Chapter 24

The next day, at the abandoned office building, Lucky began to realize she’d landed herself in a hell of a situation.

This was why literally everyone advised against dating coworkers—a lesson she didn’t think she’d ever need to learn. Maverick was standing right next to her. Right there. So close. And she had to keep her damn hands to herself. They hadn’t had a single moment alone since leaving the park last night and the day wasn’t looking any better.

Georgia finished checking Rebel’s camera and mic. “The concept for this location is to film as if you’re sneaking inside. You’ll go through the underground parking garage to the elevator then up to the second floor, down to the first, and exit through the front doors where I’ll be waiting. That’s it, little miss. Are we clear?”

“Crystal!” Rebel beamed.

“All right. Are you excited?”

“Yep!”

“Nervous?”

“A little?”

“Camera and microphone charged and ready?”

“Ready!”

Georgia unclipped a walkie from her back pocket. A gold strip of tape on the front had REBEL written across it. “We’re on channel two.”

Rebel bounced on the tips of her toes as she took it. Lucky briefly wondered why they didn’t use walkies last night, but didn’t ask.

“That stays on,” Georgia warned. “You answer when called and you call when you need backup. Are we crystal clear?”

“Sparkling!”

“Trackers on. Timers set: ninety minutes on my mark for check-in. Safe word”—Georgia paused, grinning devilishly—“happy family.”

“That’s two words,” Maverick complained as he set his watch. “And uncalled for.”

“I call it like I see it, Super Dad.”

Lucky crossed her arms, leaning away from him. If a stiff breeze blew their way and she smelled a hint of his cocoa butter and mint combo…She needed Maverick to touch her again. Now.

Objectively, she knew she was touch-starved. Classic textbook case. Subjectively, Maverick was the only remedy for her. How was she supposed to focus on work under these conditions?

Rebel said, “Dad, you can’t say anything. It’s not your show.”

Maverick mimed zipping his lips, twisting a key, and then handing it to Rebel.

She took it and said, “And make sure you get good footage. Don’t just film me the whole time like you did at the talent show. I mean it. You have to get everything.”

He held up his hands in surrender. It’d be the three of them for the shoot.

Rebel had a clear vision of what she wanted. She began by filming a scene of her quietly deciding where they should go first by listing the pros and cons of her pre-approved locations before announcing they’d go in through the parking garage.

Lucky held her camera steady to create a static overhead shot of Rebel holding the map. Her knees buckled when Maverick pressed his hand gently against her lower back as he watched over her shoulder. She slowly turned her head and blinked at him.

His guilty, amused smile as he stepped back gave him away. He did that on purpose.

They traveled through the parking garage and reached the set of elevators quickly. Inside, Maverick tapped Lucky on the shoulder and pointed to the reflective stainless-steel door. She checked the camera to see if they appeared in it—they did—and silently indicated to Rebel to lower the camera.

At least he wasn’t distracted and was on his game. One of them had to be.

On the second floor, the doors opened to a darkened room. They were greeted by one of those cloth cubicle walls extending in both directions. A flyer had been pinned to it, now stiff and yellowed with age: Misuse of company supplies is considered theft! Reduce crime by recycling!

Rebel asked, “Which way should we go?”

“Wait.” Lucky placed a firm hand on Rebel’s shoulder to keep her from going any farther.

Maverick stood at her side. The front of his clothes brushed against her arm, followed by the gentle warm touch of his hand as he held her wrist to check in. Why are you going off script?

She forced herself to pull away from him to concentrate. Almost immediately, something told her to leave. Very rarely was her gut so insistent—it felt like it was retreating toward her spine as if that alone could turn her around.

For all its flowers and chills, Hennessee House had never once felt threatening in the way this floor did. Something invisible but tangible in the air pressed against her the moment the doors opened. It slowly tickled up her body like fingers eager to strangle her.

Using her agreed-upon voice, she said, “We can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

She chose her words carefully. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Rebel didn’t hesitate, leaping to the back wall of the elevator.

Maverick gave Lucky a questioning look—instead of responding, she hit the button for the first floor.

“Did you have a gut feeling?” Rebel asked, wide-eyed.

Maverick had asked Lucky to explain her stomachache system over breakfast. “I did.”

“What was it like? People will want to know.”

Lucky almost laughed, but her still-jangled nerves held her back. Rebel was truly her father’s daughter, interview skills out in full force. “You know I’m not good at explaining.”

