Where The Heart Is: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations story

in need of—as she put it—“a good fuck or ten” for far too long and thus spending the next two or three weeks together would do them both a world of good.
    Dean wasn’t fooled by her casual acceptance of the situation. He’d seen that particular gleam in her eyes before, and he knew what it meant. She was a romantic at heart, for all her crude language and no-nonsense attitude, and she could smell love in the air from a hundred miles away.
    Not that she was always right, because she wasn’t. Especially in this case. Dean wasn’t in love with Sommer. In lust, maybe. No, definitely . Sommer made him feel like a horny teenager again. And he liked Sommer. A lot. The man was smart, sweet, funny, and all-round great company. But what he felt for Sommer wasn’t love. It was far too soon for that, no matter what Kerry thought.
    Ron, on the other hand, was usually oblivious to the finer emotions in others. Which was why it was so disturbing when, precisely eleven days after Dean went to stay with Sommer, he expressed the opinion Kerry had only hinted at.
    “You’re falling for him,” Ron declared around a mouthful of black bean burrito. “Don’t try to deny it. I can tell. And you know if I can tell, anyone can.”
Dean shot a nervous glance around the packed restaurant. Carrburrito’s was unusually busy, even for a Friday afternoon, and he couldn’t help feeling like everyone around them was listening in, even though he knew that was ridiculous. “C’mon, Ron. Sex and love aren’t the same thing at all. He’s hot, I’m hot, we’re both horny. End of story.”
“Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that.” Picking up his glass, Ron drained the last of his iced tea. He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m getting more tea, you want some?”
“No thanks, I still have plenty.”
“’K.” Ron glanced at his watch. “Kerry should be here any minute, I think I’ll go ahead and order her lunch.”
Dean scowled at the remains of his tomato and rice quesadilla as Ron made his way through the tables to the counter. He wished he could say with certainty that Ron and Kerry were reading too much into the situation with Sommer, but he couldn’t. A small but growing part of him thought maybe they were right.
The sad thing was, he had no idea if his feelings for Sommer really ran as deep as his friends believed, or if it only seemed that way because he wanted so desperately to love someone, and be loved in return.
He shook his head and sighed. Sad, Dean. Very sad.
“What’re you sighing about?”
Dean started at the sound of Kerry’s voice behind him. He turned in time to see her lower herself into the chair beside his. “Oh, hi Kerry. How’d everything go at the doctor’s?”
“Fine.” One hand rubbing her belly, she pinned Dean with an intent look. “So. What were you sighing about? And don’t try to change the subject again.”
“Nothing. Just thinking about the ghost, and wishing we could figure out just what the hell’s going on.” He gave her his best innocent look.
Her expression said she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push the issue. “Are y’all still seeing and hearing things at the inn?”
“Every night.”
She shuddered. “Creepy.”
Dean nodded his agreement. The haunting had escalated to the point where the sight of the amorphous figure was almost commonplace. They saw it during every investigation. On the nights when Sommer had guests and they weren’t able to investigate, cold spots and a feeling of being watched followed them into Sommer’s bedroom. A couple of times, they’d even seen the apparition hovering just inside the bedroom doorway.
In the old sewing room upstairs, the atmosphere of sorrow and deep regret had become so thick as to be nearly tangible. Sommer refused to go in there anymore, devastated by the weight of sadness that hit him every time he walked through the door. Dean felt it too, though it didn’t affect him as much as it affected Sommer. Even the guests had noticed, to the point where Sommer had stopped renting out that room altogether.
The strangest thing of all was, the figure had stopped appearing in the kitchen. It only appeared in the guestroom now, and sometimes in Sommer’s room. It was an unusual development, and Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it. He’d never been involved in a case quite like this one. He felt as if he were groping in the dark toward a solution he sensed on a subconscious level but couldn’t quite