Soul Food Spirits (Southern Ghost Wranglers Book 1)

by Amy Boyles

“But now you’ve found yourself being a bounty hunter,” Alice said. “That’s what you are—a ghost bounty hunter. You’re more of a ghost wrangler than Xavier and his gang.”

  “Speaking of Xavier and the gang, it sounds like his boy Truck is ticked that Xavier was going to leave and jaunt on off to Hollywood.” I sat in an empty chair and draped one arm over the back. “I heard him saying just this morning that Hollywood’s already been calling him since Xavier died.”

  Alice’s jaw dropped. “He’s not even in the ground.”

  “Yep,” I said. “Look, I want the computer and to get out of this town. All these free-walking spirits are giving me the heebie-jeebies. I want to get back to my life—my real life. I can do it, but I can do it faster with y’all’s help. What do you say? Are you in? I don’t want to put anyone in trouble or danger. If we get caught, I’ll take all the blame. I only need cover.”

  Ruth rubbed her face. “The viewing of Xavier is tonight.”

  “So quickly?” Alice said.

  “Apparently he wanted it fast. Burial’s tomorrow.”

  I crossed my legs. “Which means folks won’t be in their homes. He was a celebrity. Half the town will be at the viewing.” I rose, flattened my palms down my legs. “I probably don’t need y’all. I don’t want you in trouble.”

  “Are you kidding?” Alice said, her lower lip trembling. “Someone murdered Xavier. He might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t a bad person. And now Truck is already talking about taking his place in Hollywood?”

  Ruth gritted her teeth. “I don’t like the sound of it, either. It doesn’t make sense. Best friends don’t do that to one another. They stick by, through thick and thin, no matter what.” She glanced at Alice. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  Alice thumbed her chest. “And I wouldn’t do that to you, either. I say we help Blissful, for Xavier.” She glanced at me. “We were going to help you anyway. You know, let you use our equipment. But this changes things. This is no longer about simply catching a ghost—this is about finding a killer.”

  A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. These two best friends were willing to help. Granted, they wanted to save their own skins, but they’d extended a hand to me last night and again today. Part of me was jealous.

  I checked that. Jealous? What could I possibly be jealous of?

  Friendship, that’s what.

  I nodded at them. “What time do you want to meet?”

  Ruth glanced at the clock. “Seven. That’s what time it’ll be dark. Meet here.”

  I saluted her. “Aye aye, captain. See you then.”

  FOURTEEN

  I reached the bed-and-breakfast a few minutes later. When I opened the door, I nearly raced headfirst into a tall man with short brown hair. He was perhaps early forties with bright blue eyes. He wore a crisp checkered shirt and pressed jeans.

  I mean, who presses their jeans anymore?

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Excuse me,” I murmured. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground behind him. “You dropped something.”

  I bent to pick it up. It was a business card. “J&J Construction?”

  The man smiled. “John James.” He extended a hand. I shook it. “That’s me.”

  I pressed the card into his palm. “I’m not really looking for some construction right now. Here you go.”

  John James took the card and smiled. “Nice hair.”

  “Thanks,” I said stiffly. For some reason I didn’t think he actually meant it. Must’ve been the ironed jeans that clued me in.

  I found Roan in the kitchen. “I’ve got your money.”

  He rinsed his hands under the faucet and toweled them dry. “Good because I was beginning to think you were using my kindness.”

  I laughed. “I’m not using anything from you.”

  The twinkle in Roan’s brown eyes said he knew I wasn’t lying. “Great. I like money.”

  I punched my hand into my pocket to retrieve the wallet. It was gone. Again. “What the…? That little creep! I had it in my pocket. He dropped it. Oh, I will get him.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Crapstick!”

  “I don’t know what word that’s supposed to take the place of, but it’s not very ladylike.” The smile dancing on his lips made it hard not to smile in return, but I managed.

