A Highland Ghost for Christmas: Gambling Ghosts Series (1)

by Jo-Ann Carson

  Cullen felt lucky. If he could have tasted even one sip of the whisky in the glass, the day would have been perfect. This round they played five-card stud. He looked at his cards, grimaced and folded. No point in playing a bad hand.

  His friend leaned his way. “Highlander, did you see the women in the next room?” His Italian accent made the words flow together like music.

  “No. I came late.”

  “Go have a look. You won’t regret it.”

  Cullen grinned. “Aye, I might do just that. It might bring me good luck.”

  “That it might, and there’s no law on heaven or earth that can stop a man from looking at a bella donna.”

  Cullen strode through the wall into the adjoining room. There sat three women: Azalea, the sister of his host, a blonde who looked as though she ate starch for breakfast and a curvy brunette. A very curvy brunette.

  He stood for a moment beside their table, ignoring the get-away hand gesture Azalea made in his direction, which was her attempt to dismiss him like an unwanted pet. Unable to hold himself back he leaned towards the brunette to take a closer look and to smell her earthly charm.

  She had delicate features and full red lips. Her peaches-and-cream complexion glowed. And her curves! They were the kind he dreamed of. Mesmerized by the sadness in her beautiful eyes, he listened to her tea-leaf reading.

  How could any man treat this woman badly? If her horny toad were in the room, he’d run him through with his sword. Imagining the man in a pool of his own blood made him smile. Of course his shrink CeeCee wouldn’t be happy. Only this morning she had reminded him he needed to behave himself if he ever wanted to climb the stairway to heaven.

  But something about this woman tugged on his heart. Her hair smelled of sunshine and citrus and her lips looked so kissable he wanted desperately to capture them with his own. Why had fate brought her to him now? He stomped his ghostly foot at the unfairness of life and death, and everything in between, and the table rattled with his energy.

  Time to break a few rules.

  3

  A Wicked Holly Christmas

  When Maddy got home after the tea-leaf reading, she grabbed a bucket of caramel ripple ice-cream out of the freezer and headed for the sofa in the living room, armed with a big spoon and followed by her chocolate Lab, Booker. Within a couple minutes the opening credits for her favorite series came on, a romance with a Highlander. Comfort food. Check. Comfort TV. Check. Good company. Check. A woman had to know how to fight back in this cruel world.

  She laughed at herself for her mental checkmarks. A tea-leaf reading! Of all the crazy ideas in the world. How did she ever let herself get talked into it in the first place? Then she remembered the wine and the blood oath and grinned.

  It had been, if nothing else, the most intriguing Christmas present she had ever been given.

  Booker nudged the side of her leg. She scratched behind his ears and he gave her a soulful look of pure love. If only men could be as faithful and loving as puppies, then the world would be a perfect place.

  She checked her Twitter feed, but no mention of the mysterious shooting at the tea house appeared. Should she tweet it?

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  Is that my door? She wasn’t expecting anyone. With a sigh, Maddy put the ice-cream bucket on the table and went to check out her visitor. She couldn’t see anyone through the peep hole, so she put the safety chain on and opened the door a couple inches. Peering through the small space she still couldn’t see anyone. Hmm. She could unhook the safety lock and open the door fully. But would that be wise?

  Oh what the heck. Her life couldn’t get more messed up. She slipped the lock and opened the door wide. Nobody. She could see nothing but a beautiful sky filled with sparkling stars and a full moon. A cool breeze made the skin on her face tingle and she inhaled the night air.

  As she exhaled slowly relishing the moment, a feeling that someone had entered her home crossed her consciousness like a dark shadow. She shook herself, trying to break the hold of the feeling, but it didn’t let go and it didn’t make sense. Stepping out onto her small, wooden porch she looked around once more. Nothing. Just her vivid imagination. Visiting a psychic had spooked her. That’s all.

