It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book One

by Robyn Peterman

  “It’s all good,” Heather said smoothly, patting my back.

  “Is it Stan?” I whispered.

  “Umm… no,” she said. “Not Stan.”

  “Thank God,” I muttered as I turned around—and wanted to melt into the floor.

  It wasn’t Stan. It wasn’t Clarissa either, which would have been my next guess from the reactions of June and Jennifer. No. It was far worse. And the most awful part was that I wasn’t sure when he’d walked in or how much he’d heard.

  “Hello, Daisy,” he said, looking like he’d jumped off the pages of one of the stupid romance novels we’d been making fun of. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself properly yesterday. My name is Gideon… and I’m not hairy.”

  Shit. Well, there was the answer to my question. He’d heard the whole thing. How much more could I humiliate myself in front of the same man? Apparently, a lot.

  “What are you doing here, Gideon?” Heather asked coolly as she leaned on the counter and eyed him suspiciously. “Shouldn’t you be lawyering right now?”

  Holy cow, I couldn’t believe she’d used his first name. I didn’t know his last name, but I assumed Heather did. Her lack of fear was going to get her canned. I knew she was protective of me, but she wasn’t going down for me.

  Gideon smiled. It was positively blinding—even Missy was charmed, and she was a tough nut to crack. And Donna the Destroyer? She was a traitor. She ran right up to the dangerous man and danced at his feet like she’d eaten a vat of sugar.

  “Heather brought me some paperwork,” I said quickly in a voice that sounded suspiciously breathy even to my own ears. I held it up for proof with a trembling hand and stuffed it into my purse. “She’s going back to the office now. And I’m… umm… leaving.”

  “Heather, I’ll see you back at the office,” Gideon said pleasantly, but clearly dismissing her. By the tone of his voice, it was obvious he wasn’t usually disobeyed.

  Heather didn’t disappoint him. She narrowed her eyes and then nodded curtly. “Yep. See you back at the office.”

  Giving me a look that I couldn’t decipher, Heather slowly left the shop.

  “Daisy, may I have a word with you?” Gideon asked.

  The way he said my name made my insides clench and my knees weaken. What was it about this guy? Sure, he was pretty to look at, but he was so clearly dangerous I could almost taste it. Did turning forty mean a person became attracted to good-looking serial killers?

  “Yes. Of course,” I said, scooping Donna into my arms and putting a nice safe distance between me and someone who was technically one of my bosses. “Go ahead.”

  “Privately,” he said, looking over at Missy with a smile that would make most women faint.

  “I can leave,” Missy volunteered, glancing over at me apologetically. “Or not. Up to you, Daisy.”

  “How about this?” Gideon suggested, crossing the room and taking the puppy from my shaking hands. “Why don’t we take your dog for a walk? We can go to the park—very public,” he added with a wink.

  Well crap. Could he read my mind? Did he know I thought he might be a hot serial killer? I never should have gotten out of bed this morning. But with a puppy and a houseful of floating specters, I didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Sure,” I said, trying to take my dog back.

  He was having none of it. Gideon turned and walked out the door with my puppy in his arms. He was an arrogant jerk to think I would just follow him, but he did have my dog.

  “Bang him, dude,” Missy whispered, giving me a thumbs up. “He said he wasn’t hairy.”

  “He’s terrifying,” I whispered back as I watched him put Donna down and pet her through the front window of the shop.

  “So what?” Missy shot back with a grin. “He looks like he knows what to do with it and he’s clearly into you.”

  “He is not,” I insisted. Was he? Shit.

  “Is,” she contradicted me. “Bang him.”

  “I can’t,” I said, feeling frantic as heat crawled up my neck and my stomach began to churn. “Besides getting drunk and doing Stan the Two-Minute Man, I haven’t done it in years.”

  I gasped as I realized what I’d just confessed. How could I dishonor Steve’s memory like that? I was horrible, and it was me… not him.

  “What did you say?” Missy asked, shocked.

