MacGowan's Ghost (4 page)

“What do you think?”

One narrow shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Me da says aye.”

“Indeed, miss,” a voice said from out of nowhere.

“We do know for a fact your employed intentions.”

Had Allie not been completely used to ghosts and spirits materializing out of thin air, she would have yelped when the two young spectered gentlemen sifted through the wall and came to stand before her. Instead, she gave a short nod and smiled. “How do you do?”

Both gave a slight bow, and the shorter one, who still topped her by several inches, met her gaze. “I fear I've seen better days, miss. Himself has indeed employed you, aye?”

“Himself?” she asked.

“Gabe MacGowan,” the other answered. “Proprietor of this inn and pub.”

Allie nodded. “Right. Well, yes, he did.”

“So you
are
here to oust them?” Jake said.

Allie turned to the young boy. “Well, no—”

“Run along and wash up, lad. Supper's ready.”

At the deep, gruff voice, Allie turned. The two ghostly men had vanished. Gabe stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression stern. He didn't make eye contact with Allie.

Jake looked at Allie, closed his eyes briefly, and gave a very grown-up, very aristocratic nod. “Until later, miss.” Then he scrambled from the room.

Allie rubbed her arms. “Cute kid. Your son?”

Gabe studied Allie for several seconds before answering. His face revealed nothing but indifference. “Aye. He willna be botherin' you again.” He turned to go. “Supper's ready. We'll discuss your employment matters afterward.”

“Wait,” Allie said, rising and walking toward the door. “He wasn't bothering me at all.”

Gabe stopped. Green eyes regarded her, and finally, he gave a nod—very similar to Jake's. “Verra well.” He glanced at her arms, which she continued to rub with vigor. He frowned. “I'll show you where the peat is kept so you won't bloody freeze to death up here.”

With that, he left.

Allie stared after him, shook her head, and blew out a gusty sigh. “I just don't get him. He's so, so . . .”

Stodgy
, a deep, amused voice whispered in her ear.

Allie shrugged. Maybe. Or maybe not . . .

With that thought in mind, she left the room, her prepaid phone card in her pocket, to call her mom and sisters before the time grew too late.

Chapter 3

“
I
dunna want to leave, Da,” Jake said. “Captain Catesby and the others are me best mates.”

Gabe inspected his son's face in the mirror. They'd been Gabe's best mates as a lad, as well. Still were, truth be told, but he'd never say it out loud. “You missed a spot.” He inclined his head. “Just there, at your chin.”

Jake took his washcloth and scrubbed at the smudge. “I dunna want to leave Sealladh na Mara, though. Da—”

“Stop your whining, lad, and finish up here. We'll talk about this later.”

With a scowl, the boy met his gaze with eyes that reminded Gabe every day of Jake's mother. “Aye.” And with that he hurried off.

Gabe stared at his own face in the mirror. Rubbing his eyes, he thought he looked as though he hadn't slept for a solid week.

Actually, it'd been a bloody month. Ever since the dreams had returned . . .

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. Paler than usual skin. Scruffy cheeks. Dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked like the living dead.

He wondered what the American thought.

That thought pulled his mouth into a frown.

After a quick wash, he stomped out of the two-room apartment he and Jake shared on the second floor of Odin's Thumb and made his way to the kitchen.

As he entered the dim interior of the pub, his gaze landed on Ms. Morgan straight away. Perched on a bar stool and cast in the amber glow of the Victorian lamp beside her, with that blond mass of curls pulled back and standing out stark against the black jumper she wore, she spoke with her hands as she animatedly talked to Willy, the grumpy fishmonger from next door who never spoke more than a few grunts of acknowledgment to Gabe.

Just then, old Willy barked out a laugh. Gabe blinked. Willy
never
laughed.

“Come, lad, and give me a hand with this, aye?”

Gabe broke from his thoughts at the request and turned to his aunt, Wee Mary—preferring Wee rather than Aunt—whose gray-shot red head poked through a crack in the kitchen door. “If ye can stop ogling the lass long enough to help us with this cod?” With a devilish grin, Wee Mary stepped back into the kitchen.

