She pushed her head from the wall, directing her gaze at her puppies, scratching at Clyde’s ankles, their tongues lolling from their mouths.
You had to love the timing of the departed.
This—this was the very reason she was never, ever going to get laid again.
Maybe not even in the next lifetime.
Delaney sighed the sigh of the defeated. “No. I don’t think they have to make potties.”
“I fed them. They can’t be hungry,” he said against her neck, tickling her flesh with a fan of his hot breath.
He’d fed them? Her gut fluttered in time with her heart because he’d done it without her ever mentioning a word. But no, they weren’t hungry. “No. They’re not hungry.”
“So what are they?”
“Excited.”
“About?”
“Remember back at Kellen’s when I told you not to freak out?”
“Delaney?”
“Uh-huh?”
“If there’s a guy without a head and he’s anywhere near me, you’re going to be a casualty I can’t avoid—’cause I’m out.”
“Understandable.”
“Verdict?”
“Nah. His head’s not on your shoulder this time.”
A clear, relieved sigh escaped his chest, pushing against hers. “Location?”
Delaney said nothing. If she did, he’d get the squicks and flip again. How could she possibly help a lost spirit if Clyde, and whatever craziness he’d brought with him from Hell, kept chasing them away?
“Delaney?”
“Yes, Clyde?”
“Where’s his head?”
“Do you mean the exact, exact location?”
“Yep. I mean the most exact location you’re capable of giving me.”
“Can you try not to freak out again if I tell you? Whenever you move, whatever kind of vibe you give off makes the spirits fade in and out. I can’t do my job and help them if I can’t see them for more than a couple of seconds. So if you promise not to move, I’ll tell you.”
“Uh, no. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and stay calm, but it wasn’t your shoulder his head was on today. That’s too much for even me. Now answer the question or it’s your ass and the floor. You’ll make the perfect couple. The head. Coordinates. Now.”
It was so crazy hot when he made demands she had to force back a breathy sigh from escaping her lips. “Your foot.”
“His head is on my foot?”
“Yeaaah. His expression, from here anyway, screams exhaustion. Maybe he was tired from carrying around his head. So he put it down. I can’t blame him. Carrying your head around has to be a lot.”
“A human head can weigh up to ten pounds, or so I think I’ve read. I could see him being tired.” And then, as though he’d caught himself being practical when he really wanted to display his disgust and fear by brushing the head off his foot, a violent shudder ran the length of his body.
“Again, another useless fact I’ll keep near and dear.”
“Delaney?”
“Yes, Clyde?”
“Remember my standing apology between us?”
Uh-huh. She did. “I do.”
“Good. Don’t forget I meant it. Oh, and don’t forget to bend your knees,” he warned.
With those words, he dropped her.
eleven
Delaney hit the floor with a sharp, breath-stealing bounce, her ass scraping the wall on its way down. Thankfully, she did remember to bend her knees, the jolt to them no less jarring, but manageable.
Clyde shook his left foot with vigorous jabs at the room while he hopped on one foot. “Jesus Christ! What is it with these damned ghosts?” he yelled. “And before you say anything, I’m sorry for dropping you, but for shit’s sake, his head was on my foot. His head.” He shuddered once more, his large body visibly convulsing.
The dogs ran to the back of the store, stopping between the exit of the storefront and the entrance to her living room. Delaney ignored Clyde and ran behind them, hoping they’d sniffed out the entity’s location.
Delaney found her spirit on the couch, his head neatly sitting in his lap as though he held nothing more significant than a plate of Christmas cookies. The dogs hopped up on the couch, sniffing the air and stumbling over each other.
If you put the spirit’s two pieces together, he’d probably been a decent-looking guy when he was alive. His hair was the color of straw, with white-blond highlights that poked out beneath his scrub cap. His skin was the ruddy color of someone who liked the outdoors and clean living. Eyes, a milk chocolate shade of brown deeply set beneath thick brows much darker than his hair, moved with animation. From his shoulders down, he appeared to be in pretty fine shape. The scrubs he wore clung to wide, lean shoulders. His fingers toyed with the scrub cap on top of his head, readjusting while it rested in his lap.
Delaney honed in on his lips, kneeling down in front of him to watch them with hawklike eyes. They moved, but no sound came out. Most likely because whatever had happened to him when he died had severed his vocal cords. Major suckage, in her opinion.
Clyde lumbered behind her with raucous clomps of his feet, stopping just behind the couch, making the entity’s transparent form flutter.