CHAPTER EIGHT
Maximus ended up taking me to a quaint little wine bar that overlooked the river at the end of Waterfront Park. In the summer, the patio area would be packed with tourists and locals snapping up the breezes off the water, but in the winter it was smal and cozy. If I were in the right frame of mind, I might have even cal ed it romantic, especial y with the lights as they twinkled off the black, waving currents outside and contrasted against the soft glow inside.
I wasn’t in my right frame of mind, though, and Maximus knew it. As he drove us here, he kept the conversation safe as a disoriented Tom Waits crooned from his stereo, mimicking how I felt. I tried to keep my mind somewhere else. But once we settled down in our tiny, windowside table, his large frame looking almost comical in the narrow spot, and ordered our first drinks, he started giving me the expectant eye.
The waiter placed a shot of tequila down in front of me and I raised it in the air at Maximus.
“To…,” I trailed off, unable to think of a single thing worth toasting to.
“To us,” he finished, raising his Corona. I raised my brow. His green eyes twinkled in the candlelight.
“Wel , it’s better than nothing,” I said with a smirk and we clinked glasses. I tried to hold his eyes as I did the shot but it burned hard in my throat and I coughed.
“Easy there, it’s not a race,” he chided, picking up my lime and passing it to me.
I shoved it in my mouth until the bitterness took the wincing away. I smiled at him, al lime mouth, and sat back in my chair feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks.
“That’s a nice look for you,” he said with a wink. I took the lime out and placed it in the empty shot glass.
“You’re looking very pretty tonight,” he continued after clearing his throat. “I don’t know why I never pictured you wearing a dress before.”
“Because I don’t wear dresses, unless it’s a special occasion.”
It was his turn to raise his brow. “Is this a special occasion?”
I shrugged as the waiter came by again and poured me a glass of riesling.
“No. Maybe. Some part of me thought it was a great idea to wear it.”
“Wel I’m glad that part of you did.”
“I just wish I knew what part.” I gave him a steady look.
I took a large sip of my wine and immediately felt the smooth, golden liquid go straight to my head where the tequila was already sitting. I don’t even think I ate anything for dinner. Things like food were slipping my mind lately.
“So what happened tonight that made you cal me? I’d like to pretend you just wanted my company, but it sounded as if anybody would have done the job.”
My lips twitched slightly as I observed him. He looked a bit put upon, like there was a chance I could hurt him if I told him that actual y anyone would have done the job and I just wanted to get out of the house, to be with people. But I wasn’t sure how true that was.
“I think I’m being hunted,” I said, leaning in closer to him, keeping my voice low. “Or haunted. Or I’m going crazy. One of those three. Or al of them.”
He leaned forward too, and his forehead nearly bumped against mine. He grabbed my hands with his large, weatherbeaten ones and squeezed them. It was a comforting gesture.
“Tel me everything,” he whispered. His drawl was incredibly sexy when he whispered like that. I didn’t like how I was noticing him in that way. Not tonight.
I dropped my eyes to the table and begun the long, crazy tale of the last few weeks. I left out the miscarriage part because it was none of his business. I just told him I had severe “woman problems” and I’m not sure if he deduced anything out of that. I concluded the story with the last straw, the baby slippers in my room.
While I was talking Maximus kept quiet; his eyes were squinty emeralds in the low light. I met them occasional y, afraid to see signs of doubt in them. To his credit, he only seemed engrossed by my story and then extremely concerned. He finished the rest of his beer and placed it on the table so that the bottle spun around like a top.
“I wish I wasn’t the designated driver tonight, darling,” he said final y, “because after hearing that story, I reckon I want another drink. And I know you do too.”
The idea of throwing caution to the wind and convincing Maximus to get loaded with me was suddenly very tempting. But I had a mystery to solve.
“Wel , what do you think?” I asked cautiously.
He gave my hands a quick squeeze again and leaned back in his chair.
“I’m going to speak my mind here, Perry,” he said. My heart thudded around a little. He thought I was crazy. He thought I was nutso. He thought I was losing my mind.
“I do think you are being haunted,” was his matter-of-fact answer. “And I’d love to come over, spend some time in your house, and do a reading. Get to the bottom of this.”
Oh.
“Are you serious? You believe me?”
“Of course I do. Not every haunting is a clear-cut case.
There’s no guide for ghosts to fol ow. If you’re being haunted by something, it could mess up a lot of things in your life.”