Soul Food Spirits (Southern Ghost Wranglers Book 1) Read online

  “Any other ghosts?” I said, hope rising in my chest.

  “No. No one else.”

  I shrugged. “Let her come. The more, the merrier.”

  Susan shook her head. “She’s such a drag. Just wait. She’s horrible.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She likes to drop food on people’s heads.”

  I stifled a laugh. “Oh well. Let’s see how it goes.”

  I exited the bathroom. Xavier had met back up with his team. “Anyone find anything?”

  “Nothing,” Truck said.

  “Nope,” Slick replied. The anger in his voice was so thick I’m surprised he didn’t choke on it.

  Xavier flared out his hands. “Wait. The EMF reader is going crazy.” The electronic block in his hand beeped shrilly. “There’s something here.” Xavier glanced around the room. “If there’s someone around, let us know. Show us.”

  A crash sounded to our left. The men jumped. Their headlamps flashed in the direction. Mist curled on the floor. It rose, tightening into a blob about the size of a person but shaped like a ball of dough. Two black eyes emerged.

  This was definitely not Susan. It was the other ghost.

  “Ladies and gentleman, a full-blown apparition is appearing before us. Slick, are you getting this?”

  “Heck yeah, I am.”

  The lines of dough hardened. The spirit was a squat, angry-looking woman with beady eyes and a sour expression.

  “This is amazing,” Xavier said.

  All in a day’s work, I nearly said.

  The spirit’s mouth unhinged to her stomach, and she screamed so loud chandeliers rattled, the windows shook, and I’m pretty sure Xavier’s hair turned white.

  The men nearly jumped from their skins. The spirit’s massive mouth looked like a black, endless tunnel. It was all smoke and mirrors, I could tell. She was probably a grumpy ghost but was really more ticked that they were here investigating Susan and ignoring her than anything else. I’d dealt with it before.

  Her yelling suddenly stopped. The men took one beat, and then screams ripped from their throats. They barreled through the restaurant, dropping equipment and flashlights along the way.

  Feet thundered across the floor until they reached the front door.

  “Who’s got the key?” Slick said.

  “She gave me an extra. I put it in my pocket,” Xavier said.

  “Hurry,” Truck said. “That thing wants to kill us.”

  I heard Xavier scramble with the locks until the door finally burst open. The men stormed outside.

  I turned to the ghost. “So much for them staying until three. I knew they were chickens.”

  She stared blankly at me.

  I folded my arms and sank onto one hip. “You want to go to the light? You ready to meet your maker?”

  An expression of terror filled her face, and an instant later the ghost vanished. “That’s what I thought.”

  Normally I would have opened myself and showed the spirit the way. But I wasn’t here for her.

  I bent down, grabbed one of the flashlights the men had dropped and headed outside. The van was empty.

  “Whoa. She must’ve seriously scared the crap out of them.” I chuckled and headed around the restaurant. They might not stop running until they got far, far away.

  I trekked to one side, where a rose trellis had been set. Xavier was leaning against it, one arm up. Poor guy must’ve been traumatized.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? She was really scary, huh?”

  He slumped over, taking the entire trellis with him. I pitched with him, landing on top of his back. I scrambled to my feet and realized something sticky was on my hands. When I looked down, I instantly knew what it was.

  Blood.

  Puncture marks marred his shirt. This wasn’t an accident. Xavier Bibb had been attacked. In the few moments it had taken for the crew to run outside, someone had been waiting.

  He was covered in blood. I reached down to check his pulse.

  There was none. He’d bled out and now Xavier was dead. A chill swept through me. I glanced around, trying to find his spirit. Where was it? It usually took a few minutes for the spirit of a dead person to transition over.

  I caught a speck of light a few yards away. My gaze flickered to it. There stood the essence of Xavier Bibb. He looked exactly like his human self except he was wispy like a silvery cloud. I opened my mouth to call to him when a hand clasped around my face.

  A frantic thought zipped through my head. Whoever had killed Xavier Bibb had come back to murder me, too.

  SEVEN

  I raised my elbow and with all the force I owned, jammed it into the ribs of whoever was holding me.

  “Sheesh, lady, ouch. What the…?”

  I turned around. “Roan?”

  He grunted and held his ribs.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Then it hit me. Dead body. Roan. Oh no. Hot bed-and-breakfast owner was a murderer. I glanced around for Xavier’s spirit. He might be able to tell me who had killed him before he jetted off to heaven. Or wherever cheesy television hosts went in the afterlife.

  “I’m trying to help you,” Roan grunted.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Voices milled from the other side of the house. Roan and I exchanged a glance. He grabbed my arm.

  I had a choice. I could yank away from him, track down Xavier and find out who killed him, which is what I needed to do. Or I could go with Roan.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “I’m saving you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The voices grew louder.

  “If someone finds you here, they’re going to think you did this.”

  “What are you talking about?” I seethed. “And what are you doing here?”

  He raked strong fingers that probably could play the guitar for hours through his tousled, sexy hair.

  Seriously. I needed to focus. I was not interested in B and B guy.

  His voice came hurried, hushed. “I was out walking.”

