I Want You Back (Want You #1)(22)

I’d nearly made it through the swinging door, when I remembered Dallas mentioning the small empty storefront on the end of the block, so I stopped and faced her. “Oh, hey, you mentioned an idea for that tiny storefront too?”

“Yep. Ghost tours.”

I froze. Of all the things she could’ve suggested . . . how had she come up with that?

“This block is haunted, Jax. Like seriously haunted. I feel it. I did some research on the history, and there were a bunch of murders around here that never were solved. The Mill District has a violent and criminal past. Sharing those stories . . . lots of juicy stuff, and no other tour company is working this angle. It would be seasonal, so if we kept it open in the off-season, we could also sell books on local legends and period-authentic trinkets, which would fit into the speakeasy theme.”

“It’s something to consider after we’re done with the bigger projects.”

She smirked. “At least you didn’t say no outright.”

After I passed into the storage area, I pressed my back against the brick wall and closed my eyes.

Ghost tours.

I hadn’t thought about that in a long damn time.

Weren’t you just mooning over the first time you met Lucy? It shocked the hell out of you that she’d picked something so random for your third date . . .



* * *



? ? ?

Once again we’d met in the pizza parking lot. This time Lucy insisted on driving.

It’d rained off and on all day. The air remained oppressively damp with a heavy mist that created sporadic banks of fog.

Lucy wore a smirk during the drive to wherever she was taking us. A smirk and a trench coat. My mind drifted to a scene where lovely Lucy wore that trench coat, a pair of fire-engine red stilettos and nothing else except a naughty challenge in her big brown eyes.

“You okay over there?” she asked, ripping me out of the fantasy.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Sounded like you growled.”

Busted. “Nope. Just cleared the frog out of my throat.”

“Well, it’s the weather for it.”

This relationship was still too damn new for our small talk to revolve around the weather. “This miserable drizzle doesn’t put a crimp in our date plans?”

Her smirk bloomed into an all-out grin. “Actually it’s the perfect condition for tonight.”

“It’s pointless to ask where you’re taking me, isn’t it?”

“Downtown St. Paul.”

I’d spent some time in St. Paul—growing up in the Twin Cities, the suburbs flowed together. I’d spent the most time at the Xcel Energy Center playing hockey. I knew she wasn’t surprising me with tickets to a hockey game since the Minnesota Wild had blown their playoff chances the same as we had.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward, just there. That’s probably why I noticed steel guitars and tight harmonies drifting from the radio.

Interesting. I wouldn’t have pegged her as a country music fan.

Lucy took us straight into the heart of downtown and chose a nearly empty parking lot close to the capitol building.

Before we exited the car, I said, “Did you bring an umbrella?”

“Shoot. I forgot one.” She reached over and popped open the glove compartment, the underside of her arm brushing the inside of my knee as she rooted around for something. “Aha, got it.”

I eyed the piece of plastic that looked like a curved set of teeth. “How exactly is that supposed to keep us from getting wet?”

“It’s not.” She laughed and then twisted all that glorious hair into a knot at the back of her head and attached the big clip thingy. “There. Now at least my hair will be out of my face when we do get drenched.”

I felt desperate to know what she would do if I leaned in to taste her beautiful neck, trailing my mouth from the hollow below her ear down the side of her throat. Would she squirm away from me? Or melt into me?

“Come on, we have to check in.”

Please, god. Let us be checking into the Saint Paul Hotel just down the road.

She reached for my hand, and we started off at a good clip down the sidewalk. That’s when I noticed she wore rain boots. Not just any rain boots, but screaming-ass red rain boots dotted with sunflowers. That quirky touch was as damn sexy as my vision of her sauntering toward me in high heels.

If I didn’t get to touch this woman soon I might lose my mind.

We passed the Saint Paul Hotel—pity that—and crossed the street. The buildings here were a little worse for the wear, and I couldn’t imagine there’d be any date-worthy activity down here.

That’s when we stopped in front of a recently renovated storefront. The fancy lettering in the glass pane above the door read: HISTORIC TOURS.

I felt Lucy watching me and I met her gaze. “What’s this?”

“A ghost tour.”

“Seriously?” I paused. “Did you choose this because I mentioned you disappearing on me?”

“Maybe. But since neither of us are history fans, I figured taking a historically based ghost tour isn’t something we would do on our own, so this activity fulfills your date challenge to me, doesn’t it?”

I tried to hold back a laugh but couldn’t. “Jesus. You are a literal smartass.”