  ***

  Cullen could have walked through the door, her windows or any of her walls, but it seemed more proper to knock on a lady’s door. He used a rock. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see him, but he could see her. And he liked what he saw. Oh yes, he most definitely liked everything he saw. He followed her back into the house and took a seat beside her on the sofa, which faced the TV.

  Maddy pushed her long hair behind her shoulders. It looked silky and soft. Cullen wanted to touch it, to run his hands through it, to smell it up close.

  Maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea.

  Maddy’s eyes focused on the TV. The brown mutt who had been busy chewing a bone in the kitchen when Cullen came in, now joined them. He jumped up between them staring at Cullen. He barked, but being a wee pup, he sounded cute, more than menacing.

  “Booker, get down,” Maddy said.

  The dog kept barking.

  “Booker, down.” Maddy’s voice deepened. Cullen liked the weight of it. “Good dogs don’t jump on the furniture.”

  The Booker dog kept barking.

  “Be quiet,” Maddy said. But the stupid mutt wouldn’t shut up. “Shh, they’re just about to kiss. Don’t ruin it. Oh. Oh my. He’s pulling her closer.”

  The dog kept barking.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Booker growled and spit at Cullen.

  “That’s enough of that.” Maddy paused the film and picked up the dog. Cullen followed as she walked into her bedroom with the mutt in her arms. He kept barking, even when she placed him in his kennel. “Settle down, sweetheart.” Maddy said.

  She calls a dog sweetheart? She definitely needs a man. Cullen shook his head as he followed her back to the TV.

  ***

  After the intimate love scene the main characters took to their horses to chase English soldiers. Maddy yawned and scrolled through her phone messages to see if anyone had responded to her profile on the dating site. “Woo hoo,” she called out. “I’ve got a hit.” She scrolled some more. “I’ve got three hits.” Her profile had only been up for six hours and already three men wanted to meet her. “I love this site.”

  Cullen tilted his head. Who did she think she was talking to? And who were these strange men courting her through the tiny phone?

  While the show continued, Maddy texted back and forth with her suitors. It felt wonderful to be appreciated. They all seemed nice, but the fitness instructor named Hank stood out. He had a wicked sense of humor and seemed like a genuinely nice guy, while the others spent most of their time telling her how cool they were. She set up a coffee date for the next day with him and hit send.

  Grumbling, Cullen slid to the kitchen and pulled out the cutlery drawer. It fell to the ground with a loud smash. He had never been one to rattle chains.

  Maddy jumped a foot off the couch. That sound couldn’t be her imagination. With her phone in her hand she ran to the kitchen. Knives, forks and spoons sprawled all over the floor. What the heck?

  Cullen smiled.

  Her pulse raced. That drawer had been closed and she knew there was nothing wrong with it because she had cleaned it two days ago, grumbling the whole time that it was a stupid thing for a single woman to be doing on a Saturday night.

  Maddy swallowed and walked around her house turning on every light, inspecting every corner looking for an answer and found none. First the knocking on the door, then that feeling of someone entering her house and now knives and forks strewn everywhere . . . It seemed as if . . . A ghost? No, that couldn’t be.

  Cullen followed her around the house blowing on her neck every few feet.

  When she got back to the kitchen, rubbing her neck, she considered her options while she picked up the cutlery from the floor. Methodically she pu
t it in the sink for washing. What could she do? Phone for help? 911 would not appreciate a call about this. What could she say to an emergency operator? “I need help: my spoons fell down.” She laughed at her own joke. She could phone Ellie, but she didn’t want to sound silly. Who else was there? Her parents had retired to Florida and she didn’t want to bother them on their bowling night. No, she had to deal with this herself.

  She looked at her sink. The knives and forks had not jumped onto the floor by themselves. She swallowed again, but that didn’t help. Could there have been a minor earthquake? She checked her phone. No seismic activity in the area. Maybe a magnetic anomaly? What the heck? Talk about her imagination running wild.

