Call On Me (6 page)

The scent she
wore tickled his senses. “I like that scent. What is it?”

“Panache. It’s
a Yardley brand.”

“Nice. I think
ghosts are drawn to it, too.”

“Then you owe
me.”

He cut her a
look. “How do you figure that?”

“If I finally
bring a ghost to the fore for you to see, then you can buy me more
of this perfume. My ghost hunting fee.”

“Hey, I’m
paying for the petrol
and
you have the pleasure of my
company.”

“Dubious at
best.”

“Goodness me,
we are a little temperamental tonight. You’ll scare the ghosts
away.”

“Do you want me
to switch this radio to opera music?”

He shuddered.
“Please. We need ghost hunting music.”

“Rock it is,
then.” Deftly she dialled and soft rock music filled the cabin.

“That’s not
Guns’n’Roses,” Ghost objected.

“No, it’s Bonny
Tyler.”

“Oh, well then,
that’s all right.”

Smiling, Ali
settled back in the seat.

The next hour
stretched in companionable silence as they each drifted in their
own thoughts, but hunger pangs finally made themselves known and
Ghost cast Ali a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose…?”

Lifting her
hips, Ali dug around in her pocket and withdraw a little plastic
container. “Tic Tac?”

“Are you
kidding me?” He looked at her in horror.

Smirking, she
dug in her other hip pocket before bringing forth a little packet.
“Juicy Fruit gum?”

“If you don’t
produce something decent to eat in the next two minutes, I’m
dumping your arse on the road.”

“Touchy.”
Leaning forward again, she opened the glove box and rustled around
inside it. Straightening, she held up a Mars Bar. “Will this
do?”

“Oh baby,
yes!”

Ripping it
open, she handed it to him. Biting down with relish, he sighed
happily.

“You know, if I
ate like you, I’d be the size of a house,” she said.

A glance down
showed her hands empty. “Didn’t you bring one for yourself?”

She rustled
around in the glove box and withdrew a little plastic bag. Reaching
in, she took out a thin biscuit. “I’m fine.”

The woman was
unbelievable. Plucking it from her fingers, he tasted it. Ugh. Some
health cracker. “This tastes like shit, Ali.”

“No it doesn’t.
It’s yummy.”

“How can
anything this thin and wheat tasting be yummy?”

“Hey, you eat
your heart attack snack and I’ll eat my healthy heart snack.”

“I’m almost
having a heart attack watching you eat it.”

“So don’t
watch.”

He had a sudden
thought. “You’re not dieting again, are you?”

Almost
instantly she was on the defensive. “Why? Are you saying I need
to?”

“What? No!”

“Then why
ask?”

“Because of the
health thing.”

“I eat
healthily, Ty.”

Oops.
“Okay.”

“I do!”

“I said
okay.”

Arms folded
across her ample chest, Ali glowered out the side window.

Ghost sighed.
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not
upset.”

Well, she
certainly wasn’t happy and he knew why. Ali could be very touchy
about her weight, depending on the circumstances, and obviously her
date and the outcome with Brian had made her touchy.

Glancing from
the road to her and back again, Ghost reached across the space
dividing them and nudged her shoulder with the back of his hand.
“Um…Ali?”

“What?”

“Can we be
friends again?”

He could feel
her glance at him.

“Because
there’s a fog in here right now and I don’t think it’s from the
presence of a spook.”

A laugh escaped
her before she could stop it. “You arse.”

“I know. But
you love me anyway, right?”

“Just for this,
next time I call on you for help, you keep your mouth shut and just
pick me up.”

He smiled.
“Agreed.”

There was
silence for a heartbeat before she stated, “Liar.”

“I swear.” He
shot his hand up in a Boy Scout salute.

“You’re still a
liar.”

“I’m hurt.”
Glad to hear the amusement in her voice once again, Ghost
relaxed.

That was the
thing with Ali – if she wasn’t happy, neither was he. They got on
so well together, sharing good times and bad over the years, that
he felt a responsibility towards her that was more than just close
friends. He loved seeing her smile and laugh, hated seeing her
unhappy or crying. Their closeness meant he knew when she was
unhappy, regardless of what she said.

