Page 11 of The Ghost of Ellwood

“Ben?” Carter jogged up the stone path. He held a plastic container in one hand and a brown bag in the other. “You okay?”

How could I tell him what I just saw? Or, what IthoughtI saw? He’d think I was crazy.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Wincing, I stood up and dusted myself off. “Was just trying to get into the greenhouse. That place is locked up like Fort Knox.”

His green eyes flickered to the building before moving back to me. “Old Mr. Henderson couldn’t get into it, either.”

“That’s what Caroline said. The real estate agent.” The ache in my tailbone remained, but it had faded somewhat. “So, you knew Mr. Henderson? I only met him when we signed the papers, but he seems…”

“Like a grumpy old man?” Carter grinned. “That’s exactly what he is. I came over a few times to mow his lawn and stuff, because he’s older and I wanted to help out. The old coot bossed me around, made me mow the lawn, trim the hedges, and even wash his damn windows. Didn’t even say thanks. I didn’t do it to be thanked, but it would’ve still been nice to feel appreciated.”

“Well, if you ever wanted to mowmygrass, I’ll thank you for it.”

His nose crinkled as he snickered. “I’ll remember that for next summer.”

“What’s all this?” I asked, motioning to the bag and container in his hands.

“Okay, I know this is totally cliché, but I made banana bread and brought stuff to make apple cider.” A deep blush formed in his pale cheeks. “Thought we could hang out and maybe get to know one another. Since we’re each other’s only neighbors, I thought it’d be kinda cool to be friends. Or at least friendly. But I totally get it if you’re too busy.”

He was blabbing. And it was just a little adorable.

“I was working, but I wasn’t getting anywhere,” I admitted, blowing out a breath. “The company would be great.”

“You work from home?” he asked as we moved across the yard to the porch.

The wind blew, ruffling the trees and the back of my blond hair. It had been warm yesterday, but it was perfect fall weather today.

“Yeah,” I answered. Carter seemed to be the only person who didn’t know who I was. It was…nice. I didn’t feel as pressured. “I’m an author.”

“No shit?” His eyes widened. “That’s hella cool. I can’t sit still long enough to read, let alone write. My mind jumps around too much. What kind of books do you write?”

Ah, the question many authors dreaded hearing. No answer seemed to encompass all we wanted it to.

“Horror and thrillers mostly,” I responded, going up the steps before him so I could grab the door.

“You’re definitely in the right house for it,” he said under his breath.

“Huh?” I looked back at him. “What do you mean?”

Carter chewed his bottom lip and wavered in place. I had opened the door, but he made no move to step across the threshold. “You’ve not heard the stories?”

“No.” The pit of my stomach tightened. The same unnerved expression Caroline had had appeared on Carter’s face too.

“Do you want to?” A sudden breeze lifted his strawberry bangs. Wind chimes could be heard in the distance.

Did I?

Had someone died in the house? Did I really want the gruesome details if so?

“Something tells me we’ll need something stronger than that cider,” I said, nodding to the bag.

“That’s why I brought something to spike it with.”

I laughed and opened the door wider for him. At first, I thought he wouldn’t come in. His gaze darted around, and I noticed his chest rising and falling just a tad bit faster. But then he deeply inhaled and walked inside.

“Just so you know, some of the things I’m gonna say aren’t that pretty.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, knowing he couldn’t tell me anything I hadn’t heard in some fashion before.