“What do you mean?” I frowned.

  “During the reading. You looked like you were struggling.” He slowed down to turn onto the street that would take us to my shop. “I’m no expert on psychic stuff, but you seemed stressed.”

  Remembering Aunt Agatha’s unusual tenacity, I shivered. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, but Aunt Agatha’s spirit didn’t want to leave.”

  “Leave?” A line formed between his brows.

  “My body. She wanted to cling to this world,” I said.

  “Oh. That explains why you were white as a ghost.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Although, ghosts aren’t white. They’re really more translucent than anything.”

  “Uh . . . you’re a real stickler for details.”

  I sighed. “People always get that wrong. It bugs me.”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to change the subject, would you?”

  “Me? Change the subject?” I asked coyly.

  He smiled. “You don’t seem to like divulging much about yourself.”

  “I don’t mind talking about myself,” I lied.

  “I’m not trying to criticize you or say you don’t know how to do your job. I’m just curious why you seemed to struggle with Aunt Agatha. Was it a physical strain? Your pulse was elevated and your body seemed stressed overall.”

  “It wasn’t any big deal,” I murmured. “Like I said, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay in this world.”

  He raised his brows in surprise. “Can she do that?”

  “No. But she can try,” I said. “She’d have to leave eventually, but it could have been a few rough hours for me. I’d have been very ill until she left, but she would have to leave.” I still didn’t know why his touching me had helped drive her spirit from my body. But it had. “I haven’t had a spirit try that in a long time.”

  “How did you get rid of her?” His voice was soft and filled with curiosity.

  Twisting my lips, I considered whether or not to be honest with him. I didn’t like giving him the idea that I couldn’t do my job. But at the same time, he had helped me, and he deserved to know that. “When you touched me, she left.”

  “Seriously?” He widened his eyes.

  “Yep. You touched me and—” I snapped my fingers. “She left. Just like that.”

  “She reacted to my touching you?”

  “Don’t get too big of a head,” I said. “It was probably a coincidence.” I felt a twinge of guilt at leaving out the part about me stealing some of his energy. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  “Wow. Maybe I’m like the ghost whisperer.” He smirked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d have ejected her one way or another. I have my ways.” Rubbing lavender and Roman chamomile on my body helped rid stubborn spirits, as did burning sage and practicing conscious breathing. But I truly hadn’t had to do any of that since I was a kid. Aunt Agatha’s tenacity had been unusual. There had been a split second where I’d worried she might win.

  “Are you concerned that could happen again?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Not really. I can’t go into a reading fearful. The spirits will sense that and take advantage.”

  “Hmmm. Interesting.”

  I peered out the window as we pulled up to my little yellow house. I felt like I’d been away for weeks. When the car came to a stop, I reached for the handle. I was about to thank him for the ride as I climbed from the car, but his hand on my arm stopped me. His firm fingers were warm on the bare skin of my arm, and I glanced at him warily, shivering.

  He seemed to notice, and he let go of me. “Sorry,” he said.

  “No. It’s okay.” I held his apologetic gaze, feeling uncertain. “Did you need something?”

  Clearing his throat, he said, “I was wondering . . . would you have dinner with me sometime?”

  I blinked at him, shocked at the question. Was he asking me out on a date? I hadn’t been on a date in so long, I couldn’t even remember the last guy’s name. Since Nico’s death, I’d been disinterested in spending time with humans who weren’t paying me for my time. My best friend Claire and the pizza delivery guy were the main humans who I saw on a regular basis.

  “You’re asking me to dinner?” My voice wobbled.

  “Yes.” He laughed nervously. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime this week.”

  “Why?”

  He frowned. “Well, why not?”

  “Because.”

  He laughed. “That’s not really a reason.”

  My eyes slid to my house longingly. “I’m not a social person.”

  To put it mildly.

  “I’m just talking about a quiet dinner. Nowhere fancy.” Ian lifted one shoulder. “I want to be sure you heal properly. I get the feeling you don’t have a lot of people in your life who check on you.”

  “I . . . I have people.”

  “Do you?” He sounded doubtful. “According to the nurses no one came to visit you while you were in the hospital.”

  My face warmed. “I wasn’t there very long.”

  He frowned. “No, but usually someone comes the first night at least. From what I understand, no one came ever.”

  “Is that really any of your business?” I huffed. “Were you all gossiping about me or something?” Would Carli have talked about me behind my back? The thought of that hurt.

  “God, no. I simply overheard the nurses discussing the fact you hadn’t had any visitors. They weren’t judging you. They just felt bad.”

  “That’s worse,” I said. “I don’t need anyone’s pity. Is that why you asked me to dinner? Because you pity me?”

  He winced. “I’m making a huge mess of this. I didn’t ask out of pity. Not at all. I simply thought we might enjoy having a meal together. And at the same time, I could check on your progress. You know, to be sure you’re doing okay.”

  “And why wouldn’t I be?” I wrinkled my brow.

  “You’ve just had surgery. Someone should check on you to be sure you have everything you need to heal.”

