Grave Phantoms Read Free

Astrid wasn’t going be ignored. She’d worn her best fur and a stunning beaded amaranthine dress that showed off her legs, and she’d practiced exactly what she was going to say to him.
    Only, now she’d forgotten most of it.
    â€œYou didn’t pick me up at the train station,” she said.
    â€œI was working.” He shrugged with one shoulder, as if he couldn’t be troubled to lift both of them. “Besides, I’m not the family driver. That’s Jonte’s job.”
    As if that were the point? Truly.
    â€œ
And
you didn’t come to dinner. Lena made almond cake.”
    â€œDid she? Sorry I missed that,” he said lightly.
    â€œIs that all you missed?”
    â€œDon’t tell me she made lemon pie, or I really will be sorry.”
    Anger heated her cheeks. “I’ll give you something to be sorry about, all right. Be serious for one moment, please. I think you owe me at least that for not bothering to say hello to a girl you haven’t seen in months.”
    He snapped the edge of the towel toward the ceiling. “Do you not see what’s going on out there? We’re nearly underwater.”
    â€œBut it’s my birthday.” Even as the words came out, she knew they sounded petty and childish, and wished she could take them back.
    â€œI know,” he said.
    And that made her
livid
.
    â€œA simple ‘Happy birthday’ would be the polite thing to say. But I’m not sure why I expected you to even remember, because you haven’t answered any of my letters.” He hadn’t even bothered to write and tell her the disappointing news that her friend and seamstress, Benita—who lived downstairs in the Magnusson house—had left for Charleston two weeks ago to tend to a sick relative. “I suppose you just forgot to write me back?”
    Bo grunted and avoided her eyes.
    â€œDon’t tell me you were busy working, because I know damn well it hasn’t been raining all that time.”
    â€œNo, it hasn’t.” He turned away from her, toweling off his hair.
    â€œThen what? Out of sight, out of mind—is that it? Am I that forgettable?”
    â€œDamn, but I wish you were.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean? God, Bo. Is it because you’re not being paid to wheel me around town anymore, huh? Is that it? You get promoted and now I’m just a job responsibility you can shuck?”
    He tossed her a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Stop being ridiculous.”
    â€œ
You’re
ridiculous.”
    â€œYou came down here in the middle of the night to tell me that?” He tossed the towel aside and pulled on a dry undershirt.
    â€œWhat if I did? At least I remembered where to find you after four months, which is more than I can say for your crummy sense of direction.”
    Swearing under his breath, he snatched up a clean shirt and glanced up at her as he shrugged into it. His fingers paused on the buttons. “Have you been drinking?”
    â€œDrinking?” Astrid repeated, as if it were the most ludicrous thing she’d ever heard.
    â€œYou keep squinting at me with one eye shut.” He marched toward her. Before she could get away, his fingersgripped her shoulders. She dropped her umbrella and leaned back, trying to avoid him, but his neck craned to follow her movement. His attractive face was inches from hers, all sharp cheekbones and sharper jaw.
    He sniffed. Clever, all-seeing eyes narrowed as he tracked her sin with the precision of a bloodhound. “Champagne.”
    â€œOnly a little,” she argued, breathing in the mingled scents of the dusty warehouse and rainwater, and beneath those, the brighter fragrance of
Bo
.
    All her anger disappeared for a moment because—damn it all!—she’d missed him so much. She didn’t care if his position in the Magnusson household meant they shouldn’t be together, or that societal rules regarding