Gabe pushed open the door and followed his auntie, who came no higher than his ribs. She threw him one of the heavy canvas aprons hanging on an iron hook against the far wall. Slipping it over his head, he tied it round his back. “I'm no' ogling, woman.”

Wee Mary simply grinned. “Fetch me that stack of cod, lad, and aye, ye were, too, ogling, and I'll take no arguments from you.”

Gabe did as she asked and ignored her fun. Grabbing the large cutting board of fresh cod fillets, he set them next to the stove where his aunt had a large cast-iron kettle filled with hot oil for frying.

“Your mum tells me she saw a lady screaming in terror from the pub this afternoon,” Mary said. She pointed to a stack of plates. “Pull those down, will you, love?”

Gabe did so and nodded. “Aye. Fifth one this month. The captain and his lot and their dodgy tricks.”

Battering several fillets, Wee Mary lowered each piece into the hot oil with a pair of tongs. The resounding sizzle and crackle waved through the room. “Have you ever thought you might verra well be making the wrong choice, lad?”

Gabe gave his aunt a frown. “Dunna start with that, aye? We've been through it enough times.” He set the fry screen atop the pot and resisted the urge to let out a long sigh. Aye, he thought he made an abundance of mistakes. Every bloody day. Where Jake was concerned, he was always questioning himself. But this decision was
right
. His son needed lads his own age to play with, not a lot of old ghosties.

And Christ, the nightmares. They had returned, plaguing not only his nights but his days, as well. And he knew why . . .

Wee Mary tsked. “ 'Tis a hard head ye have, nephew. A hard one, indeed.” She sighed, then pointed a wooden spoon toward the door. “Your ghost buster out there seems to have charmed that stodgy old fishmonger.” She elbowed Gabe in the ribs. “Quite a feat, wouldna ye say?”

Gabe grunted in agreement.

“I'd bet my knickers she'll charm your grumpy self before it's over.” She lifted a brow. “Does the lass know just what she's getting into here at Odin's?” Mary asked. “Has she met the lot?”

With a heavy set of steel tongs, Gabe settled large fried slabs of cod on the inn's plain white plates. “Aye, she knows, and aye, she's met most of them, I think. Including Jake. And she's no' from a dating service, Wee. She's a paranormal investigator. A professional.”

“Och, that scalawag Catesby no doubt has his eye on her already. She's quite bonny, and you know how the captain is with the lasses,” she said, ignoring Gabe's comment.

Again, he grunted.

From another boiling pot of oil, Gabe lifted the screened basket of chips and clicked it into place to drain. A minute later, he released it and heaped a mound onto each plate of cod.

“Now shoo, and get those patrons their dinner. And wipe that scowl off your handsome face before you frighten someone.”

Gabe grabbed several plates of food, balanced them across his forearm, and lifted two more with his free hand. “How long is Katey going to be out?” The girl was much more efficient with serving than he was.

“She had a baby, Gabe MacGowan. It'll be several more weeks.”

Stifling a curse, Gabe pushed out of the kitchen and started across the dim interior of Odin's. The usual patrons greeted him as he set down their food, including Jake, who sat by Chadrick Ferguson, Sealladh na Mara's postmaster, and by Gabe's third trip out, he had served everyone. Except Allison Morgan, that is.

Glancing around the room, he found her sitting in a corner alcove, alone, and staring out the window. He stepped back into the kitchen, grabbed two more plates of fish and chips, and made his way through the dwindling crowd toward her. As he walked up to the table, she turned and smiled, as if she had not been in deep thought. Gabe knew better. 'Twas a big, bright, sincere smile, he noticed, with lots of white teeth showing, and for some reason that irritated him. Setting the plates down, he eased into the seat facing her and gave a nod toward her food. “Supper.” He couldn't help but remember their encounter earlier, when he'd walked into her room.

“Thanks.” Lifting her fork, she stabbed a single plain chip and popped it into her mouth.