  I said, “I have my diet and wound care instructions right here. I’ll be fine.”

  “You experienced a traumatic event.” He frowned. “You almost died. Do you not realize that?”

  “I didn’t die. I’m fine.” My voice was hard.

  “I’d like to keep you that way,” he said stubbornly.

  “Ian, being on my own isn’t a problem. I’m used to taking care of myself.” I tried to soften my tone a little because I suspected he meant well. “I know you think it’s weird I had no visitors, but I prefer it that way.”

  “All I’m suggesting is a casual dinner.”

  I sighed. “I’ll bet you were the kind of kid who brought home stray dogs.”

  “I’m a doctor. Helping is kind of in my DNA.”

  His concern was real. It ebbed and flowed around me, leaving me little doubt he truly was worried about me relapsing. But I didn’t need a babysitter. “I appreciate your concern, truly I do.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

  I lifted one shoulder and gestured to the sheet the nurse had given me. “I don’t think I can eat out with you unless you’re taking me to the hospital cafeteria.”

  He frowned and then smiled contritely. “Oh, right. Only small bland meals for you for a few more days.”

  “See, it just isn’t in the cards, Ian.”

  “Hmmm.” He frowned and then he said, “Oh, I know. I’ll cook for you. I’ll whip up the most boring food you’ve ever tasted.”

  “Uh . . . ”

  “Look, I’m a good guy. Check your crystal ball if you don’t believe me. We can just hang out and have a tasteless meal together.”

  “You really know how to sell yourself.”

  He tugged his cell from his pocket. “Give me your number.”

  “Why?”

  “Because whether you have dinner with me or not, I’m calling to check on you. Someone has to watch out for you, whether you know it or not. People need other people, Lorenzo. I’m not going a week without checking in on you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Someone has to.”

  “Not really.”

  “Lorenzo,” he rumbled.

  “God,” I growled, “you’re so annoying and weird.”

  “So are you. You talk to dead people.” He leaned toward me. “What’s your number? Don’t make me look it up from your records.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  He looked sheepish. “I know. Come on, just give me your number. You don’t want me to worry, right?”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I will. It’s just how I am. Take pity on me.”

  “Fine.” I grudgingly gave him my phone number and then opened the car door. He got out too and came around to assist me. I shrugged off his attempt to help me out of the car. “I’m fine, Ian.” I stepped onto the cobblestone path that led to my house. “You can go now.”

  “I’ll go when you’re in your house.”

  “I’m an adult. Why are you treating me like a child?” I hobbled up the walkway scowling.

  He followed. “I don’t know why someone caring about you is so insulting to you.”

  “I’m not insulted,” I mumbled as I reached the door. I slipped my key into the lock and pushed open the door. He reached up to hold the door open for me, and I got a whiff of his spicy cologne. “There. I’m safe now.”

  He nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow and check in.”

  “So soon?”

  He frowned. “This is your first night home. I need to be sure you survive.”

  “I feel so sorry for your mom.” I closed the screen door and studied him through the mesh. “I’ll bet when you wanted something as a child you were a pain in the ass.”

  He pointed his finger at me and winked. “You know it baby.”

  I laughed in spite of myself. “God, I find you incredibly annoying, but I guess I should thank you for the ride home.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  I felt weird shutting the door in his face, but he wasn’t walking away, so he wasn’t giving me much choice. “Night.” I closed the door halfway, and when I peeked he was still standing there. I opened it again. “You have to go now.”

  He grinned. “I will. Don’t worry about it.”

  I sighed. “Okay, well, I really am closing it now.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I shut the door. Through the wood I heard his chuckle, and a few moments later, the sound of his engine starting as he drove away. I leaned against the door feeling oddly lighthearted. At first, I didn’t recognize what the feeling was because I hadn’t felt it in so long.

  Ian was definitely not who I’d thought he was. That first meeting had made me think he was an arrogant jerk, but now I recognized his boorish behavior for what it had actually been. He’d been looking out for Mrs. Beckom. Someone he cared about. He was a man who cared about others, and he didn’t just say that, he acted on it.

  He intrigued me. I didn’t want to be curious about him, but he had a warm, uplifting energy. I was drawn to him in spite of myself. I had no doubt he’d check on me just as he’d promised. At the thought of seeing him again, I felt another long-forgotten emotion: anticipation.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, as I attempted to eat a bland breakfast of oatmeal, my best friend Claire called to check up on me and chat about her vacation.

  “I go away for one week and you have an emergency appendectomy?” Claire’s tone was disbelieving. We’d known each other since high school and grown even closer after Nico died. Claire was the one person in this world I truly believed cared about me.

  I sighed and adjusted the phone against my ear. “I’m fine. I promise. I shouldn’t have even told you because now all you’ll do is worry.”

  “You’d better not keep that kind of thing a secret from me.”

  “Well, if you’re going to get upset . . . ”

  “I’m concerned. It’s allowed.” She exhaled.

