Ghostly Liaison (10 page)

“No. I only thought you would like to pick a color, but if you don’t want to, I can get white.”

“I guess I can pick out a color. I’ve never done it before. It won’t take long, will it?”

“Only as long as you make it.”

“I thought you were going to relax tonight,” Kate said. “Wasn’t your leg—”

“He just said it won’t take long.”

Oh crap. If she was hurting, he didn’t want to make it worse. “Is your leg still—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted. “Let’s go. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kate.”

Bridget headed for the truck, and Rob had to jog to beat her to the door. If her leg gave her problems, she hid it well.

“Hey, Barnaby,” she said as she climbed inside. “How’s my favorite puppy doing?”

Barnaby thumped his tail against the back cushion and licked her face. Lucky dog. Rob closed the door and headed around the truck.

Kate grabbed his elbow. “You said you would behave. What kind of game are you playing?”

“I’m not playing any game.” He was dead serious about Bridget. How else could he get her attention if he didn’t make himself indispensable? He just never dreamed he’d have to work so hard. “She’ll pick out the color, and then I’ll take her home.” And then maybe have dinner with her or stay awhile and talk. Or better yet, finish that kiss he’d started.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

He kissed her on the cheek. “Chill, Kate. She’s in good hands. I promise.”

Rob entered the truck and Barnaby’s tail smacked him in the arm. He pushed the dog’s furry butt out of the way and buckled up.

On the drive to the paint store, Bridget kept her attention on the dog and didn’t glance out the window once. Not that Barnaby minded. Rob drove as smooth as the road allowed.

After he parked the truck, he left the windows open a crack. As Bridget slid out, the poor dog whined and followed.

Rob grabbed the beast’s collar before the he could escape. “We won’t be long, fella. You’ll see more of her, I promise.”

Barnaby stared at him as if saying, “I’d better.”

* * * *

Bridget stood in front of the paint store. What the hell was she doing? She should have told Rob no and walked home. But once her headache disappeared, she couldn’t walk away. A painless head was a blessed gift. And then Kate had turned all “Mom” on her and every sensible thought escaped her brain. No one would tell her what to do. Even if it was the right thing.

But it was wrong to get his hopes up. Wrong to lead him on. If her guilt and scars weren’t bad enough, once he found out she saw dead people he would pretty much run screaming. And who could blame him?

He locked the truck and joined her, his arm brushing against hers. “So, what’s your favorite color?”

Her heart pumped erratically, making her head woozy. She stepped away, but the light-headed feeling stayed. “It sort of depends on the item. But for a bathroom, I guess I’d want something light and soothing. Maybe a green or blue.”

“Not white?” he said with a hint of a grin and a glint in his eye.

“So sue me for being unobservant.”

“I can’t. If it weren’t for the spackle, I would have said they were white, too.”

A snort escaped and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. She hadn’t done that in ages, but it felt good. He laughed with her as he held the door open.

The owner stole Rob away, but not before Rob indicated where the samples were located.

Bridget had never painted or even bought paint. When she’d lived with her parents, her mother handled the decorating, and when she’d had her own apartment, she never touched the walls. Hadn’t cared to. Maybe she was missing the decorator gene.

She perused the selection. How many stinkin’ blues and greens were there anyway? And what would they look like in the bathroom? White was beginning to look like a good possibility, but even that color came in shades. Sheesh! She could be here forever.

Her leg tightened and, stretching her foot, she bent her knee back and forth. Not again. She should have gone straight home and soaked it, but no. A pain-free head beat out her tired leg. So did Rob’s company for that matter. Well, she’d come to pick a paint color, so she’d pick a paint color. What could she live with? She started pulling several samples.

“Well, well. Fancy meeting you here,” a man said from behind.

The all-too-familiar voice caused her heart to catch in her throat. She spun around and confirmed her suspicions. Hell’s bells! Her body suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Why won’t you take my calls, Bridget?”