  After cleaning the cutlery and returning it to the drawer she paced the kitchen.

  Cullen followed her enjoying the view of her back-side.

  Okay, so she couldn’t come up with a logical reason for the cutlery being on the floor.

  “A ghost?” she said out loud. “Have I picked up a ghost from the haunted tea-house?” Other people pick up common colds; trust her to attract a more exotic malady.

  Cullen smiled.

  What was she thinking? She didn’t believe in anything undead. Besides, she had lived in this house for two years and never experienced anything unusual before. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said out loud.

  Cullen tossed her coffee tin onto the floor.

  4

  He Better Watch Out . . .

  Feeling proud of his antics, Cullen folded his arms across his chest and smirked. Let her try to explain that one. But a cool touch on his shoulder chilled his good mood.

  “Macfie —return to me.” The unmistakable, shrill voice of his shrink filled his head with dread. Why couldn’t he enjoy an evening with a pretty lass? Her words sucked his essence out of Maddy’s kitchen and spit it into the counselor’s office in a dank cave in the land before heaven. “You stubborn, Scottish idiot,” she hissed.

  Ouch that hurt. It was one thing to insult him, but to insult his country took things too far. “CeeCee, I’m busy.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She stood in front of him with blazing eyes. Literally blazing, as in shooting flames. CeeCee was a ten-foot-tall, white angel with supernatural abilities, charged with helping souls like Cullen mend their ways and find their way to heaven. She could be dramatic when angered.

  Cullen considered his options. Telling the truth not being one of them. “I wanted to help the lass. She seems lost.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He stood his ground. “The woman has a broken heart. I thought the company of a good man would cheer her up, give her a new perspective on life.”

  Her eye-flames simmered down a bit and he could see her powder, baby blues returning. “Ha. And you, Highlander Macfie think you’re the man for that job?”

  “Why not. In fact, who would be better? I understand women.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “I had many lovers in my twenty-five years on earth. None of them complained.”

  “Of course not. You’re so bullheaded, you wouldn’t listen.”

  Ouch. “Are you saying they weren’t happy?”

  “Cullen, there is more to making a woman happy than sweet kisses.”

  “I happen to be very good at kissing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you were stellar, but that’s not enough to keep a woman happy.”

  Cullen exhaled slowly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have PMS.”

  CeeCee doubled over with laughter. At least it returned her eyes to normal. “Good one, but no, I’m not in a state of hormonal overload. I’m suffering a state of Macfie overload. You don’t understand women. You like them. But you don’t understand them.”

  “So knock me dead.” Cullen grinned at her. It was one of his favorite retorts to her attempts to shrink him into an acceptable candidate for paradise. He had no intention of letting her do that while there was still a lot of fun to be had on earth.

  CeeCee sighed. “I called you back when I learned you chased that woman home. At first I didn’t want you interfering in her life, but now I’m wondering. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing for both of you. She might benefit from your company, if you don’t cross any lines. You could be a caring presence to comfort her in her time of pain. You can listen to her laments and learn first-hand how a woman feels when a man lets her down.”

  “How a woman feels?” CeeCee was so full of angelic trash. “Are you saying lasses have different feelings than men?”

  CeeCee’s smile reminded him of a rabid cat he once knew. “I’m just saying we see the world differently, and modern women aren’t afraid of saying so.”

  “And you think she’ll be good for me.”

  CeeCee cast him a wary glance.

  “Then I’ll make you a deal.”

  “I don’t do deals.” Her tone took an icy edge meant to scare Cullen, but it only prodded him on.

  “If I can make her happy before Christmas, you will stop trying to shrink wrap me for the next six months.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ll stop complaining when I don’t arrive for our weekly meetings on time, stop nagging me about cheating at my poker games and stop telling me how I should think and feel.”

  “For half a year.”

  “Yes.” That seemed like a reasonable bet.

  “But what do I get out of this?”

