush.”

Savannah was lousy with tourists during the summer, so the timing could be ideal. The guides would have a few months to tweak their presentations in front of small, captive audiences before peak season arrived. Not to mention being able to capitalize on the local buzz.

I linked my hands in front of me. “Are you saying I’ve got the job?”

“He called me to check your references.” Her blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah. You got the job. Report to the dock. You can’t miss the Cora Ann. Introduce yourself to Voorhees, and he’ll tell you what needs doing.” She stabbed a black nail in my direction. “I expect weekly progress reports. You’ve got a cellphone. I’ve caught you and Amelie texting each other from across the room enough times to know that much. Use it to take pictures. Let me see what I’m paying for, all right?”

“I can do that.” I would have to run it past Neely first, though. I didn’t want to get him in trouble if I caught Voorhees mid-shenanigans. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

“Don’t thank me.” She rolled her unlit cigarette to the other side of her mouth. “Assigning you there won’t cause a staff shortage here if you vanish. That’s the only reason I’m giving you one last chance. Blow this, and you’re done. You’ll never work for me again.”

I reined in the impulse to keep from asking if I might climb the rungs back up to tour-guide status. She had agreed to let me work on the Cora Ann, and that was the closest to full-time employment as I was likely to find with my available hours. Plus, I had to admit, I was more than a little curious about the ghost boy.

The haunting must be an old one, or the papers would have splashed the story of recent tragedy across the pages complete with stomach-churning pics of his parents attempting to cope with his loss and sudden fame. What had riled a stable entity up to poltergeist levels? And could it also be to blame for the disappearance of the B&B ghost? Something hinky was afoot downtown. I might as well investigate while I was there, right?

“I won’t let you down,” I promised, backing toward Jolene.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She spun on her spiky heel and clip-clopped into the building.

“I deserve that,” I mumbled as I mounted my bike and sped toward River Street. Jostling over the cobblestones while my teeth chattered was never my favorite thing, but it was worth it for the prime parking spots usually vacant this time of night.

I found the Cora Ann in the same spot as always, right off Rousakis Riverfront Plaza, her berth easy to spot from the street while shopping the vendors crowding the market. Two other steamboats docked behind her, the rest of Voorhees’s fleet, but the bustle surrounding the Cora Ann told me I was in the right spot.

A long metal walkway—a gangway?—stretched over the water and up through a gateway in the railing where several men and women hurried about on their own errands. Two older men stood apart from the chaos, carrying on a conversation while gesturing toward the wrought-iron railing circling the upper deck. I walked right up to them and smiled in the face of their bewilderment. “Hi. I’m Grier Woolworth.”

“Cricket send you?” the taller one, whose handlebar mustache tickled his jawline, asked. “You’ve the look of one of her girls.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Told you the old bat wouldn’t settle until she had eyes and ears onboard.” He belted out a hearty laugh the other man shared. “I’m Sean Voorhees.” He indicated the man standing beside him, who sported a rather impressive beard that frothed around his mouth in tight curls. “This is Captain Dale Murray.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” I craned my neck to see what I was walking into, but Mr. Voorhees cleared the deck with an imperious sweep of his hand. “I’ll take you up to the dining room. You can help pull out the old carpet and padding.”

The dining room. Straight into the heart of the haunting. They must really want to spook me away.

“Wear a mask,” Captain Murray called as I was led away. “Water breeds mold.”

“We’ll provide you with a mask and gloves tonight,” Mr. Voorhees said, “but tomorrow I expect you to show with your own supplies. You might also want to invest in a chisel, a hammer, a Phillips screwdriver and a straight edge too. The work will go faster if you’re not waiting on someone to finish up with the tool you need, and I don’t have to tell you Cricket wants this done yesterday.”

“I can do that.” Though my unused debit card winced away from the cost of such supplies, minor as they were to me these days, I convinced myself I would be able to use them during Woolly’s renovations as well. And that was assuming I couldn’t find all I needed in the tool chest out in the garage. Gus, Maud’s driver, had kept all sorts of supplies out there. “I’ll get a list from one of my coworkers on the way out.”

“Good idea.” He sounded amused, like he never expected to see me again, as he led me into what must usually be an elegant dining room but now resembled a haunted house ride at a theme park. Wallpaper peeled in curling strips, sections of the floor revealed battered hardwood and steel beneath their carpet coverings, and one square of the ceiling exposed dangling wires. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Klein vogeltje, I’ve got a new girl for you.”

A brunette about my age popped up from under one of the few remaining tables. Dirt smudged her cheek, and sweat glued her bangs to her forehead. A vibrant red birthmark covered her chin and lower jaw, spreading down her throat where it disappeared below the neck of her tee. “Why must you insist on embarrassing me in front of the new hires?”

“I do it to remind you you’ll always be my little bird.” A fond grin creased his cheeks as his eyes cut to me. “And to warn them who they’re working for, what the consequences will be for ruffling your feathers.” He shoved me forward as he stepped back. “Marit will set you to rights.”

“Thank you.” I drifted over to her as he strolled away. “Hi. I’m Grier.”

“Marit.” She held up her gloved hands in apology then jerked her chin in the direction her dad had gone. “Don’t let the old man get under your skin. He’s harmless, really.”

Uncertain I believed that, I surveyed the wreckage, surprised when it appeared she was solely responsible for the entire mess. “Where do you want me?”

