Soul Food Spirits (Southern Ghost Wranglers Book 1)

by Amy Boyles

  Roan hoisted me to my feet like I was a sheet of paper. He was ginormous, after all. “Let’s get some ice on that head.”

  I lightly touched the knob sprouting on the back of my head. “Really, I’m fine. You just tell me when the room’s ready.” I made to take off toward my vehicle. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone. The last time I was rescued, I was ten years old and my dad had removed me from the orphanage. He’d been the only man I’d ever wanted to rescue me. Not some stranger offering a stupid helping hand when I’d fallen flat on my butt on concrete steps.

  I mean, how humiliating. I was better than that. I didn’t need some fancy-pants redneck offering assistance.

  His fingers pressed into my shoulder. “You’re coming with me.”

  Oh no I wasn’t.

  I jerked away. “I’m fine.” I think a ball of fire erupted from my mouth when I said it.

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  “You’re not helping,” I ground out. “You’re annoying me. I’m fine.”

  He shook his head as if to say, Why me? Then he slid his thumb down his jaw.

  “You fell on my property. You’re a potential liability. I don’t make sure you’re okay, that’s on me. Let’s go in. Make sure you’re all right.” He raised his palms in surrender. “I promise I won’t touch you once we’re inside.”

  He was seriously making it hard to say no, but I could. I had a first-aid kit in the truck with instant ice packs. All I needed was to rip one open and stick it down my pants. I’d feel like a million bucks in no time.

  And Mr. Helps-a-Lot could get on with baking bread or whatever B and B owners did.

  “Like I said, I’m fine.”

  “For someone who’s so small, you’re not exactly soft and snuggly.”

  I glared fire arrows of death at him. “I never said I was.”

  “Thank goodness, because that would’ve been the lie of the century.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, are you coming with me or do you want me to pick you up and carry you over my shoulder so the entire town can see?”

  He pointed to the street. About twenty people littered the sidewalk, all of them staring in my direction. Great. First I was filmed eating lunch with a ghost, and now I would be known as the caveman B and B’s woman.

  Awesome. Way to go under the radar, Bliss. First thing I knew Lucky Strike would know I was on his tail and he’d be gone before I blinked.

  I dragged my gaze from the sea of gawkers and glared hot coals at Roan. “Fine. I’ll come with you. But don’t carry me. I can make it on my own.”

  “Sunshine, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I sat in the parlor. I guess it was a parlor. There were chairs and a fireplace. It did have a television, so maybe it wasn’t a parlor.

  “Here’s some ice.” Roan handed me the bag.

  I was stretched out on his couch. Roan nestled into a chair beside me. “Do you need me to put it on your head?”

  I placed it slowly on my hairline. “I might be short, but I’m capable.”

  His lips twitched. “You sure you don’t want a doctor? I know one that still makes house calls.”

  “Does he take chickens for payment, too?”

  “I actually gave him eggs one time.”

  I stared at him.

  “Okay, maybe it was just a ham I had curing in the smokehouse.”

  I stared harder.

  “I actually chopped his Christmas tree for him and delivered it over my shoulder.”

  “Like you were going to do to me?”

  He switched on the TV. “That’s still a possibility. I get the feeling first chance you get, you’ll be causing trouble.”

  I removed the bag from my head and placed it on my tailbone. The spot throbbed. The slightest pressure made me grimace.

  “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just on business.”

  “Right,” Roan said.

  I didn’t like his tone, as if he knew more about me than what he was saying. “What’re you talking about?”

  The television’s sound blared. “Tonight on Ghost Wranglers, we’re at a haunted hotel in Nashville, Tennessee. My name’s Xavier Bibb. I never thought the paranormal was real until I came face-to-face with it. Now I’m tracking down ghosts and sending them back where they belong so that you can sleep soundly at night. I’m putting the boogeyman in the corner so you don’t have to.”

  “Oh no, not that guy,” I groaned.

  “You don’t like Ghost Wranglers?” He said it like it was the surprise of the century. Like everyone and their mama loved the show.

