Page 51 of A Sinful Trap

Chapter Twelve

She was so not ready.

“Am I turning in the right direction, Will? Wouldn’t want these poor young souls getting stuck because I turned right instead of left,” Mr. Olyphant said, slowly lifting one foot and then the other. Was he dancing, or did he have gum on his shoes?

Ms. Littleton was doing something similar, with a little more grace but a lot more hesitation. “Do extraterrestrials have ghosts? They must, don’t you think? We are all made up of the same substance.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mr. Olyphant answered. “I saw a documentary about what ETs would have to look like if they lived on other planets and that did not look like the same substance to me at all.”

“I suppose you’re right. Ghosts are better. At least they show up where they’re supposed to.”

Bailey rubbed her eyes, but her guests were still there. Still burning braids of white sage and moving around the big man in the center.

Kaya’s grandfather, Will, was a striking older man who seemed to prefer the windblown look for his short white hair. His cheekbones could cut glass, but instead of being intimidating, he looked amused to Bailey. Kind and patient, and definitely enjoying himself.

They were standing in the middle of the attic, in one of the only spots not crowded with boxes and knickknacks, broken lamps and old trunks. It would take her days to sort through it all, and she didn’t have that kind of time. How was she supposed to know what she was looking for?

She’d have to figure it out after she broke up this party. One problem at a time.

“I don’t think the inn’s insurance covers this,” she said calmly, trying not to startle anyone enough to send them tumbling.

Ms. Littleton jumped anyway. “Oh. Bailey. I didn’t realize you were back. Have I thanked you for suggesting that astronomy club? I know I wasn’t a fan of the jeep tour, but the stargazing alone was worth my trip. I’m going out with them again tonight.”

She was babbling and blushing, like one of her students who’d been caught skipping class.

“And you let Mr. Olyphant talk you into a ghost hunt before you left?”

“I didn’t plan a hunt today,” Mr. Olyphant said, still wafting puffs of smoke around and lifting his feet, not guilty about being caught at all. “I was watching a man install the new ladder. Then Will showed up and asked me about the laughing I heard. He wanted to wait for you, but I’m not sure when the wife will be back, so I talked him into letting us…what was that you said we were doing?”

“I believe this is called smudging,” Ms. Littleton said politely, answering before Will had a chance. “It’s like sweeping, but instead of dust it’s negative energy. It’s all very fascinating.” Her smile dimmed as she stared at Bailey. “But Will did say he wanted to talk to Bailey, so now that she’s here, we should probably make our exit.”

“But we haven’t gotten a chance to see them yet.”

Mr. Olyphant looked disappointed and Bailey wished she didn’t have to spoil his fun. “I appreciate your help, Mr. O. I’ll fill you in if anything happens without you.”

His expression warmed. “You’re a good egg, Bailey. You’ve been so patient with me since we came here. Getting me a neck pillow, letting me poke my nose in where it doesn’t belong… But we’ll get out of your hair.”

They handed their smoldering sage braids to Will and made a move toward the ladder.

“Maybe I should help you,” Bailey said, holding up her hands in caution.

“I’m here, Bailey.” Liam’s voice rose up through the opening. “Dani said you might need a spotter to get them down. I won’t let anyone fall.”

Sure. Now someone shows up.

“Lucky us.” Bailey rolled her eyes dramatically, making Ms. Littleton snicker. How long had he been standing down there? “Thank you for being so conveniently located while eavesdropping for your girlfriend who gave them this idea in the first place.”

There was a moment of silence. “You’re welcome?”

Mr. Olyphant guffawed.

“When you’re done, can you make sure they get to the kitchen? I’m sure Ava has something ready for them to celebrate our first official attic excursion.” Hopefully that would give her a few minutes of privacy with the ringleader.

“You should sell tickets,” Mr. Olyphant said as he started down. “At least advertise the history of this place. Combine a haunting with a good roof and all that pretty new furniture, and you won’t have an empty room all year.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

Will surprised her by moving to follow them.

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