  “A happy mortal woman and a happy ghost. A win-win.”

  CeeCee’s eyes frosted over. “No, that’s not good enough. I’ll wager you this: if you succeed you get a six-month pardon from counseling, but if you don’t succeed, if the woman remains inconsolable, or if by chance you finally understand the depths of one single woman, then I get to send you to the big guy.”

  A chill ran up his ghostly skeleton. What were the odds? Twenty to one in his favor, at least. He knew he could make her happy, and as for him, he wouldn’t change. He had known many women over hundreds of years and despite his bragging, he knew in his heart, he had never understood one, but that wasn’t his fault. Women were beyond understanding. So he didn’t expect to understand Maddy. “Okay. Deal.”

  She gave him that rabid cat smile again.

  “But how will we assess who wins?”

  “By Christmas. That gives you five days to make her happy. If she’s not smiling, or if you’ve seen the light, then I win.”

  The thought of spending five uninterrupted-by-CeeCee days with the pretty lass made his ghostly heart sigh. And following that with six months of not being nagged was a dream come true. What could go wrong?

  “Deal,” he said.

  “Deal.”

  5

  The Most Confusing Time of the Year

  Maddy looked at her French Roast coffee beans spilled all over her kitchen floor. How could that have happened?

  No . . . it couldn’t be. But there was no other rational explanation for what had happened. The coffee container had flown through the air right after she declared out loud that ghosts don’t exist. It fell from the counter, as if, as if . . . a ghost was answering her.

  Now what?

  After sweeping the beans into a dust pan and throwing them into the garbage, she took another look around. She appeared to be alone.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said for the second time.

  Cullen leaned towards her and blew a warm breath on her neck just under her left ear. Her sweet spot. Heat instantly rolled through her body. “Stop that,” she said without even thinking. “I don’t know you.”

  Cullen wanted to do anything but stop. He liked the way her cheeks blushed and her eyes widened. He loved her smell. So womanly. Oh, if only she could feel his touch. He went to the kitchen window and drew up the Venetian blinds. They made a dramatic clattering sound in the silence of the room. Moon-light shone in creating an eerie ambiance.

  Maddy blinked. What the heck? Okay, whether she liked it or not, something was ther
e. She opened her cutlery drawer and took out a spoon. “If you are a ghost, use this spoon to tap once.” She put it down on the counter and watched it travel up into the air and then down to the surface of the table to tap once.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Her heart slammed into her throat. She sat down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. Good librarians weren’t haunted by ghosts. She lifted her head. “Tap once if you’re a woman.”

  Cullen smiled as he lifted the spoon and tapped twice.

  “Newly dead?”

  Again he tapped twice.

  “Are you here to hurt me?”

  Again he hit the table twice.

  “So you’re an old, male ghost who doesn’t want to hurt me.”

  One tap.

  Cullen felt pleased with himself. Already the woman was thinking of something other than her last boyfriend. He’d make her happy and prove CeeCee wrong.

  “So what do you want?” said Maddy.

  And there it was. The real question. What did he want from Maddy Jacobson?

  A familiar jingle played on Maddy’s phone. “It’s a text message from Ellie,” she said as if conversing with an old friend. “She says . . . Oh dear . . . She says she asked around about Azalea’s brother and it turns out he’s been dead for five years. That means that either Azalea was lying about the poker game or her brother and his guests were all . . .”

  Cullen tapped once.

  Maddy put the phone down. “You followed me home.”

  One tap.

  The memories of her tea-leaf reading came flooding back to her. Surely he hadn’t heard all of that. “You know that I have a broken heart?” The words tumbled out of her mouth and she gasped.

  One tap.

  “Are you trying to get to heaven or get a merit badge or something?”

  No taps.

  “Hmm. How old are you? Are you over one hundred.”

  Tap.

  “Two?”

  Tap.

  “Holy hell. Tap your years in hundreds.”