* * * *

Mac, the owner of McGruder’s Paint, was closer to David Gentry’s generation than Rob’s, but Rob probably dealt with the man more often than his father ever had. When Mac had pulled Rob aside, wearing a frown, Rob showed Bridget where to find the paint samples so he could talk to his friend.

“Hey, Mac. What’s up?”

“I don’t know how to ask this except to come right out. Have we done something to displease you?” Mac rubbed at his salt-and-pepper beard, a sign of his agitation.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the big order you canceled. Did you lose the job, or did we do something wrong?”

“You still lost me, Mac. What order did we cancel?”

“Wait here. I’ll go get the paperwork.”

While Rob waited, he stared at Bridget. He might have had to work at getting her here, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. That snort she’d made outside confirmed it. He’d love to make her laugh more often. And with the way she was examining those paint samples as if she was being tested, maybe he could tease her a bit, too. She was certainly teasing him a lot right now. Even in her scrubs, he could make out the shape of her ass—round and firm—especially when she bent over just a bit. He hoped to God that one day soon he could walk up behind her and show her what she did to him. The erection he sported strained against his zipper, and he shifted his legs hoping the adjustment would help. It didn’t.

Mac returned and held out some papers. “This order. We got the cancellation today.”

Rob snatched the forms a little rougher than he intended, but it helped ease the tightness in his jeans. “Can I take a look at these tomorrow and get back to you?”

“Sure, sure. But you’d tell me if there were problems, wouldn’t you? We’ve been supplying your paint for years. If it’s a matter of price—”

“Mac, relax. I’ll check it out. As far as I’m concerned, we’re still good. Besides, would I be here if we weren’t?”

Mac chuckled and rubbed his beard. “I guess you have a point there. I’ll let you get back to your lady friend there. If you need any help, let me know.”

His lady. He liked the sound of that. But as he turned to join her, some man was standing beside her and the samples she’d held fluttered to the floor.

Bridget had seen her share of angry men and had dealt with many while working as a nurse at the hospital, but never anything resembling the man who stood in front of her. Devin’s eyes were cold…flat. Dead. He had probably died the same night she’d killed his wife, Suzie.

“Is everything okay, Bridget?” Rob bent over and picked up the dropped samples.

Her heart gave up beating regularly a moment ago, but thank goodness her long-sleeve shirt hid the goose bumps on her arms, because she refused to let either man know how terrified she felt. She held her head high. “Everything’s fine. Devin was just leaving. Weren’t you, Devin?” Too bad her voice cracked.

Devin scowled at her. “I guess you can speak after all. So, have you forgotten her? Have you moved on?”

Never and never. “Now’s not the time.”

“When is the time, huh, Bridget? You don’t take my calls.” He got into her face, slurring his words and reeking of booze.

The man Suzie had loved no longer existed. He’d become Bridget’s third casualty.

“Excuse me,” Rob interjected. “She’s right. Maybe if we went outside—”

“No!” she said. “I can’t talk to you now, Devin. Please go.”

His face turned red and his eyes glistened. He grabbed her arm. “You took everything away from me. Why couldn’t it have been you? It should have been you!”

His grip hurt, but she welcomed the assault. He didn’t say anything she hadn’t thought herself. A tear trailed down her cheek and she whimpered. Nothing she said would ease his pain. Nothing he did would make her feel better.

Rob pried Devin’s fingers loose. “I think you better go, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

Devin yanked his hand away. “I’m going.”

After Devin stormed away, Bridget wiped her eyes and turned back to the paint samples. Why had she lived and Suzie had died? Suzie’d had a husband who loved her and a baby on the way. Bridget had no one.

“Are you okay?” Rob asked.

She would never be okay. “I’m fine. But I’m not in the mood to pick colors right now. Do you mind taking me home?”

“No, of course not. Let me make sure he’s left, though. I’ll be right back.”

While Rob went outside, she pulled nearly every paint sample from the display. She’d let Charlie help pick out the color. Better than dwelling on her friend’s death.

* * * *

Rob pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. This was not the way he had envisioned the day. He’d pictured having dinner with her. Laughing with her. Kissing her. Instead, he needed to tamp down his anger and find out who this Devin guy was. If he punched someone, he should at least know why.

