When she spoke to her bestie, Tori Littlemoon, her friend told her don’t ask questions that she didn’t want to know the answer to, and that said it all.
When Tori said that, it was never good.
So, she didn’t ask, which made it a million times worse to know it was there.
Oh, Callen was in so much trouble for buying her a haunted mansion. He could have bought an apartment building, and they each could have had a space, but no.
They were sharing it with the dead.
Did she mention the small family cemetery attached to the grounds?
No?
There was a reason.
She liked her deadFARfrom her when they were put in the ground. No one needed to take a walk in the yard and trip over a tombstone.
NO.
ONE.
Like her life wasn’t filled with enough creepy shit.
Now, when she was getting her rocks off with her men, something was making it a peep show.
Oh.
Hell.
No.
So, when Ethan wanted to be here as often as he could, and Wyler too, she was more than happy to tag along. She’d rather stay in the cabin on the rez instead of the house that greedy gold barons built.
Don’t get her wrong.
The reservation was haunted, but there were no dancing debutants turning on music at all hours of the night.
Imagine her horror as she went to get a snacky-snack after some sex, and walked by the ballroom, yes, the ballroom, and caught two people dancing from the corner of her eye.
What the hell?
And the music playing.
From what?
She had no goddamn clue, but waltzes at three in the morning were not her crazy, and never her rodeo.
PERIOD.
All she knew was this mausoleum of nightmares was going to be donated to some historical society as soon as they were the hell out of there.
Bet.
On.
It.
There was no way she was getting woken up to a waltz at the witching hour. There was no way she was getting tapped to take a spin around the ballroom.
