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I shrug my shoulders. “I honestly can’t say for sure, but it probably relates to whatever happened to him shortly before he died.” I look around. “Most spirits tend to be stuck in the place where their life ended. But this building looks like it was built in the last twenty-five years, whereas our friend here looks like he’s from sometime last century. I can’t imagine this was the place where this poor soul met his unfortunate demise.”

Cal gives a noncommittal grunt. “I’ll have to look into whether there’ve been any deaths on the premises. As for this guy, I’d say he died in the seventies, by the look of him.”

I suspect he’s right, based on the clothing and what I’ve seen in old movies from the period.

I hum thoughtfully. “It would be worth finding out the history of this building and anything that might have been here prior to that.”

“Aye. That’s definitely a line of inquiry I’ll need to pursue.”

Mmm. I do like the authoritative way he speaks. He’s definitely giving someone-in-charge realness.

Sweet Miz Dolly Parton and all that is gay and holy, did y’all bring this tall drink of sweet tea into my life? If so, hallelujah and praise be!

He’s likes some deliciously growly Scottish version of Karl Urban come to life in front of me, and I’m very much here for this.

So is my libido, which has decided to come out and take a gander.

I’m a decent height, but Callum’s a few inches taller, with an athletic build and wide shoulders. I’d love to strip off that jacket and everything else to see what’s under it all. It’d be like opening the best Christmas present ever, I just know it.

I glance up at him and put a bit of a flirt into my tone. “Do you happen to have any plans after this?”

He glances at the ghost who’s kind of zoned out and gone quiet now that he’s shared his message with me.

“Are you seriously hitting on me right now?” he asks incredulously.

“Well, I’m sure not flirting with him,” I say, jerking a thumb toward Mr. Seventies Ghost. “I prefer my men to still be breathing.” I smile. “Don’t worry, he’s not bothered. He’s not fully with it, if you know what I mean.”

Callum studies the ghost apprehensively. “Is that… normal?” He lifts a hand and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Christ, what am I even asking?”

“Aww, sugar, I’m getting the sense all of this is new to you, isn’t it?” I ask sympathetically.

He grunts. “Sort of.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to explain some things to you.” I bat my lashes. “What do you say to grabbing a drink with me? I’m sure there’s one of those delightful British pubs around here somewhere. There seems to be one on every block here in London. My Uncle Nathaniel would be tickled pink if he visited, and he’d probably buy a beer in each and every one of them,” I admit with a chuckle.

He crosses his arms. “I’m going home and planning out my line of investigation for tomorrow.”

That calls for my best pout. “Well, now, that doesn’t sound very fun. Besides, you have questions don’t you?”

I dangle the bait because I can see it in his eyes, he wants answers.

Our ghostly friend suddenly exits stage left and disappears through a wall.

Callum does a double take. “The fuck?”

I wave a hand dismissively. “Nothing to worry about, darlin’. He’s just finished talking to me tonight.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out two wrapped pralines, offering him one. “Would you like a Preister’s praline? They’re delicious. I brought ’em all the way from Mobile, Alabama.”

He eyes the treat and then me. “You’re a bit of an odd one, aren’t you?”

I shake my head sadly. “It seems my Southern charm isn’t working on you, huh, big fella?”

Shrugging, I open one of the pralines and pop it in my mouth with a happy hum.

I’m confident his curiosity is going to make things go my way before long.

His face shifts into a look of frustrated bafflement. “Who the hell are you?”