  “At midnight?”

  “Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

  “So you walk around town like a stalker?”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  I yanked my arm from him. “You’re not helping me.” I twisted my head and saw Xavier’s spirit walking. Moving. I turned back to Roan. The concern in his dark eyes made my breath hitch. I did a quick survey of him. No blood anywhere. Not on his shirt or his shoes. If he’d been the one to murder Xavier, he’d have been covered in the stuff.

  But who did?

  I moved to the spirit, but Roan grabbed me. “Don’t go that way.”

  “I’ve got to ask him.”

  “Who?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I need to know who killed Xavier.”

  “They’re going to think it’s you.”

  I stopped. Stared at Roan. “What are you talking about?”

  “In town. The folks are already starting to talk about you. How strange things happen when you’re around.”

  “What strange things?”

  He tipped his head. “The spirit.”

  “It was a one-time thing.”

  “That went viral. Face it, Sunshine. You’ve attracted attention.” He pointed toward the voices. “This might be a tourist town, but when someone shows up a little off the grid, these folks get pitchforks ready. I saw you here, and I’m taking you with me. No one will know you found the body.”

  “Did you see who did it?”

  Roan shook his head. A strand of dark hair fell in his eyes. He raked it aside. “I saw a figure, but I couldn’t make them out.”

  The voices of Mrs. Wilkes along with Slick and Truck grew loud. Another, stronger female voice sounded with them. “The sheriff. She must’ve heard the screaming. I think the whole block did. Are you coming with me?”

  I glanced at the spirit of Xavier. He was almost to the light, wh
ich was in the direction the voices were coming from. “Xavier,” I whispered.

  The spirit glanced over his shoulder at me.

  “You have to decide. Now,” Roan said.

  I’d been in small towns like this before. I’d been the odd girl out. The weirdo. The one no one quite understood. It was easy to cast blame on the outsider. That’s what I was in Haunted Hollow—an outsider. As much as I wanted to stay, I knew Roan was right.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  I let him drag me away, but glanced over my shoulder and watched as Xavier Bibb disappeared into the afterlife.

  It was when we reached the B and B that I noticed the silence creeping in. The home was still, but the floorboards creaked in a weird, almost ghostly way.

  Roan led me back to a small suite of rooms off the kitchen. “Is this your place?”

  He nodded. “It’s mine. Where I live.”

  I still had blood on my hands. “I’m going to wash up.”

  I cleaned my hands and face in the B and B’s kitchen sink. When I stepped back into Roan’s room, I took a moment to assess it.

  There was a leather couch, dark wooden furniture, a guitar on a stand.

  “Oooh, you’re in his place? It must be love.”

  Susan popped up beside me. I jerked my head in a way that meant leave. She took the hint and darted from the room.

  I stood awkwardly in the doorway.

  He peeked at me from behind a door. “I don’t bite.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “You hungry?”

  “No.”

  My stomach growled. A slow, teasing smile curled on his delicious lips.

  Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop thinking lusty thoughts about a man who creeps around town at midnight.

  “I’ll get a snack.”

  He walked back into the kitchen, passing me on his way to the door. The woodsy smell of him trickled up my nose. I pressed my back into the wall, trying to get as far away from it as I could.

  I took a moment to glance around. Bookshelves were filled with books—classics like Moby Dick as well as newer thrillers. Lots of different instruments hung from the walls—a ukulele, flute, even a recorder.

  I stifled a laugh.

  “Something about my apartment funny?”

  “Ah!” I clutched the wall. “Don’t sneak up on people.”

  “Don’t make fun of someone who just saved you from a night in jail.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  His gaze seared me like a spear made of hot coals. “I do know that.”

  “I was laughing at the recorder. That’s every kid’s first instrument, isn’t it?”

  He set a plate on the coffee table and rested his hands on his hips. Strong, tan hands. “It was my first instrument. I kept it because it’s special.”

  “I feel like a jerk. Laughing at that.”

  “You should.”

  I hid a smile behind my fist. Our gazes locked, and I felt that flutter in my stomach. It crept up to my throat and threatened to spew from my mouth.

  “You can make it up to me,” he said.

  “How?”

  “By trying that.”

  I glanced at the table. Two thick slices of swirling cinnamon bread lay on a plate. Butter dripped down the sides. “You want my opinion of a recipe?”

  “I made it today.”

  My eyebrows shot to peaks. “You bake?”

  “I’m not just another pretty face.”

  I laughed.

  This was strange. A man had just been murdered. Was Roan flirting with me? Weirder yet, was I flirting back?

  No. That was preposterous. We were enemies. I felt it to my core. From the moment he tried to lift me up and carry me inside, I knew he was my newest sparring partner. He was awesome for giving a good tongue lashing to.

  Yes. That was it.

  But anyway, I could at least try the bread. I hadn’t eaten supper, and the warm, comforting smell of cinnamon was slowly trickling through the room.

  I moved away from the wall, fully expecting to fall down without it to balance on. But I was okay. I crossed to an antique Chippendale chair and sat.

  Roan lowered himself to the couch and offered me the plate.