  “Nothing,” I said as I made my way to the door. “Just… please forget I said that. I didn’t mean it. Please.”

  Missy nodded and observed me with sadness in her eyes. I didn’t want her pity. I didn’t need her to know how truly broken I was. I was trying to forget it myself. God, I was an idiot.

  “I love you, Daisy,” Missy said as I exited her little shop. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

  “I love you too,” I said without looking back. “I really do.”

  I’d already talked far too much. Duct taping my mouth sounded like a fine idea. I would say as little as possible during my chat with Gideon.

  As little as possible.

  Right…

  Chapter Seven

  Uncomfortable didn’t begin to describe how I felt. I was still horrified over what I’d just revealed to Missy. Not to mention, I was way out of my league sitting in the park with Gideon. The air felt charged with energy and I wished I was wearing more clothing—armor would have been helpful. The need to protect myself was bizarre. Every time Gideon glanced over, I felt raw and exposed, like I was naked… not that he was undressing me with his eyes or anything sexually inappropriate like that. The man was just seriously intense.

  “Lovely morning,” Gideon said, watching me like a hawk as I kept my eyes glued to my puppy. I could feel his stare like a two-ton weight on my shoulders.

  “Yep,” I agreed. Oh my God, was that all I could come up with? Yes. Yes, it was. And as far as I was concerned, it was a win. I hadn’t embarrassed myself… yet.

  I was too old to feel like I was the high school nerd sitting next to the popular quarterback. I turned forty yesterday. Acting your age was a requirement when you hit forty, or something like that. I was pretty sure I made that up, but if I didn’t keep my mind occupied, I would say something mortifying. I was sure of it.

  This was ridiculous. However, I didn’t seem to have much of a choice. The pretty-boy lawyer was technically my superior and it was a workday, even though I was supposed to be doing my job from home.

  “Since we’re going to be working together, I think we should get to know each other, Daisy,” Gideon said mildly as we watched Donna chase and attack the autumn leaves.

  “Umm… why?” I asked, glancing over at him and then looking away. My name on his lips made me feel funny inside, but his statement was odd.

  The morning sun made his hair shine and his eyes sparkle. He was simply wrong in every sense of the word. No one should look as good as he did.

  “Because it makes sense and will make everything easier when the stakes are high and dangerous.”

  Was he crazy? Possibly. Someone as pretty as he was had to have something wrong with him. It would be unfair if he’d been blessed with both looks and brains. It made this situation a little easier to handle, realizing he wasn’t perfect.

  “You take your job pretty seriously,” I commented, trying not to roll my eyes.

  The stakes were never high at our firm, considering we specialized in real estate and estate planning. And they were never dangerous. I thought about pointing that out, but if he thought real estate and wills were exciting and life-threatening, who was I to burst his bubble?

  “Don’t you?” he asked.

  “Umm… sure. But you’re a lawyer and I’m a paralegal. We don’t exactly work together,” I explained, trying to be nice. If he wasn’t right in the head, it wouldn’t be polite to make him feel bad about it. The Southern manners thing was ingrained.

  Gideon’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment. He pressed his lips together and glanced up at the cloudless sky.

  “We do
work together,” he said slowly, turning his head to stare at me. “We work closely together.”

  Okay. He was either hitting on me in a seriously creepy way or there was something wrong with him. His gaze was so direct it felt like he was seeing inside me. It wasn’t a real pleasant feeling.

  “Did you have this same conversation with the other gals at the office?” I asked, ready to grab Donna and run like hell if necessary.

  “No,” he said, squinting at me in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

  “Well,” I said, trying to stay diplomatic so he didn’t crack on me. I was beginning to feel a little sorry for him. “Because all of us work with you in a roundabout way—me, Heather, June, Jennifer and Clarissa.”

  “I do not work with Clarissa,” he snapped and then pulled himself back together quickly.

