“Dammit, Cher!” I reached out to whack her in the ankle with my free hand.
She laughed, skipping out of my way and heading back to the dark corner she’d been working in.
The boiler let out a low rumble, making Cher freeze and my stomach lurch. “Normal noises, Cher, you know that.”
This was just like when I’d be reading bedtime stories to my baby brothers when we first moved to Quince Valley, and something in our rickety old house shifted. I was a pro at acting like everything was fine. Thingswerefine now. Better than fine. Nothing like those days, when I kept looking over my shoulder even when we were supposedly out of danger.
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t believe the stories. They’re ridiculous.” I’m not sure who I was trying to convince.
“Okay,” Cher said, bringing me back to the boiler room. “But what if the ghost is hot?”
This time, I was the one to laugh. “Cher.”
“Like one of those masked guys.”
I’d read the books Cher gave me. They were way darker than the romantasy and romcoms I normally read by the boatload. Though these days I was mostly consumed with research reading for my next venture.
“The ghost is supposed to be a woman,” I reminded her.
“A masked woman, then,” Cher said. She made a growling sound. Cher swung all the ways, or at least she had before she’d fallen in love and settled down.
I laughed once more. Bless my best friend.
“Okay,” I admitted. “Vyke could be okay. Or the Masked Marauder.” Several heroes she’d sent my way were absolutely sexy. Those books were the first I’d reach for on a lonely night when I was feeling a certain way. But I couldn’t understand how anyone could fall in love with such a walking red flag.
"Just okay?" she asked.
Again, a shadow flitted by. But when I snapped my face up, Cher wasn’t there.
The back of my neck tingled. I reminded myself I was used to working in dark, dank spaces. That’s what plumbers did. I just needed to get us out of this room. All I needed was one good twist of the?—
WANH! WANH! WANH! WANH!
I actually screamed that time, my wrench clanging on the concrete floor. “Lord Tunderin’ Jaysus!”
Cher howled with laughter.
I scowled, sitting up and fumbling for my phone, which was somewhere in my coveralls. “Me nerves!” That only made her laugh harder.
I blew a curl of my platinum hair from my forehead and glared at Cher as I swiped the call open. “Heartbreaker Plumbing, you’ve reached Winona!”
I pointed fingers from my eyes to Cher’s, but didn’t glare too hard. I couldn’t do this job without her. Plus, we looked after each other. She’d spent all of last Saturday afternoon on my monthly root bleach, for example. It didn’t cost a lot of money to look this cheap when you had a best friend who grew up in a hair salon.
Cher stuck her tongue out at me but grinned and bent back down to her pipe.
“Winona, about time!” a woman’s voice exclaimed from the other end of the line.
My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t looked at the call display before answering, but was happy to hear the voice. “Sarah, b’y, how you doing?” Sarah Cooper was our project manager, and a friend now too, just like Cher. She never called me with ridiculous problems, just handled them like the boss she was.
“Better now that you’ve finally picked up. I have a job for you.”
“I know you do, darlin’. I’m workin’ on it right now.” I got up and strode around to the front of the rust-bucket boiler. Who I was not letting defeat me today, mark my words.
“I mean it, Winona, and this one’s important. Off-site. For a VIP.”
I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, tightening the bun that had fallen loose when I was lying on my back. I moved over to the steps that led up to the door. A couple of stories beyond, Sarah was very likely sitting in a gorgeous pantsuit in her lovely, cool office, her desk neatly stacked with her laptop and notebook and colored pens.
I sighed. “VIP, you say?” Across the room, Char rolled her eyes. VIP usually meant PITA: pain in the ass.
