“That may be the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” I mumbled.
“Hell, you should have seen them at Halloween. Hades wanted to be a lizard. Little G wanted to be a goat. It was funny as hell—a bit awkward, though, when a lady goat came to the party. Poor Little G was so confused.”
I frowned.
“Well.” Max slapped me on the back. “Off to bed. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
Too tired and emotionally drained to argue, I waved good-bye and managed to stumble into the guest bedroom. The last thing I thought of was that I should have locked my door just in case the goat decided to interrupt my sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
REID
It was nearing midnight by the time I finally made it back to the apartment. A part of me was hoping Jordan would still be up, but I knew she had to be exhausted—besides, she’d been acting strange the entire day. Sleep was more necessary than a deep talk where I blurted out my feelings and asked her to live with me.
Two weeks after meeting me.
It sounded crazy.
It was crazy.
I knew it.
And she’d probably laugh in my face.
But I wanted her. I wanted her close. I wanted her damn hair. I even wanted her dog. Waking up without her neurotic coffee drinking just seemed like a horrible way to start any day.
The apartment was dark, which was strange considering Jordan had a ridiculous habit of keeping all the living room lights on even if she was in her bedroom sleeping.
Her bedroom.
Soon to be vacant, because I was moving her ass into mine.
My body trembled at the thought. Was I crazy? To want her to live with me? To want more than just a fling for the cameras?
Sighing, I set my keys on the counter just as Otis barreled toward me, his little body shaking with excitement.
“Hey, Otis, where’s your mom?”
“Not here.” Max’s voice echoed in the large room, bouncing off the ceiling and driving straight into my chest. “She’s gone, Reid.”
“Max?”
A light flicked on, revealing Max as he sat on one of my couches, smoking a cigar and drinking my finest whiskey, the ass.
“Not Max,” he said slowly. “I’m the ghost of Christmas present.”
“Max, listen to me very carefully. Did someone offer you a cookie that tasted funny? Furthermore, did you actually eat it?”
“Who is this Max you speak of?” He stood. “I am here to tell you your present while also predicting your future.”
“All right then.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course you can’t do things normally and just send me a damn text.”
“Ghosts don’t have phones.”
“I’m sure a real ghost could find one.”
“Real ghosts have no need for technology!” he hissed.
“If you’re a real ghost, that means I can punch you in the face and you won’t feel a thing.”
Max’s expression wavered.
“Ah, the ghost is getting a bit . . . scared of its own shadow?”
“Ghosts don’t have shadows, dumbass.”
“Max.”
“She’s gone.” He yawned. “Boxes packed, all because somebody decided to be an absolute ass.”
“Gone?” I repeated. “But she’s moving in with me. We moved her damaged shit into the warehouse, right? She’s . . . there’s no way. Why would she be pissed?”
“Men.” Max took a long swig of whiskey and slammed the glass down on the counter. “They never listen! Only thinking with their dicks and refusing to acknowledge a woman’s need for a little bit of attention after a night of sex!”
“What?”
“See!” Max shouted. “You’re all the same! ALL OF YOU!” He paced in front of me. “Did it ever occur to you that Jordan may have needed a bit of, oh, I don’t know . . . encouragement after your wild night of passion? More than a slap on the ass and a thanks-for-the-good-time note on her pillow?”
“That’s your thing, not mine.” I held up my hands.
“Women like to be appreciated in Hallmark form.” Max shrugged. “Besides, Becca loves my notes.”
“Becca’s also a ghost in this scenario?” I took a seat. Conversations with Max were like all-day marathons where people needed to stock up on Gatorade and protein bars if they were going to make it to the finish line.
“Please.” Max grinned smugly. “Becca, a ghost? What are you? Five?”
I pressed my lips together and damn near sat on my hands to keep myself from strangling him.
“She heard our conversation.” Max’s eyebrows shot up. “And now she’s gone.”
“What conversation?”
“Oh, you know.” Max bent down and picked up Otis and began petting him in the same manner Dr. Evil pets his cat. “The one where you said you two were just having fun, oh, also, the bet was mentioned . . . right, so she probably wants to run you over with a golf cart.”
“Where. Is. She.”
Max kept petting Otis. The little traitor licked his hand and let out a groan. “It’s going to take more than your Carmen Sandiego skills to find her; I’ll tell you that much. This girl, she doesn’t do well with you going behind her back and making decisions. She’s not the type. So now, you have a choice. Prove your love . . . or die alone.”
“Harsh.”