Cruz's Salvation

“A what?” Dear God!

She grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, my dearest Grammy, we’re going out.”

“With who?”

“Two guys I met on Saturday night. You’re coming with me, either willingly or unwillingly, so suck up your hesitations, babe, because saying no isn’t an option.”

“But it’s a Monday night.” Not saying a date didn’t sound like fun. A month had passed since my last attempt at dating—which failed miserably—but a man Caley chose while drunk? No thanks. My sex life might have been as dead as the sexy ghost in front of me, but I’d still search for a way out. “I have to work tomorrow.”

She wagged her finger in classic Caley fashion. “You’re a grandma.”

Most times, I respected her persistent personality. She never backed down, always dreamed big and went for the gold, but her grit hadn’t been all rays of sunshine. Her determination made her annoyingly tenacious. I had to agree or she’d never give up, and getting her out of my office sounded all too good. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, stop looking so pissy. We’ll have fun. Promise. I’ll come to your place at eight.” She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Leave the granny panties at home.”

The day came and went. My head pounded, not because my boss had been as demanding as any two-year-old, which he did often, but because the ghost hadn’t shut up. The past hours, even after I returned home to get ready for tonight, he’d tried his best to gain my attention. Good thing I’m great at tuning people—ghosts—out, or I would’ve caved after hour two.

“I’m not leaving until you admit you can hear me,” the ghost said.

With a flick of my shag-cut brown hair—that actually didn’t give me any trouble tonight—to dismiss him, I strode next to Caley, heading back toward the downtown core. Dressed in my low-riding, dark wash jeans and blue plaid three-quarter-length-sleeve top, tied to leave my midriff exposed, at least I looked half decent while I suffered through the embarrassing blind date.

The ghost’s tone came a little louder and more abrupt. “Dammit, woman! Will you stop ignoring me? It’s annoying.”

I’m annoying him? I nearly laughed at the ridiculous notion, but did not intend to give myself away. I’d held strong for nine hours. Soon, he’d catch the drift and piss off.

Caley knocked my arm. “Will you stop looking so tight assed?”

I glanced away from the sidewalk and smiled at her. “My ass is tight.” Okay, not eighteen-year-old tight, but only twenty-five now, I worked hard to keep things tight. She chuckled. “You’re…”

“Damn right, you do, sweet cheeks,” the ghost said.

Caley stopped dead in her tracks, which caused me to stumble. “What’s got you blushing?”

I righted my stance, raised my hand to my face and, to my horror, my cheeks were warm. “I’m not blushing. I-I-I’m hot.”

“Unless you somehow turned into a lesbian and have fallen for your best friend, you’re acting weird.”

“I do love you.” At her widened eyes, I laughed. “But I don’t want you in the sack. Seriously, I’m just hot.”

The ghost’s voice deepened. “Ah, a way to grab your attention, I see.”

The little purr hanging off his tone made my stomach flip-flop. Clearly, I craved some attention and needed to get some in a bad way if I reacted in such a heated way to a non-living person.

I shoved the ridiculous reaction away and focused back on Caley, falling into stride with her. “Who’s the guy I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“He’s just your type.” She wiggled her brows. “You’re going to thank me later.”

“What do you mean my type?” I liked men, all types of them, and I’d never confine my options into a little box. Caley had apparently taped the box shut and shipped the package.

“He’s a pro baseball player and is home visiting his family for a couple days.”

“A pro, huh?” Maybe I had fooled myself into believing I didn’t have a type, because hearing baseball player made my interest rise. Images of skintight white pants and a scrumptious ass filled my mind.

“Yeah, he’s got the looks too.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “And the money.”

“Women,” the ghost muttered.

I ignored the ghost like the ghost he was, turned onto Beale Street and Coyote Ugly Saloon appeared. A line of people outside meant an hour of waiting. Not as if I thought we’d have to wait. I had Caley with me, after all.