Free Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series) by Mimi Barbour Page B

is. You should be ashamed.”
    “Aw, sweetheart. I’m only teasing you. Look, I’m a friendly kinda guy. Nothing wrong with that, is there? But I’m pretty choosey when it comes to whom I date and when.”
    A sickening sensation hit her all at once. “Is there someone in your life now, at home, in Chicago?”
    “Nope, just me hanging with a lot of good buddies. I’ve been more than friends with a few great gals, but with me being away so often, they get bored and find someone who sticks around. Lately, I’ve been spending most of my time with the newspaper crowd in Chicago. I guess it’s why I want a desk job in the industry. I’ve been freelancing for too many years.”
    “Are you an investigative reporter?”
    “Uh-huh! After a couple years in college, I couldn’t stop the restlessness from taking over and decided to get my learning on the streets. I pick a topic of interest involving a specific crime, or ongoing political corruption, or even a possible scandal, and I write an exposé that can take months to work on. I’ve been in so many different countries I’ve had to add a back page in my passport. Hiding, being undercover, seeing the meanness and dishonesty in the world has all but left me burnt out. It’s time I settled down in one place to build my career.”
    “You’re a truth bloodhound.”
    “I’ve never heard it put quite like that before, but I guess it’s better than being called a nosy pri-, er, jerk. After I got shot during my last sojourn in a country not my home, writing about a story that wasn’t based on my own people, I took it as a sign—time to go stateside and stay there. Since then I’ve been hanging around the city, until this story about Ellie Ward broke. I knew it could be the one to put me behind a desk at the Chicago Sun-Times. I had to get it at all costs, even if it meant travelling again.”
    “You were shot? Where?”
    “In Thailand…”
    “Not that where—where in your body? It must’ve hurt something wicked.”
    “In my shoulder, and yes—it did hurt something wicked. But I got a great story, so I’m not complaining about a little scratch.”
    “You love the business, don’t you? I can feel that radiating throughout your system every time anything to do with journalism comes into our conversation.”
    Before he could answer, a man sitting at a table just behind them cussed at the fellow next to him. Fists swung and glasses flew everywhere.
    “Oh, oh! Time to get you outta here.” He started to rise.
    “Don’t hurry on my account. I’m sure they’ll sort things out. Remember, an author needs to experience every aspect of life if she wants to be able to write convincingly.”
    “Not sixteen-year-old authors.”
    “Almost seventeen!”
    Wavering on the stool next to him, an old drunk grabbed Troy’s arm. “Aye, there, hang on, mate, what’s yer hurry? They’ll settle down.”
    Troy released the gripping fingers by lowering his shoulder and leaning back on his stool. The spittle from his neighbour, now out of range, sprayed the bar instead.
    “Hey, pal, time for me to call it a night. It’s been a long day.” Troy made as if to rise again but hesitated, knowing his answering grin gave the fellow a green light to carry on.
    “Cor! You’re a Yank. I need ta buy you a pint. Me brother’s a dockworker in America, and he’s always blithering on about his cushy job and his mates. Says they’re a fine bunch of lads, he does.”
    “Where is your brother living?”
    “In the United States.”
    “There are fifty of them, which one does he live in?”
    “Fifty what?”
    “States. Is he in the eastern part of the country or in the west?”
    Grinning slyly, the balding man slapped his hand down hard on the wooden surface in front of him. “He’s in the state of Baltimore.”
    Beginning to enjoy himself, Troy settled back down and nodded when the blonde bartender’s eyebrow rose. “Baltimore is a city. It’s in the state of Maryland. Your