Ghost of a Chance (Banshee Creek Book 2) (32 page)

Oh, yes. Two could most certainly play this game.
 

She dragged her finger lightly up his ring finger, very slowly. She felt his breath catch.
 

He cut short his conversation regarding the impact of
al fresco
dining on earnings and straightened in his chair.

Elizabeth smiled. But her smile didn't last long.
 

Caine was striding through the backyard. His T-shirt featured a scene from last year's Dr. Strange movie and Elizabeth winced. She'd auditioned for the role of Clea years ago but lost it to an HBO dragon princess. Her chest hurt with regret, or maybe it was the spicy pork chops.

Caine was grinning and waving a sheaf of papers. And he was heading straight for Gabe. "We're back in business, boss," he said, throwing the papers on the table. He turned to Elizabeth. "Read it and weep, Hunt."

Gabe reached for the papers, but she grabbed them first. She looked through them, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"There it is, in black and white," the biker said in a satisfied tone. "The Town Council has agreed to reconsider the ghost tours."
 

"What?" Elizabeth squeaked. "I wasn't consulted."

He smiled smugly. "I took Mrs. Bartlett to the pizzeria opening."

"The librarian? The one who fainted during the town meeting?" Gabe asked, admiration sneaking into his voice.
 

"Yep. I apologized for my unfortunate choice of words during the meeting."

"And pictures," Elizabeth interrupted. "Don't forget the pictures."

"Can it, Hunt." Caine clearly savored the words. "Mrs. Bartlett was surprised by the pizzeria makeover. Surprised and pleased. It wasn't what she was picturing at all. She really liked it."

"She did?" Elizabeth felt liked she'd swallowed a spoonful of green mashed potatoes.
 

"Yes, she said it was fun." Caine barked the words out. "A phenomenon you may not be closely acquainted with. Anyway, Mrs. Bartlett convinced the Council to revisit the haunted house tours." He pointed to the papers. "The meeting is scheduled for next week."

But Elizabeth refused to be intimidated. She shook her head solemnly. "You're a glutton for punishment, aren't you?" she said with an exaggerated sigh. "I'll just have to beat you again."

"Oh, we'll see about that." Caine looked at Gabe, his eyes narrowed. "This time I have a secret weapon."

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-S
IX

G
ABE
REACHED
for the liquid soap. He'd spent his childhood developing killer dishwashing skills in the family pizzeria, but this pile of dirty dishes was a challenge even for him. The green mashed potatoes were akin to an alien fungus. They multiplied on the dishes and stuck to them like cement.

But even the Leaning Tower of Mutant Dishes couldn't dispel his good mood. He'd kissed Elizabeth. Hell, he'd done a lot more than that. The memory still made him smile. Sure, she'd excused herself and run back to her car as soon as his mom asked Patricia about the last wedding she'd catered, but that wasn't surprising. He wasn't exactly comfortable with his mom's choice of topics either, and he should probably come up with a plan to sidetrack her.

But his limbic cortex wasn't interested in strategic brainstorming. It kept picturing Elizabeth's long legs wrapped around his waist.

He turned the water, wincing at the frigid sting. Cold water wasn't good for washing dishes but it was good for something else. A half hour with his hands soaking in ice-cold water should be just as good as a cold shower.

Or so he hoped. Unfortunately, thinking about Elizabeth was addictive. His addled brain couldn't focus on anything except the memory of her wet finger sliding down his hand. He gave up. His cerebral cortex wasn't working right now. He'd come up with something tomorrow.
 

He placed the dishes in the sink. Many of the plates were chipped, but his mom had refused to change the china. The old-fashioned blue-and-white pattern was somewhat comforting.
 

Washing dishes usually relaxed him, but not tonight. Tonight, the soapy water made him wonder what Elizabeth would look like covered only with soapy bubbles. He pictured her rubbing the soap over her breasts. The minx would make sure the bubbles covered up her nipples. Would she make him beg for a look? Most likely.

He shook his head, trying desperately to dislodge the image.