“Give me a hand with the carpet. I need it gone so I can prime the floor.” She abandoned whatever task she’d been attending under the table to walk me across the room. “It’s called a salmon patch.”

Puzzled, I glanced around, expecting to see fish-patterned wallpaper or themed kitsch. Neither of which belonged on a steamboat on the Savannah River. “What is?”

“My birthmark,” she said without breaking stride. “People call the ones on your face angel kisses, or the ones on your neck stork bites. Cute names, right? Mine looks like I dribbled a mouthful of wine down my chin.”

“Oh.” Articulate as always. “Do you have gloves I can borrow?”

“You really don’t care, do you?” Marit sorted through a toolbox until she found a pair of scarred leather gloves then tossed them to me. “Most folks gawk and wonder, so I tend to get it out of the way.” She met my stare, unflinching. “Sorry if I came down hard on you.”

“It’s a birthmark. Most of us have one somewhere.” I yanked on the gloves and flexed my fingers. “I have one shaped like a cowboy boot under my left butt cheek if you’d like to make us even.”

“I’ll pass, for now.” Marit chuckled under her breath. “Maybe we can get drinks after work sometime. Get enough liquor in me, and I might change my mind.”

The chorus from the country song “Bad Boys Get Me Good” started playing, and I wrangled my phone from my pocket. “Do you mind if I take this?” I yanked off one glove. “I’ll make it quick.”

“Take twenty-five, but it counts as your first break. Just so you know.”

“That’s fair.” I flicked the green circle on the screen. “Hey.”

“Hey back.” A smile warmed Boaz’s voice. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Uh-oh. “Really? That’s nice.” I smothered a grin. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

About how Taz claimed he was coming to town, and he hadn’t said a word to me.

“Missing me already, Squirt?”

“I always miss you when you’re gone,” I said truthfully. “It’s when you’re around that you annoy me so much I look forward to you leaving again.”

“Brrr.” He chattered his teeth for effect. “That’s cold.”

“I’m at work, Boaz.” I bit back a laugh. “Did you need something in particular, or were you just calling to harass me?”

“As much as I enjoy harassing you, I do need something in particular.” He hesitated. “You.”

“Um.” Heat flooded my cheeks, and I turned my back on Marit. “Can you be more specific?”

His husky chuckle warned me I’d made a fatal error. “How specific? Are we talking pics or drawings or…?”

“Boaz,” I groaned. “Please behave.”

“Never.”

“Then please stop wasting my first break terrorizing me. What’s the favor?”

A pause lapsed during which I counted five beats of my heart.

“Go out with me,” he repeated his earlier plea. “Just me and you. No sister to hide behind.”

Always so quick to accuse me of hiding from him. How it must annoy him that I no longer ran headfirst into his arms every time he opened them. And that thought was exactly why I worried about the attention he paid me. I worried what he wanted was what he couldn’t have and not, well, me.

“Earlier you said you’d give me time to see the error of my ways before you asked again. I figured I had a solid twenty-four hours at least.” I gazed through one of the windows out at the darkened river. “Why the rush?”

“I’ll be in town tomorrow,” he admitted at last. “I thought about surprising you, but I didn’t want to drop in and assume you’d have time for me.”

“See me as in put eyeballs on me or see me as in go out on a date? Dates end with kissing.” I ground the toe of my shoe into the plaster-covered carpet. “You’ve never been satisfied stopping there.”

“No one said anything about a date.” He wisely refrained from pointing out that since he hadn’t asked me out until now, I had no idea what satisfying him entailed. “I’m asking my best girl to keep me company while we eat good food and maybe go dancing.”

“What happens if I ask for more time?” Teasing him might not be the wisest idea I’d ever had, but I had never been smart where Boaz was concerned, and the idea of whirling the night away in his arms appealed to the starry-eyed teenager in me who would always idolize him just a little.

“Then I’ll ask you again tomorrow night, and the next, and the next, until you cave.”

I hid behind closed eyelids. Asking questions was safer in the dark, especially where my heart was concerned. “Why do you want this so much?” He had given me the easy answer, but I didn’t want easy. “Telling a girl she’s a convenient pit stop on your way through town is not the way to get her to say yes.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you goodbye that night in your front yard. Or stolen your first kiss without asking.” Gravel churned in his voice. “I can still taste you, Grier, and I want more. I can’t stop thinking about you. Have mercy on me. Say yes.”

Stolen kisses, no tongues involved, had brought Boaz to heel? I couldn’t believe it. In fact, I didn’t believe it. But goddess, how I wanted to. “Okay, Boaz Pritchard, I’ll give you one date to prove yourself.”

“Grier Woolworth, you won’t regret it,” he vowed. “And, since you called it a date, expect me to cash in on the kissing you mentioned.”

“No tongue,” I said, just to be contrary. “And no touching below the shoulders.”

His pained groan lifted gooseflesh down my arms. “Cold, cold woman.”

“You must like it.” I couldn’t stop my grin. “You’re still talking to me.”

“The thing about ice…” He lowered his voice to a growl. “When you hold it in your hands long enough, it burns.”

Delicious shivers coasted down my arms. “You’re assuming you’re going to hold me at all.”

The chuckle he gusted across the receiver spoke of bad intentions and melted my kneecaps.

“I have to go.” I cleared my throat when I noticed Marit eavesdropping. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Satisfaction rang through his voice. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” I sighed, defeated. “That’s a yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Coming from a bad boy, the praise wasn’t all that comforting.