Page 54 of The Accidental Ghost

But to his question… Would she walk with him in the snow, under the moonlight, pining away like a schoolgirl for the umpteenth time this week while she inhaled his cologne and ogled his muscles?

Yes. Yes, she would.

“Ralph? Are you interested in a walk?” he repeated, his handsome face smiling as he scooped each animal up in his arms and planted a kiss on the tops of their heads, saving his girl Glo for last.

“Sure,” she said with a smile.

Cuddling Gloria, he pressed his face to hers. “You wait here for Daddy, okay? Soon, we’ll go on all sorts of walks with your brother Dale. You’re gonna love it.”

Gloria appeared satisfied with that answer, licking Shamus’s face before he set her on the floor. She hobbled over to the hearth and hunkered down next to Waffles, curling around her by the fire.

Ralph blew them all a kiss, wishing with all her heart she could pet them, but after her initial harrowing meeting with Glo on the night they’d gone to the bookstore, everything had gone back to the way it remained.

Shamus zipped up his puffy vest, pulled his hat down over his ears and held out his hand. “You wanna do the hedge maze again tonight, or are you afraid to trust directionally challenged me to get us out of it before I freeze to death?”

With a giggle, she took his hand, floating beside him. “Good thing I can float or we’d still be wandering around inside that vegetation chamber of tortures.”

He barked a laugh, opening the back door of the quiet kitchen and heading toward the maze. “You feeling any better today?”

“You mean about murdering someone? Someone young, with his whole life ahead of him? Sure. It feels great.”

He sighed, a puff of condensation blowing from his lips as the chilled night air enveloped them. She missed the cold, the snow on her face.

“You didn’t murder anyone, Ralph. You defended yourself. He killed you because of it. He was trying to rob you, for shit’s sake. He was a drug addict on meth. You had defensive wounds on your hands. You scratched him. His skin was under your nails. The autopsy said so. There’s a huge difference between taking someone’s life because they want your money, and defending yourself from someone who wants to hurt you because they want your money. He shot you. Shot. You.”

She stopped at the beginning of the maze. They’d had this discussion a hundred times this week, but you can’t know how horrid it feels until it happens to you.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

His chest deflated. “You’re right. I don’t know what that feels like, and I know even cops who’ve killed criminals have remorse, but I do know I would have done the same thing you did, Ralph. If you want to feel badly over the fact that he died, I can almost understand it, but you didn’t willfully take a life. He did. You’re not a murderer. Michael Vorris is.”

She looked up at the sky, fighting the wave of ugly guilt that followed this exact conversation they’d had almost every night. “Let’s talk about something else. Where were we last night? Oh, yeah. I was going to ask how old you are, but you wimped out and needed to go to bed.”

He rolled his eyes, scratching the beard on his chin. “I didn’t wimp out, it was three in the morning. I, unlike you, need to sleep. I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”

“Sure-sure,” she teased, plopping down on one of the stone benches Nina and Greg had strategically placed along the paths of the maze. “Now answer the question. How old are you?”

He grinned, tucking her hand in his lap, their fingers intertwined. “In human years, I’m fifty-two.”

“And paranormal years?”

“A lot older than that.”

“Is this what immortality does? Makes you lose count of how old you are?”

He chuckled, deep and low. “I’m just kidding. I’m really only fifty-two. But I am immortal, so ask me in another hundred years.”

Ralph found herself leaning into him without even thinking about the act. It felt as natural as it did when he took her hand in his. “What about being an elf? What powers does that give you?”

He tapped the side of his head with a smile. “Pointy ears and some really cool fairy playmates when I was a kid.”

Ralph frowned. “Fairies…”

“Yup. They exist, too.”

Her mouth fell open. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to all the things. Do they have tiny little wings and magic wands?”

He nodded as he laughed. “And teeth. They have very sharp teeth. They’re not all like Tinkerbell. Some are baby-sized little terrors with tiny razor-sharp teeth.”

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