  “Very funny.” I slumped into a chair. “I had it. Ricky gave it to me. That little sneak must’ve stolen it before I left the shop. Unless that J&J guy swiped it when I bumped into him just now.”

  Roan's face darkened. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Guy’s a shark.”

  I tipped my head back and studied Roan. “What makes you say that?”

  Roan tossed the towel on the counter. “He’s going around trying to buy half of town. Word is the building Soul Food and Spirits is housed in was up for sale. James wanted to buy it. He put in a good offer and was all set to, but then Mrs. Wilkes turned around and outbid him.”

  “Did she? I wouldn’t blame her. But why didn’t she make a good offer to begin with?”

  Roan shrugged. “I don’t think she had the money to compete. But then Xavier Bibb backed her.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “And you know this how?”

  He crossed to me and leaned his hips on a table. “Small-town talk. You know how that is.”

  “Sure.” I tapped my foot on the floor. “I know how that is.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment. “I’ll get my wallet. I’m not lying to you, I promise.”

  That flicker of a smile returned to his face. My stomach twisted as his lips twitched in amusement. I coughed into my hand and looked away.

  “So I’ll just be going.”

  “I’ve got some dough rising. I think it’s time to punch it down. Roll it out.”

  I clicked my tongue. “Don’t let me stop you from baking bread.”

  “I thought you’d like to help.”

  Lightning bolted down my legs. “Me? Help?”

  “Yeah. I can show you how to roll dough.”

  “Is that supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

  He took a step toward me and sank until his knees bent and we were at eye level. “All I’m willing to do is show you how to knead it. Where that takes your mind is up to you.”

  Well where it took my mind was a place of no return. Or at least I wanted to stay there for about three hours before coming back to earth.

  I stared at Roan. I would not, under any circumstances, let this guy get to me. No way. I was better than that. I was tough. I’d been an orphan for goodness’ sake. I could handle a little instruction from a guy who ran the only bed-and-breakfast in town.

  “Sure. Okay.” I slapped my thighs. “Let’s bake some bread.”

  He extended a hand, and I took it, ignoring the fire snaking down my skin. We crossed to the counter. Roan pulled a bowl from under a standing mixer.

  He pushed a jar of white powder toward me.

  “What’s this? Drugs?”

  “Flour,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. I think he was fighting back a laugh. “Flour. Why would I hand you drugs?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t cook.”

  “Obviously. Flour the surface before we drop the dough on top.”

  “Should I wash my hands?”

  “It’s not a bad idea.”

  I washed and dried my hands; then I opened the jar and dumped flour on the counter. It fell in a large clump.

  “That’s a lot of flour,” Roan said. I could tell he was holding back a laugh.

  “You didn’t say how much to use.”

  “You’re right. Now spread it out.”

  “Why is it I suddenly feel like I’m in some sadistic classroom? You’re teaching me but I feel like you’re secretly laughing at me.”

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing secret about it.”

  “I guess I’d be laughing at me, too.” Our gazes locked. My mouth ticked to one side. As I swam in his dark eyes, I tipped toward
the gravitational pull of his body. The word DANGER flashed in my head. I was only here to catch a spirit, not to make friends with the locals.

  I slumped away.

  If I was ever going to get out of this, I actually needed to get the bread ready, so I spread the flour around, getting rid of the little mound.

  “Okay. I’m done.”

  “Now.” I stared at his tanned fingers as they deftly scooped out the dough. Strong tendons ran through his hands. They were muscular and could probably give a great massage. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a world-class massage.

  The dough fell. A cloud of powder splattered on my shirt. He hid a grin. “Sorry.”

  “Maybe I should’ve gotten an apron.”

  “We have a washer here. You can use it.”

  “Thanks.” I found myself really meaning it. Whoa. Gratitude. Not that it was a foreign emotion to me, it’s just since my dad had passed, I couldn’t find much to be grateful for, except apparently a washing machine.

  “Now, put your hands in and we’re going to knead.”

  I glanced at the dough. “I might be wrong here, but didn’t the mixer paddle just knead it?”