  “I know. I know,” I said guiltily. I struggled with the worry that people’s concern was truly pity. I hated pity. But I needed to remember this was Claire, and she actually cared about me on a deeper level. “My hospital stay was a drag. Not because of the nurses or anything but because there were so many damn ghosts circling me.”

  “Oh, dear. That’s not good.”

  “No. I haven’t puked that much in years. There were so many of them, it was impossible to time my pain medication to keep them out of my head.” I shivered. “Some of the spirits pissed me off with their whining, but some of them were so tragic, it was hard not to feel depressed.” Memories of the little girl ghost made my chest ache. She’d been so young and needy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her.

  “Gosh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I know how much you hate hospitals.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m home now.” I stirred the oatmeal, trying to force myself to take a bite. I grabbed the bottle of honey on the table and poured a big glob on top, hoping that might help the boring flavor.

  “You said some doctor gave you a ride home?”

  “Yes.” I tasted the oatmeal, grimacing. The honey wasn’t helping. It might even have made it worse because now it was cold and sticky.

  “But you don’t know him?”

  “Not really. We met once before my hospital trip.” I laughed. “He was with a client at my shop. He thought I was trying to swindle her.”

  “Were you trying to swindle her?” She sounded amused.

  I grimaced. “She got her money’s worth. There was no swindling.”

  “I’m teasing, but I know business is slow this time of year.”

  “Yes.” I glanced down at the bowl of plain oatmeal congealing before me. “I need to advertise or something, but it’s so expensive.”

  “I could loan you some money,” she said brightly.

  I winced. “No, thank you.”

  “You’re too prideful. There’s nothing wrong with loaning a friend money.”

  “I know. If I need money, I’ll ask. Okay?” As I spoke my eyes settled on the stack of unpaid bills on the kitchen table.

  “No you won’t,” she grumbled. “We both know you won’t.”

  “Come on, Claire,” I complained. “Can’t we have a nice conversation? I don’t want to talk about money right now.”

  “Fine.” She sighed. “So, if this doctor guy thought you were a crook, why would he offer you a ride home?”

  “He changed his mind about me.”

  “Did he?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yes. His friend found her cat, safe and sound as promised. He had no choice other than to admit my dazzling talent is legit. He even apologized.”

  She laughed. “Wow.”

  “Well, he saw up close and personal that I still have a tube TV and not a flat screen. I’m not cleaning out people’s bank accounts or conning them.”

  “No. That would be Weston Bartholomew’s MO, not yours.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Maybe I should take a cue from Weston. He’s obviously doing better than me. He even has ads on bus benches now. The best I can do is pass out fliers at the grocery store.”

  “Don’t even jest. You have too much integrity to ever go down that road.”

  I pinched the skin between my eyes. “You can’t eat integrity.”

  “No, but you’d hate yourself if you did anything more than stretch out sessions occasionally.”

  “True.” I stood and took my half-eaten bowl of oatmeal to the sink. I washed it down the drain, shuddering. I didn’t love oatmeal on the best of days, but cold oatmeal was an abomination. “I wish you were here. I miss you.”

  Her voice gentled. “I miss you too. I’m sorry I’m on vacation, Lorenzo. I should have been there to help out. Instead you needed a stranger to help you.”

  “It was fine. It was just a ride home.”

  “I know. I also know you don’t like trusting strangers.”

  “No. I don’t. But I’m not a little kid anymore,” I said quietly. “I can handle myself now. He . . . he was just being a nice guy. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Yes, there are a lot of horrible people in the world. I . . . I know that better than anyone. But he did nothing wrong. He just wanted to help me.”

  She hesitated. “If he was a creep would you be able to sense that?

  “I think so.” I grimaced. “He’s not a creep though. He’s a respected doctor. He was simply being kind.”

  “I just worry about you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Claire had always been protective of me, ever since we were kids. But while I appreciated her concern, I didn’t want to only talk about myself. “Tell me about your trip. Are you having fun?”

  She groaned. “Kind of?”

  “Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

  “Well, Steven is driving me crazy.” Claire lowered her voice. “He’s acting all jealous and stuff. We took surfing lessons this morning, and he acted like the instructor was trying to run off with me.”

  I grinned. “Were you flirting with the guy?” Odds were she had been. Claire couldn’t help flirting, and she went through men like tissues.

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Come on. You can tell me the truth. You were flirting, weren’t you?”

  She gave a guilty laugh. “The surfing instructor was so hot. Blond, tanned and blue eyed. He was yummy. You’d have loved him.” She laughed even harder. “Okay, maybe I was flirting a little.”

  “Well, knock it off. You have a man already. Leave some for the rest of us.”

  “Pfft. As if you’re in the market.”

  “You never know.” I thought about Ian and his warm brown eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll end my self-imposed dry spell.” Not that I had any plans to make a move on Ian anytime soon. Besides, for all I knew his concern for me was purely platonic. He was a caring guy. Wanting to check on me didn’t equal romantic interest. Which was a good thing because I didn’t want romance in my life. Right? Besides, who was I kidding? Ian was way out of my league. If he was into me, sex might be fun, but I didn’t have the energy to become emotionally invested in anything.