Jade's Spirit (Blue Collar Boyfriends Book 2)

Cover Copy

When exotic dancer Jade seeks refuge from an abusive boyfriend in her grandmother’s aging Victorian home, she finds she’s not the only houseguest. A dream-invading incubus has taken up residence, and it wants Jade’s soul. Fortunately, a flirtatious lawn-care provider has a trick or two up his sleeve for dealing with hauntings. And he has definite rebound-guy potential—if only he would stop inviting her to church.

The virginity vow Emmett "the lawn guy" Herald took when he was seventeen has become legendary in Dover, Vermont. Ten years later, everyone is waiting to see if he’ll blow a decade of “waiting for marriage” now that he’s dating the new girl from the big city. Even Emmett thinks he has met his match in the vivacious Boston beauty. In fact, he’s starting to think virginity may be overrated.

A spark of attraction ignites between Jade and Emmett, and quickly grows into a roaring inferno. But with a demon fanning the flames, attraction has never been so perilous.

Highlight

Finishing her morning dishes at the sink put her looking out over the back lawn. Emmett was walking around the gazebo, hands on his hips, taking in the yard. His hair winked gold and bronze in the sunshine. The waffle-weave of his Henley hugged his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit snugly around powerful thighs. Fawn-colored lug-sole boots completed the masculine look.

God, he was attractive.

He made his way back up to the house, forehead creased in concentration, probably because he was calculating her estimate.

She slid open the door to the deck in welcome.

As he met her gaze, his face transformed. Concentration yielded to warm recognition. His smile took away her choice in the matter; it was inevitable. She was going to have her way with Emmett Herald.

Jade’s Spirit

By Jessi Gage

Dedication

To my grandmother, Beverly Stephens

Acknowledgements

Creativity comes from an internal place that must be fed regularly. Julie Brannagh and Amy Raby, not only do we eat excellent food when we get together each week, but being with you ladies feeds my writer’s soul as well. Thank you for your friendship and critiques. I wouldn’t be where I am without you both.

Thank you, Mom, for proofreading, babysitting, and shuttling the girl to school and back when I’m on a writing bender. I would not have the time to write at all without you making sure the kids don’t starve and kill each other. Furthermore, this story, specifically, would not have come into being without your stories of the shadow man who haunted the house you grew up in. So thank you for all your support and inspiration.

Thank you, Piper Denna, for keeping me on as a client even though it meant taking time away from your own writing. You’re the best editor a girl could ask for.

Thank you, Rebecca Gill, Shiboney Dumo, and Monica Weir for beta reading. Without you, many embarrassing mistakes would have made it into these pages.

Thank you, Shane, for your endless encouragement and for telling me often how proud you are of me. I know you really wanted the title of this book to be
Exorcist in a Hawaiian Shirt
. Thanks for yielding to my judgment on this one and for letting me indulge my creative side on a daily basis.

Chapter
1

The yard was a disaster.

Jade pulled up along the curb and parked her Jetta in front of Grandma Nina’s two-story brick Victorian. In the months since she’d been here last, the normally tidy shrubs had tangled together and overgrown the front walk. The flower beds had become infested with dandelions. And the grass. Ugh. Grandma Nina had always kept it lush and green year-round, but now it was knee-high and corn-husk yellow.

Beauty took work. It wasn’t just true for people. It went for landscaping, too. Grandma Nina had known that. In fact, Grandma Nina was the one who’d taught Jade to take pride not just in her personal appearance, but in her apartment as well.

Broken hip or not, her feisty, bottle-redhead grandmother would be keeping up the place better than this if she were living here, even if she had to hire help to do it. Which meant she’d been letting Jade believe a lie.

“You sly fox,” she muttered as she cut the ignition. “Getting on just fine, my ass.”

She
knew
something wasn’t right when Grandma refused to FaceTime and kept redirecting their phone conversations any time Jade mentioned driving up to help out. Here was the proof. Grimy sun porch windows. Dark interior. A thick layer of pollen on her grandmother’s car. The house looked completely abandoned.

