southern ghost hunters 02 - skeleton in the closet Read Free Page A

the advancing army, on our outnumbered, outgunned small-town militia as they were pushed back, on Miss Emily Proctor's dance classes, ages five through sixteen, as they danced in front of the limestone buildings of our town square, dressed as red and orange flames.
    "I'm sorry about what my mother did to you."
    He actually sounded sincere, and I felt my cheeks redden. I glanced up at him. "What about what you did?"
    He huffed out a breath. "You know I didn't mean that, sugar." His fingers inched toward mine on the bench. "I'd had a couple of beers. Your sister looks a lot like you. I made a mistake." He shrugged. "It happens to a lot of guys."
    "No, it doesn't." I folded my fingers in my lap. "And you didn't have to embarrass me later."
    "Hey," he said. "Look at me. I was hurt." He appeared so sincere a girl would be tempted to believe him. If you didn't know him. "I didn't hear that my mom sent you the bill until after I got back from our honeymoon."
    And then he'd done nothing to stop her when she unleashed her team of lawyers.
    The Yankees were now overrunning the square. Our men were trapped, flanked, through no fault of their own. I knew exactly how they felt.
    "Excuse me!" a woman protested on Beau's left side as someone knocked into her popcorn, scattering pieces.
    "Sorry," a familiar voice called back. "Pardon me," Ellis said as he shoved past his brother. I hoped it wasn't an accident that he stepped on Beau's foot.
    I scooted over as far as I could to make room.
    "What the hell?" Beau protested as Ellis squeezed in between us. 
    I'd never been so glad to see him. "Shouldn't our sheriff be protecting the town?" I asked. It was too late to save me.
    Then again, having him here did make me feel stronger.
    "It's all going well," he said, pragmatically. "The whole place is on fire. There's hand-to-hand fighting in the streets. They'll be talking about this for years." He angled for some space and elbowed his brother in the process.
    Beau elbowed back. "You're an idiot, Ellis."
    Everyone watched as the Yankees pointed a cannon and fired on the Sugarland Library. Well, most everyone. Virginia Wydell sat six rows down, her platinum hair pulled back into a girlish ponytail, her pearl earrings large, and her eyes hard as she glared back at us.
    Fun day.
    My ex leaned over his brother as if he weren't there. "I miss your back rubs," Beau murmured to me.
    Ellis stiffened. "You realize she dumped you, right?"
    "Oh, look," I said, "one of the Yankees just lost his uniform pants. He really should have worn a belt." Or laid off the hooch. "I wonder if that will make it into the documentary."
    Both men ignored me. They were too busy glaring at each other. Of course Beau had no idea about Ellis and me. If I wanted to be perfectly honest, even I didn't even quite understand what was going on between us. It had begun innocently enough.
    But now, seeing the two brothers together, I was starting to realize I may have started something I didn't quite know how to finish.
    Ellis and I hadn't gotten to the back rub stage. We were barely at the dating part. We'd fought for our lives together and had gotten close. Too close, maybe. Then we'd enjoyed one very nice, very quiet dinner a few miles out of town. He'd brought me daisies, and I'd baked cookies and pretended it was no big deal. He'd said they were delicious.
    It had been wonderful.
    Until now.
    Beau groaned. "Can you move out of the way, Ellis?" 
    "No," Ellis said simply. 
    Oh, brother.
    I'd never been so glad to see the Sugarland militia push the Yankees back and save our town.
    We watched the two colonels, a Wydell and a Jackson, shake hands, as they did once a year. The patriarchs of the two families put aside their differences to lead the militia, a moment of cooperation before they went back to hating each other. Everyone in the grandstand stood and cheered. The cameras rolled.
    Beau leaned past his brother to get to me. "I don't care if my family thinks you're bad for me. Let