His Golden Touch [Gold Rush 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (13 page)

“Your father said under no circumstances was I to let you prowl around in there. It’s not stable.”

“He’s a worrywart. They’ve put up steel braces. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Then why is it closed off with barbed wire?”

“Very loose barbed wire if you know how to nudge it a bit, like this.” She unattached a strand from its mooring and opened it as if it were a gate. “I’m going in. Come or don’t come. I don’t care, cowboy.”

“Wait, Hannah, finish telling me the story. I know your great, great granny and great, great grandpa, Wade, became rich and famous and built the house on Nob Hill, but what of the others? What happened to Sam and Gus? It couldn’t have been easy for them the way the world felt about gay men in those days. What happened to Rocco and Andre and Brady?”

“Actually I only know what’s on the Internet with a few family lore details kept from the public all these years. Those stories will have to wait until another day. I’m going into the mine while I have the chance.” She took off.

Bolt chose not to follow and encourage her. “Damn, that girl is headstrong.” He doubted her cell would get reception inside the mine, but he texted her anyway.
Take Care. Luv U.
He went in search of Hannah’s dad. He was the only one who could make the headstrong woman behave.

Hannah was a bit disappointed in Bolt. For a cowboy and a veterinarian who wrestled animals three times his size, he could wimp out in the face of her father. She wound her way into the darkness and shined her flashlight on the damp walls of the mine. After it had been played out for years it still sparkled with glints of gold dust.

She sat on a stump someone had left here years ago. Her mind was swimming with all the stories of the mine’s owners told to her over the years.

“Howdy, sweetheart. You sure do favor my Hannah. But she would never have worn pants that tight or a skimpy shirt where her nipples poked through. Though she did love to be poked herself. Gads, that woman loved to fuck. Uh, excuse me. Who are you and why are you disturbing my peace?”

Strangely, Hannah was not at all afraid of the apparition. She’d hoped to see the ghost reported by so many of the men who’d explored this cave, but hadn’t actually expected to see him.

“Who might you be, sir?”

“I asked you first, woman.”

“I am Hannah Brown Tolliver Janes.”

“Ah, one of her descendents.” He came close and drew a finger down her cheek. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Not at all. You’re quite handsome for a ghost. Were you one of my great, great granny’s lovers?”

“I was fortunate to have loved Hannah.”

“Were you one of her husbands?”

“You know a lot about those long-ago days.”

“The gossip has been handed down through the family. I’d love to hear about it from your perspective. Can you stay and talk awhile or are you given time limits to your ectoplasm or whatever lets me see you?”

“No limits and certainly, I can stay. I have nothing but time. Though I suspect you might be searched for soon. I sense a presence at the mouth of the cave.”

“Oh, worst luck. I’d better go, but will you be here tomorrow if I come back?”

“I can always sense a pretty woman near me. The sparkling gold of your hair is different from Hannah Brown’s, yet the likeness is uncanny. Please come back.”

“If I do, will you tell me about my ancestors?” Hannah stood and brushed the seat of her jeans.

“I have known most of the Hannahs down through the years, and I will tell you intimate details if you want to hear them.”

“I do.”

“You must be a very curious woman.”

“Oh, I am, extremely so.”

“Are you this curious, I wonder?” The wispy figure solidified and took her in his arms. His kiss was burning and arousing and left her breathless. She staggered toward the entrance of the cave, dizzy with his touch. Before she met up with her father and Bolt, she turned back. No one was there. “But I didn’t get your name.”

Silence. Then, her father’s harsh words. “Hannah, you scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry, Dad, I’m perfectly fine.”

Bolt looked helplessly on, and she blew him a kiss as her father all but dragged her out of the mine. Tomorrow her dad was off on a business trip. She would come alone tomorrow. At last, she would learn about the first Hannah Brown and if the stories about her many lovers were true.

THE END

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Tish Domenick is first generation Italian-American. She has earned two University degrees, a BS (no, not that BS, Bachelor of Science—really) and an MA, and has many years experience in the health care field. Give her a bowl of pasta, a good red wine, a romantic novel, and life is good. She lives in Florida with her husband, who cooks the pasta and pours the wine and wonders how she researched those erotic scenes. She’ll never tell.

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