“Yooouah,” he repeated more firmly.
“Again. Nope,” I said with a tired grin. “Although that’s very nice, I can’t accept.”
Donna barked and Karen burped. I shook my head—and then it hit me. “How about the Humane Society?” I asked. “You love dogs. We could do it in honor of Karen.”
“Yausssss,” John said, pointing at Karen and smiling. “Yausssss.”
I wondered if his will had been done at our firm and if I could doctor it. Of course, the question I should be asking myself was how much time would I serve for getting caught doing that? The chances of Sarina getting what she deserved were sadly slim. However, just in case John disappeared, I wanted to know his wishes. I couldn’t necessarily make them happen. But if I didn’t know what he wanted I really couldn’t make it happen.
“I’m going to sleep for forty-five minutes,” I announced to the dead and my dogs. “I set my alarm. Do not let me sleep through it. Cool?”
Everyone seemed to be on the same page. Even though I had no intention of dressing up for Gideon, it would be nice to freshen up a little and slap on some war paint.
Because I was pretty sure I was going to war.
May the best crazy person win.
Chapter Fifteen
“Oh my God,” I screeched, cupping my stinging cheek with my hand. “Did you just smack me in the face?”
Gideon was crouched over me on my couch. His big hands gripped my shoulders in a painful hold. The idiot was shaking me like a rag doll. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Wake up, Daisy. NOW.”
“I am awake, asshole,” I shouted.
Rearing back and fisting my hand while remembering to keep my thumb on the outside, I threw a right hook that landed squarely in the center of his face. His nose made a terrible crunching noise and his eyes grew wide with surprised shock.
Oh. My. God. Those classes at the Y really did teach me something. I hadn’t been sure because I’d never used my skills for real until now. Adrenaline pumped through my body and my heart raced. I was at an emotional cross between being wildly proud of myself and being completely mortified.
“Did you just break my nose?” he asked, confused yet smiling.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped out, slapping my hand over my mouth and cringing. “I didn’t mean to actually break anything. It’s just that I’m not real keen on getting smacked in the face and then being shaken so hard my brain rattles.”
“You wouldn’t wake up,” Gideon said, easing his huge frame off of me and touching his nose gingerly. “I thought you were dead.”
I felt the loss of his body heat acutely. I didn’t like that he’d moved away. What was wrong with me? He’d just smacked me in the face and shook me like I was a human-sized gin and tonic. I’d broken his nose for God’s sake, and I was upset that he wasn’t on top of me anymore?
I’m an idiot.
“If you kept shaking me, I might have gone there,” I said, getting up off the couch and avoiding him studiously. “Let me get you some ice for your nose. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Are you?” he inquired with a raised brow and a lopsided grin that made me tingle all over.
“Actually, no,” I told him with a laugh. “If you ever try to wake me up like that again—not that you’ll ever have the opportunity—I’ll do far worse.”
“Good to know,” Gideon replied. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I find you in a coma.”
I rolled my eyes and practically ran to the kitchen. I’d just punched the Grim Reaper in the face and lived. How had my existence come to this?
Quickly putting ice into an ice bag, I paused and then groaned. Could Gideon see my dead friends? Could he randomly send them to the darkness to punish me for rearranging his face?
“Shit, this could be bad,” I muttered, trying to figure out what to do.
He didn’t seem too angry about me breaking his nose—there wasn’t even any blood. Maybe it was just a little bit broken. Could a nose get sprained? Crap. I couldn’t even look it up. My phone was in the family room.
I had no clue I was strong enough to break anything. Violence had never been my go-to before five minutes ago. I was normally very mild-tempered and nice. However, I wasn’t sure what the rules were in this new game that I was being forced to play and couldn’t take any chances with my ghosts
“You,” I whispered urgently to a dead guy who was hovering over my head. “Get everyone into the kitchen now. Be casual about it just in case the man out there can see you. Can you do that?”
He nodded and zipped out of the room. I had to warn my people. They needed to leave. Now. If Gideon was as evil as the Grim Reaper was supposed to be, bad things could happen to my squatters.
I waited for three minutes. Not one freaking ghost joined me in the kitchen—not even John. Had Gideon already banished my dead guests to the darkness? If he had, I would break his jaw with my next punch—or at least sprain it. None of my decomposing buddies had had their problems solved yet. He had no right to horn in on my territory. Was his visit to my house planned with evil intent? It had to have been.
My squatters liked me… or I thought they did. I mean, they seemed happy here. I glued them back together and let them watch crappy reality TV.
Not to mention, I’d gone mind-diving twice already and almost died. I’d even committed a freaking misdemeanor. What else did they want from me?
“Did you fall into the freezer?” Gideon called out.
“Be right there,” I yelled back, giving my ghosts one more minute until I went out there and let the Grim Reaper know that I was the boss in my house.
Sixty seconds went by. My stomach was in knots. I didn’t exactly want to be living with dead people, but I didn’t want anyone to hurt them either. They were dead, for the love of everything unholy. They’d already been through enough.
