Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(104)

Yeah, what the hell did he do with that? "Okay, maybe we should have you talk to someone. You're under a lot of stress."

Tate cleared his throat and suddenly looked sheepish. "I might need to talk to someone, too."

Belle turned, gasping as she reached for Tate's hand. "You've seen something?"

Kellan frowned at Tate. What the hell was he up to? "Are you serious?"

Tate flushed slightly, his big shoulders shrugging in a self-conscious gesture. "Maybe. Look, there are some weird things going on in this place."

Eric pocketed his cell again. "It's a historic house, man. You've never lived in a really old place like this. There's always settling, and the electricity is obviously still faulty. There's a logical explanation."

"Okay, explain why the dog barks at shit that's not there," Tate shot back.

It took everything Kellan had not to roll his eyes. "Uhm, because he's a dog and not a very smart one."

Seemingly of its own accord, Kell's head jerked slightly to the right. Damn it. He was going to have to get that checked out. He seemed to have developed a tic in his neck that caused him to jerk occasionally.

Belle stood by Tate, obviously picking her side of the fence. "Sir is not stupid."

Oh, she was going to change that dog's name if it was the last thing he did. "Love, he's out chasing a cat across the courtyard. He's not exactly a Rhodes Scholar."

Eric crossed his arms over his chest. "It is a little creepy how he acts sometimes. I caught him growling at a closet the other day. Like really growling. He was ready to attack."

"A lot of people believe animals see things we can't," Belle argued. "That animals have extra or heightened senses."

"And some people think Santa Claus is real. It doesn't change the fact that he's not." His head jerked again. Damn it. Maybe there was something neurologically wrong with him.

"Are you okay?" Belle's eyes softened with concern.

"It's a just a tic, love. Sometimes I get them when I'm stressed." Though usually it was in his left eyelid. He'd never had his neck jerk like someone had slapped him upside the head.

Tate held up a hand. "Look, all I know is there are creepy parts of this house."

Kell glared. Tate was supposed to be the logical one. "What does science tell you, man? I really thought you would be on my side. You were raised by scientists."



       
         
       
        

"Yeah, uhm, what science tells us above all else is that we don't know everything. The Greeks explained thunderstorms as Zeus getting pissed off and throwing lightning bolts around. How do we know that the ghost thing isn't a way of explaining something we don't understand yet? A truly good scientist leaves room for possibilities."

"Do you really think that Belle saw a ghost?" Eric asked, shaking his head. "Because that seems farfetched."

"To you, sure. But an iPod would look like magic to someone who lived a hundred years ago. I'm just saying there are more things in heaven and earth than are obviously a part of the grand philosophy of Kellan. Forty-eight percent of all Americans believe in ghosts. And this particular one seems to like to pat my ass," Tate said with a sigh. "It's happened more than once."

"What?" Belle's eyes widened.

"Dude, come on." Kell frowned. Was Tate trying to get in good with Belle or had he just lost his mind?

Even in the dim light of the room, he could see Tate's face flush a bright shade of red. "I started feeling it a couple of days ago. A cold spot drifts around me. I don't feel … alone anymore. Then something pats me on the butt. I don't know how else to say it. I also think I saw the shower curtain moving on its own today. Baby, did you sneak in and write nice ass on the bathroom mirror this morning?"

"No," Belle assured. But she looked alarmed.

Eric held up his hands. "Dude, I try to not look at your ass even though you walk around with it hanging free most of the time."

They all turned to stare at Kell, and he rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly believe I would come up with a practical joke like that? I have no sense of humor."

It was a sad fact of life. He'd lost his sense of humor when he'd lost everything else. Though the idea of some perverted ghost having a fixation on Tate's butt was kind of funny.

Eric mumbled something completely incoherent.

"What did you say?" Belle asked.

Eric seemed to find his feet very interesting. "I'm saying something keeps patting my butt, too. It's weird. And sometimes I think I hear a voice saying I'm a good one. I don't know what that means."