Last of the Ravens. Linda Winstead Jones

mother had demanded more, for herself and for her son, and for many years they’d moved between a proper house in Townsend and the cabin on the mountain. The house in Townsend, nice as it had been, had never felt like home.

      The conversation about this mountain and the cabin was small talk, but in the air something momentous lingered. A kiss and the electric energy in the air danced between them. Everything had changed, could change, and surely Miranda felt that on some level. Bren wasn’t good at romance; he didn’t know how to woo or chase or smoothly seduce, and he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this woman who had worked her way beneath his skin. The possibilities remained endless.

      He was straightforward in everything he did, including sex, so he asked, “Do you have a boyfriend at home?”

      “No,” she answered quickly.

      She didn’t wear a ring, but that was less than conclusive. “A husband or fiancé?”

      “No.” She didn’t ask him why he wanted to know. After the kiss she shouldn’t need to ask. “What about you? Is there a girlfriend out there wondering where you are on a beautiful Sunday afternoon?”

      “No,” he responded as simply as she had.

      “A Mrs. Korbinian?”

      “Not yet,” he said, looking her squarely in the eye.

      For some reason that answer brought a hint of color to Miranda’s cheeks. She tried to ease the tension in the room with a laugh that sounded all wrong, as she removed her hat and tossed it onto the couch as if it were a Frisbee. “What’s wrong with us? The ghost thing scares a lot of men away, but you…what’s your excuse, Korbinian? Why are you still single?”

      “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.” If he stayed here much longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. He had the best of intentions, but if he stayed in Miranda’s company he’d soon be physically incapable of walking away, and the decision he wrestled with would be made. Bren headed for the door, but he did turn to look back at Miranda. She was a hard woman to leave. “Dinner tomorrow, my place, I’ll pick you up at six.”

      He didn’t give her a chance to refuse his offer, but left quickly—while he still could.