He needed to stop daydreaming and find a way to convince Elizabeth that they were meant to be together. That was going to be a tricky proposition. Caine's brilliant idea gave him the perfect opportunity to implement his new plan. That meant, however, he had to crush Elizabeth's dream
and
also convince her that they belonged together. His genius-level IQ should be able to square this circle, but picturing soapy bubbles sliding across her naked body wasn't conducive to effective planning.

His mom carried a dirty serving dish into the kitchen, effectively killing his daydream. "This is the last one," she said as she set the dish down. She raised her eyes and looked around the kitchen, a frown darkening her face. "Did your brothers all leave before cleanup?"

"Of course they did," he said with a smile. His siblings always skipped cleaning up. "But I don't mind."
 

It wasn't an excuse, it was the truth. Nowadays his staff did everything—cooking, cleaning, even picking clothes. He wondered why his mother didn't have more help. She had plenty of money and could have catered the party or hired a cleanup crew. Still, here she was, humming happily as she scraped leftovers and stacked dirty dishes.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Anyway, they had to take the girls home," he said, stifling a chuckle.

"I don't know where I went wrong with you boys. It's like you were raised by wolves." She put the dish next to the sink and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "And where's
your
girl? Shouldn't you be taking her home?" Trust Mom to come straight to the point.

 
"She left as soon as you and Patricia started talking about centerpieces. Not a smooth move on your part."

 
"No matter." She folded the dishtowel into squares. She was the only person he knew who folded dirty towels before putting them away to be washed. "She has to come back and take you house hunting."

"I already found a house."

"She'll find you another one. A good one this time."

"I'm done with the house-hunting. We'll have your Mother's Day party in the terrace. You'll love it."

She aimed a murderous glare at him. "I talked to Mary." Her voice was cold as steel. "Elizabeth has two more houses to show you tomorrow. You're meeting her at nine."

Gabe stifled a sigh. His head hurt, his shoulder hurt, and his back hurt. He really wasn't sure he'd survive another bout of house hunting. Still, it would be another afternoon with Elizabeth, and he couldn't really say no to that. What would she come up with now? A serial killer hideout? A refurbished morgue?

"Fine, I'll check out a few more listings. But I've already spent too much time on this project. I have to wrap it up and get back to work."
 

He had a queue of voicemail messages from Salvador reminding him of this fact. His business partner was growing more and more desperate.

"All you do is work, Gabe. You need a break." She unfolded the dishtowel then refolded it. Then she did it again. She did that when she was nervous. "At least when Cole was alive, he pushed you into things. True, they were crazy things like looking for alien spores in Canada and chasing the cryptowhatevers in the Caribbean."

"It's called cryptozoology," Gabe interrupted.

"Yes, that. It was crazy, but at least it wasn't work."

He smiled in fond remembrance. "Yes, work doesn't involve frostbite, or dengue fever, or figuring out how to say 'blood-sucking mutant goat' in Creole."
 

"Frostbite notwithstanding, you relaxed with Cole. You relax with Elizabeth too. I haven't seen you this happy in years. Admit it, you've enjoyed the crazy house-hunting."

Gabe sighed. She was right. He had enjoyed working with Elizabeth, even if the house hunting had turned out to be more dangerous than chasing Yetis in the Himalayas.

His mom smiled at him meaningfully. "She's a lovely girl."

Gabe avoided her eyes and focused on the dishes. The green potatoes were simply not coming off the plates. His mom had created a new super-adhesive. She should try to patent it.
 

"You couldn't take your eyes off her today."

He scrubbed at a particularly sticky piece of cheese.

"And I couldn't see your hands during most of the meal."
 

Gabe raised his soapy hands. "Whoa. Mom, stop. Just stop."
 

Her eyes twinkled. "She may be the one for you."

"What makes you think she's interested in being 'the one'?" He finally managed to clean a crusty pan. One down, a hundred or so left to go. "She ran away as fast as she could today."
 

He stepped away to grab a drying towel. When he turned around, he saw his mother standing in his spot in front of the sink rewashing the pan. Some things never changed.
 

 
"Elizabeth has been running away for a very long time." She frowned and scrubbed meticulously at an invisible food particle. "Just like her brother."