  My gaze darted to him. “It’s not poisonous, is it?”

  “For some reason I have a thing against murdering paying guests. I like my money.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Of course, you haven’t actually paid a dime yet.”

  I cringed. “Sorry. I’ll get my wallet.”

  He raised a hand to stop me. “You can do it tomorrow.”

  I licked my lips at the bread. This was going to be heaven, I could tell. When I finally sank my teeth into it, sugar and cinnamon seeped onto my tongue. The bread was spongy and rich with butter. There was a party on my tongue.

  “This is amazing. Where’d you learn to bake like that?”

  “I taught myself.”

  “Well, I’d like to learn that.”

  What was I saying? I ate out every night—Chinese or Thai. I could barely boil an egg, and sometimes those cracked in the pan from the jostling water. I wasn’t interested in learning how to bake.

  “I’ll teach you.”

  “Sounds great.” Once again, who was running my mouth? Those words weren’t supposed to come out. I was supposed to say, No thanks. I’ve got more important things to do, like get my life back. But for some reason that phrase escaped me.

  “Why’d you save me tonight?” I licked a crumb from my thumb. “You could’ve left me to deal with the sheriff by myself.”

  He hooked his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Because I know you’re not guilty. Tomorrow I’ll go in and tell the sheriff what I saw, but for tonight I thought I’d give you a rest.”

  “He’ll be looking for me anyway. He’ll know I was there.”

  “Sheriff’s a woman,” he said.

  “Right. The voice was female. I stand corrected.” He studied me with that intense gaze of his. Would he stop looking at me as if he could read my soul? To distract myself, I took another bite. “Good.”

  “What was it you saw out there?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  It was habit. My natural reaction whenever anyone thought I was strange or weird was to avoid all discussion. When people at parties somehow brought up the topic of ghosts, I always acted uninterested, even though I was secretly taking notes. Was there a ghost I needed to transition to the other side? Had they hurt anyone? Did they seem threatening? It was all part of the job.

  But when someone point-blank locked on to my abilities, I clammed up. Just like that. It wasn’t something I talked about.

  “You acted like you wanted to talk to Xavier.”

  “He was dead. I was in shock.”

  “But I don’t think that’s what it was.” Roan offered the plate again. I realized I’d wolfed down the first slice without even thinking about it.

  “Then what was it?” I said.

  “You’re a mystery, Blissful Breneaux. You say you’re here on business, but you end up chasing ghosts. Then you say you have to ask Xavier something.”

  “I never said that,” I said quickly. Too quickly. Something lit in Roan's eyes.

  “You did. I never thought I’d find myself asking this because it’s so stupid, but…can you see ghosts?”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Nope.”

  I laughed at how ridiculous that was. “You live in a haunted town. There are hundreds of documented encounters here. Hundreds. And you’re telling me you don’t believe in spirits?”

  Roan grabbed his guitar and started picking at the strings. A serene melody drifted from the instrument. “I don’t believe in spirits. I know plenty of people think they’ve seen things. But I haven’t. Not once. I’ve never seen a ghost.”

  I nestled back into the chair. “So that’s it. That’s why you don’t believe in them? Beca
use you haven’t seen them?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  He stopped strumming. “You don’t give anyone an inch, do you?”

  “No. Not when you say something that makes no sense. Why do you live here? Not the B and B, but in Haunted Hollow?”

  His gaze drifted to the rafters and scanned the room. “Grew up here. I inherited the place after my parents died. I hadn’t lived here in years, but I came back and decided to have a go at running the joint.”

  I hooted with laughter. “That’s even better. You grew up here and you don’t believe in ghosts? That’s crazy.”

  He strummed. “I’ve never, not once seen a spirit. My entire life.”

  “Well, whatever.” I rose. “Listen, thanks for the bread and thanks for saving me from an embarrassing situation, but it looks like I’ve got to be real scared when your sheriff shows up tomorrow. Give her a reason why I didn’t hang around. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her about your insomniac ways.”

  “She knows.”

  I sniffed. “Of course she does. You used to date her or something?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Conversations with Roan made me feel like someone had taken a cheese grater to my skin until my nerve endings were exposed. I felt so raw with him. Like I could shoot anything out of my mouth and he’d take it and cannon it right back to me.

  I reached the door. “Thanks for the bread. It was great.”

  He smiled. It was an honest, open expression. “I know you’re hiding something, Blissful.”

  I shrugged. “Aren’t we all?”

  His smile widened. “We are, I suppose. But for some reason I think your secret is worth finding out.”

  What did that mean? That other people’s secrets weren’t worth finding out?

  Our gazes locked and heat flushed my body. In that moment I knew exactly what Roan meant. That raw power that zipped between us was what he was talking about. He planned on spending time with me. On peeling away my layers strip by strip until I was exposed to him. I was a mystery, one that Roan wanted revealed.

  I crossed my arms. “Good night.”

  The secrets I had were too hard for a regular person to believe in. Trust me, I knew. I’d been hurt before because of what I could do. I swore I wouldn’t be hurt again. No one was worth it—not even a guitar-playing, orgasm-inducing bread baker.