Page 10 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"Nothing..." My mouth hung open while I found the words. "I'm not usually like this. I got a little ahead of myself." Understatement of the year. After Gary, I should've remained three feet away from anyone who peed standing up.
"I'm not complaining, mi cielo." He gently wrapped his hands around my wrists and pulled me back to him. "Maybe we did get ahead of ourselves, but only because there's something here worth moving toward." He flashed brilliantly white teeth.
"What did you just call me?"
"Mi cielo? Literally, the phrase means 'my sky.' It's a term of endearment." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. We snuggled like that, in front of the TV, content to be in each other's company.
Sometime after midnight, I woke as Rick gently positioned me on the couch. I'd fallen asleep in his arms. Before he left, he moved the ugly bouquet from the dining room to the coffee table near my head. The door clicked shut behind him, and I drifted back to sleep.
ak My Own Rules
"Is this yours?" he asked, effortlessly holding the huge box I'd forgotten on the porch.
"Yeah." With some effort, I lifted my cardboard nemesis from his hands and dropped the sucker ungracefully into the corner of the foyer. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Even more striking up close, I wanted to snap his picture to post on Facebook along with the status, Getta load of my new neighbor. Outlined in my doorway by the orangey purple sunset, even the sky seemed to blush at the sight of him. And what a sight he was. Taller than me, his dark, wavy hair curled at the base of his neck in a style I'd call well-managed chaos. His straight white smile contrasted nicely with his golden complexion and Mediterranean features. Masculine, with a long-muscled grace, he reminded me of a matador or Flamenco dancer. Almost regal.
"Rick Ordenes." He extended his hand. "I'm the caretaker."
I accepted his handshake. Firm, strong. Good eye contact. He definitely passed handshake 101. "Has anyone ever told you, you don't look like the typical cemetery caretaker?"
"What does a typical caretaker look like?"
"I don't know. I was expecting old and gray."
He laughed. "Believe it or not, it takes resilience to do my job. An aged man would struggle with the work."
"I never thought of it that way." I hoped I hadn't offended him.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not what I expected, either."
"Oh, you mean based on my father's description," I said, grinning. "He probably still describes me in pigtails."
He shook his head. "Actually, he didn't even tell me your name."
"Oh, um, I'm Grateful."
"You're grateful he didn't tell me?"
"No! I mean, that's my name. Grateful. Grateful Knight. I know, it's a strange name, considering my father wasn't even a hippie." I shrugged.
A slow smile spread across his lips, and his gray eyes twinkled. "Grateful is a lovely name. I suppose it's fitting that a rare beauty have an equally rare name."
The compliment captivated me. Not just the words themselves but the way he said them. With a hint of a Spanish accent, they tumbled over his full lips in a silky smooth ripple, like moonlight spilling over still water. I caught myself staring at his mouth.
My cheeks warmed. Oh. My. God. Had I reverted to an awkward fifteen-year-old blushing at the hint of male attention? I mentally slapped myself.
"Would you like to come in?" I opened the door a little wider.
"Are you inviting me?"
I blinked in his direction. "Um, yes. Where I come from, 'Would you like to come in?' is an invitation."
"In my experience, it's always best to make sure," he said, teasing me with a delectable lopsided grin. Bending, he retrieved a vase of the ugliest wildflowers I'd ever seen from beside the door and handed them to me. "Sage and garlic, to ward off evil spirits." He stepped into the house, eyes darting around the foyer with the curiosity of a tourist.
"Oh, thanks. How thoughtful. My dad must have told you the cemetery kind of freaks me out."