Gabe shook his head, grabbed the brown sauce and vinegar from the caddy, and gave a generous squeeze of both to his chips. He set the condiments before her. “Try that.”

She did, and nodded her approval. “Dee-lish.” She dug into her fish. After a few bites, she wiped her mouth, tipped her head to the side, and studied him. And 'twas with far too much intensity for his liking. The glow from the lamplight made her eyes twinkle mischief. “So, tell me, Mr. MacGowan, just what sort of trouble are your Odin's Thumb tenants stirring up? They seem to be rather friendly, actually. And more importantly”—she leaned forward and met his gaze—“why are you losing sleep over it?”

 

An intense, smoky look came over Gabe's face, complete with narrowing of eyes and clenching of jaw. He didn't look away when she continued to stare; instead he set down his fork, finished chewing, and took a long pull of water from an icy mug. Green eyes met Allie's over the rim of that glass before he set it down and wiped his mouth.

She found it odd that he was about the only Scotsman in the pub who wasn't drinking a pint of beer.

“There's no' much to tell, Ms. Morgan. The inn and pub are haunted—you've met the spirits, and I want them out.”

Allie rather liked how his
out
sounded more like
oot
, and how his r's rolled around
spirits
.

She sipped her soda. “Why?”

Gabe blinked. “They're making a bloody nuisance of themselves by scaring off the potential buyers.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to sell the pub and inn?”

The smoky look returned. “That's none of your business, lass.”

Allie studied Gabe's face. Fading dark half-moons lay just beneath both eyes, evidence of too little sleep, or none at all. She couldn't help but wonder what had made such a vibrant, young, good-looking guy so uptight and aloof.

She threw him another smile. “How badly do you want them out?” Not that she could make them leave, of course. But she needed to know his reasons anyway. It would help when interacting with the Odin's Thumb gang.

She had a feeling Gabe might be too stubborn to acknowledge all those reasons.

Then Gabe surprised her.

With a resigned sigh, he leaned back in his chair, studied her for a moment, and scrubbed his jaw with his hand. An unintelligible word emerged on a frustrated exhale, and he met her gaze. “I'm raising Jake alone. He's young and impressionable, and needs a more stable environment than living in a pub with a ghostly lot of bad influences. Those are my reasons, Ms. Morgan. I need the ghosts out. Or at least to keep bloody quiet. I canna move if I dunna sell.” He leaned forward, his stare penetrating. “I need your help.”

It was the first time in a long while Allie didn't have an easy comeback. What could she say to all that? Gabe's sincerity—and desperation—struck her hard, although she still thought he was keeping something from her. Why wouldn't he? It wasn't as though they were friends, or that they'd even known each other for a while.

They hardly knew each other at all.

That struck her, too. Gabe MacGowan was putting quite a lot of faith in her abilities.

Damn.

With a fork, she pushed a bite of fish around her plate, stabbed it, and popped it in her mouth. As she chewed, she stared at the man across the table. A dusting of dark stubble the color of his short-clipped hair covered his jaw, and green eyes bored into hers. Great lips, and she could only imagine how those lips could form a fantastic smile.

She'd not seen him do that yet.

She hoped desperately that she would.

With a napkin, she wiped her mouth. “I'll help you, Mr. MacGowan, but I'll need to know a little more about the pub and inn, including all the inhabitants.” She grinned. “A little about your history with them wouldn't hurt, either. The more I know, the more I'll be able to do my job. Savvy?”

Gabe stared at her for several seconds, no blinking of eyelids, or averting of gazes, or twitching of lips, before finally giving the briefest of nods. “Fair enough. What exactly do you need to know?”

Chapter 4

G
abe scratched his chin. He studied the American sitting across the table with close scrutiny.

She'd just polished off the last of a fried Mars bar.

Her second one.

Where the bloody hell did she put it all?

No doubt if Wee Mary brought the girl out another, she'd eat it, as well.

Allie Morgan licked the spoon, met his gaze, and grinned. “Those are the best things I've eaten in my entire life.”

Gabe grunted. “I can tell.” No' shy about eating, that one. Quite different from most females he'd encountered.