“It’s a pleasure, Ian,” he says as he seemingly pumps Ian’s hands with far more gusto than he had mine. “I appreciate you coming.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, the room is beautiful,” Ian tells him with a dazzling smile.
“Any other guests in there?” Roger winks slyly.
“Not as of yet, but I have all my equipment ready,” Ian tells him.
I am so confused. Are they referring to me as if I’m not there? I’d been interested in Ian’s “equipment” right before this conversation, but am not so sure now.
“I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” I ask as politely and mildly as possible.
“My apologies, Kat,” he laughs and looks at Roger. “Kat and I are extremely new friends. We haven’t even talked about our careers or what we are doing here.”
Understanding dawns on Roger’s face and I can almost see him replaying the conversation, his embarrassment splashed in red on his face. “Oh, how rude I am. I just assumed as two bloggers that you know each other.”
I look at Ian expectantly, who smiles at me. “Ian Everly of ‘Ian Sees Dead People’ blog.”
I’d originally been partially laughing at Roger assuming all bloggers know each other, but realize that those of us with the bigger bases do at least know of each other. Not only had I heard of Ian’s blog, but my manager had tried to set up a joint effort on Halloween a few years ago. We had both been invited to Savannah, Georgia to a creepy, old hotel that was playing up it’s apparent ghost surplus for the season.
I’d read some of his posts and had been impressed with his prose as well as his more grounded approach to supernatural subjects and had been about to accept the offer to team up for the weekend when The Travel Channel had offered me a guest segment on a show spotlighting The Seychelles. If I’d seen his photos, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have given The Travel Channel the bird and jumped the first plane to Savannah.
“Kat Clary of the ‘Clary on Luggage’ blog,” I say, shaking my head with a laugh.
“I thought you looked familiar,” he says, those nearly ebony eyes sparkling.
“So you DO know of each other,” Roger laughed, with relief edging into his near-guffaw.
“We do,” Ian says, looking at me and raising his eyebrows. “You ditched me for The Travel Channel.” I laugh and before I can answer he goes on, “It’s fine. Even I’d ditch me for that.”
“Now that I’ve met you, I regret it,” I say shyly, before I can stop myself. He meets my eyes and we stare at each other heatedly, which must have been even more confusing for poor Roger.
“Well,” Roger says awkwardly as he claps his hands together. “I just wanted to introduce myself and welcome you both. Please see me if there is anything I can do for you during your stay.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile still tinted with the euphoria of my meet-cute with Ian. “It was lovely to meet you.”
Roger nods warmly as he backs away and I look at Ian with a laugh. “Well, that was funny.”
“Indeed,” he says, swirling his drink. “So we have a do-over of Savannah.”
“How about an unofficial crossover?” I ask, leaning back and taking him in.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he nods with a curve of his lips. “Are you here for a special Halloween feature? I find it incredible that we find ourselves here together at the same time.”
“Technically I’m here for my high school reunion,” I tell him, stiffening slightly and hope it isn’t noticeable. “The hotel is hosting it, so it seemed like an opportune time to accept their offer to do a feature.”
“You’re a Massachusetts girl,” he comments, running his hand through his hair, dislodging a dark curl.
“Born and raised,” I say as I trace the wide lip of the martini glass with my finger, avoiding his eyes. “Until I was 17, then we moved to California and I’ve been there ever since.”
“You can take the girl out of Massachusetts but can’t take the Massachusetts out of the girl and all that?”
“Ha,” I comment humorlessly. “I’d say every last bit of Massachusetts left this girl roughly as I crossed the border.”
“Do I detect disdain?” he asks with amusement.
“Indeed you do,” I tell him with a shrug, looking down. “I don’t belong here.”
“I’d say you belong anywhere you inhabit, Kat. You seem like the type of woman anyone would want to welcome.” The sound of my name on his tongue gives me a pleasing quiver.
The compliment warms me, but I am still so incredibly eager to stop talking about my past. “So, you’re based in L.A. too, aren’t you?” I say, quickly changing the subject, trying to ignore the curiosity in his eyes.
“I am,” he says sipping the amber liquid in his tumbler. I can see in his eyes that he’s consciously thought better of pursuing the previous subject, despite how much he clearly wants to. I can see he is astute, observant and clearly intelligent. “I have been there my whole life.”
“How did you get into the paranormal, Ian?” I ask, thankful that he’s let me off the hook as I relax back again.
“The paranormal got into me,” he tells me with a wry smile. “When I was eight, I woke up in the night to find my favorite aunt sitting on my bed, looking at me. I tried to talk to her but she just sat there smiling at me. When I got up to turn on the light I turned around and she was gone. I didn’t know what to do, so I just went back to sleep, figuring she was staying the night and my mom had just forgotten to tell me. When I woke up I found out she had died the night before. At exactly 1:09am, when I’d seen her on my bed. She’d been leaving a