Grandma must be at some kind of rehab facility until she could be on her own again. Yet every time they’d talked on the phone, she’d put on a cheerful front, insisting she was fine and didn’t need Jade to upend her life to help an old woman get back on her feet. No mention of living (and no doubt paying a premium for rent) somewhere away from the home she loved so much.

Despite her doubts, Jade had accepted her grandmother’s assurances. Then Brad had confused her face with a punching bag, and suddenly, moving to Dover, Vermont to lend a hand—whether her help was wanted or not—seemed like the thing to do.

But from the looks of things, Grandma wasn’t here. The house looked all locked up. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go back to Boston. Wouldn’t go back, even if she could.

She had to find her grandmother. Maybe the neighbors knew where she was.

Flipping down the visor, she assessed the damage of driving up from Boston in August with broken AC. Yikes. Her hair was everywhere. She looked like a wookiee who’d stuck its finger in a light socket.

Wetting her hand with the bottle of water in her cup holder, she smoothed her fly-away brunette strands and redid her ponytail. Better. Fortunately, the pancake concealer had fared better than her hair. Never let it be said exotic dancers didn’t get perks. The makeup alone was worth stripping for. She hardly looked battered at all. Hopefully, Grandma Nina’s neighbors wouldn’t notice the swelling—the one thing makeup couldn’t disguise.

A slight breeze brought some relief from the heat when she stepped out of her car and into the bath-water-warm shade of the purple maple she’d parked under. The white craftsman with the wrap-around porch was up first.

A woman with iron-gray curls answered the door. Jade’s memory supplied an image of this woman gardening on hands and knees, her face hidden by an enormous sun hat, while an older man waxed the Oldsmobile in the driveway.

The woman wore a flowered apron over a sleeveless Muumuu. She blinked at Jade. Cautious recognition took its time brightening her eyes.

“Hi, I’m Jade. Nina Alderwood’s granddaughter?” She made it a question.

The recognition settled in with a broad smile. “I remember you. You have a sister, don’t you? Mrs. McIntyre. Betty.” She indicated herself with a thick-knuckled hand. “Joe’s my husband. I’ve known your grandmother for, what, twenty years, now? Practically watched you and your sister grow up from across the hedges.” Her eyes crinkled fondly.

“Nice to meet you. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you? I didn’t exactly warn her I was coming. I thought she’d be at home.”

Betty McIntyre put her hand on her chest. “Oh, my, no. She hasn’t been home since her fall. Staying at Senior First, down in Wilmington. Been there since they let her out of critical care. Joe brought her over himself and took care of shutting up the house. He used to take care of your grandmother’s yard and do her minor repairs, but Joe’s back isn’t what it used to be. Shame, too. Poor Nina’s yard is running wild. There’s a lawn service we use. I keep meaning to give her their number.

“You see, I visit her every afternoon to bring her any stray mail and keep her company. She tells me you two speak on the telephone often. So nice of you to call your grandmother. I know she appreciates it. I was just going to head over after lunch. I’d offer you a ride, but I have some errands to run after. I’m sure you don’t want to come with me to the pharmacy or the butcher’s. Speaking of olive loaf, would you like a sandwich, dear? I was just making myself and Joe one. What did you say your name was, again, Jane?”

Note to self: Betty’s a talker. Better not ask for directions. GoogleMaps, ahoy.

“Um, it’s Jade.” How to extricate herself?

“’Shame about the fall,” Betty said, unnecessarily. “Really put a crimp in your grandmother’s style. Told me just the other day she doesn’t think she’ll be able to come back to the house any time soon. Only bathroom is on the upper floor, and of course, there’s the steps up to the porch. Poor dear can’t even get out of bed without a walker and a nurse, and they only started letting her do that yesterday. Joe was just telling me she might be better off finding a renter who can take care of the place. He’s willing to help when he can, of course, but his back isn’t what it used to be.” A grating buzzer sounded from somewhere behind her. “Oh, that’ll be the snickerdoodles. Those are Joe’s favorites. Care to have one? I’ll be bringing a dozen by for your grandmother this afternoon.”