  He cocked a brow. “Look who knows about baking? And here I didn’t think you were Miss Betty Crocker reincarnated.”

  I shot him a dark look. “I’m not. But I’ve watched a baking show or two.”

  “To answer your question, no, I didn’t leave it in long enough to knead. I like to do that by hand.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Are you sure you want to do this? It seems you already know about bread.”

  “No, I really don’t. I just remember it from a show. I didn’t really pay attention.” Kind of a lie. I had paid attention, but the smell of Roan was intoxicating. The woodsy, leathery pine scent with a touch of coffee was almost too much to take.

  He nodded. “Okay then, put your fingers in and start kneading.”

  I dug in with claws. “Like this?”

  “If you’re trying to cut out its heart. Otherwise, use the heel of your hand.”

  “You said to use my fingers.”

  He rubbed his face. “It was an expression. One you took literally. I know not to ask you to jump off a cliff.”

  “I’m not that stupid.”

  “Good to know.”

  I pushed; the dough responded.

  “Wait. Flour your hands. It makes it easier to keep the dough off.”

  “Something you should’ve told me before,” I said.

  “I forgot.”

  Then, without any kind of warning, Roan grabbed my hands in one of his and used the other to dust flour on them. My bones dissolved. My knees quaked. I nearly fell to the floor.

  “Whoa. You okay? Feeling light-headed?”

  I brushed him away. “No. I’m fine. Just fine.” I put on a mask of focus. “Now. Where were we?”

  “Kneading.”

  “Right,” I said pointedly. I dug my heels in and felt like a robot, awkwardly working the dough. “I’m not very good at this.”

  “I’ll help.”

  First thing I know, Roan's behind me. His hands are covering mine. An electric tingle crept down my arms. It was his electricity. My stupid body’s response to all that testosterone coursing through his veins.

  I felt his soft breath on my neck, felt the tug of his shoulders as he stood behind me and pushed. His arms were taut on both sides of me. I felt boxed into an entire mold of manliness.

  It was more than I could take.

  I raised my hands and broke from his grasp. “Okay. That was great. Thank you. I’ve successfully learned how to knead bread. You’re an awesome teacher.”

  Roan backed away. The look of surprise on his face embarrassed me. I didn’t know why. Why should I have been embarrassed? I don’t know; maybe it was the fact that he was standing in an intimate way behind me. Maybe it was the rhythm of our kneading. Perhaps, just perhaps it was his soft breath on the back of my neck.

  Heck, yes! It was all those things.

  “You have flour in your hair.”

  Since my hands were caked in the stuff, I tried to brush it out with my wrist.

  “Here.” Roan wiped his hands on a towel.

  Oh no, he was not going to do it. I wouldn’t let him.

  “It’s okay, I can get it.”

  He extended his hand. “It’s a tiny bit.”

  “I don’t need you—”

  He stopped inches from me and plucked the flour from my hair. My entire body tensed. I could feel it all the way to my pinkie toe. He was so close. That luscious smirk of his dancing on his lips.

  Gravity tugged at me, pulling me forward to him. He was getting closer, closer. So close now…

  I jerked back. “That was great. Really. Totally awesome.”

  Thanks for making kneading pornographic, I wanted to say. But I zipped my lips.

  “I need… There’s things I have to do upstairs.”

  Roan draped one hand on the counter and eased all his weight onto one hip. “I’ll give you the first slice when it’s finished.”

  In bed?

  I almost laughed. It was like when you plucked a saying from a fortune cookie and added the phrase in bed to the end of it. For some reason it always seemed to work.

  I wondered if I could add the same phrase to whatever Roan said. Would it work? One look in his twinkling eyes and I had the feeling it might.

  “Um. Thanks.”

  With that, I turned and raced from the room. I launched myself up the stairs, threw open the door and ran into the bathroom. I flipped on the shower, peeled off my clothes and threw myself into the freezing water. No, I hadn’t even bothered to clean the flour from my hands until that moment.

