His Ordinary Kiss (His Kiss Book 2) Read online

  In the process, she’d also discovered that she herself was an Earthbound. She’d fallen off a cliff by her house when she was nine and walked away as an Earthbound. No one ever knew, least of all Boston herself.

  “Still sure it’s a Native American settlement?” I asked, plopping into the third chair.

  Boston nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “Definitely. I hear drums there.”

  I unpacked my laptop. As I launched it, I was insanely aware of Trevor beside me, even though his gaze was on his laptop screen. Trevor always viewed the videos because his hearing was impeccable and his eyes didn’t miss anything, as if he had some kind of preternatural dog skills. I liked doing the audio, and Boston handled images.

  “You didn’t set up any hunts for this weekend, right?” Trevor asked Boston.

  She shook her head. “No. I remember things, you know.”

  “Remember what?” I asked.

  Trevor pointed his thumb at me and addressed Boston. “See? Neither of you listen to me.”

  “He has a family reunion up north this weekend,” Boston informed me.

  I vaguely remembered him mentioning it at some point. “Oh. Cool. So no hunts this weekend, then?”

  Boston shook her head. “Nah. I’m calling a break. We could use it.”

  “You? A break?” I gaped theatrically at her.

  “Shut up and work,” she griped with a smile. “I’m meeting with caterers Saturday, anyway.”

  I set about listening to recordings from various parts of the Kayrouzs’ house, but remained too obsessed with Trevor to really pay attention. His spicy scent was so close. I could feel the warmth coming from his skin, and it reminded me in technicolor detail of that same warmth in my intimate places.

  How do you tell a man you rejected—a man you still wanted with a deep-seated ache—that you were going to have his baby?

  As if he could sense my thoughts, he glanced over and grinned, reaching out to tweak my cheekbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

  I shook my head, restarting the audio for the third time. “Nothing.”

  * * *

  AFTER TWO TORTUROUS HOURS, BOSTON shut her laptop. “You guys ready? We got work to do.”

  We packed it in and hit the road in Boston’s old, boxy Jeep Cherokee, headed for the Kayrouzs’ neighborhood, Sunlight Vistas. We had two more houses contracted in the neighborhood; the crazy part was even though the families had been the ones to contact us, the city was waiting on our findings. Boston had let it slip that she thought we were dealing with a Native American burial ground. There had been rumblings that the council would cease development if anything concrete was found.

  For good reason. The Kayrouzs’ had been lucky; the spirits in their house were not malicious. But after some unfortunate accidents on other building sites nearby in the Phase Two development, the city was under pressure. Two men were in the hospital—one lucky to be alive—and many others had been injured. The neighborhood wanted answers, and their pressure had made it to the mayor.

  Tonight was our first experience doing a ghost hunt on a partially-built home. The developer waited for us in the trailer nearby. He was a stern-faced man with a high-and-tight haircut dressed in nothing but Carhartt gear. He slapped three forms on the table.

  “Waivers,” he said gruffly. “If you get hurt doing this shit, Grommel & Wade isn’t responsible.”

  Boston glared at him, but picked up a pen without comment. Trevor and I followed suit.

  The idea that we would get hurt was scary, especially when I thought about the peanut-sized baby inside me. What if I got hurt? What if when I got hurt, it hurt the baby? And Trevor didn’t even know yet.

  “You know, I find it shitty he thinks we’d sue if we got hurt,” Boston griped as we lugged our equipment up the sidewalk towards the half-built shell where we’d be spending the night.

  “Everybody sues everybody nowadays,” I said.

  “I got sued while on base,” Trevor added.

  Boston glanced at him. “Are you serious? Why?”

  “Made a wrong turn in a government-issued vehicle. Ended up on some lady’s lawn. In her words, I ‘destroyed her begonias.’ ”

  Boston and I burst out laughing. Boston gasped out, “She sued over flowers?”

