She frowned. “Why would there be residual energy in a bedroom?”
His mouth quirked. “If I have to explain it to you, maybe you shouldn’t be writing romance books.”
Presley’s face went red as she realized what he meant. She’d walked right into that one.
Robert cleared his throat. “Any activity where emotions run high, like during sex, can leave residual electromagnetic energy behind, though it usually dissipates rather quickly. This place has been vacant for months, so the fact that there’s still enough energy to pick up indicates the people who lived here must have been particularly…energetic.”
“Does that make sense?” Logan drawled. “Or do you need Robert to explain what he means by energetic?”
Presley’s color deepened. “No, I don’t need him to explain, thank you. I might need to do research for the ghost hunting portions of my book, but I can draw from my own experience when it comes to the sex scenes. I’ll let you read my book after I’m finished with it, so you can fill in any gaps in your own knowledge base.”
That comment earned her a scowl from Logan. On the bright side, it also got a chuckle out of Mav, as well as a laugh from Brielle. Score another point for the new girl.
Robert was the only one who seemed uncomfortable by the whole exchange. “Did you put some herbs around in case it is a ghost, Logan?” he asked, obviously hoping to change the subject.
“Yeah.”
“Herbs?” Presley asked curiously.
“For some reason, ghosts don’t like garlic and sage,” Robert explained. “One whiff of the stuff and they take off.”
“If there is a ghost, the salt Logan sprinkled across the doorway will keep it from getting into the rest of the house,” Brielle added. “Ghosts can’t cross a line of salt.”
While Presley had to admit the stuff about the herbs and the salt could possibly come in handy—if it turned out ghosts really existed—she still couldn’t help feeling a little let down.
“You aren’t disappointed we didn’t see a ghost, are you?” Brielle asked as they got in the Hummer a few minutes later.
“Maybe a little bit,” Presley admitted.
Logan glanced at her from the front seat. “This was your idea to come along. I told you the house probably wouldn’t be haunted.”
Presley had to bite her tongue to keep from saying something she shouldn’t. She’d had enough of trading barbs with the ghost hunter for one night.
On the way back to Sleepy Hollow, Mav suggested they stop at a diner and grab dinner. Presley was all for that. That granola bar she’d eaten on the way to the ghost hunters’ office was long gone and she was starving. That wasn’t the only reason she wanted to stop. She hoped Logan and Mav might be inclined to open up about what they did for a living in a more relaxed setting. She thought she had her answer already, but she needed to be sure.
To Presley’s annoyance, Logan was as reluctant to talk once they got the diner as he’d been earlier. He barely said two words as he wolfed down the burger he ordered. She was all for the strong, silent type, but this was ridiculous. Mav wasn’t much better. While he let slip he’d been in the Army Special Forces, he didn’t say much about his current occupation as a ghost hunter.
Fortunately, Brielle and Robert were more talkative. In between eating, Robert revealed he was a financial management consultant who lived with his wife and two kids over in Paterson, New Jersey.
“Paterson. Wow,” Presley said. “That’s quite a drive, isn’t it?”
“Not really. It’s only about twenty miles.”
She nodded and dipped her spoon in her soup. “That’s not bad, then. Doesn’t your wife mind you spending your free time hunting ghosts, though?”
He shook his head. “She’s okay with it since Logan helped us out so much.”
Presley glanced at Logan to see his jaw tighten. She wanted to ask again what he’d done for Robert and his family but didn’t. She wondered why the ghost hunter didn’t want to talk about it. Was he that much of a reluctant hero or was he simply being the jerk Brielle said he was?
Ignoring Logan, she turned to Brielle. “How about you? What do you do when you’re not ghost hunting?”
“I’m a nurse in New York City. My hours aren’t as regular as Robert’s, though, so I don’t get out here to help as often as he does,” the woman admitted. “What about you? Do you write full time?”
Presley smiled. “Not yet. Someday, maybe. Right now, I’m a counselor at a high school in Stamford.”
“That must be rewarding,” Brielle said.
“It is most days,” Presley agreed, but knew she should stick to her cover story. “I’ve always wanted to write, though.”
That wasn’t really a lie. She had always wanted to write a book someday, but this was the first time she’d ever admitted it out loud to anyone. She couldn’t believe she was sharing it with four people she’d just met, two of whom didn’t like her very much. But Brielle seemed interested, so Presley told her about how she had written in high school and a little in college. But she also found herself sharing more about her life than she intended to. She was careful to leave out the part about Del Vecchio, though. The less she talked about what happened that night, the better.
By the time they got back to Sleepy Hollow, it was almost ten o’clock. Presley waited in the garage while they put the gear away, then went inside along with everyone else.
“Remember to show up a little earlier tomorrow, so we can demo the equipment before we head out again,” Brielle said before she left.
“And take one of these, too,” Robert added, handing her a business card. “It has a twenty-four-hour emergency number on it in case you need to get hold of us for something.”
Brielle grinned. “Like if the ghost hunter in your book is in a tight spot and you need help figuring how to get him out.”
Logan and Mav both scowled at that.
“On second thought, maybe you’d better not,” Brielle muttered.
As Presley drove back to Stamford a little while later, she had to admit she’d had a good time, despite how rude Logan had been. She was more exhausted than she realized though, and by the time she walked into her sister’s apartment, all she wanted to do was fall into bed. She obviously wasn’t as recovered from her ordeal as she thought.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth, her eyes went to the scar above her left breast of their own accord. Pink and jagged, it was almost completely visible above the low-cut tank top she’d changed into when she got home. She frowned as she studied it. The doctors had told her the scar would fade with time, but she wasn’t so sure. Even if it did, the memory of what had happened that horrible night would never go away. By rights, she shouldn’t even be alive. Somehow, Del Vecchio’s blade had miraculously missed her heart. If he had stabbed her an eighth of an inch more to the left…
Shuddering, Presley tore her gaze away from the mirror and swallowed hard. That asshole was dead. He couldn’t hurt her ever again. She needed to stop thinking about him.
Going into the next room, she pulled back the blanket and climbed into bed. She didn’t bother to set the alarm clock. Thanks to those godawful nightmares, she’d be up early anyway. But hey, at least she hadn’t seen any ghosts today. Maybe that meant she was getting better.