Throwing my shoulders back and getting ready to bargain with the devil—or rather, the Grim Reaper—I marched back into the family room. Gideon wasn’t going to know what hit him. My lady balls were enormous and I was about to use them.
“What the hell?” I shouted, dropping the ice bag and glaring in disbelief at the scene in front of me.
My deceased squatters were complete traitors. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Did the idiots have any clue who they were fawning over?
The dead women were utterly ridiculous and embarrassingly lewd—fighting and shoving each other out of the way to get close to the asshole with the broken nose. They fluttered about, giggling and vying for his attention. The giggling sounded like a cross between choking and puking, but I recognized the macabre noise clearly. The men were no better. All of them were speaking gibberish a mile a minute, trying to impress the man who could send them into the darkness.
And my dogs? Both had flopped to their backs at his feet and were receiving belly rubs.
I could strip naked and run around the room and not one specter would notice. I wouldn’t do that because I was fairly sure Gideon would notice, and I was not going to give him the wrong idea. Ever.
“Nice of you to join us, Daisy,” Gideon said, appearing slightly stressed out. “Can you tell your people to stand down?”
“You can see them?” I asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t talking about the dogs.
“Yes. I’ve never seen quite so many together at the same time, but yes, I definitely see them,” he replied with a chuckle.
Well, he didn’t seem mad. Hopefully that meant he wasn’t going to send them to hell.
“You won’t hurt them?” I asked warily as I picked up the ice pack and shooed a few female ghosts away who tried to take it from me. Not that they could. Their hands went right through it. However, it was the action that counted, not the result. I was going to give him the damned ice pack. I was the one who broke his nose. It was the least I could do.
“What exactly do you think I do?” Gideon asked, raising a brow and leveling me with an intense stare.
> “Umm… carry a scythe and wear a cheesy black-hooded robe,” I said, realizing how ridiculous I sounded as the words left my lips.
“Please, go on,” he said, amused.
I slowly lifted my middle finger to him. He grinned. The Grim Reaper had a sense of humor. Who knew?
“Okay, I will. You randomly ring people’s doorbells and then you kill them with your scythe—which is really horrible and mean—and take them to hell. I’m not sure I believe in hell, but that’s what you do.”
Gideon bit down on his stupidly kissable bottom lip and tried not to laugh. He failed. He failed in a big way. As he let go of a delighted bellow of laughter, all of the ghosts laughed along with him… or more likely they were laughing at me. I didn’t like that one bit. However, the stupid part of me was thrilled that I’d made the idiot laugh. So much for wisdom coming with age.
“You should stop watching so much TV,” Gideon said, wiping a tear from his eye.
“Are you denying that’s what you do?” I demanded, trying to regain the upper hand, or some kind of hand.
“Yes. I categorically deny everything you just said, Daisy.”
Maybe he was correct. I did watch a lot of scary movies.
“But you are the Grim Reaper?”
“I am.”
“Okay. Fine,” I snapped, tossing the ice bag at him and nailing him right in the crotch. “OH MY GOD. I am so sorry,” I gasped out as he jackknifed forward and hissed. “I did not mean to do that.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Gideon said with a wince. “No one in their right mind would rack a man who carries a scythe and wears a cheesy hooded black cape.”
“You said I was incorrect about that,” I said, feeling horrified that I’d broken his nose and then racked him with an ice pack.
“You are incorrect,” he replied. “Why don’t you stay over there and put your hands in your pockets for a few minutes?” he suggested as he placed the ice pack on his nose and put a throw pillow over his junk.
“I can do that,” I said in a mortified whisper. “Do you want another ice pack for your… umm…”
“My balls?” he inquired with a pained grin.
“Yes,” I said, feeling heat crawl up my neck and head for my cheeks.
“No. I’m too terrified to find out what other damage you can inflict,” Gideon said dryly. “Let’s just leave it at my nose and nuts right now.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said weakly, shoving my hands into my pockets and moving farther away from him. This was not going well—especially for him.
“Can you do something about the ghosts?” Gideon inquired, squinting at me and indicating the shitshow happening all around him.
It was a hot mess now. The women were trying to ease the pain in his privates. The scene looked like a weird specter porn. I scrunched my nose and bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t laugh. Just like Gideon, I failed. Miserably.
“Ladies,” I shouted, swallowing back my giggles. “Get off of my guest. NOW. Gentlemen, quit trying to chew his ear off—not literally, thank God. He can’t understand you anyway. Wait. Can you?” I asked Gideon.
“No, I can’t,” he said with an expression of amazement on his face.
At least I thought it was amazement. It might have been horror. Right now, I couldn’t tell and didn’t have time to figure it out. I still had squatters to reprimand.
“People, this behavior is far more appalling than you freaks leaving random body parts around the house and showing up in my bathroom. Well, the bathroom thing was pretty bad… but this? This is unacceptable. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Would you have behaved like this when you were alive? My guess is no. Death is not a good time to become a hussy or a car salesman. Do you feel me?”
They all looked up at me and then dropped their heads in remorse. Only six heads hit the floor. The number could have been far worse. At least thirty dead gals had been hanging all over Gideon. It was a damn good thing I’d bought so much superglue.
