Page 24 of Ghost Business (Boneyard Key #2)

Sixteen

Kissing Sophie was like something out of a dream. But Tristan’s dreams had never been this good.

If this were a dream, for example, there would probably be a dinosaur somewhere.

As the hard press of Sophie’s mouth relaxed against his, as both of them realized that yeah, this was really happening, if this were a dream Tristan would open his eyes and see a T.

rex peeking over Sophie’s shoulder. Or there would be a pterodactyl perched in a nearby palm tree.

Kissing in dreams, doing more than kissing in dreams, always had some fantastical element, something that didn’t make sense.

But everything about kissing Sophie made sense.

Tristan’s hat and frock coat tumbled to the ground, and his hands found her waist, the curve of her hip, as though he’d always been touching her and knew just where to do it.

Her mouth moved against his, lips parting against the soft stroke of his tongue, as though they’d been kissing like this all of their lives.

Her soft moan as he gained access to her open mouth made him want access to all of her.

He’d fallen a step back, his spine pressed to the doorjamb, when she’d all but leapt on him.

But now that she’d relaxed into him, he relaxed too.

Well, as much as he could relax while his heart pounded in his chest and all the blood in his brain rushed to points south.

He let one hand map the curve that went from her hip to her waist and back again, learning the way her body felt against his.

With his other hand he cupped her cheek, sliding his fingers through those dark curls he hadn’t stopped thinking about since the night they’d met.

God, her hair felt as soft as it looked, and Tristan pressed himself closer, craving her warmth even in this humid, hot evening.

One moment everything was perfect, and the next moment she was gone. Tristan blinked his eyes open to see that Sophie had fallen back a step, two steps, her back pressed to her front door and her hands pressed to her mouth. Why did she look so shocked? This had been her idea!

“What…?” He tried to speak, but his command of the English language failed him. He didn’t want to talk. Talking was for people who weren’t kissing Sophie, and he was no longer interested in being one of those people.

His one consolation was that Sophie seemed to have trouble forming words herself. She shook her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders. “That was…I’m not…”

Before he could ask what the hell she was talking about, she was gone, fumbling for her doorknob before practically falling backwards into her condo.

The door closed firmly in his face like an exclamation, and the sudden silence of Tristan being left alone in the breezeway was total.

He was in a daze as he collected his costume pieces from the ground.

This was a new experience for him; no one had ever kissed him and then fled the scene.

His condo seemed even quieter than usual. Even more drab and stark white. Kissing Sophie had been like a Technicolor movie, and now the world was in black and white. He was Dorothy, returning to Kansas and wondering if all the good stuff had just been a dream.

The next few minutes passed in a blur, as Tristan somehow put away his hat and coat, unbuttoned and shucked his vest, and shrugged his suspenders down off his shoulders.

All the while he paced his living room, pausing at the huge windows to look out into the night, taking in nothing, before doing another lap.

His mind was still full of Sophie: her dismissive attitude toward him (which was warranted, to be fair), the way her mouth felt against his (incredible), the warmth of her body under his hands (maddening), and the brand-new knowledge that there was only a single wall separating them.

It was too much, and his brain had clicked offline in self-defense.

He probably would have paced the living room of this condo all night, wearing a track in the immaculate tile, if Eric hadn’t called.

He didn’t remember answering his phone, but suddenly there he was, phone in hand, Eric’s face on the screen.

“Hey! What’s up?” Eric barely looked up at the screen as he typed on his laptop. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t murdered on the mean streets of—”

“Sophie and I kissed.”

Eric stopped typing, and the view wobbled as he picked the phone up from wherever it had been propped. Then Eric’s face filled the screen, his eyes as wide as Sophie’s had been just a few minutes ago.

“Say that again.”

“Sophie and I kissed.” Tristan said it slower this time, a smile overtaking his face as he let himself hear the words. It wasn’t some crazy fantasy he’d conjured up. It really had happened.

Eric didn’t seem to believe him. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” Tristan dropped onto his sofa.

“She’s your competition! You’re not supposed to be kissing the competition.”