  “No,” I said sharply. “That guy’s a con man. The whole thing’s for show.”

  “You an expert?”

  I couldn’t exactly say, well yes, I am. The Ghost Team was off the grid. We weren’t government, but that’s where the funds came from. We investigated spirit phenomenon when it interfered with the human world.

  Well, I guess Anita and her team did.

  I coughed. Ugh. That made my rear end hurt. “No. I’m not an expert. I think it’s obvious. That guy is so full of crap it’s up to his eyes. Can’t you tell?”

  Roan shrugged. “I don’t watch the show. Guests do. I keep it on for them. Adds to the ambiance of the town.”

  “Adds to something.”

  Roan's dark eyes studied me. “Aren’t you just a pocketful of posies?”

  I opened my mouth to argue that I was not a pocketful of anything unless it was a ham sandwich with a scorpion hiding inside, but the front door blew open.

  I blinked. No, it couldn’t be. I had to be going blind. No, I had a concussion and was imagining things. Had to be.

  A man filled the doorframe. He spotted me. Our gazes collided. My stomach plummeted to the floor. A second man dressed all in black swept past him. He aimed a camera at the blond man.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Xavier Bibb said to the camera. “We’ve found her. Our search for the woman who had lunch with a ghost has ended.”

  I sucked air. What in the world was he doing here? Oh no. I’d never even considered the fact that my lunch with a ghost would go viral. How stupid of me—of course it would go viral. Even though eating lunch with a ghost wasn’t a big deal to me, it was huge to the world. Xavier Bibb must’ve seen the footage and hopped on his private jet to track me down and investigate the town of Haunted Hollow.

  I was sunk for sure. Lucky Strike would hear about the attention on the town and go into hiding.

  Crap and double crap.

  Or…maybe not. The camera crew might get Lucky Strike excited. He might use the attention to make a big splash, gain some attention. After all, since he’d blown the power out of half the Southeast a few years ago, he’d been relatively quiet. It was about time Lucky got back in the action.

  Which meant now was my chance.

  My gaze swept over Xavier Bibb and his goons from the show Ghost Wranglers. I plastered on my biggest smile and shifted toward him, doing my best to ignore the pain zinging up my spine.

  “My name’s Blissful Breneaux, and I had lunch with a ghost.”

  FOUR

  “Ghost Wranglers is here live in Haunted Hollow, Alabama, the second most haunted city in the country.”

  Xavier Bibb spoke with punch and drama. He placed a hand on my shoulder. Concern as fake as the eyebrows Anita Tucker drew on her face sprinkled Xavier’s brow. “I know you’re scared.”

  Yeah, right.

  “I know that coming face-to-face with a ghost can be terrifying.” He placed a hand on his heart. “I’ve been there myself. I know what it’s like. If you can find the courage to discuss what happened, the viewers would like to know.”

  I twisted a tissue in my hands.

  “Tell us what it was like to have lunch with a ghost,” Xavier prodded.

  I was on the couch. Roan had disappeared into the kitchen or somewhere.

  I’d been mic’d. I sat as straight as I could without feeling a punch of pain. I widened my eyes. I figured if I
looked young and stupid, I’d have a much better chance of the whole town talking about what happened. If the whole town buzzed about the encounter, it was a good guess the ghosts would start talking too. Eventually word would have to reach Lucky that folks were making a big stir about ghosts. He would love that. I would be back on the team in no time. Next week, tops.

  “Well,” I said slowly, wavering my voice, “I was sitting and eating when this chill swept over me.”

  “Bull crap.” Looked like Susan had returned.

  I ignored her. “I didn’t see anything, but then other people started snapping pictures. At that moment I knew something weird and creepy had occurred. I looked up, and there it was. The scariest thing I’d ever seen.”

  Susan plopped down on the couch. “Gag me with a spoon.”

  I went on. “I was frozen in fear, and then the next thing I know, I’m all over the Internet.”