It was rather
like being a personal forecaster to her moods. Interesting, he
hadn’t thought about that before and he glanced sideways at her,
this time curiously. Didn’t most good friends, even best friends,
grow apart with time, or at least move on with their lives? Did
they ever really stay close?

Maybe it was
because they lived beside each other, had done since the Mackay
sisters had moved into the house ten years before when their
parents had died and they‘d come to live with their grandmother.
After she’d died five years ago, the sisters had continued living
there and he’d been so glad. Yeah, he was good friends with Ali at
school, but since she’d come to live next door they’d become even
closer. He hated to see that vanish if she ever chose to leave.

No sooner had
that thought crossed his mind than he tensed. Leave? Well, maybe
she would one day. If she met the right man, she’d marry him and
might leave, go away, and, well, things would change, wouldn’t
they? It was natural.

He stole
another glance at her. Relaxed, her elbow on the doorframe of the
panel van and her head propped up lazily in her hand, she projected
peace and tranquillity, something he knew full well depended on her
mood. Would any other man pick up on it?

Hell yes, they
wouldn’t be able to help but pick up on it, she could be volatile
at times. And sweetly vulnerable in her own way. He frowned. But
would any other man understand? There was a troubling thought.

“Ghost?”

“Huh?” Startled
out of his strange, unsettling thoughts, he relaxed his hands on
the steering wheel. Weird, he hadn’t even realised he’d been
gripping it so tightly.

“Are you
okay?”

“Of course.
Why?”

“Well, you’re
kinda scowling.”

“Kinda
scowling?” He tried to laugh it off. “Pshaw!’

“Not kinda,
actually, you
were
scowling.”

“Just
thinking.”

When she
shifted in her seat to face him more, the faint drift of her
perfume stirred through the air to waft under his nose. Panache.
Nice.
Really
nice. He’d never really noticed her perfumes
before, except as pretty smells. This perfume seemed to suit her,
light, fresh, yet with an undercurrent of something more.

Interesting.
This evening was producing some very interesting thoughts.
Intriguing. Puzzling. Maybe the experts had everything wrong and
men could get menopausal, that would explain his weird ideas. Ali
always swore men got menopausal. He grinned.

“From scowling
to grinning,” she said. “Spill your thoughts, Sinclair.”

“Not
happening.” He shook his head.

“Oh really? Not
even if I tempt you with…“ She fiddled around in the glove box
again, emerging with a small, plastic-wrapped cupcake. “This?”

“You horrible
wench! Are you saying if I don’t spill my guts, you won’t give me
that cupcake?”

Unwrapping it,
she held it before her mouth warningly. “Spill.”

“That’s
blackmail.”

She touched the
tip of her tongue to the icing.

“That is
grossly unfair.”

She licked the
icing.

“Geez. Okay.
Porn, I was thinking of porn!”

“That’s
disgusting.” She took a big bite of the cupcake.

“Hey! My
cupcake!” She had icing on her lips and when she licked it off with
the tip of her tongue, he groaned.

“You’re a
fiend,” he accused, swallowing. That cupcake would taste delicious.
He just knew it.

“Serves you
right.” She handed him the remaining half.

Giving her a
glare, he devoured it in one bite. “Evil. Just pure evil.”

Smiling smugly,
she settled back against the seat. “Oh yeah, baby, I can be so
evil. You have no idea.”

“Trust me, I
do.”

She
laughed.

Licking the
icing from his fingers, Ghost resumed driving. The quiet between
them was once more companionable. He loved ghost hunting with Ali.
The road unwound in the dark ahead of them, the van was cosy, soft
rock played on the radio, and he was content.

Two hours later
they pulled onto a dirt track that led further into the bush.
Having scouted the area a few days ago, Ghost new exactly where he
was going. The track led almost right up to Screaming Pond. Once a
favoured place for fishing and camping, it had been derelict for a
few years. The bushes had reclaimed a lot of the track but it
remained useable thanks to men like Old Parker, who still came down
here now and again for fishing or doing well, who knew what,
exactly? All Ghost cared about was that, supposedly, it was now
haunted.

Haunted was
fun.

