Page 28 of The Accidental Ghost

When the laughter subsided, Shamus reached over and gripped her hand. “We have options, Ralph. We have other ways to find out what’s going on in the afterlife.”

“How?” she whispered, the swell of nausea in her stomach rising and falling.

He smiled like a Cheshire cat, giving her hand a squeeze. “A séance.”

That was the last thing she remembered hearing before darkness consumed her.

Oh…and she also remembered how nice Shamus’s hand felt, enveloping hers.

Pathetic.

She was pa-the-tic.

Chapter

Nine

While everyone was calling her name with frantic voices, moving from room to room, searching for her, Ralph was hovering…somewhere.

Somewhere dark and obnoxiously warm.

Gah. she hated the stupid heat. She had zero tolerance for hot and sticky. None. And boob sweat? Was there anything worse?

That was a small part of why she and her ex-fiancé, Will, had broken up. He was going to take a job in Texas, where it was, according to him, hotter than Satan’s crotch.

While that wasn’t what ended it entirely, it had been a small factor. Will had been a good guy, but she’d realized when he said he wanted to take the job in Texas, she’d have at least been willing to consider going with him…if her life would’ve felt empty without him.

That made her question how deep her love went, and if she’d drifted toward him simply because he was comfortable. Will didn’t require much from her, he was kind, mostly supportive, gentle. But he didn’t inspire her to grow, and she didn’t feel passionate about him. Rather, she’d felt complacent.

In the end, she’d decided that wasn’t enough. If she was going to spend the rest of what life she had left with him, Ralph wanted something more.

Their parting had been quiet and peaceful. She’d guessed it was because he’d felt the same way she did. That she’d awoke the morning after Will left for Texas feeling lighter, less obligated, spoke volumes.

Anyway, she really did hate the heat.

Raphaela Tucci needed four seasons—three of which weren’t seasons she’d spend on fire. And wherever she was right now, fire might not be licking at her heels, but it sure felt like it wouldn’t be long until she fully lit up.

Yet, no matter how hard Ralph strained her eyeballs, she couldn’t see anything above or around her, only below, where all the women and Shamus were tearing Nina’s castle up, looking for her.

What was going on, and how did she get here from there?

Better yet, how did she get back down there?

Ralph closed her eyes and counted to three. Maybe she was having trouble adjusting her eyesight. You know, like when it’s really dark out at night, with cloud cover, and you can’t see two feet in front of you?

She popped her eyes open.

Okay, it wasn’t like that. It was still dark as dark gets.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she held her hair off her neck, cursing its thickness. Everyone always thought having this much hair was a blessing, but if there was someone around with an electric shaver? She’d shave it the flip off right this second.

The good news was she could still float. That would certainly help air out her undercarriage.

That thought made her ponder this ghost thing. It didn’t have a lot of perks so far.

She was sweating profusely, she could still feel the occasional heartbeat and race of her pulse, but it only happened sporadically—which made no sense. If you were dead, you were dead, right? She shouldn’t have a heartbeat or a pulse.

Though, she’d give it up for terror. As a ghost, she felt that all the time. Never knowing what was coming next was a real edge-of-your-seat ride.

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