A Haunted Romance Read Online Free

shrugging a few minutes later. “I didn’t see anything,” he said. “Just one of those noises, I guess.”
    “I guess,” Chelsea agreed. “Sounded like someone getting murdered.”
    “Or Johnston with one of his girlfriends, but I doubt the noise would carry all the way here.” Dalton chuckled.
    Trent was that popular, huh? Chelsea’s heart clenched, but she knew she didn’t have any reason. Trent was just a helpful neighbor, like Dalton. No more. What he did wasn’t any of her business.
    “Hey,” said Chelsea, “would you mind sticking around while I go get my stuff from the car? It’s getting dark out.” And I don’t want to be walking around outside with a murderer on the loose.
    “I’ll stay all night long if you ask me to.”
    She looked at him sharply, trying to see if he was flirting with her as much as she thought he was. But whether he meant it as a joke, a flirtation, or a simple matter of fact, she couldn’t tell.
    She put on her boots, dragged the microwave and the cooler up the steps, shoved them inside the doorway, and closed the door behind her. Regardless of how much the place needed to air out, those doors were staying closed after the sun went down from now on.
    “Tell me,” she asked. “Have you ever heard anything about this house being haunted?”
    “Haunted? Yes, there are rumors of that in town. You don’t think that sound…?”
    Yes, she did think that sound. “Great.”
    “Want me to stay?”
    She could feel Cat glaring at her. She spent too much time inside Cat’s head, and now her detective was returning the favor. She slowly shook her head.
    “Very well.”
    She walked him to the front door.
    He turned at the doorway. “Pleasant dreams,” he said.
    Right . “Good night.” Chelsea shut the door behind him and locked it. If there’d been a deadbolt, she’d have thrown it.
    There’s no reason to be spooked, she told herself. She set up the microwave in the kitchen and nuked herself some teriyaki chicken.
    The fridge wasn’t as bad as she expected. She had to hold her nose while she poured out some really old milk, but there weren’t any full-blown science experiments going on in there. There was even a can of generic cola, unopened, in the door. And the refrigerator was otherwise empty. Good—she’d had enough of the heebie-jeebies for the evening. She loaded her microwavables into the freezer. The six-pack of Diet Pepsi she’d brought along she stuffed in the fridge.
    She ate her chicken in the dining room in blessed silence. No condo noises, no screams in the night. By the time she finished, she was feeling positive again. There was no use getting worked up about a cat screeching outside or some odd patterns in the dust on the floor. Tomorrow she’d clean the floors and the dust wouldn’t matter.
    She turned on her laptop and wrote for several hours before bed, far too involved in the tortures she was putting Cat Connors through to think about anything else. The music she had blaring on iTunes would drown out all but the most determined shrieker anyway.
    She glanced at the walls before going to sleep. There weren’t any new pictures hanging in the master bedroom or anything else out of order. It had been quite a day, and she’d let her imagination run away with her a little. She’d have to get used to the country sounds and the oddities of an old house. Once she did, she had the feeling a solitary life in the country was going to suit her quite well. She climbed into her sleeping bag and slept like a baby until morning.
    * * *
    Chelsea woke up to the sound of an engine. It took her a moment to realize where she was. The sound had come from out back. She opened her curtains.
    Trent was there, pushing a red machine that looked kind of like a mower but was turning the ground under instead of cutting the weeds. He’d been at it a while, from what she could see. Now and then he’d stop and yank something up by the roots. He’d accumulate the weeds he