“Well, how are you going to get better if you don’t practice?”

Maverick barely concealed his snort.

She glared at him. Not the whole family treating her like this. She said, “It was like a…like a clear bubble. I could feel it touching me. Walking through it would’ve been a very bad idea.”

On the first floor, however, Lucky didn’t feel any resistance, so they freely explored the semi-dark office space. It smelled like a mixture of cleaning solution and mildew. Soggy carpet squished under their shoes with every step. Overhead the florescent lights that worked bathed everything in a sickly yellow glow. Laminated labor law notices and employer memos still covered the walls, while desk chairs appeared in random places, like in the middle of walkways.

Rebel stated her line from the script: “Did you see which way they went?” She was supposed to see someone on the second floor and follow them down to the first.

“I didn’t,” Lucky said, using her calming voice. “I never did. Are you sure you saw someone?”

“I’m sure.”

“Why would anyone be here?”

“Well, we are.”

Lucky laughed. “Good point. I meant why would anyone else be here, Shortcake? Maybe we should head back.”

“What if they’re in trouble and they need our help, but they’re too scared to talk to anyone?”

“Those are very admirable sentiments,” Lucky said. “But I’m afraid not everyone thinks like you.”

Rebel turned left toward a conference room. “Let’s look in here.”

They walked inside a long rectangular room with a large oval-shaped table in the center. As expected, there were no chairs. Rebel narrated as she looked under the table, behind the doors, and inside of an already-open closet. “No one in here. I don’t understand how they moved so fast. We should’ve caught up to them by now.”

“Maybe they don’t want to be found.”

“You’re doing great,” Maverick whispered close to her ear. His fingers covertly traced the lines in her palm. The surprising intimacy of the moment nearly took her breath away.

Sometimes, she wished she’d been born with that reckless abandon she’d read in some people. The desire for physical connection burning like smothered coal inside of them, the smoke fogging up their brain and blurring their senses, including the common one. So overwhelmed and confused as to how suddenly, the only thing that mattered, that made sense in the world, was the person standing in front of her. But she thought too much. Considered every angle. Her body perpetually stuck in neutral, rolling along.

Her desire for Maverick Phillips wasn’t like that at all, but she wasn’t empty. It wasn’t a passive want. It was yearning—a desperate ache pulling her heartstrings taut as hot wire.

Now yearning? That one could make her jump, make her bold and daring, but even still she would never lose control. Make a fool of herself? Sure. Absolutely. But lose control? Never. Being honest, she’d never experienced this specific flavor of yearning before. It was like a new ingredient waiting to be identified and added to her arsenal.

They’d almost made a full loop of the first floor and the elevator doors were in sight when an office door began to open. Light spilled into the hallway from somewhere farther in the room.

Rebel stumbled before backing up against the far wall.

Lucky’s attention snapped toward her. On guard, she asked, “Are we okay?”

“Do you think someone is in there?”

“I don’t know.”

Rebel began to whine, biting her lip while her breathing became uneven.

Lucky could practically feel Maverick shift from producer to dad, ready to tell her she could stop. “R—” The sound had barely left his mouth when Lucky put her hand up. She eyed him seriously, shaking her head. She felt just as in tune as she had on the elevator. Rebel needed reassurance and it was Lucky’s job to give that to her.

“Why don’t we try a new angle?” Lucky knelt in front of Rebel, carefully pushing the camera away and toward the open door. “How about a bird’s-eye view?”

She whimpered, “What’s that?”

“I’ll give you a piggyback ride. You film, I walk.”

“What if there’s a ghost?”

“I’ll beat him up,” she said with certainty.

The smallest smile broke through her terror. “You can’t beat up a ghost.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“They don’t have a corporeal form,” she said. “And you’re not supposed to hit people. Or former people. You’re supposed to use your words.”

“Well, where I’m from we use our legs, which would technically be kicking. You know what else legs are good for? Running. I’m really good at that too.” She lowered her voice to make a vow she intended to keep; ghosts be damned. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Do you promise?”

Lucky smiled. “Cross my heart, Shortcake.” She turned around and Rebel climbed on her back. She stood up and asked, “Camera in focus?”

“Yes.”

“Ready?”

“Maybe.”

“Which way? I’m only going where you tell me.”

“Straight ahead, please.”

As Lucky suspected, they were able to pass by the room without incident. Rebel made it clear she didn’t want to go inside, so they continued on, to the front entrance.