The Grim Reaper’s mouth was open and his expression was one I couldn’t decipher. Whatever. He didn’t have to live with these people—I did.
Gideon needed to say what he came here to say and then leave. He already had a broken nose and sore junk. I was pretty sure he wanted to get this over with as well.
“Anyone who just lost a head needs to pick it up and keep it with you. I’ll glue it back on later,” I said, eyeing my dead posse. “There’s a TV in the kitchen as all of you already know. Survivor is on now. Quite honestly, I should take your TV privileges away after the hideous behavior you displayed, but it’s a new episode and I’m aware of how much you enjoy the show.”
Gideon was still open-mouthed. Unfortunately, it was sexy. Even dazed and confused the asshole was sexy.
“I’m going to count to three and all of you had better disappear. Am I clear?”
Everyone grunted and nodded. Thankfully, everyone also looked contrite. Manners were important. Gideon was handsome, but this was absurd.
“One. Two. Three.”
They all evaporated.
“Where did they go?” Gideon asked, still slightly dumbfounded.
“The kitchen,” I told him. “To watch Survivor. They like reality shows.”
Gideon stared at me like I was insane. It was kind of rude considering I’d just saved him from being sexually assaulted by a bunch of dead women, but whatever.
I knew I wasn’t quite right in the head. If he thought so too, so be it.
“Say what you need to say and then leave,” I told him, keeping my distance. My instinct was to check his injuries—not his balls, his nose. I really did feel bad.
He said nothing. He started to several times, but nothing came out.
“Are you in pain? Should I get you some aspirin?” I asked, feeling even worse than I already did. Maybe getting racked was an ongoing terrible process that made speech difficult. I’d never seen anyone get racked before and I didn’t have brothers. My knowledge of getting racked came from the movies. It was usually kind of funny and well deserved on the big screen. Tonight? Not so much.
“I have never felt so alive in my entire existence,” Gideon muttered, sounding shocked and shaking his head.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Isn’t that a rude question?” he inquired with a grin.
“Only if you were a woman,” I replied, enjoying myself. The Grim Reaper was not only pretty to look at, he was fun. And I was clearly crazy to be having these thoughts.
“You shouldn’t ask questions that you don’t want the answer to, Daisy,” he said cryptically, removing the ice pack from his face and putting it on the coffee table.
His nose didn’t look too bad—just a little swollen. Gideon still looked like a male model. The imperfection made him even better-looking somehow. Maybe his nose was just bruised and not broken. I still felt awful, but not quite as awful.
“Fine. I won’t,” I replied. “You came here for a reason.”
“I did,” he agreed. “Just wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.”
I laughed. “I said I was sorry. What else do you want?”
“I’ll let you know shortly,” he replied with a look that made me regret the question.
My stomach fluttered and I was pretty sure I was blushing. Again. The man was sex on two legs and I didn’t do sex. If I was truly going to have to work with him, I needed to banish the thoughts from my head. I’d embarrassed myself enough. My lack of skill in the bedroom would not be added to the list.
Back to business. “Okay. So, I was wrong about what you do. Would you like to explain it to me or am I going to have to guess?”
“I don’t send anyone to hell,” he said, taking my cue and getting to the reason he came. “People determine their own fate during their life.”
“Got it. So why do you exist?”
“I’ve asked myself that question many times,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him co
rrectly.
“Nothing,” he said flatly in a cold tone. “I’m only called upon when a soul’s fate is in question.”
Well, that was certainly interesting. I wondered which one of my ghost’s fate was in question.
Oh, hell no. I was pretty sure I knew who it might be.
“Can God or Satan see the truth? The real truth?” I asked, feeling a little sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure I believed in God or Satan, but I figured using the names sounded professional.
“Not following,” Gideon said.
I stood and began to pace. My head started to throb and my heartbeat felt like it was skipping every other beat. John didn’t commit suicide. But if the higher powers—whoever the heck they were—went by what was believed as opposed to what really happened, John could get sent to the wrong place. I wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d already been murdered. He wasn’t going to pay for a suicide that he didn’t commit.
Maybe I could show John’s phone to Gideon and clear it up before a tragic mistake occurred. It was possible that the reason I stole the phone was for this very moment. Sarina would get away with murder, but John wouldn’t suffer in death.
Heaving out a huge sigh, I went for it. “You can’t have John. He didn’t kill himself. If you want proof, I have it.”
Gideon stared at me perplexed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t?” I asked, feeling my heartbeat settle back to a rate that wasn’t going to give me a stroke. I was only forty, but my hobby was definitely raising my blood pressure.
“No. I don’t.”
“You’re not here to take John?” I wasn’t quite sure I believed him. He seemed to be nicer than I would expect the Grim Reaper to be, but he was still the Grim Reaper.
“I’m not here to take anyone anywhere,” he said.
“Why are you here then?”
“I’m here to see you. To get to know you,” he replied. “There is no soul in question right now.”
I was a little confused, but maybe this was normal protocol. I really needed to talk to Gram. I hadn’t asked any of the right questions.
It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book One Page 15