  I could have sworn his eyes had turned red for a second, but the sun was bright and I had my own cray-cray issues. As loony as he was, I was still wildly tempted to touch his face. His beauty was startling. I’d never seen anyone like him.

  I needed my head checked. I had more than enough insanity in my life right now. I didn’t need to add to it. Plus, I still was unsure if he was a killer or just off his rocker.

  Sitting this close to Gideon made my heart race. I knew if he tried to murder me, someone would notice. Several of the old gals from The Gladiolas Women’s Club were weeding the flower beds on the far said of the park. If I screamed, they would come running. They might be ancient, but they were damned scary.

  Twice, I almost tried to start a new conversation. Twice, I mentally told myself to shut up.

  What did you talk about with someone who might be mentally unbalanced?

  Wait. I should know since I currently resided in that unsavory category.

  Instead of following my very misguided instincts to touch him, I glanced over at the church and sighed. There was a new posse of dead hanging out and they were all waving at me. Gideon had so many screws loose, he probably wouldn’t notice if I waved back, but I didn’t want them to come over. Donna would bark and freak out. Every time a new ghost had floated through the kitchen last night, she went berserk. Which reminded me—I needed to pick up some superglue on the way home. Sam’s jaw needed to be glued back on.

  Closing my eyes, I smiled. Gideon might not be working with all cylinders running correctly, but I had him beat in the batshit crazy department. If he believed that real estate and wills were exciting and dangerous, I’d hate to hear what he thought was boring. Looking back over at the church, I counted six specters. My ghostly squatter count was getting higher every day.

  “What are you looking at?” he demanded abruptly, making me jump and almost fall off the bench.

  Narrowing my eyes, I’d had about enough weird for nine thirty in the morning. “You’re kind of rude,” I told him.

  “Your point?” he asked with a raised brow, clearly annoyed with me.

  “An observation,” I said, shrugging. “As strange and interesting as this has been, I really have to go. Maybe you can meet with the other gals and that will make you feel better about working at the firm. They’re all really great… except Clarissa.”

  “Are you for real?” he asked, looking at me like I had two heads.

  “Are you?” I shot right back. I stood up and grabbed Donna.

  “If this is an act, you’re brilliant,” he said, clapping his hands condescendingly. “I suppose it could come in handy.”

  “Look, I think maybe you… umm… might want to talk to someone. There are a bunch of great doctors in town and if that makes you uncomfortable, you can drive to Atlanta to see someone. It’s only an hour and a half away.”

  Gideon’s laugh was as beautiful as he was, and I found myself smiling. Why? Well, probably because I was as bonkers as he was. My desire to make him laugh bordered on absurd and possibly dangerous.

  “You think I need a psychiatrist?” he asked, perplexed and amused.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” I offered weakly. “It’s not a weakness to get help. It’s a strength.”

  Gideon stared at me for a long moment. I couldn’t have ripped my gaze away if I’d wanted to. I didn’t want to. Being the sole focus of his attention was intoxicating in a way I’d never experienced. For a brief moment, I forgot how out of his mind he was.

  “You really don’t know,” he whispered in amazement. “You have no clue who or what you are. You’re just walking around completely ignorant. Unbelievable.”

  Okay, I was done. Crazy was one thing. Mean was entirely another.

  Breathing in slowly through my nose and blowing my breath back out on an audible puff, I glared at him. “You’re an asshole,” I said flatly. “We don’t work together and I know exactly who I am. You, my friend—and I use the term very loosely—need some help with your manners and probably a whole bunch of other things. However, you’re not my problem, thank God. So, in the future, stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. And if you try to get me fired, I will slap your ass with a harassment suit so fast your head will spin.”

  Donna was squirming to get out of my arms to lick the certifiable and cruel idiot who was sitting there with his mouth hanging open in shock. It was evident by his reaction that he wasn’t used to being called an asshole.

  My puppy was definitely a traitor. I adored her, but she had some shitty taste in men. That shouldn’t surprise me since she was my dog, and I wasn’t much better.

