Sequel to Ghost Writer
As Goose continues to obsess about the spirits of Jefferson and Calvin, the Civil War soldiers he helped cross over, he also tries to heal from his own past in order to build a relationship with Patrick, the man he’s recently met in the flesh.
Snowed in at the huge box store where he works, Goose is happy when Patrick turns up and gets trapped there with him. Using the store as their toy box, they enjoy a night of childish games and sexy adult fun that helps them bond. Goose and Patrick also take another trip back in time, or possibly somewhere more ethereal, to discover if Jefferson and Calvin found their happily ever after.
Can each pair -- one from this century and one in the past -- help each other explore their budding relationships and fall in love?
More From Snowed In
"Do you know where you are?" Patrick asked.
"In the big, strong arms of the sexiest, redheaded man in America, him in his underwear, me dressed as Batman, snowed in at Cost-Mart, and listening to 'Let's Get Physical?'"
"Close enough."
"How am I wrong?" I could have moved but chose not to.
"You forgot about my turtle shell. I called an ambulance."
"You didn't!" I sat up.
"I'm on hold." Patrick showed me his phone. "Get back down here." He gently forced me to obey, then started stroking my hair again.
"How long was I out?"
"Almost two minutes."
I laughed. "It felt much longer. I saw Jefferson and Calvin."
"You did?"
"Uh-huh. I feel better." Wrapping my arm around Patrick's beefy thigh, I snuggled into his crotch, as if I was in bed and he was my pillow. "In fact, I feel fine. If you cancel the ambulance or just hang up, in case they're needed for a real emergency, I'll tell you all about my dream, or whatever it was."
"I don't know, Goose."
"Do it."
He sighed.
"I'll stay awake. That's what they'll tell you, 'Don't let him fall asleep.'" I wagged my finger. "There's nothing else to do. You know I'm right."
"They can make sure --"
I took the phone and hit End Call. "There."
"You're stubborn," Patrick said.
"Only sometimes." Wilbur settled back down, and so did I. "Hand me mine, will you?"
"Who ya gonna call?"
"Ghostbusters." The theme from the film had come on earlier, while Patrick and I were playing superheroes. "That song does ghosts a disservice, really." I shut off the music blaring throughout the store from the smart app on my phone that controlled the receiver in the office.
"You can do that?" Patrick asked.
"Just on or off. To change stations, I have to be at the panel. There. Quiet time."
"No sleeping."
"I know. I just said that. As long as I'm talking, all is well."
"Keep talking, then."
"Well, wherever I was, however I got there, I got to hug Jefferson goodbye this time," I explained, "but not Calvin."
"Were they alive, or were they ghosts?"
"At first, it was hard to tell. I ended up back at Operation Cracker Line. We finished the bridge, Jefferson, his troopmates, and I, and everyone celebrated, like the winning team at a FIFA World Cup soccer match."
"That's a lot of celebrating."
Someone got my reference. "Then Calvin showed up. When he and Jefferson kissed, everyone cheered again. I might have started it."
"Good for you," Patrick said. "Kisses deserve cheers."
"I agree. Kiss me."
He did.
"Yay!" We said it in unison.
"I think I might have been in Heaven."
"Wait!" Patrick's smile faded. "You died?" He grabbed the loose gray Batman costume fabric at my shoulder. "I should call 911 again."
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