Page 12 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
I walked back into the dining room. "You haven't been completely honest with me, have you?"
"You see through me," Rick admitted. He lowered his chin. "Your father didn't ask me to check on you. That was my own idea."
He didn't say anything about the wine, but I dropped the subject. Who cared how the bottle got there? I was enjoying his company too much to let my suspicions bother me. I opened the Pinot gris, poured him a glass, and then myself one.
"So, tell me how you became a caretaker," I said.
"I have always been interested in the dead." I must have made a face because he quickly added, "History. I was a history major."
"Oh, interesting." I decided not to share that I loathed history in college.
"This cemetery has historical significance, you know. The oldest grave is from sixteen ninety-two, an early settler of Red Grove. How familiar are you with the town?"
"Not at all. I'm a nurse at St. John's in Carlton City. I wouldn't have considered moving to Red Grove if not for my dad. He inherited the house, and I needed a place to stay." I didn't offer any more info on my embarrassing situation and thankfully he didn't ask.
"It's a small town, but it's home." He smiled. "I'll give you a tour if you like. Of the cemetery, that is. I think you can find your own way around Red Grove Grocery and Pub."
"Uh, thanks." I giggled. "Grocery and Pub. You say it like it's one building."
"It is. The first floor of Orson Thompson's place. He sells fishing bait too."
"I'll keep that in mind." The wine was starting to do its dirty work, and I could feel inhibition packing its bags. "Can I ask you a personal question, Rick?"
"Of course."
"You said your family was from Spain. How did you end up here?"
The question must have made him uncomfortable because he looked away and started tracing the edge of the table with his finger. He cleared his throat. "I guess they came for the same reasons everyone comes here. To make a new start. They used to have a farm here a long time ago. They've passed on."
"I'm so sorry." I was such a downer. Nothing like bringing up someone's dead parents to sour the mood.
"It's been years." He shrugged. The man looked desperate for a change of subject. "This is good wine."
"Yes, it is," I replied. I poured each of us another glass, emptying the last drops into mine. We'd finished the entire bottle, and I had finished my meal. "Would you like to move to the family room? Maybe watch some TV? I can grab that bottle of Shiraz."
He gave the sort of nod that starts and ends with the eyes, not just assent but anticipation. The feeling was mutual. We sojourned to the plush sofa in the family room. I discovered the television didn't have cable and settled on a Saturday Night Live marathon while he poured more wine.
"Hot summer we've had. Glad it's almost over," I said. Crap. I was such a nerd. Who talks about the weather with a could be underwear model at her side and a glass of wine in hand?
"Very...Hot," he drawled. Oh god his lips were full. Was that a dimple in his chin?
I caught myself leaning toward him and readjusted in my seat.
"Funny thing about the heat. I'm a nurse at St. John's, and you would be surprised how many heat related injuries come in..." My mouth was still moving, but I had no idea what was coming out. Did I just say cooling packs? I tried to stop, but I was having an out-of-body experience or something.
Rick placed his fingers under my still wagging chin.
"Fluids," I blurted, finishing off a sentence about something that wasn't as important as his face, so very close to mine.
"Grateful, I know you've just met me, but you are...incredible. May I kiss you?"
I'd sworn off men. I'd promised myself I'd stay in control. So why was I having so much trouble following my own rules? Of course, I'd felt attracted to Rick before he walked through the door. The effects of the wine magnified that initial attraction. He smelled good, like the outdoors. Fresh-turned earth, pine, and something else I couldn't quite place-the ocean, I think. But more than that, Rick made me feel safe. If the sensation was because he knew my father or because his job as caretaker eased my fears about the graveyard, I wasn't sure. Maybe the desire to not be alone in a strange new house was enough. Whatever the reason, I looked into those gray eyes and a wave of heat moved from my heart due south.
"Yes."
He leaned in slowly, lips brushing mine, soft, warm, and gentle at first. The kiss was closed-mouthed and conservative. I blinked lazily, enjoying the sweet gesture. He pulled back a little, like he was kissing me goodnight, restraining himself.
I can't explain what came over me. A slow burn budded between my legs. My body ached, hungry, wanting to be fed. I wasn't satisfied. This was more than attraction. I stared at him with the shaking hands, racing heart, and fevered skin of an addict. I had tasted ambrosia, and I wanted more.