  “You are a wonder,” Gideon said as a wide smile pulled at his lips.

  “And you’re a lunatic,” I said as I turned and marched out of the park.

  “Just so you know, Daisy,” Gideon called out with a laugh. “Mine’s not tiny, and I’m not hairy.”

  I didn’t even turn around.

  “Good for you,” I yelled as I headed for my car. “I’m sure someone will be appreciative of that.”

  “Oh, you will,” he added.

  “I can add sexual harassment to the lawsuit, buster,” I shouted, putting Donna into the car, starting it and flooring it out of town like the devil was chasing me.

  Of course, my windows were open, and the last thing I heard as I drove away was his laughter. Damn me, if I didn’t love the sound. It was stupidly addictive.

  From now till the end of time, I would avoid Gideon like the plague. He was bad juju and I didn’t need any more than I already had.

  The man was crazy and dead wrong. I would never appreciate Gideon Whatever-his-last-name-was.

  Ever.

  “Oh, hell no,” I said, pulling into my driveway and shuddering. “This can’t be happening.”

  Clarissa Smith sat on my front porch swing. I was going to have to sage the damn thing when she left, which would be immediately if I had any say in the matter. She might be my supervisor at work, but she wasn’t allowed at my home.

  Donna growled and refused to leave the car. I didn’t blame her. I considered backing out of the driveway and speeding away, but I had a horrible feeling the viper would still be on the swing when I returned. Clarissa was a determined person.

  “Daisy,” she called out. “I need to have a word with you.”

  I’d heard that phrase earlier and it hadn’t turned out so well. I didn’t expect this conversation to go any better.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, getting out of the car and leaving Donna put. The windows were open and she’d be fine. I hoped she didn’t eat the interior since I’d just gotten the car paid off, but I understood why my puppy didn’t want to get out. Clarissa was heinous.

  “That’s not a nice way to treat a guest,” she informed me with an arched brow and a sour expression.

  “You’re not a guest,” I told her with a polite smile that was in complete juxtaposition to the words that had just come out of my mouth.

  Honestly, I didn’t care if she fired me. If she didn’t, I was going to quit. I didn’t want to be in the same building with Gideon, and not seeing Clarissa every day would be an added bonus. If I was
careful, I could make the insurance money last a while. I’d find a new job. Maybe Missy would hire me. Or Heather might need a paralegal when she started her own practice.

  The only thing I needed money for was to take care of Gram… and now Donna. The car was paid off and the mortgage and utilities were manageable.

  “Invite me into your house,” Clarissa demanded.

  “Are you a vampire?” I inquired with a grin.

  My amusement didn’t amuse her. I didn’t care. I was kind of done for today and I still had to reattach Sam’s jaw.

  “I’m your supervisor,” she snapped.

  “You’re on private property,” I stated flatly as I unlocked the door.

  “You’re on the clock, Daisy,” Clarissa reminded me. “I need to talk to you about work.”

  I laughed. She didn’t.

  “Clarissa, I don’t believe that, but if you want to play that game, go for it. Come on inside and we can talk about work.”

  “When did you grow balls?” she inquired as she breezed past me and walked into my house.

  “Today,” I said.

  “Interesting. Any particular reason why?” she inquired as she looked around my house with great interest.

  My home was lovely and warm. I’d done all the painting and some of the other manual labor things, but Steve had been the one with the great decorating skill. All of the furniture was overstuffed and in soothing patterns and faded florals. The floors were a lightly stained, pitted cherry and the walls were repossessed barn wood we’d bought at an estate sale.

  The art on the walls represented places we’d gone together. We’d picked up a piece of art on every vacation we took. My favorite was a painting from France—a little café with colorfully dressed, chic people conversing and drinking coffee. Steve and I used to sit in front of our massive stone fireplace and make up the conversations of the folks in the painting with our horrible French accents. It was fun. We laughed. I missed all those silly moments desperately.