Oleander House: Bay City Paranormal Investigations, Book 1

Sam wanted to hit him.
    Sam finally caught Bo alone as they carried dirty plates and leftover coleslaw into the kitchen. “Bo,” he said, keeping his voice low with an effort, “can I talk to you for a minute?”
    “Sure thing.” Bo piled plates in the sink and started the water running. “What’s up?”
You fucking well know what’s “up”, Sam thought grimly, adjusting his crotch. Out loud he said, “You’re flirting with me. Stop it.”
Bo stared in evident surprise. “What? I’m not flirting with you. I told you, I’m—”
“Straight, married, yeah, I know.” Sam made an impatient noise. “I get that, it’s fine. Maybe you don’t realize what you’re doing. But you’ve been giving me mixed messages all day, and I want you to stop.” On impulse, he moved closer, so close he could feel Bo’s short, quick breaths on his face. “If you want me, just say so. You already know how I feel.”
“Sam, please.” Bo’s voice was soft and breathless.
“Please what?” Sam resisted the urge to caress the curve of Bo’s jaw, but he didn’t back away. “What’re you asking me to do, Bo?”
Bo licked his lips, his gaze darting between Sam’s eyes and his mouth. “Don’t…don’t get so close.”
“Why not?” Sam surprised himself by leaning even closer, his cheek brushing Bo’s. Bo gasped, and Sam smiled. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes,” Bo whispered. “Please stop.”
Sam stepped back enough to look Bo in the eye. Bo’s pupils were dilated, his upper lip dewed with sweat. Sam could practically smell his fear and his arousal.
“This is what you’ve been making me feel all day,” Sam said. “The difference between what I just did and what you’ve been doing to me is that I mean it. If you don’t mean it, stop doing it. Please.”
Bo stared at him with a strange look in his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean to tease, Sam. I’m sorry.”
Sam nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned on his heel and walked out before Bo could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear any of the excuses Bo would certainly come up with given a few minutes’ thought, and he sure as hell didn’t want to stand close enough to touch the man and not be allowed to do it.
This week, he mused as he headed for the library, is gonna fucking last forever, if he keeps coming on to me like that.
    The thought of it caused a pleasant and thoroughly unsettling stir in Sam’s groin. He sighed. Parts of him were clearly begging for Bo’s attention, even though his brain knew it couldn’t possibly end well.
    “Fuck it,” he muttered. “I’ll deal with it later.”
    Thus resolved, he curled up in the big leather chair in the library to flip through the previous day’s photos one more time. Andre wandered in a few minutes later.
    “Hey,” Andre said, settling on the sofa. He gestured toward the stack of pictures in Sam’s hand. “Find anything new?”
    “No. I didn’t expect to, really, I just…” Needed something to distract me from thinking of fucking our boss through the floor. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to look one more time. You never know.”
    “True. So, y’all get anything this afternoon, you think?” Andre stretched, yawning.
    “I’m not sure. I got one of those feelings again. You know, like something was there but I couldn’t see it. We’ll see if anything shows on the video and stills, I guess.” Sam set the pictures aside. “What about you and Amy? Anything?”
    “Nope. Not a thing.” Andre yawned again. “Damn. Wish I could wake up.”
Sam frowned. “Amy said your nightmares were getting worse. Aren’t you getting any sleep?”
“Not much.” Andre shook his head. “Amy shouldn’t be going around telling people that.”
“She just wanted to know if my dreams were getting worse too.” Sam picked nervously at a loose thread in his shirt, hoping Amy hadn’t said anything to Andre about her conversation with Bo that morning. “They are, by the way. My dreams, I mean. They’re getting pretty awful. Amy thinks it’s a pattern, and I agree with her.”
Andre’s expression was solemn. “Any idea what it means?”
“Not a clue. But I bet it’s linked somehow to what’s been happening here.”
“Bet you’re right.” Andre idly flipped the pages of a magazine someone had left lying on the sofa. “Maybe if we can figure out how it’s related, the dreams’ll stop.”
“Maybe.” Sam stroked the soft leather of the chair. “You know what, we should really