Page 49 of The Haunted Hotel

What is it about this man that makes my palms sweat like I’m a sixteen-year-old with his first crush? I’m always smooth and confident with men, but ten minutes in Ellis’ company and apparently I forget my command of the English language.

Oh, who am I kidding? Two minutes.

Fine, one and a half.

Fuck. I’m so glad my brother is not here to witness this. But Ellis simply smiles wider and there goes my pulse again. Perhaps I should get my blood pressure checked too.

“I did have breakfast, thank you. I had toast and jam in the kitchen. Rosie’s just taken a plate up to your grandfather. He does love his sausages and bacon, although we do try to keep an eye on his cholesterol levels. He’s actually in surprisingly robust health considering he’s nearly ninety.”

I stare at him for several long seconds before responding. “How is he this morning?”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Ellis replies. “But I took him a hot chocolate last night before he went to bed...” He trails off and studies me. Pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth, he nibbles thoughtfully. “We had a talk, and he explained that seeing you took him a bit by surprise. In his head, he still thought of you as the little boy he remembered, even though he knows you’re grown now. But when you walked in and he saw you, for a moment he thought you were your dad, and… it hurt him.”

I sit in silence, absorbing his words. Not sure how I feel about them, but a small part of me gets it and it takes some of the sting from his reaction to me.

“Thank you,” I mutter finally.

“Maybe if you just give him a day or two to adjust, you can try again,” Ellis says gently. “I don’t mean to overstep, but I think it will do both of you some good if you could just have a conversation.”

“Hmm,” I answer, then change the subject. “So, are we still having this tour?”

Ellis brightens and nods enthusiastically. “Yes, although we have had to close off the west wing of the house and a couple of the floors.”

“Why?” I frown. “Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” he answers easily, shaking his head. “It just saves money on the heating bills if we only heat the parts of the hotel we’re using. I could take you to the other floors and the west wing because there’s some really cool stuff over there, but it will be really cold.”

“I see,” I mutter as I continue to watch him.

“Let me just drop your plate in the kitchen.” He reaches over and clears away my plate and glass before I can offer to do it myself, then hurries back to the kitchen.

I stand and smooth down my suit. In fact, I don’t know why I’m still wearing one instead of something warmer and more casual. Well, no, that’s a lie. I do know—it’s my armour, just like it always has been. Being here in this place, meeting my grandfather, and having to possibly face unresolved feelings about my birth father has left me more unsettled than I care to admit. But before my brain can descend into an anxiety-induced tangent, Ellis reappears next to me.

“Sorry to keep you. Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod. “I thought we could start on the ground floor.” He starts walking towards the exit, and I follow obediently.

We’ve just stepped through the doorway when Ellis lets loose an ear-splitting scream and stumbles back. I catch a glimpse of a figure brandishing what looks to be an axe and without thinking, I grab Ellis and thrust him behind me.

It takes me an adrenaline-filled second and Ellis’s breathless laugh to realise it’s that idiot Pennington again.

“What the hell are you doing?” I growl.

“Oh, Mr Pennington.” Ellis peeks around me, still laughing, and pats his chest like his heart is racing. “You got me that time.” He shakes a finger at the possibly unhinged cosy mystery slash horror writer in mock admonishment.

“Are you trying to give everyone here blood pressure issues?” I demand.

“Oh no, still researching.” He waves the axe at me nonchalantly.

“You startled me so much I actually felt a bit dizzy this time,” Ellis supplies. “Well done.”

I twist to look more fully at Ellis and note his pretty flushed cheeks. “Why are you encouraging this lunatic?”

“Just doing my bit to help.” He shrugs, and I turn my attention back to Pennington, who has the rather brutal-looking axe tucked neatly under one arm as he scribbles furiously in his little reporter’s notebook.

“Feels dizzy,” he mutters to himself. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and sigh instead. Mr Pennington looks up at me once he’s finished writing. “It was jolly heroic of you though.”

“What was?”

“The way you reacted, it was instantaneous. You didn’t even think about it, just grabbed Ellis here and thrust him behind you, out of the way of imminent danger. Bravo.”