“Phew.” Rebel laughed the last of her fears away after turning off her camera. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Maverick smiled. “Then that’s officially a wrap on Shortcake.”

Later that night, Lucky quietly walked past a sleeping Georgia and opened their door to find Maverick standing down the hall with his hand still on his doorknob too. In the morning, she wouldn’t remember closing the door. The feel of the hardwood floor, the sound of her quick steps, the breathlessness in her lungs—all of it lost to the fickle whims of her surprisingly fallible short-term memory.

But the moment he was within reach, the second it took to jump high enough, the way he smoothly caught her, and the feel of his lips as he smiled and whispered “I missed you” against hers would stay with her forever. She’d been waiting all morning, all afternoon, all night for this.

Maverick carried her down the hall. They passed the living room, couches, and the kitchen table, and headed straight outside for the tree house. The cool, post-midnight air helped clear Lucky’s head. The amount of time she spent thinking about him…whew. She shivered, holding on to him tighter.

“We should be okay to talk out here.” He retrieved a thick, folded blanket from the corner because he always had a plan. “For you.”

A single yellow sunflower. “Thank you.”

“Because in that creepy yellow office, you kept your promise to me and Rebel.” He shook out the blanket before wrapping it around his shoulders and gesturing for her to come sit with him.

Suddenly feeling absurdly bashful, she watched his face as she slowly went to him to gauge his reaction.

Ever patient, as always.

She sat with her back to his front, cradled by his legs. He pulled the blanket around her, making sure she’d be covered and warm. Her chest felt tight with something she refused to name.

“How did you know something was off on the second floor?” he asked. “I wouldn’t call myself sensitive or anything, but I do get bad feelings from time to time on some shoots. I didn’t feel anything today.”

“I could try teaching you,” she offered. “Your lucid dreams suggest you’d have the aptitude for it. You’re also very self-aware, which is important.”

“No.” She felt him shake his head. “No. I don’t want to…expand my dreams or learn anything new about them. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Okay,” she said, a little disappointed. “Well, there are different levels of sensitivity, I think. You might only be able to pick up on the threats that are impossible to ignore. That one was subtle but also too eager, which was where it messed up. I could feel it wanting to latch on to me. I didn’t want to risk it spreading to you or Rebel.”

Maverick tightened his embrace, pulling her against him as if he wanted to protect her. “What do you think it was?”

“I honestly don’t know. It’s not something I’d usually investigate, not anymore.” She smiled. “I’ve settled on sticking to human-based supernatural phenomenon. My wild days are mostly over.”

“You’re living in a haunted house. That’s pretty wild.”

She laughed. “Hennessee is my last hurrah and it’s a good one. Its secrets are worth discovering. I know they are. I can feel it.”

“Hmm.”

When he hooked his chin around her shoulder, pressing their cheeks together, she said, “I really rocket-launched myself at you in the house. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I’m glad you did. I was dying.” He kissed her cheek twice, then moved to the front of her ear and down the side of her neck. Stopping there he inhaled, slow and deep, and sighed contentedly. He whispered, tone thick with disbelief, “My god.”

Lucky closed her eyes to savor the feeling of his breath tickling across her skin—and immediately regretted it. Everything about him was overwhelming her. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be. She balled her hands into fists, pressing them into her thighs to stay grounded. Something deep in the recesses of her brain recognized him as if she’d known it was always supposed to be this way. As if she were seeing him again for the first time after years and years apart, her patience finally rewarded.

She asked, “How do you feel about sex?”

“Right now?”

“In general, please.” She laughed.

“Okay, yeah, ’cause I was gonna say I didn’t think we were coming out here for that because…slow. We’re still going slow, right?”

“Yeah. Slow.” Existential panic hit her like a guillotine. “I’m not asking to have sex right now or ever, that’s also on the table if that’s what you need, but I don’t want there to be any miscommunication. It’s important to me that we talk about it first. Soon, if possible.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ about what I have to say. Honestly, I’m expecting it to be the start of an engaging and enlightening conversation like all the other things we talk about. We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

He laughed, chest rumbling against her back. “I’d expect nothing less. You’re really something, you know that?”

“I do not know that but thank you.”

Maverick kissed her again and that heady, overpowering feeling flared back to life between them until they snuck back into the house and into their respective rooms.

Unable to sleep, Lucky lay awake staring at the ceiling. How in the hell was she going to make this last?