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Chapter Two

Harry

“Buck. Buck. Where is he now?” Why I’d told the owners of the B&B that I’d train Buck was beyond me. From the minute he’d shown up, he’d been a pain in my—

“What’s up, Harry?” he asked, popping into existence, his face directly in front of mine. And Harry? How dare he still call me Harry. I was his superior, his boss. He was a subordinate.

Sighing, I tugged on my black vest and took a step back. No way I’d admit he nearly scared me to…well, not death. I’d been an apparition for well over a century, and I had no time for Buck’s hijinks.

“Why do you insist on appearing right in front of me? Did no one ever teach you about personal space?” I asked.

Grinning like a schoolboy instead of a grown-ass man, he nodded happily. “Of course.”

That was it. Not even an excuse for why he so obnoxiously subjected me to such an intimate look into his fathomless dark eyes, forcing me to inhale his foresty-fresh scent. Even after months of working with me inside, he smelled like he’d just hiked the woods and sat next to a body of water, trapping all that fresh crispness of the outdoors on his person.

“Of course, he says,” I mumbled, turning away. “Whatever. We have things to do. We have guests checking in this afternoon, so we need to make the beds, empty the dishwasher, and I’d like to clean the baseboards in the parlor.”

Buck frowned. “But it’s so nice outside.” I opened my mouth to remind him of the deal we made—I gave the orders, and he obeyed without arguing—when he rushed on. “You had me strip all the beds after the last guests left, wash the sheets, then remake the beds. And Jetty washed the breakfast dishes before he went to work this morning.”

I felt my lips tip down automatically. “Why in the world did Mr. Jetty do the dishes?” I stressed mister . Mr. Chance had purchased the manor and set the property free of a treacherous spirit. Since then, his boyfriend, Mr. Jetty, had moved in. They were our bosses and worthy of our respect. Not that I could get that through Buck’s thick skull. He was much too irreverent to continue on here at Willowhope Manor, but...

I’d seen a loneliness in him the first time he’d entered our home, wanting to check in like a normal—aka, living—guest. I’d allowed him to stay that first night, telling myself every evening after he retired to his room for the night that I’d tell him to go the next day, but…I mean, he really seemed to enjoy it here. I couldn’t just tell him to go, could I? I wasn’t the most patient man, but I wasn’t a…a…a monster.

Buck snickered. “He said he wanted brownie points with Ch—” He cut himself off as I quirked my brow. “With Mr. Chance.”

“Brownie points for what?” I asked, completely perplexed.

“You know.” Buck wiggled his eyebrows, looking completely ridiculous. Not as bad as I would look if I did the same thing, so I guessed he pulled it off. “Mr. Jetty plans to finish up the job he’s on early and come home before the new arrivals check in later, and he’s hoping to get a little action.”

I sighed. The living were ridiculous. There was no question that the two gentlemen were soulmates. They’d be together forever, which meant plenty of time for carnal activities, and yet, every time I turned around, they were—

“Those two really fuck like bunnies, huh?” He snickered.

“Buck,” I said sharply. “They are your bosses.”

He shrugged. “So? They’re my friends, too. It’s not like we don’t all know they’re having sex. It’s good for them. Healthy.”

“Ugh. Stop. That’s completely inappropriate.”

As were all the blow jobs I’d witnessed before I’d revealed myself to them. I’d seen the horror on their faces when they’d realized I’d been working in the manor, taking care of their dietary and caffeine needs while they stripped half-naked all over the place. In deference to their respectability, I’d never admitted how many times I’d had to leave the parlor…or the kitchen…or the stairwell because one of them was slurping on—

I tugged on my vest, making sure it was straight, and cleared my throat. “I guess we can start on the baseboards then.”

“Harry,” he whined. “It’s beautiful outside. I want to go fishing. Let me take you out to the pond, please. You’ve never come with me, and you promised.”

My head jerked back. “I most certainly did not. I don’t waste my time on such things. There is too much to be done. Besides, you’re a spirit. What does the weather matter? You don’t get hot or cold. You literally can’t feel the elements. It wouldn’t matter if it was raining or snowing or if lava flowed under your feet.”

Buck blew out a burst of air—air we didn’t need—and rolled his eyes. “You’re really no fun.”

“We’re at work. This isn’t supposed to be fun when there are things to be done.”

He shook his head, and his shaggy hair immediately fell around his face. Really, how had this man made it through life without a proper haircut or wardrobe? I glanced down at his dirty jeans and t-shirt that said Guns-N-Roses with two roses and two guns on it. How ridiculous was that? He said it was vintage, but what did he know about vintage? I’d been dead for a hundred years by the time that shirt was made.

A slow grin spread across his ridiculous face. Oh boy. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said.

Great. I couldn’t wait to hear this one.

Buck

“I’ll do the baseboards in the parlor by myself if you spend a few hours at Beckoning Pond with me afterward.”

If possible, Harry’s frown grew more pronounced. And you know what? I was here for it. The more aggravated he got with me, the surlier he acted, and that was when he felt the most normal to me. Less stuffy and uptight—like maybe it was possible to pull that stick out of his ass. I held in a snicker. He wouldn’t appreciate me thinking about his buttocks in any way. Buttocks—what a silly word.