Gaze fixed on
the dirt track, Ali straightened.

After going as
far as he could take the panel van, Ghost pulled over and switched
off the engine.

Ali peered
forward. “I don’t see a pond.”

“That’s because
we’re not there yet, honey. Out you get.” Opening the door, Ghost
got out, shutting it behind him and stretching leisurely, breathing
in the bushland.

The scurrying
of animals in the underbrush, the sway of the trees in the warm
night air, the scent of wattle, the feel of being a small being in
a big world, the unknown…the press of Ali against his side.

Lips twitching
in amusement, he glanced down to where her head bobbed level with
his shoulder. “So, how’s my ghost hunter?”

“Fine,
fine.”

So fine, in
fact, that she was as close as she could get against him while she
looked around.

Glancing up,
she saw his smile and frowned. Straightening, she stepped back and
placed her hands on her hips. Yep, totally rocking the tough chick
persona. He loved it. Arching one brow at her, Ghost waited.

“Right,” she
said, “so where is this pond?”

“Screaming
Pond?”

“Yes. Screaming
Pond.”

Giving her hair
a ruffle, which sent several loose strands of hair tumbling down
her back, he ignored her oath and walked around to the back of the
van. Opening the door, he leaned in and retrieved the torch from
the box beside the esky. The esky reminded him of other things,
just as much fun, and he opened it to investigate the contents by
the torch light. Score!

Pulling out a
cold, homemade meat pie, he straightened and took a hearty bite. Oh
God, say what you wanted about volatile Ali, but the woman could
cook to make the angels sing.

Coming up
beside him, she slung the video bag over one shoulder and reached
into the esky to pull out another meat pie. Taking a bite, she
peered up at him. “Ready?”

“Yep.” Placing
a couple of snack packs of mixed dried fruit and nuts into the
backpack, he dropped in a couple of juice boxes and a bottle of
water, along with the wrapped sandwiches. Closing the door, he
flicked the torch light around the bushes.

Bright eyes
winked back at them before disappearing. Unfortunately, wildlife
tended to be shy, so finding out what it was in the dark was a
no-go. Even the moonlight wasn’t going to bring out the wildlife
when humans were present.

“Okay, honey,
let’s go ghost hunting.” Slinging the backpack over his shoulder,
he took another bite of pie. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.”
Her eyes sparkled in the light of the torch.

They walked
down the rutted dirt path side by side. As they left the van behind
and the bushes started to close in, Ali shifted subtly closer to
Ghost. A little more, a little more. He waited, aware of her
movements. Yep, there she moved, a little closer, and wait for
it…wait for it… Her hand slipped into his and automatically his
fingers curled protectively around hers.

Not that she
was afraid. God above, never would Ali Mackay admit to fear. She
loved the ghost watches, scared the crap out of her sometimes, but
she loved it nevertheless. She always did them pressed up against
his side with her hand gripping his in a hold so tight even the
Grim Reaper wouldn’t be able to part them with his scythe.

He certainly
didn’t mind. Ever since their first ghost watch as over-excited
teenagers, she’d been hanging onto his hand, refusing to let him
move an inch without her. It had amused him at first, but now it
was so natural, so much a part of it, and one he had to admit he
looked forward to.

It wasn’t often
Ali Mackay turned to a man for protection, or admitted it, so he
felt privileged. And gallant. Okay, chivalry ran through his veins,
what could he say? His mother had ingrained it into him, it was as
natural as breathing. It didn’t mean he couldn’t tease the living
daylights out of Ali. “Did you hear that?”

Immediately she
tensed. “What?”

“Something…dragging?”

“Really?”
Breath held, she glanced around.

“The ripple of
water?”

Her fingers
gripped him tighter.

“Wait, there it
is again.” He angled his head to the side. “I think…yes, I do
believe…”

“Yes?” She was
straining to hear.

“It’s a
bunyip.”

She was still
for all of three seconds before she released his hand and swivelled
to kick him in the side of the leg. “You jerk!”

“Ow!” Hopping a
bit, he laughed.

Shaking her
head, she kept walking. After another hop and a quick rub to the
sore spot on his leg, Ghost caught up easily with her.