Ah. That explained the cinnamon-y smell wafting out of Betty’s house. “No thanks on the cookies, though they sound awesome. Thanks for letting me know where I can find Grandma.” She inched toward the porch steps.

“Oh!” Betty waved her hand in a
hold-on
gesture. “Why don’t I give you the keys Nina left with us?” Now Betty was inching into her front hall. “Of course, she’ll want you to stay at the house. Needs a breath of life in it, if you ask me. You are staying, aren’t you?”

Jade nodded. “As long as it’s okay with Grandma. I was going to help her out for as long as she needed.”

“Oh, lovely. Nina will like that. Just a moment, dear, and I’ll get those keys.” She hurried to the kitchen. “Drop your things at the house,” she shouted to the accompaniment of the shriek-thump of an oven door and the clatter of two cookie trays being set on a stovetop. “Then you can come back over and have a cookie while I tell you how to get to Senior First.”

A minute later, Betty was back with Grandma Nina’s full ring of house and car keys. A bejeweled unicorn and a stick of pepper spray hung from the chain, along with a half-dozen keys. The unicorn had been a gift from Jilly. The pepper spray a gift from Jade.

It was just plain wrong that Grandma Nina wasn’t in possession of her own keys.

She closed her hand around them, declined the snickerdoodles again, lied through her teeth about knowing how to get to Senior First, and hightailed it off the McIntyre’s porch with a promise she’d come by for cookies another time.

Arms crossed, keys biting into her hand, she leaned a hip against her Jetta. The electric blue paintjob warmed her skin through her Daisy Dukes as she stole a minute to process what she’d just learned from Betty.
Senior First
sounded like some kind of nursing home. How could her grandmother not tell her she was in a nursing home? Jade would have come earlier if it meant Grandma Nina could have stayed in her house during her recovery.

She studied the house with its fairy-tale turret and multiple chimneys. It was the home she wished she’d grown up in instead of the shag-carpeted trailer in Quincy, Mass, her mom had worked two crappy jobs to lease. Her mom used to drive her and Jilly up here to spend the weekend once a month or so. In the summers, they’d stay longer, for a week or more at a time.

The magic of the house used to call to her. Before the wheels would come to a full stop, she would bolt from her mom’s car and race inside to hug Grandma Nina and Grandpa Earl, fill up on sweets, and rediscover all the old-house nooks and crannies that no single-wide ever had.

Looking across the scrubby lawn to the dark house, she felt none of that familiar magic.
Because no one’s home.

Grandpa Earl had died years ago. Grandma was in a frigging nursing home. The house looked old. Tired. Maybe it needed an injection of life, like Betty had suggested.

It had always been Grandma Nina making the house seem so alive. Looked like it was up to her now.

Well, she hadn’t quit her job and schlepped all her clothes in the back of her Jetta to sit on the curb and sweat. If there was anything she was good at, it was rolling up her sleeves and getting to work. She’d have Grandma Nina back in her house in no time.

* * * *

Draonius bristled awake with a start, pulling his scores of essences around himself like a cloak. Someone had entered the house. And not just anyone. Someone worth feeding on.

He tasted the flavors of human emotion, swirling them about his palate like a fine wine. A heady nose of loneliness overshadowed by optimism. Tannins of shame and anger sparkled under the surface along with a memory of recent violence. Best of all was the richness of sensual yearning that shaded the presence in the richest, darkest crimson he’d ever savored.

At last, a soul worth getting drunk on.

After years of sipping on the dried-up dreams of a widowed harridan and the occasional glut of a child’s immature fantasies, this feast of wounded, burning woman was almost too good to be true. Delighted, he pushed a prickle of awareness into the favorite of his essences, pulling her closer than the others.