I don’t know why they call it that. It’s where the widows, aka the Justice men, put their mistresses or their second or third or in Earl Justice’s case, rest his soul, his fourth wife. That fourth wife happened to be Birdie Rodger’s mama and my cousin Calder Justice is marrying her. Since those two have hooked up, the Widow’s Chambers has been stripped down to the drywall and redone. Before Birdie got her hands on it, the paint was black under the pretty wallpaper, and that was driving her mama batty.
“Oh, this room is bellissima.” Maria presses her hands right above her chest. I look over her shoulder and tell her the history of the room, including that there might be ghosts. I don’t know why I say that. It slips out.
“Sterling Justice, you stop that.” Cam slaps my shoulder in admonishment.
Hardly knowing if I’m trying to scare her off or flirt with her, I say, “Give me a holler if you get scared.”
The princess’s nose goes up. “I’m Italian. We invented ghost stories. Maybe it is you who should call me if you’re scared of spirits.“
I snort. Is that what she’s going to do? Look down on us because we’re country boys? “We’ve got a nice fire pit in the back. I’ll invite some people over, and we can see who has the best scary tales.”
She says I have no chance, and I hope that means with her, too. She probably hates the situation as much as I do. The pit in my gut grows larger, and I leave her with Cam and start making plans. Texts go out to friends and those I don’t call friends. We’ll have a big ol’ bonfire, and I’ll scare her all the way back to her castle in Italy. Once she’s gone, everything will go back to normal.
Tyson calls me immediately. “Ghost stories? Please tell me we’re drinking your uncle’s bourbon.”
“We’re drinking my uncle’s bourbon.”
“Alright then. So how’s the princess?”
“Stuck up.” Guilt pings through me. Was she a snob or am I misinterpreting things? “Fuck, I don’t know. I spent five seconds with her. She’s pretty. Really pretty.”
“You sound gone.”
“Fuck you. I do not.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. See you at the party.”
I throw my phone on my bed and then stare at the floor. It hits me that the Widow’s Chambers is right below me. If I jump, would she hear it? Sometimes when Widow Justice was here, I’d hear her scream. It was eerie, like the wailing of a ghost.
I’m not a spiritual person, but if there is a place that’s haunted in this house, it’s the Widow’s Chambers, and as much as I’m trying to get the princess to leave, is it right for her to stay there? I tap my fingers against my leg and then curse.
Spinning around, I jog down the stairs and pound my fist on her door. Princess opens right up with a sour look on her face.
“You,” she says with an accusing tone. “Are you here to scare me some more? I’ve dealt with worse things.”
The warnings die on my tongue. “Nah, just making sure you know where the dining room is. We’re going to eat in an hour.”
“I’m not hungry. I ate before I arrived.”
She probably doesn’t think our food is good enough. “Our cooks are the best in the southwest. Maybe it’ll be too spicy for you, though.” I give her a rude once-over. “Doesn’t look like you eat anything but lettuce and water.”
“And what’s wrong with a salad? You should think about eating more greens. Cows are very bad for the environment.”
“We’re a fucking green ranch,” I retort. “We have a hundred acres of protected grassland here and make sure the water is clean with no polluting runoffs. Besides, cows are meant to be eaten, and let me tell you, they are fucking delicious.”
“Don’t curse at me.” Her lip quivers in disdain or maybe it’s for something else. “It’s rude and uncouth.”
“Uncouth? Are you serious? Are you from Italy or the nineteenth century? If you don’t like our cows or our land, you can fly back to your yacht and your fancy chefs tonight. Let me know. I can have the chopper ready in twenty.”
“I’ll leave when I’m ready.” She slams the door in my face.
I stare in astonishment at the wood. Not good for the environment? Eat more grass? Don’t curse? Does she think she can act like my momma, rest her soul? I can’t believe I thought this priggish girl was pretty. Let the fucking ghosts have her.
CHAPTER 6
MARIA
Why is it that everyone thinks they know who I am? Even worse, they always assume they can tell me what to do. No matter where I am, I get treated as if I’m a little girl who is incapable of making a decision for myself.