  Trevor grinned. “Yeah. Over flowers and her lawn. She sued the base, but it was me she was after.”

  “Well, nobody is suing anybody here. Grommel & Wade has papers that say so.” Boston rolled her eyes and brandished the key. The house didn’t have a proper door yet, just a piece of plywood padlocked to the wall.

  “This place makes my skin crawl,” she said as we dropped our bags in the front hall.

  No drywall had been installed yet. Open 2x4s marked where walls would one day go. A crude wooden staircase crawled up the wall to a landing without a handrail. There was no roof on the house yet, so the sky was visible through beams overhead.

  “This house in particular?” Trevor prompted.

  Boston shook her head. “No. This entire neighborhood. This area. It’s alive with activity. They’ve really stumbled over something big. It’s a miracle the first stage of development finished without incident.”

  I spoke up. “The Kayrouzs’ ghost wasn’t angry. Maybe that section of the neighborhood is a better section.”

  “Maybe this is the criminal section,” Trevor joked.

  I lifted a brow. “Did Native Americans even have criminals?”

  Trevor chuckled. “There have always been criminals. Some people are wired wrong.”

  “We’re talking too much and burning moonlight,” Boston cut in, using her I’m-in-charge voice. “Let’s get this show started.”

  We’d been doing this for so long that we could set up an average-sized house in less than fifteen minutes. So within the half hour, we were geared up and on the move.

  Despite Boston’s unease, nothing happened for some time. Because the house was unfinished and unsafe, we didn’t do our usual pattern of separating for an hour before coming back together. We stayed together, combing through the house as Boston asked questions. I took pictures with the full-spectrum camera, and Trevor listened intently to his microphone as it recorded our every move.

  Just after midnight, we stood on the landing, a couple feet away from the ten foot drop. It was around this time, I always felt… off. Boston said it was because in the dead of night—midnight to two AM—the veil between our world and the next was thinnest. I didn’t have Boston’s direct line to the Other Side, but my intuition wasn’t half bad for a civvie. I had my arms wrapped around my torso, and goosebumps raced across my skin, as Boston demanded that someone come forward and explain themselves.

  “Why are you causing problems for the workers?” she asked, her voice firm.

  I snapped a few pictures in succession of the landing. My gaze was on the camera screen when I saw Trevor’s outline jerk and stumble. I lowered the camera and looked up just in time to see him pitch over the edge of the landing and into darkness.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My scream was punctuated by the dull thud of his body hitting the floor below.

  I raced down the stairs, barely touching wood in my haste to reach him. He didn’t even know he was a dad yet. I couldn’t lose him. I didn’t want our child to be fatherless like me.

  I loved him too much to lose him.

  To my relief, he was in the processing of getting to his feet as I stepped off the stairs. My relief was instantly shattered as I realized his leg was bent at an angle human legs didn’t bend.

  “Oh my God. Trevor!” I screeched, panicked. I fumbled in my bag, searching for my cell phone so I could call 911.

  He stood up straight and before my eyes, put the broken leg on the floor. He took three halting steps, and the leg appeared straight again.

  I froze, cell phone found but dangling loosely from my fingertips.

  Boston thumped off the stairs, holding her recorder in front of her as if it were a flashlight. “Thank God
you’re all right.”

  “He’s not all right!” I snapped, shaking off my astonishment. I walked up to him and pointed a finger in his chest. “Your leg was sideways. I saw it!”

  Trevor grinned and shook his leg. “It’s dark in here, Ves. You’re seeing things.”

  I shoved him. “I know what I saw! You must have a God damned horseshoe stuck up your ass. Every time you get hurt, you just walk away.”

  He lost his smile and reached for me. His palms were warm as he rubbed my bare arms. “Hey. Ves. I’m okay.”

  I shook my head, horrified to feel tears in my eyes. I turned on my heel and walked out the door.

  * * *

  I WAS AWAKENED AT NINE AM by sunlight suddenly flooding my room.

