Title: The Ghost and Charlie Muir
Bad enough the big old house Charlie Muir inherits is next door to Ian Gregg, the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen—it also happens to be occupied by Rachel, the ghost who keeps running off his dates. It’s impossible to get any loving when the bed starts shaking…and not because you’re having fun in it.
When Ian helps Charlie search for the source of strange noises in his house, they stumble upon a stack of photographs hiding century-old secrets. Curious of the friendship between the two men pictured, Charlie and Ian set off to solve the mystery of their relationship. With the help of the meddling ghost, a magical mirror, and a way too Smart TV, they find answers…and more.
And as things heat up between Charlie and Ian, they begin to wonder if Rachel’s meddling has gone too far.
Doesn’t Rachel know Ian is straight?
Or is he?
That kiss they shared the other night sure didn’t seem like it.
Or the one after that…
“You’re not wearing your other clothes.”
Charlie propped himself up on his hands. Sunlight glinted off his golden-brown hair and brightened the hairs on his forearms, adding to the glow that drew Ian in.
“My other cl…oh.” He glanced down. “My vintage stuff, you mean. Yeah, well, I didn’t want to get them all messed up.”
“I didn’t think you owned anything normal.” As soon as Ian said the words, he wanted to grab them back at the hurt in Charlie’s eyes. Ian rushed to apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you did,” Charlie said stiffly. “But it’s not the first time I’ve heard it. It doesn’t bother me. It’s who I am. Like some guys wear makeup or are covered in tattoos. I like vintage clothes.” Averting his eyes, Charlie stood and propped himself against the tree. His head hung low, gaze fixed on the grass at his feet. “Can we do what we came for, or would you rather not? You don’t have to anymore if it’s not your thing. I understand. You probably have better things to do with your Saturday.”
Rarely had Ian regretted his words more than at that moment. “No, I can’t forget. It was a stupid thing to say, and I’m owning up to it. I thought you only owned your funky kind of stuff. So I apologize.” He held out his hand. “Forgive me?”
Charlie’s gaze flickered upward, and at the darkness Ian saw, something painful twisted inside him.
“Okay,” Charlie said. “Sorry if I’m touchy. I already told you I got made fun of a lot growing up. It wasn’t only ’cause I was a foster kid, but I dressed like this in high school. Some kids were goth. I was vintage. So the popular kids would call me weirdo and all sorts of other names. I thought I’d put it behind me, but…” He shrugged. “Anyway, apology accepted.”
Charlie grasped Ian’s hand, and that same peculiar warmth seeped through Ian as when they’d touched before. He wanted to hold on, but Charlie let go and moved away.
“Let’s start for real.”
He allowed Charlie to take the lead, and together they circled the big tree, stepping over the exposed roots. Ian didn’t expect to find anything. After all, the events occurred over one hundred years earlier. Still, you never knew.
That crow continued to squawk its ass off, and soon, another, slightly smaller one joined it on the tree branch. Ian wondered if it was its mate.
And that’s how Ian knew he’d gone off the deep end, when on a beautiful Saturday afternoon he was feeling up a tree, thinking about two dead gay guys and crows rather than hanging out with his friends, watching the ball game. Yet, he mused, watching Charlie stop to examine something closer on the trunk, he had no desire to be anywhere else.
How fucked up in the head was he?
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