and demanded release. Oh, how she wanted to let it loose, to turn her hand into his and link their fingers. Instead, she shifted away on the pretense of tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“The diner’s my grandma’s baby.” She tried to keep her voice light. “That’s why it’s called Mae’s, after her. She’s semi-retired, which basically means I run it when she’s off on one of her many adventures. She’s in Africa right now. But the lighthouse…” She picked up the sunflower, twirled it between her fingers again. “Much to Grandma’s dismay, it’s always intrigued me. The ghost stories alone—”
“C’mon. Ghost stories?”
“Oh, yes. It’s said lighthouses are America’s version of castles. Each has its own ghost, and mine is no exception.”
Alex made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. According to legend, the ghost’s name is Adeline Barnett True, better known as Lovie,” she said, settling into the telling of a story she’d known since childhood. “She’s also called The Green Lady because she’s always seen wearing a green flapper-style dress. She came to town after her husband, a soldier in World War One, inherited the lighthouse from his father. Some of the rumors say her husband took up drinking after the war and beat her to death. Others say she was a city girl at heart, the isolation got to be too much, and she took her life by jumping off the tower. Either way, she died in 1925, but she still roams through the lighthouse and she’s still bitter about whatever happened to her. She doesn’t like men in her territory. She gets blamed for a lot of the accidents that happen around here.”
“And you’ve…seen…her?” Alex asked.
“I’ve heard her. She bangs around the kitchen, walks up and down the stairs, and sometimes I even smell whatever she’s cooking. Pork, usually.” At his dubious expression, she laughed. “Now you think I’m crazy. It’s all true. She was a real person. I have her picture hanging in my stairwell. Her grave’s at the cemetery.”
“No, not crazy.” He shrugged. “I know a lot of people believe in that sort of thing. I’m just not one of them.”
“Stay one night in the lighthouse and I bet you’ll change your mind.” She realized, again too late, how much that sounded like an invitation and cursed her carelessness. The way he was watching her, like she was the most interesting and beautiful woman in the world, made her stomach jitter. Whether it was nerves or lust, she didn’t know. Probably a combination of both.
He reached for her hand again, gave it a light squeeze. “I’d like that, Pru.”
“I didn’t mean it as an invitation.”
“Not yet,” he said with a slow, devilish smile.
She tried to pry her hand free, but he held it for just a moment more before letting her go. She worked up a scowl. “You’re pretty damn sure of yourself there, buddy.”
“No, I’m realistic.” He ran his fingers along her jaw—it was as if he couldn’t stop touching her—and smiled when she stiffened. “Have dinner with me, Pru.”
“I thought you were leaving town.”
“I’m in no hurry. Especially if someone convinces me to stick around.”
She glanced away. “I can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t see a ring on your hand.”
She looked down at her empty finger and felt a twinge in her chest. It still hurt, she realized. Even after six months, it still hurt that Owen’s ring was not there anymore. She curled her hand into a fist and jumped down from the ledge. She paced away from Alex. Then, feeling like a coward for avoiding his gaze, she circled back to face him.
“Listen, I just got out of a bad relationship.”
“Me too. Besides, who said anything about a relationship? I enjoy your company and I don’t know anyone else in town. I just want to have dinner with you.”
And sex , she thought. She shook her head. “We both know where dinner would
Learning to Kill: Stories