  Xavier squeezed my shoulder. “I know you’re scared. I know this was hard for you, but I wonder…”

  “Yes?”

  He fisted his hand and brought it to his lips. “I wonder. Do you think you could go back? Return to the spot of the haunting?”

  My voice caught. “I…don’t know.”

  His jaw clenched. “Could you do it? Face down the ghost that frightened you?”

  “Maybe,” I said quietly.

  “We’ll be there. Me and my team of Ghost Wranglers. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I gave a slight nod. “I think I could. Maybe.”

  “Oh come on,” Susan said. “I won’t scare you too bad.”

  Xavier glanced back at the camera. “Tonight the Ghost Wrangler Team will investigate this haunting. We will shut ourselves up in the Soul Food and Spirits restaurant and spend the night. Along with the help of Blissful Breneaux, we will find out the truth of this terrifying encounter.”

  Give me a break. Xavier Bibb was full of so much hot air I was surprised he didn’t pop.

  He nodded to the camera. The guy behind it shut it off. Xavier turned to me. “That was great, Blissful. Just great. I appreciate your help.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I blinked, not wanting to ruin the whole scared thing I had going.

  “I’m out for a smoke,” one of the guys said.

  “All right, Slick,” Xavier said.

  Slick thumbed to the third man. “Truck’s going with me.”

  Xavier nodded. “Be out in a minute.” He turned back to me and squeezed my hand. “Thanks for doing this. We’ll be holed up in the restaurant from midnight until two a.m.”

  “The best activity is always at three,” I said.

  That was the problem with these reality-television-show guys. They had all the gadgets and whatnots, but when it came to actual sense, they didn’t know the basics. Spirit activity peaked at three a.m. That was basic knowledge.

  He gave me a tight smile. “I’ll see if the guys don’t mind staying a little late.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Xavier rose and Roan walked in. Xavier, clad in black clothes that looked more like fatigues than street wear, strode across the wood floor and shook Roan’s hand.

  “Thanks for letting us use your business, man,” Xavier said. He emphasized man as if he and Roan were old friends. For all I knew, they were.

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll make sure we get the name of the place in the credits.”

  Roan’s brow tightened as if he wasn’t impressed. “Appreciate it.”

  Xavier walked out the door. He turned and pointed to me. “We’ll pick you up around ten. That work?”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as he was gone, I let a slow smile creep over my face. This was great. Publicity was what I needed. Sweet!

  “You sure fooled him,” Roan said.

  I bristled. My gut response was to say, What do you know about me? You just met me. But it took every ounce of effort I had to tip my head and keep up with the whole innocent act. “I’m sorry?”

  Roan rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb. “You don’t exactly strike me as the helpless type.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I slowly pushed myself to standing.

  “The whole act of being scared by the ghost. The way you yelled at me after you fell, I don’t think there’s much you’re afraid of.”

  “I could be afraid of ghosts.”

  He scoffed. “And I’m scared of puppies.”

  “Are you? But you’re so tall and they’re so cute.”

  He laughed. Like threw his head back and burned bright, he laughed so genuinely. Our eyes met. The world tipped and tilted. I was sliding off. Gravity no longer held sway over me.

  Not possible. I tamped down the emotion swelling in my chest. I was here for two days, three tops. I had a job to do, and that’s what I needed to focus on—not some wood-chopping bed-and-breakfast owner.

  I made my voice hard. “Is my room ready?”

  Maybe too hard. Roan winced.

  “All set. I’ll walk you up.”

  I raised my hand. “Nope. I’ve got it. All I need is a key.”

  Without missing a beat, Roan crossed over and dropped a set in my palm. They were warm from his skin. His fingers gently brushed mine before he slid his hand into his pocket.

  It was like jabbing my finger in a socket. That’s how electric his touch was.

  I squeaked out a “Thanks,” before turning and hobbling up the staircase to lucky number seven.

  “I told you he’s got a hot bod,” Susan said.