“Buck,” Harry said sharply.

“Harry.”

He sighed—loudly. “Buck, why are you chuckling? You let your mind wander again, didn’t you?”

Crap. Busted. If I didn’t get it together, he’d kick my perfect bubble butt out the door and back to the pond. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing. I still had a few friends out there, but most of them had allowed Chance to help them cross over into whatever in the world was next. Yes, I said, well, I thought Chance—not Mr. Chance. They were Chance and Jetty to me. They were my friends. Sure, this was their home and business, but they didn’t have to pay us, and I provided a service. A necessary one.

“Buck!”

I jumped. Harry never yelled. “Uh, yeah?”

“Your mind wandered. Again . If we’re going to work together—”

“I agree.”

His face puckered like he smelled something nasty. “With what? I didn’t finish.”

“I agree that we should get to work so we can go outside and play later.”

He put his fingertips to his temple. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”

“Really?” I asked, acting clueless. Like I didn’t know that he couldn’t get a headache. I did that sometimes—act like I didn’t understand what could or couldn’t happen now that we’d passed on from our mortal lives.

For example, Harry found my clothes distasteful and had been trying to teach me for weeks how to change my wardrobe. I knew how, of course. That was one of the things I’d mastered back when I lived at the pond behind the manor. I had a whole collection of vintage rock band t-shirts stored in my brain that I cycled through. Harry thought they’d all been in my wardrobe when I died, and that was why I could conjure them. Wrong. Most of them were my favorite designs from when I’d been younger and a whole lot thinner. But if he knew that I’d mastered conjuring any ol’ thing, he’d have me dressed like him, in suits and ties, and I wasn’t about that life.

Harry sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Baseboards. Now.”

I obediently followed him, first to the mudroom to get cleaning supplies and then into the parlor. As I expected, Harry immediately dropped to his hands and knees and began showing me how he expected me to clean, like we hadn’t done this dozens of times. It wasn’t the first time he showed me, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. If he knew how much I enjoyed watching his pert little bottom wave around in the air, he’d be horrified. The man’s body really was a work of art.

“Buck,” he spat, glaring at me over his shoulder. “Are you going to just stand there and watch or are you going to help me?”

Playfully, I saluted him, chuckling as he huffed and got back to work. For motivation, I drank in one last look at him on his knees, then got busy. Somehow, someway, I was getting Harry out of the manor today.

Harry

Buck was like a machine today. Normally, he goofed around and chatted nonstop while we worked on a project together. In the past, he’d told me all about his childhood, the friends he’d left behind, and the world outside of Willowhope.

While I hadn’t left the property in a century, I’d kept up on the changes in society through the guests that had come to stay at the B&B over the years. Granted, it was different hearing it from Buck than picking up on things here and there as our visitors spoke amongst themselves. Whatever. That was all inconsequential to me. My only priority was Willowhope Manor, Mr. Chance and Mr. Jetty, and running an efficient, slightly haunted bed and breakfast.

Since I’d only accomplished one baseboard, and Buck was finishing up his third, I walked around, inspecting his work. If he’d taken any shortcuts, he’d be redoing his sections. As I searched for even a hint of dust or dirt, I’d reached the final corner, standing directly behind him, before admitting to myself that he’d done a good job.

“What ya think, Harry?” He grinned at me over his shoulder. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asked, shaking his…his…his derriere.

No . Surely, he wouldn’t try to draw my attention to his body. The big goofy man was merely dancing in place, convinced that he’d won this round, and I’d go out to the pond with him. As if. My gaze strayed back to his backside. He really did have a nice bottom, though. Juicy and round.

“Mr. Harry,” Mr. Chance said from the doorway, startling me.

Spinning around to the entrance of the parlor, I adjusted my tie and cleared my throat. “Sir. Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

Mr. Chance’s gaze moved from me to Buck, then back to my face, searching. “Are you okay?” he asked with concern. “Didn’t you hear us come down the stairs?”

Mr. Jetty stepped into the room next to his boyfriend, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you blushing?” He turned to Mr. Chance. “Ghosts can blush? Did you know that?”

It took everything in me not to cover my cheeks with my hands. Blushing? Me? That was absurd. I didn’t do such things. Plus, what would I have to be embarrassed about? So I didn’t hear them come downstairs. Or notice Mr. Jetty coming home for them to go upstairs in the first place. And no one knew that I’d been eyeing Buck’s…uh, backside. But it was like a piece of art. There was nothing wrong with appreciating a thing of beauty, was there?

Mr. Jetty pointed at my face. “Okay, your cheeks just went from pink to scarlet. Are you feeling okay?”

Buck scrambled to his feet and threw his arm over my shoulders. Before I could shake him off, he said, “I think he needs some fresh air.”

Mr. Chance nodded. “I think you’re right, Buck. Why don’t you two go for a walk?”

“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Jetty agreed. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Dumbfounded, I gaped at the two of them. Why in the world would they agree with Buck? What did I need fresh air for? I was dead for goodness’ sake.