"That one's clean, Mom. Leave it alone. And Cole had his reasons." So did Elizabeth. But he didn't want to dwell on those reasons.

"Forgiveness is a virtue. Especially with family." She rinsed the pan, squinted at it, and reached for the sponge. "Mary knew that."

"She shouldn't have taken him back."

His mom placed the pan on the sink carefully. "He's her husband. The father of her children," she said with exaggerated calm. "Or course she had to take him back."

He shook his head.

"He made a mistake," she continued. "He wasn't a bad man. Everyone loved Jonathan. Well, everyone except your father, who said Jonathan moved his pawns in a shady manner. But you used to worship him."
 

 
Elizabeth's father had been the most successful businessman in Banshee Creek. He'd grown a local bail bonds business into a respected credit union and sold to a national bank chain for a tidy profit. As a kid, he'd wanted to grow up to be exactly like Cole's dad. He'd wanted to wear a suit and tie. He'd wanted to have his own company. He'd wanted to be an investor. He'd wanted to have a big, beautiful house.

He'd wanted to be just like Jonathan Hunt.

But that changed the day Mr. Hunt left his family and moved to Middleburg with his secretary. Gonzalo Franco might be a mediocre restaurateur with an expensive chess habit, but he was a loyal husband and a loving father. Some things were more important than fancy suits and nice houses.

"You seem to have forgotten a couple of things. Cole's dad was gone for
two
years. He cleaned out their bank accounts, and Mary was left to build a real estate business in the middle of the worst real estate recession in decades. Cole took a gardening job to make ends meet, but that wasn't enough."

She sighed.

"The pizzeria wasn't doing well," Gabe continued, "but Dad still told Cole we needed help with deliveries, and he took all my routes. We couldn't really afford to do that, but they needed the money more than we did."

His mom stared into the sink. The perfectly clean pan stared back.

"Elizabeth started dressing in black and listening to weird music," he went on mercilessly. "Cole was frantic, thinking she'd get into drugs or worse. He even asked Dad to lend the drama club the parking lot so he could watch over Elizabeth while she painted scenery."

A very small smile crossed her face. She picked up the pan and reached for a dishtowel. "Poor Zach," she said. "Your father thought he'd glittered the driveway on purpose. He scrubbed it for weeks, and the paint never came off."

"Well, Zach remodeled the pizzeria to match the glitter, so it's all good now."

His mom chuckled as she dried the pan.

"They went through hell, Mom. And then, just when things started to get better, Mary took Jonathan back, and Cole had to pretend that nothing happened."

"She had to forgive him." His mom's voice was laced with stubbornness. "He was her husband."

"Well, Cole never forgave him," Gabe continued. "He left the house and joined the Army as soon as he could."
 

And never returned. The thought made his chest tighten. He felt his mom place her hand on her shoulder, but he shrugged it away. He was fine.
 

She picked up another dish. "Poor Mary." She swept the dishtowel over the dish, polishing it to perfection. "I thank God every day that Elizabeth came back. She likes to save people." She smiled at him, eyes twinkling. "That's something you two have in common."
 

"She doesn't think we have all that much in common." He picked up a stack of dinner plates and went back to washing dishes.
 

"Oh, I don't know, Ingrid Lebensburg said Elizabeth was very concerned about you yesterday." His mom kept drying dishes. "Elizabeth asked her for a particularly thorough checkup and insisted on special stitches. Ingrid thought it was very cute."

He disagreed. Dr. Frankensburg's special stitches were not cute at all. "That was Elizabeth's own brand of mischief, Mom, not concern for my welfare."

"She's always had a soft spot for you."

"That was just a crush." Which was the worrisome part. What if it was still just a crush?

"It looked like a lot more than a crush last night. Mary's very happy about her daughter's—" she paused, "—how does she put it? Nefarious intentions?"
 

Gabe winced. He really didn't want to discuss Elizabeth's intentions with his mom.
 

"Mary's been worried about her daughter for a long time," she continued. "Elizabeth has dated but she hasn't had any serious relationships."