  I sat up, startled, and found Boston standing over me, her arms crossed over her black T-shirt. “What the hell was that about last night?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “When I gave you a key, I didn’t mean for you to use it as a torture device.”

  “Trevor gets hurt all the time,” Boston said, ignoring me. “It’s a running joke. You flipped your shit last night, Vespers. You walked all the way home! What’s going on?”

  “Nothing is going on,” I said, though I knew it wouldn’t fly. Boston had been my best friend forever. I couldn’t keep anything from her.

  “Don’t give me that shit, Ves. Tell me right now what’s going on, or I’m calling your mom.”

  I gasped, finally looking at her face. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t make me.”

  We glared at each other for a long minute, an age-old standoff we’d been doing as long as I could remember. We were both equally hardheaded, so as usual, it was a tough call.

  “I like your jeans,” I said sweetly. And I did—the black capris fit her hips like a glove and exposed her shapely calves. They were a good look on her.

  “Don’t try to distract me from the issue.” She pursed her lips.

  “Fine!” I griped, shoving the covers away. I grabbed a pair of sweats from the drawer and stepped into them, then headed for the kitchen to make some tea. Boston trailed silently behind me; she knew I would cave, so there was no need to push me anymore.

  But halfway to the kitchen, my stomach began to do cartwheels. I stopped short, throwing a hand out to the wall to steady myself.

  “Ves? What’s wrong?” Boston asked. She touched my shoulder.

  Bad idea. The warmth of her palm combined with the flush that had already taken over me. I jerked away and raced to the bathroom, barely getting the door shut before I let loose the meager contents of my stomach.

  I thought it would never stop. Once my belly was empty, I dry heaved for five straight minutes until my abs hurt, and I wanted to cry.

  The door opened. A pale hand extended through the crack with a glass of water and two crackers balanced between her fingers.

  I chuckled pitifully and accepted the offering.

  Ten minutes later, I felt human enough to leave the bathroom. I smiled wanly at Boston, whose concern was obvious on her face.

  On a normal morning, I would reach for the English Breakfast. On a normal morning, I wouldn’t be pregnant and puking my brains out. So I grabbed the herbal mint tea and set the electric kettle to boil.

  “A little over a month ago, Trevor spent the night,” I said.

  Boston shrugged. “He stays over all the time.”

  “He spent the night with me,” I said pointedly.

  Boston’s eyes widened. She reached blindly for a chair at the counter and sank into it. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  “It’s about damn time.” Boston grinned. “So have you guys been dating? You could have told me. You didn’t have to keep it a secret.”

  “No. We haven’t been dating.” I opened the curtains over the sink to let some sunshine into my tiny kitchen. The space was barely big enough for the fridge, the sink, the stove, and a central counter, so sunlight always made it feel less cramped. Less cramped was a better place for me currently.

  “It was a one time thing?”

  “Yeah. Come on, Boston. I don’t do relationships. And I’ve never wanted to be stuck here in Tory. You know that.”

  Boston nodded. “I know.”

  I was silent as I put the tea bag in a mug and poured hot water over it. “Do you want any?”

  “No.”

  When I was done, I joined her at the counter, cupping my mug as if to root myself for speaking the words out loud. “I’m pregnant.”

  Her mouth fell open. She gripped the edge of the counter as if it were the only thing holding her up. “Are you… Oh my… Fuck.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “So in the bathroom…” She waved a hand.

  “Yeah.”

  Boston shook her head and let out a breath. “Wow. So what are you going to do?”

  I cradled the warm mug between my fingers. It helped a little to make me feel less shaky and cold in the aftermath of throwing up so much my muscles ached. “I’m keeping the baby. Obviously.”

  “Obviously. What about Trevor? You gonna consider keeping him, too?”

  I laughed at her phrasing. “I don’t know, Boss. He’s my best friend. What if I fuck it up like I do every other relationship I try to have?”