  Nothing like a cold shower to purge any and all sorts of dangerous thoughts from my head.

  I gripped the walls and exhaled. Too bad this time it wasn’t working.

  FIFTEEN

  I made sure to avoid Roan for the rest of the day. It wasn’t hard to do with Susan spying on him.

  “I’m gone for a while and when I return, no ‘I missed you, Susan’? Instead you want me to make sure that the hot-bodded guy downstairs isn’t around so you can sneak out?”

  I tugged on a pair of jeans. “That’s exactly right.”

  She clicked her tongue, grabbed a bottle of hair spray that had somehow made it into my suitcase and sprayed her ghost hair.

  “You know you’re dead, right?”

  “So you keep telling me.” She paused. “Like, I totally know that, but I can’t help my instincts.”

  I cocked a brow. “Your instincts say you haven’t teased enough?”

  “Right.” She smiled.

  I gave her a nudge.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll make sure he’s gone.”

  She disappeared through the door. She returned a few minutes later. Well, her head did. Then the rest of her slid through the door. “Coast is clear.”

  I shrugged on my jacket and slipped from the room. I still had to get my wallet before Roan kicked me out. I’m surprised he hadn’t yet.

  That told you how powerful animal attraction could be.

  I sneaked downstairs, out the door and into my old Land Cruiser. I fired up the engine and rumbled down the road toward Ruth and Alice’s store.

  “So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Susan said, popping into the passenger seat.

  “Breaking and entering.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  I didn’t like the idea of breaking into Truck’s house. If there was an alarm, I would need Susan to help me. But I also needed to make sure the entire town was occupied at Xavier’s wake. Slowly an idea formed that would do exactly what I needed.

  “Why are you smiling?” Susan said.

  I turned to her. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”

  By the time I reached Ghost Catchers, Susan had disappeared. Perfect, everything in my plan was going great.

  I opened the door to the shop and found Alice and Ruth dressed
in black. Utility belts were slung around their waists. Orbs dangled from cords on the belts.

  “What are those?” I said, pointing to them.

  “Water balloons,” Alice said proudly.

  “Why? We going to a kid’s party?”

  Ruth shook her head. “Alice has the idea that you can trap spirits in water balloons.”

  I almost laughed. “That’s not how it works. Where’s that rope you had last night?”

  Alice grumbled something that wasn’t pleasant enough to repeat and headed over to the counter. She opened a drawer and dropped the rope on the counter.

  My fingers brushed the fiber-optic cord. “Now this, this is the sort of thing that will hold a ghost. Do you have any batteries? Some electrical wire?”

  Alice rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Sure. I guess. But the cable already has batteries going to it.”

  I yanked the cord from the case. “I need to change the way the power’s flowing. You’ve got the right idea, but you want a negative energy field to capture a ghost.”

  Ruth and Alice exchanged a look.

  “And we need salt. Lots of salt to pour into the middle of the cord. It will help.”

  Ruth and Alice stared at me. I shot them a dark look. “Hurry. Come on. We don’t have all night.”

  The two women spurred to action. Within seconds I had salt, batteries, electrical cord, everything I needed to theoretically hold a ghost.

  I cut, I taped, I poured. I worked fast and furiously until I was staring at a rope with a new battery pack on one end and a line of salt running through it.

  I brushed grains from my hands. “That, ladies, is how you build a lasso to wrangle a ghost.”

  Alice peered at it. She scrunched up her face and leaned far, far over it. “Will it work?” she said with a mystical note in her voice.

  “It’ll work.” They stared at me skeptically. “Listen, it’ll work enough to do what we need.” I glanced at their clothes. “Why are you both wearing all black?”

  “This is what we wear,” Ruth said.

  “You look like you’re about to rob a bank,” I said. “Let’s change it.” Wait. The black might actually work. “Never mind. You look great.” I glanced at my watch. “Just a couple more minutes and we’ll be ready to go.”