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    The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer
    The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer
    The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer

    By Neptune Flowers

    ()

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    About this ebook

    All you need is love, or so they say!

    Owning a building company means long hours, lonely days and too much physical labour.

    When Adam Barrow employs a fit, capable guy, life begins to look up. His business thrives from the extra muscle, and so does Adam. Being around chatty Johnny really helps the time fly past. Adam is shy and inexperienced in ways of the heart, but very soon his awkwardness eases and he finds himself flirting and having fun.

    Johnny Sparrow has a mysterious past and seems to have a knack of stirring up inexplicable presences. From the day he arrives on a motorbike, weird things begin to happen, like strange noises and creepy mists. Even motorbike Angus has a personality!

    All you need is love, but can Adam find the strength to confront the ghostly goings-on? Can Johnny find a use for the egg whisk, and can Angus really carry them both to safety?

    A story of paranormal divas, supernatural aromas and head-over-heels romance.

    Barrow and Sparrow book one.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBeaten Track Publishing
    Release dateOct 10, 2018
    ISBN9781786452726
    The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer
    Author

    Neptune Flowers

    Neptune Flowers is a British author, best known for short stories and pub poetry.

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      Book preview

      The Reluctant Ghost Whisperer - Neptune Flowers

      Chapter Two

      I’m over it now.

      Still, I want him to see me. To look straight through everyone else, the way he used to. Push them aside to get across. To get to me. I want him to grin and wave like Jar Jar Binks, gangly and idiotic. With limbs like that, he shouldn’t be so hot.

      But he is.

      ‘Fuck off!’ I want to shout at the people pawing. ‘Fuck off shaking his hand and clapping his shoulders. Get your filthy selves off!’ Seems like the whole pub is pleased to see him, hasn’t forgotten, though it’s been months.

      He never gave me any reason to be jealous; still, I’m bristling like a dog about to attack.

      The world carries on, ignorant of my exploding head and imploding heart. How can that be?

      From alongside the bar I can see him clearly. It’s weird, like looking at old photos of myself, both familiar and not. Same tousled hair, slightly too long but nice to grip. Beautiful when he’s naked. Beautiful.

      Underneath a red-and-black-check shirt I know there’s a hairy chest and a very kissable birthmark above his left hip. He’s wearing clothes I don’t recognise and haven’t touched, not ever. It cuts, bad enough to make me struggle for air. He’s been shopping alone, made decisions and choices without asking for my opinion.

      The pub door bursts open, and a new wave of Friday-night drinkers enter and block my view. I’m pushed out, squashed by happy people.

      I’m…I’m over him now.

      I want him to see me hiding. I want him to see me losing it. I want him to know about the emptiness of every fucking morning since he left, me sitting with head in hands, unable to face the day.

      A tall woman moves, and I can watch again. He’s animated, talking fast. I guess he’s telling them how fab life is now, how much money he earns, how much fun Germany is. And yeah, maybe he’s even talking about the guys. How many guys have there been? Two? Five? Ten? One? Guys in his place, guys in his bed, guys in his life. Does he hold their heads? Cradle their jaws with infinite care, thumb pressing ever so gently? Does that hint of strength make their bodies vibrate with wanting? Does it?

      My jaw aches. I’m grinding my teeth. From loss. The loss of my life. I bet they love him, in Germany.

      But something’s different. He’s too happy, too fast, too…everything, like he’s putting on a show. Or maybe I’ve forgotten. Six months is long enough for him to have learnt a whole new set of skills.

      I want him to see me, but not like I am now, tonight. I didn’t shower after work because what’s the point? I drove the lads here, and then I found a quiet place where I can count the hours until they’ve had enough. My hair is halfway down my back, overgrown and under-loved. I’ve lost weight. I probably cleaned my teeth this morning. I can’t be sure. No man would bother trying to chat me up.

      I haven’t always been this way.

      I want him to see me the way he did before he left, or I don’t want him to see me at all…

      ***

      Geoff and all his hair sat, legs spread, arms behind his head, somewhere between the Yeti and Knight Rider in his prime.

      You want more sandwiches? I smiled hopefully, wishing I didn’t turn into such a lame twat the instant any fella came within ten miles. Soup?

      He waggled his eyebrows, and if I’d won the lottery right then, I knew exactly to which charity I’d donate. Nah. The Geoff charity, obviously. He wouldn’t even have to actually touch. Taking off all his clothes would be enough.

      Nick sniggered, the Judas. As my best friend and loveloser-in-arms, he knew all about my deep love for the Geoffster, king of bushybush.

      I do know someone, as it goes. Geoff slurped tea and it was pure poetry in motion. Why hadn’t the BBC written songs about this man? That fella from over west. Sad. He nodded, as if I was supposed to understand the ramifications of

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