  “That’s a possibility,” she agreed.

  I gave her a look.

  “We both know you’re…” She trailed off.

  “Broken?” I offered.

  “Broken.” She nodded. “But maybe that’s not what’s kept you from having a decent relationship. Maybe you just didn’t have the right guy.”

  “Who says Trevor is the right guy? What if he’s not, and I lose him as a friend forever?”

  Boston smiled. “Ves, if you’re that worried about losing him as a friend, then you obviously care enough to want him in your life.”

  “I do.” I pushed the mug away and rested my head on my arms. “I feel like crap.”

  “Are you supposed to work today?”

  I groaned. “Yes.”

  “Have you scheduled an appointment to see a doctor yet?”

  “No.”

  “You should do that. I’ll go with you if you want me to.”

  “Okay.”

  She paused and then asked, “Does he know?”

  I shook my head, ashamed of myself for being so scared to tell him.

  * * *

  I SPENT THE REST OF the morning in and out of the bathroom. The mint tea stayed down all of thirty minutes after Boston left, and I didn’t bother trying to put anything else in my stomach. I called in to work for the second day in a row. My manager’s voice told me he wasn’t pleased.

  By noon, I felt somewhat better. Physically, anyway. Mentally, I was a basket case who didn’t know where to begin. So I called my mom.

  My mom worked for a local brewery as office manager for twenty-eight years. She retired last year and took a part time job doing pretty much the same thing for the same brewery. For the first time in my life, she seemed to be doing really well. She seemed stronger and more independent. She’d bought a condo not far from Grandma Linh. The only thing she was missing was a boyfriend, but that had been a rough area for her since she left my dad, regardless that it had been nearly twenty years ago. When you discover your husband is beating the children you made together, I imagine it makes you unable to trust anyone again.

  She pulled in the driveway soon after I called her and found me prone on the couch with a wet rag over my eyes.

  “This is how it starts,” she told me, gently removing the rag.

  I smashed my eyes together. “I have a migraine.”

  “I’m going to soak your rag, honey. Chill.”

  I listened to her soft footsteps enter the creaky kitchen, and the water ran for a moment. She returned and lay the rag over my face. I sighed in relief at the fresh cold.

  Her weight sank to the couch at my feet. My mom looked a lot like me with her heart-shaped face and permanently tanned ski
n. She definitely took after Grandma Linh though with her pitch-black hair cut in a short bob and her almond eyes. My redneck dad had diluted the gene pool for me. I’d inherited his brown hair, but of course kept it dyed platinum because I really didn’t want anything of his.

  “My doctor used to joke that I was allergic to being pregnant,” Mom said, a smile in her voice.

  “Don’t tell me that.”

  “He did! I threw up every morning for the duration of the pregnancy, and I was constantly covered in these itchy rashes.”

  I flipped the edge of the rag up to give her a death stare. “You’re not helping.”

  She rubbed my knee comfortingly. She was dressed for work in a matching baby blue cardigan and tee over black slacks. Her make-up was perfectly done. Days like this, her beauty took my breath away. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but this is a blessing, honey.”

  I grunted and replaced the rag.

  “I’m excited to be a grandma.”

  I grunted again.

  “Is it Trevor?”

  I lurched up, the rag falling from my eyes. “What? How did you know? Oh my God, did Boston call you?”

  Mom chuckled and gently pushed me back to the pillows. “No, honey. That boy has been in love with you since you were ten years old. And I think you’ve loved him back just as much. It simply took you longer to realize it.”

  I sniffled. God, why was I crying so much? “It’s Trevor’s.”

  Mom’s face lit up. “Oh, honey. I couldn’t be happier right now.”

  “You know this doesn’t help the fact I’ve always thought you loved Trevor more.”

  “You hush your mouth.”

  “So was being allergic to pregnancy why you stopped at me?” I asked.