The Last Boyfriend

come over for dinner, and Carolee, too. You and Ry are probably ready for a beer and some food.”

“I’ve been ready.”

“Go get her going then. She’ll listen to you. I’d better run over and warn my crew we’re having a party of many coming in. I’ll see if I can take over the back room for you.”

“Us. You’ve got to eat.”

Amused, she angled her head. “Keeping your eye out for me?”

“I’m an obedient son.”

“When it suits you. See you over there.”

They separated, but as she passed Elizabeth and Darcy, Avery heard voices. Assuming part of the tour had stopped at that point, she eased open the door.

There was Murphy in the empty room, standing by the open door of the porch, chattering away. To no one.

“Murph?”

“Hi!”

“Hi. Baby, it’s cold out. You can’t open the doors.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t touch anything. She likes to go out so she can see.”

Cautious, Avery crossed to the door, hunched against the cold as she looked up and down the porch. “Who likes to go out?”

“The lady. She says I can call her Lizzy like Beckett does.”

“Oh.” Avery felt a chill now that had nothing to do with the open door. “Oh boy. Um . . . is she here now?”

“Right out there, by the rail.” He pointed. “She said not to come out, ’cause my mom would worry.”

“She’s got that right.”

“She’s waiting.”

“She is? For what?”

“For Billy. Are we gonna get pizza now?”

“Ah . . . yeah, in a minute.” Avery jumped like a rabbit when the door opened from the hall. Then she laughed, weakly, when Owen stared at her. “We’re just . . . I don’t know. Murphy, I hear your mom and Beck upstairs. You go on up, okay? And promise me you’ll stay right with them.”

“Okay. I just wanted to see Lizzy. She likes to have somebody to talk to. Bye!”

“Holy shit,” Avery said when he scrambled out. “I heard people—and I mean people talking, so I opened the door. All I saw was Murphy, and the open door. But he said the lady—Lizzy—is standing out there by the rail. He sees her, and he talks to her. I heard voices, Owen, not just a voice. And—”

“Slow down, take a breath.”

He came in, shut the porch door.

“But she’s out there. Shouldn’t you wait until she comes back in?”

“I think she can handle it.”

“And maybe she is back in.” Wide-eyed, Avery leaned back on the door. “That was so . . . so cool! Murphy Brewster, Ghost Whisperer. He said she’s waiting for somebody named Billy. I have got to stay in this room. Maybe I’d have a close encounter—except that’s aliens, isn’t it? Wow.”

This time Owen set his hands on her shoulders. She revved like an engine. “Now take another breath.”

“I’m okay. It’s exciting, and a little unnerving—but in a really cool way. Why are you so calm?”

“You sucked in all the excitement. Waiting for Billy?”

“That’s what Murphy said, and he seems to have a direct line. Maybe Billy’s her husband, or lover.”

“Husbands are generally lovers.”

“You know what I mean. And she’s been waiting for him here all these years. Just waiting for her Billy. It’s so romantic.”

“Sounds tragic to me.”

“No, well, yes, but romantic, too. A love that’s eternal, that lasts—because they rarely do in reality, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” he began, but she was still bubbling over.

“It holds her here because this love is powerful. It’s magic. It’s what matters most. It’s—”

The door at her back pushed open, knocking her forward and straight into Owen. His arms came tight around to balance her as she tipped back her head, looked up into his eyes. “Everything,” she finished.

He didn’t speak. They stood there, bodies pressed with the open door at her back, and the sound of running and laughter streaming down the hall outside the room.

He thought, what the hell? What the hell?

Then his mouth was on hers, and her fingers dived into his hair.

Hot and bright—it’s how he thought of her, how the kiss struck him now. Hot and bright, full of light and energy. Of Avery.

Everything went frantic, breathless, with a sharp, grinding need in his center, a heated rush under his skin. He lost track of everything else, everything beyond the taste and movement of her, the demands of her mouth, the scent of lemons and of honeysuckle.

She balanced on her toes, clamped against him like a vise while the thrill and wonder ran a river through her. She let it rage, a fast, tumultuous ride that swept her toward the unknown even as it trapped her in the moment.

He broke away first, stared down at her like a man coming out of a trance. “What was that? What was that?”

“I don’t know.” And wasn’t sure she cared, not when his arms tightened around her again. She held that shimmering instant, leaned in.

Someone banged on the door.

“Owen? Avery?” Beckett called out. “What’s going on? Unlock the damn door.”

“Hold on.” Carefully, Owen released Avery. “Hold on,” he repeated, to her this time. Catching his breath, he crossed to the door. It opened smoothly.

“What the hell?” Beckett demanded, then tracked his gaze to the open porch door. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing. It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Murphy said you and Avery were in here.” Beckett glanced over his shoulder to make sure the kids weren’t close by. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. All good. We’re, ah, going for pizza.”

“Right. Make sure that door’s shut.”

“I’ve got it.” Quietly, Avery shut the porch door, turned the latch.

“Good enough. I’ll see you at Vesta.”

Beckett gave them both one last look before he walked away.

Staring at Avery, Owen stood where he was, one hand on the knob of the open door.

“I guess that was weird,” she began. “Was that weird?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess . . . all that talk about romance and love . . . It just triggered whatever.”

“Yeah. Probably. Okay.”

She took a long breath, crossed to him. “I don’t want it to be weird.”

“Okay.”

“We should probably get out of here. This room, I mean.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going over to give Dave a hand.”

“Okay.”

She punched him in the chest. “Is that all you can say? Okay, okay, okay?”

“Right now it seems safest.”

“Safest, my ass.” She let out a long breath again. “It’s not going to be weird, and don’t say okay.”