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“It looks like the temperature dropped significantly in that front room,” I said, looking at my phone as I strode out of the kitchen and into the hall. “And both the vibrations and static electricity in the room spiked at about the same time.”

“That’s so cool,” Marco said, breathless for a different reason as he and Polo followed me. “What does it mean, though? Does it mean there’s a ghost in the room?”

As serious as the grave, I glanced to him as we turned to head up the staircase and nodded. “Could be.”

Marco made the most adorable sound of excitement and charged up the stairs with me. “Who ya gonna call?” he squealed as we reached the upstairs hall and headed to the front bedroom.

“Not them,” I said, trying hard not to grin. “They have zero finesse…and copyright issues.”

We burst into the front bedroom which was, of course, empty but for the EMF detector on the floor. Its lights were all flashing. I headed straight towards it and crouched, noting the way my coat flared dramatically as I did, and checked the readings on my phone. Marco stood right behind me as Polo investigated the mostly empty room, sniffing everything he came across.

“Something definitely happened in here,” I said, studying the readings a bit more, then standing and looking around. “I can feel the energy, like something is shifting.”

As I finished those words, I turned to Marco and our eyes met.

Something was definitely shifting, alright.

“What does it mean?” Marco asked, cheeks pink, chest tight with breathlessness.

It meant I was in serious danger of acting like an idiot in front of a guy I had an instant crush on and driving him away once he realized just how weird I was.

I frowned, half over my self-defeating thoughts and half because I wasn’t really sure.

“Non-believers would argue the room is drafty and the wiring is old,” I said.

Marco shook his head solemnly. “The previous owners had the electric redone before they sold it.”

I hummed in thought over that tidbit and rubbed my chin. “It could be signs of paranormal activity, too.”

“So there really are ghosts? Josaiah is real?” Marco seemed to think the possibility that his house was haunted was cool.

“Josaiah was real,” I answered. “But I’ll need more data to know if this is him or some other ghosts.”

“What does that entail?” Marco asked.

“It means I’ll need to leave my equipment here for a few days,” I said, self-consciousness over kissing Marco so soon after meeting him getting the better of me. I turned away and pretended to check out the room. Polo stopped sniffing near a corner and raised his head to watch me with a questioning look. I sent him an apologetic half-smile in return. I needed to go home and breathe for a few seconds, or maybe a few millennia, so I could make sense of what was going on in my gut.

And lower.

“Okay,” Marco said, bursting with enthusiasm. “Do whatever you need to do. Mi casa es su casa.”

I paused my restless searching and turned back to him. “That’s Spanish. You’re Italian.”

“It is. I am. Italians can speak Spanish. Sometimes. When the moment calls for it,” Marco said, a teasing glow in his eyes.

Shit. I’d been too literal. It was definitely time for me to leave.

“I should go and…and process this data,” I said, striding past him and into the hall.

“You don’t have to go.” Marco followed me, though Polo stayed where he was and continued his own ghost hunting investigation of sniffing corners.

“I think I do,” I said, feeling hotter by the second as I reached the bottom of the stairs and practically ran into the kitchen to get my backpack and hat. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, and I⁠—”

I what? I was sorry I responded to his kiss? I was sorry for being such a freak in his house? I was sorry he liked me when everyone knew I was a weirdo?

I cleared my throat and finished with, “Thanks for dinner. It was great. You’re a good cook.”

“You’re welcome. Any time,” Marco said, clearly at a loss.