The Winter Spirit ARE Read Free

few seconds I stood rooted to the spot. Then I raced up the stairs and almost tripped over the rug on the landing. I shoved the door to the Eerie room open. “Elisa, I need you to go pick up Owen.”
    She stuck her head out of the bathroom. “What?”
    “His car broke down at the Memorial Gardens. I need you to go pick him up.”
    She gave me a disbelieving look. “And what’s stopping you from doing it?”
    My hands fluttered involuntarily up in the air and I quickly clasped them behind my back. “I have…a thing.” Oh for fuck’s sake.
    Her expression made me feel like I was ten years old. “Man up and go do the rescuing, Nate.”
    “But—”
    Maybe she saw a wild, untethered look in my eyes, because that was how I felt. Like my sedate, safe little life was about to be rocked off balance. She sighed. “It’ll be fine. You’ll either still love him, or you won’t, and it won’t make an ounce of difference if he’s married. Better just get it out of the way. Now go, before he freezes to death.”
    “Shit.” I spun on my heels and made a detour into my room to check I didn’t look too disheveled. As soon as I stepped into my bathroom, Gabe was there.
    “Get out of that hideous shirt,” he said, looking at me like he’d smelled something bad. Can ghosts smell? I should ask him some time.
    Wait, what?
    “What’s wrong with my shirt?” I looked down at the blue and white flannel, and then back up at Gabe. His eyebrows were about to disappear into his neat, gelled hairline, or whatever they used in those days.
    He smoothed a hand over his cravat. “Well, there’s nothing right with it,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.
    “Your fashion sense is over a century old. What do you know?” So what if his suit always looked perfect? “I don’t have time for this.”
    I stepped into my bedroom, rushed for the door, and was hit in the face with a smooth, blue shirt I didn’t even know I owned.
    “Wear it!” Gabe yelled from the bathroom.
    “Go haunt a cemetery!” I yelled back, and hurried away. I was in my truck in record time, and thanked whatever Gods were watching that Dusty was salting the roads.

     
    I scooted the seat back in my truck since Elisa had driven it yesterday to pick up our groceries. The initial fantasy of showing up in my little convertible lasted as long as it took for the image of being stranded right alongside Owen to take over.
    God, I was nervous. I adjusted my rearview mirror.
    “He’s probably ugly,” I told my reflection. “And bald. And has two and a half children, and a grumpy cat.” Wouldn’t that make life easier? I shoved the truck into drive and aimed for the Memorial Gardens.
    The small road down from the Lake House was a struggle but Dusty had already cleared the rest, so I found Owen in no time. I tried to peer inside as I drove past a stranded Toyota with its blinkers on, but all I saw was a mop of blond hair. Not bald, then.
    The cab still hadn’t warmed up, so I left the engine running as I did a U-turn and parked behind Owen. I jumped out of the truck, took a deep, icy breath and straightened my shoulders. The door of the Toyota opened and a long leg folded out, followed by the rest of Owen Ashurst.
    Well. Not ugly either, then.
    “Oh my God.” Owen pressed his hands to his slightly pink cheeks. “Nate. Look at you. Oh my God.” He laughed that husky laugh of his that’d only deepened over the years, and I felt it reverberate in my bones.
    “Owen,” I said, forcing myself to keep moving. “It’s good to see you.” I stretched out my hand but he ignored it and pulled me in for a hug. He was a few inches shorter than me—which was weird—but he smelled exactly the same. A stab of self-consciousness reared its ugly head when my belly pushed against his rock hard front, but I tried not to think about it. Fighting the urge to close my eyes and shove my nose behind his ear, I awkwardly patted his back before freeing myself. He held onto my arms