The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet(8)

“It’ll give us time to talk,” she said with a smile. “And to pig out on popcorn.”

Yeah, he definitely liked this woman.

Jericho bought the tickets, and Emily insisted on buying the food. They got two bags of popcorn (he noticed Emily liked extra butter on hers), some sour candy, two drinks, and headed into the theater to wait for the movie.

It was empty, a commercial slide flashing on the screen. Emily picked seats in the back, and they settled in with their food and drinks.

Just when he was thinking this date might be going pretty damn well so far, she held a hand to her mouth and yawned.

“Uh oh,” he said. “You bored already? That isn’t a good sign.” Inwardly, he was cussing. Maybe she’d gone on a date with him because he scared her and right now she wasn’t being threatened enough? Maybe underneath that wholesome exterior she was an adrenaline junkie? He didn’t know much about her.

But Emily’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, my gosh. No. I’m so sorry! I just…” she grimaced. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s all.”

“Something keeping you up?” He fought a surge of irrational jealousy at the picture of her with another guy. Maybe she was dating more than one man. Maybe he was just a number to her.

Worry crossed her face. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Just spit it out, already. If she was making this big of a deal about it, it wasn’t good news.

She bit her lip. “I have a ghost.”

Of all the things he’d expected to hear, that wasn’t on the list. Not even remotely. He couldn’t help it; he smiled.

“See?” She said, smiling through her exasperation. “I told you you’d think I was crazy.”

He studied her for a minute to see if she was fucking with him. Underneath that sweet exterior, was there a crystal-rubbing, patchouli-loving nut job? He didn’t know. So all he said was, “You sure it’s a ghost?”

Emily gave him a rueful look. “We were told it was haunted when we bought it. I just didn’t believe the stories”

“Wait. You knew it was haunted when you bought it? And you still wanted to buy it?” He didn’t miss that ‘we’ in there either.

She grimaced and took a sip of her soda as another couple came into the theater. Then she looked over at him and lowered her voice. “So I should probably explain something about my ex-husband.”

“Is he dead?” Oh shit, was she a widow? Those were rough to date.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! No – it’s not his ghost. My ex is Braden Smith of Spooky Society.”

He had no clue what that was. “Okaaay.”

She waved her hands and pulled out her phone. “Okay, you’re not a fan of the show, which brings you up a notch in my book.” She typed a few things into the screen of the phone and then handed it to him. “It’s a cable show ‘dedicated to exploring and cataloguing the paranormal and unexplained.’” Her voice turned mocking.

Jericho gazed down at the screen. There was a crew of men in matching polo shirts – all with arms crossed – standing in front of an ominous house. The SPOOKY SOCIETY logo was emblazoned across the screen and at the bottom there were links for cast photos, videos, and additional information. “I…see.”

“So, when we first got married, we were college sweethearts. Braden was a computer programmer. I was a business major and wanted to open my own bakery. In his spare time, Braden ran a ghost hunting volunteer group. I was never into it, but he liked to go on ghost hunting expeditions every weekend. Some husbands fish or hunt.” Her look was a patient one. “Mine liked to go to people’s houses and try to connect with spirits. I ignored it and did my own thing for the most part.”

He offered the phone back to her. So her ex was a celebrity of sorts. And probably loaded. Well, that was two strikes against Jericho’s resume. He didn’t have two nickels to rub together, and he sure as shit wasn’t famous. Maybe infamous around Bluebonnet for his tats and his hair, but that was about it. “So the house was a house on the show?”

She shook her head. “Actually, the house came before the show. We bought it two years ago. I thought the stained glass windows were pretty and liked the idea of a fixer-upper. Braden liked the idea of a ghost in the attic. I didn’t believe in ghosts despite his hobby, so I was fine with buying the house. But right after we purchased it, he got an offer from the television network to create a show based around him and his crew.” Emily’s look became less patient, more pinched. “It meant him basing out of Los Angeles instead of here in Texas. I didn’t want him to do it. We’d just gotten married, just bought the house, and were talking about starting a family in the future. At least, I thought that’s what we were doing. He accused me of not supporting him or believing in him.” She plucked at an imaginary bit of lint on her cardigan. “He went to do the TV show anyhow, and we divorced. I got the house since he didn’t want to be in Texas. And the ironic thing is that it really is haunted.”