whatever she asked, at this point. Getting
the woman to like him was of paramount importance.
“Good.
Because, if you’re not a brain tumor, then you’re real. I think that might
even be worse.”
“There
was a time in my life when I’d take a pretty girl home and she like everything I had to say.” He told her in his most charming tone.
Grace
didn’t look charmed. “She must’ve been even drunker than I am to fall for your
crap.” She muttered and ate a spoonful or her ordinary-flavored ice cream. “And
you’re still talking to me. I told you, it freaks me out when
you talk to me. At least wait until I finish the whole bottle.”
“I
apologize. I’ll wait for you to become inebriated.”
“Good.”
Grace nodded firmly and washed down her ice cream with some more wine. Then
she hesitated. “I don’t normally approve of excessive drinking, you know.” She
tacked on in a prissy tone. “Don’t think I do this kind of thing all the time.
I’m a very moral person.”
Jamie
nearly grinned. “Oh, I donea doubt that.”
“Uptight”
was the modern word for her condition, if he wasn’t mistaken. He’d yet to hear
her mummer so much as a mild oath and she drank wine with her pinkie extended.
The woman might as well wear a sign declaring herself a Sunday school teacher.
She’d also changed into the most unappealing, matronly bathrobe ever sewn, so
it was a real mystery to him how she managed to be so alluring.
Perhaps,
it was the magic in her blood.
Even
before he became a ghost, Jamie had always believed in the supernatural. He’d
experienced it himself, growing up in Scotland. Fairies and spirits flited
through the green hills of his homeland. They would glow in the dark night,
enchanting him. As a boy, he used to point them out to his parents.
…Until
he’d realized that not everyone had a kinship with the unseen world
He
learned quickly that it was better to hide his gifts. To lie about what he
saw. He even tried to block it out entirely, but it was impossible. He’d
always felt the magic around him. Always known things that others didn’t. His
mother said he was kissed by the fay. His father said he was cursed by demons.
Whatever you wanted to call it, Jamie had a twinkle of knowing about
him.
And
so did Grace.
There
was a smidgen of the otherworldly about her. Something that hinted of feminine
mysteries and untapped enchantments. Something that drew his eye and held it
like no one else ever had.
She
was the woman he’d waited several lifetimes for. The deepest part of him
recognized her. Grace was the one. He knew it with a deep and unshakable
belief that was growing stronger all the time. If she had been born in his
time, he would have been certain she was his bride.
She belonged to Jamie.
The
girl wasn’t beautiful in the glittery, bawdy way that he’d been attracted to in
life. She was far too thin, and scrubbed free of makeup, and her nails had
been chewed to the quick. With her upturned nose and petite frame, she looked
a bit like a fay herself. A repressed, timid little fay. The woman would
probably faint if a man tried to kiss her. And she clearly didn’t have much of
a backbone, if her dealings with her harridan boss and dickhead boyfriend were
any indication. Jamie had always liked strong, flashy women, who knew exactly
what they wanted.
But,
he’d been captivated by Grace from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Almost
like he recognized her.
It
was why he’d switched tour guides and joined Grace’s Ghost Walk instead of
following Nadine like he usually did. Time stretched on and on and on when
you had an eternity to fill. Jamie spent every night wandering around
Harrisonburg, listening to costumed idiots get history all wrong. Nadine did
better than most. She was an elderly lady, who knew how to spin a yarn. For
nine years, he’d been taking her tours. It gave
the woman to like him was of paramount importance.
“Good.
Because, if you’re not a brain tumor, then you’re real. I think that might
even be worse.”
“There
was a time in my life when I’d take a pretty girl home and she like everything I had to say.” He told her in his most charming tone.
Grace
didn’t look charmed. “She must’ve been even drunker than I am to fall for your
crap.” She muttered and ate a spoonful or her ordinary-flavored ice cream. “And
you’re still talking to me. I told you, it freaks me out when
you talk to me. At least wait until I finish the whole bottle.”
“I
apologize. I’ll wait for you to become inebriated.”
“Good.”
Grace nodded firmly and washed down her ice cream with some more wine. Then
she hesitated. “I don’t normally approve of excessive drinking, you know.” She
tacked on in a prissy tone. “Don’t think I do this kind of thing all the time.
I’m a very moral person.”
Jamie
nearly grinned. “Oh, I donea doubt that.”
“Uptight”
was the modern word for her condition, if he wasn’t mistaken. He’d yet to hear
her mummer so much as a mild oath and she drank wine with her pinkie extended.
The woman might as well wear a sign declaring herself a Sunday school teacher.
She’d also changed into the most unappealing, matronly bathrobe ever sewn, so
it was a real mystery to him how she managed to be so alluring.
Perhaps,
it was the magic in her blood.
Even
before he became a ghost, Jamie had always believed in the supernatural. He’d
experienced it himself, growing up in Scotland. Fairies and spirits flited
through the green hills of his homeland. They would glow in the dark night,
enchanting him. As a boy, he used to point them out to his parents.
…Until
he’d realized that not everyone had a kinship with the unseen world
He
learned quickly that it was better to hide his gifts. To lie about what he
saw. He even tried to block it out entirely, but it was impossible. He’d
always felt the magic around him. Always known things that others didn’t. His
mother said he was kissed by the fay. His father said he was cursed by demons.
Whatever you wanted to call it, Jamie had a twinkle of knowing about
him.
And
so did Grace.
There
was a smidgen of the otherworldly about her. Something that hinted of feminine
mysteries and untapped enchantments. Something that drew his eye and held it
like no one else ever had.
She
was the woman he’d waited several lifetimes for. The deepest part of him
recognized her. Grace was the one. He knew it with a deep and unshakable
belief that was growing stronger all the time. If she had been born in his
time, he would have been certain she was his bride.
She belonged to Jamie.
The
girl wasn’t beautiful in the glittery, bawdy way that he’d been attracted to in
life. She was far too thin, and scrubbed free of makeup, and her nails had
been chewed to the quick. With her upturned nose and petite frame, she looked
a bit like a fay herself. A repressed, timid little fay. The woman would
probably faint if a man tried to kiss her. And she clearly didn’t have much of
a backbone, if her dealings with her harridan boss and dickhead boyfriend were
any indication. Jamie had always liked strong, flashy women, who knew exactly
what they wanted.
But,
he’d been captivated by Grace from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Almost
like he recognized her.
It
was why he’d switched tour guides and joined Grace’s Ghost Walk instead of
following Nadine like he usually did. Time stretched on and on and on when
you had an eternity to fill. Jamie spent every night wandering around
Harrisonburg, listening to costumed idiots get history all wrong. Nadine did
better than most. She was an elderly lady, who knew how to spin a yarn. For
nine years, he’d been taking her tours. It gave
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