“Thanks for the ride,” Bridget said. “Do you mind if I get back to you tomorrow regarding the color? I think I took every sample they had.”

He brought his knee up on the bench and faced her. “Is Devin an old boyfriend?”

She ran a finger over Barnaby’s collar as if she were doodling. “No. He was married to my best friend. She died.”

“I’m sorry. He blames you?”

With her head down low and her gaze on Barnaby, she shrugged. He got the impression Devin not only held her responsible, but she shouldered the guilt. Why else wouldn’t she talk to the man? While that was something she would have to work out for herself, right now he was more concerned with her safety.

“Do you think he’s violent enough to come after you?”

“He’s never been violent before, but he’s grieving. Still….” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He would have done it by now. It’s not like I’m hiding. Besides, he’s got that whole Hippocratic oath thing going.”

“He’s a doctor?”

She nodded. With one hand on the door handle, she scratched Barnaby with the other. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Bridget, wait.” This wasn’t how he’d planned it, but she gave him no other option. He pulled the contract from his back pocket and held it out. “Here.”

“What’s that?”

“The lease which lets you live here free for six months. So you won’t feel threatened with eviction.”

She stared at his hand, but didn’t take the offered item. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be nice?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Are we going to go through this again? Bridget, I want to know you.”

“Then you should talk to Kate. Maybe then you’ll change your mind.” She grabbed her backpack, opened the door, and slid out of the truck without taking the papers.

Damn, she was stubborn. Well, he could be, too. He bolted out of the truck and blocked her way. “This is a done deal, already signed and is being filed. This is your copy. The place is yours for six months whether or not you live here. I’d prefer you lived here, though. I still need a house sitter.”

Bridget stared at his hand. He placed his bet with her living in the house, because he was pretty sure she didn’t want to live with her parents.

Slowly, she raised her hand and took the offered document. “Thank you. This doesn’t mean we’re dating, though.”

“I know. But will you do me a favor? Will you call me if Devin becomes a problem?”

“He won’t be.” She walked around him and he allowed her.

Rob waited while she let herself in. Maybe she didn’t think Devin was a problem, but the man had serious anger issues and directed them toward her. She had told him to talk to Kate, but maybe Brian would be better. With Kate, he was liable to get a lecture and little to no information.

Barnaby whined. If Rob stayed, he’d only be making himself a pest. He’d rather be on her good side. He was heading back toward his truck when she cried out. Curtains covered the window, blocking any view of inside. He knocked. Moans filtered through the door. Something was wrong and he couldn’t ignore it.

“Bridget?” He knocked again. No response. Ah, the hell with it. He opened the door and found her curled on the floor, grabbing her left calf. “Bridget!” He rushed to her side.

Tears filled her eyes. She panted through clenched teeth while kneading her leg. Her shoeless foot pointed unnaturally.

“Here, let me.” He massaged her rock-hard calf. This was his fault. He’d kept her on her feet too long.

She grabbed her head and leaned back. “Oh God. It hurts so bad.”

Her agony twisted his gut. He’d gladly take the pain himself if it were possible. “I know, honey. You need to relax. Try and relax.”

Bridget took several deep breaths, but her leg was still stiff. He couldn’t get the knot loosened. Seemed her muscles were just as stubborn as her.

* * * *

Bridget couldn’t flex her foot to save her life. Had someone cut her calf open and squeezed her muscles? She refused to cry in front of him. She would not be weak.

All she had wanted was a bath. But as soon as she closed the front door, her headache had returned, along with Charlie, scaring the crap out of her and distracting her enough to be careless as she slipped off her shoe. One twist the wrong way and the pain had sent her kissing the carpet.

Rob’s large hands offered some relief, but not near enough. Tears formed and blurred her vision. Breathing deep kept her cheeks dry.

“Why don’t you try standing?” he asked.

Walking had always helped in the past, but she usually caught it before it got this bad. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do it. The cramp was draining her dry. She moved to her side, looking for a way to stand without it hurting more.