  I was in the room putting my clothes away. Stupid me, I’d forgotten to bring in my luggage. Roan offered. Of course he did. That meant he entered my vehicle, grabbed my clothes and probably sniffed my underwear before he brought it up.

  Jeez, I hope not. That’s gross.

  He didn’t seem that creepy. But I liked to fantasize that he was creepy. It was the best way to stop my pulse from pounding in my throat every time I laid eyes on him.

  “Nice truck,” Roan had said when he delivered my clothes.

  I tried not to swoon. It was a big deal with me that the Land Cruiser be referred to as a truck. It wasn’t a car, and I didn’t call it an SUV. It was a truck, and that’s what Roan had called it.

  I really didn’t like him.

  “He’s okay,” I said quietly to Susan.

  Susan was lying on the bed smacking ghost gum and filing her ghost nails. “All the women talk about him. He looks kinda smooth, but I get the feeling he’s a little rough around the edges, like a lumberjack. He plays guitar at night in back.”

  I scoffed. “For an audience?”

  “No. By himself.”

  My heart did that stupid lurching thing again. Best to get my mind off it. “Listen, I need you to make a big appearance tonight at Soul Food and Spirits.”

  Susan sat up. Her face shone with delight. “Like, totally. I can be as big as you want. You want something flashy to get their attention?”

  “Yes. I need to find Lucky.”

  “Ugh. That horndog. Good luck. He’s here somewhere. Every once in a while I get a whiff of Old Spice, so I know he’s hanging about. He doesn’t show himself much, though.”

  For good reason. Lucky knew one of us was just waiting to transition him to the other side. He wouldn’t go without a fight. No problem. I could fight with the best of ’em.

  Or I could fight the best of them, whichever way you wanted to see it.

  Susan clicked her tongue. “So I’ll like totally make it big. Maybe I’ll put on a scary face or something.” She giggled with delight. “How totally rad. I can’t believe how bitchin’ this is going to be.”

  She glanced at me. “Sorry for the language.”

  “It’s okay. Listen, I’m going to catch a nap before tonight. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one.”

  I lay on the bed and closed my eyes.

  “I like your hair,” Susan said.

  I kept my eyes closed, trying to remember. “Y
ou were right. It was a ghost gift. I helped a spirit give a wad of cash to his son. There was the smell of shoe polish that lingered when he was near. I don’t know why I always remember that, but I do. I had just started working full-time with spirits, and I was always working hard to keep my hair this color. Like, overtime on it. I like being different.”

  “It’s not like you have to work hard at it,” Susan said. “Because, like, dude, you can totally communicate with us—the spirits. That puts you in a different category of person entirely. What else can you do?”

  I opened one eye. “Help you cross over.”

  “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

  I sighed. “Neither is half this town. That’s why we’ve never bothered with it before.”

  “Who is we?”

  I ignored the question. “Anyway, I found the cash, gave it to the son and the ghost gave me this hair. It was my first ghost gift.”

  Susan shifted to face me. “I’ve given all of mine away already.”

  My jaw dropped. “All five? You gave all five of the gifts you can give to living people away?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. You work fast.”

  She ticked them off on her fingers. “The first one was a candy bar to kid, the second was that I cured my sister’s zits, I led my mom to a poem I’d written about her—”

  “That was nice.”

  She nodded. “Then I gave my ex-boyfriend an STD.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “It wasn’t a permanent one. But I found out after I died that he’d been cheating on me with this skank who was like, gag-me-with-a-spoon ugly. That’s what he got for cheating on me. The last one…I don’t remember what I did with it.”

  “Your ghost presents are a pretty serious thing to give up.”

  She hitched a shoulder. “Yeah. Whatever. I didn’t need them. My mom needed the poem more.”

  “And your ex needed an STD.”

  “Right.”

  I laughed quietly. It was fun, lying on a bed talking to someone. Granted, that someone was dead, but since my dad had passed, I realized how lonely I’d been. None of the team had called me since I left. No surprise there. We were considered a team, but each of us operated alone. We only pooled resources when we had to.