“She kissed me!” His lips still tingled from the press of her mouth; that first kiss had been hard. Like she’d been frankly a little pissed off about it. It wasn’t until he’d cupped her cheek in his hand, taking over the kiss, steering it, that she’d gentled against him.

“Well?”

Tristan snapped back to the present. “Well, what?”

“Well, how was it?” Eric propped his phone up again, resting his chin in his cupped hands. “Tell me everything.”

“No.” He pressed his lips together, partially to hide his smile, but mostly to hold on to that tingle. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Oh, come on! This is probably the longest dry spell you’ve ever had, and—”

“I’ve been busy! Trying to keep this company afloat. Trying to keep our jobs. Remember? Stuff like that.”

“Meh.” Eric waved all that aside with a grin. “I’ve missed hearing about your love life.”

Tristan scoffed. “It’s not a love life. It was one kiss. And she ran away immediately afterward.” He was still disappointed about that.

“Hey, it’s better than what you’ve had lately. Which is nothing.”

Tristan shook his head. “Did you call for an actual reason?”

“Probably something business related. Who cares? This is much more interesting.”

“Eric…” Tristan tried to sound authoritative, like his father would with an employee. But he’d known Eric too long, and his father probably didn’t talk to subordinates right after kissing a pretty girl.

Eric sighed in exasperation. “Ugh, fine. You’ve usually updated the shared spreadsheet with Friday night’s numbers by now. Which, honestly, makes you boring. You’re still a young, mostly attractive man—”

“Thanks a lot.”

“—you should be going out on a Friday night, not updating spreadsheets. But you didn’t call tonight. So where were you?”

“I was out on a Friday night.” He grinned as Eric cheered.

“I stopped for some pizza and was there for a bit with…with some friends.” The word caught in his throat even as he said it.

Maybe it was a bit of a stretch to call them friends, but they were the closest thing he’d had since he’d arrived in Boneyard Key.

“No. Wait. You’re making friends? I thought they hated you there. Especially since you’re trying to drive their girl out of business.”

Tristan snorted. “Well, Nick and Cassie invited me over for dinner next week. So that’s something.”

“Sure, that’s something. But…” Eric squinted through the screen at Tristan. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why wouldn’t I care? You haven’t been here the past few weeks, trying to be friendly while all the locals give you the cold shoulder. Believe me, no one can freeze you out like a small town.”

“Right. I get that. But again, why do you care? It’s not like you’re settling down and building a life there.

It’s just like every other time you start up a new GNO location.

You come, you establish, you get the hell out and go back to New York.

In fact, why don’t you just get that Sophie girl to run your tour as well? That seems like a no-brainer.”

“I tried that. She wants nothing to do with me.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “She just kissed you. Sounds like she’s sending you really mixed signals.”

Tristan had to laugh. “Sophie’s…well, Sophie’s complicated.” That was putting it mildly.

After hanging up with Eric, the silence was back, ballooning to fill the condo. But now he welcomed the quiet. He stretched out on the sofa, propping his head on one end as he let his brain process the entire evening.

So much had happened. He’d met his first ghost—he was still getting his mind around that. He’d been leading ghost tours for years now, but this was the first time he’d had to consider that ghosts were real. And could hand him Parmesan cheese.

That still wasn’t even the biggest news of the night.

He’d kissed Sophie.

Well, Sophie had kissed him.

He pressed his lips together again, bringing back the sense memory of Sophie’s mouth on his. Her soft lips, the frame of her glasses bumping lightly against his cheek. He wanted more, and if he’d had his way she’d be in here with him right now.

But she’d fled, and Tristan had to respect that.

He stayed in the living room of his darkened condo for a long time, watching the moonlight bounce off the water, stalling going to bed. It was going to be hard to sleep, knowing she was right on the other side of the wall. Why did she have to live right on the other side of the wall?

And how was it that they lived right next door to each other, and he’d never known? Sophie had looked just as surprised about it as he was, her eyes huge behind her glasses as she stood with her front door at her back. Right before she’d practically lunged at him…

…And there he was, thinking about the kiss again.

He was never going to get to sleep.

—

Tristan held his breath every time he opened his front door. Which was ridiculous; he’d been in this condo for months now, and nothing had changed.