Page 2 of TBR: Dead But Well Read

Reaching the top of the shelf, I stopped short at the two dark eyes staring into mine.

Squeak!

“Wasabi!” I yelped, clutching at my chest. “We’ve already talked about this. I’m the ghost and the only one who should be doing the scaring around here.”

The dove-gray rat twitched his nose, looking decidedly unapologetic and almost amused.

Jerk.

Shooing him from the middle of my bed, I drifted down on the fabric. With a happy little hop, he moved to my side and curled into an adorable ball beside me.

I summoned a small burst of energy and scratched behind his tiny ear. His fur was soft against my ghostly finger, and I couldn’t help but smile when he tilted his head to give me better access.

“You know you shouldn’t be out in the library during the day,” I scolded. “If Mrs. Sourpants sees you again, she’s going to call the exterminator.”

Wasabi cracked open one eye as if to say,you think I’m worried?before closing it again.

I really wished he could talk to me, but apparently communicating with animals wasn’t a ghostly perk. With my only friend—and the only being who knew I still existed—cuddled beside me, I sighed and reached for the book I’d started that morning.

A half-hour later, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. I stiffened, craning my head to hear better.

Odd.

No one came to this side of the library unless they were planning to dig out the Christmas decorations that were stored in the room across from the archive room. And since it was March, that couldn’t be the reason.

The door handle turned, the hinges shrieking in protest as the door opened. At the shock of the ear-splitting noise, I jumped and nearly threw my book.

What the heck, Ax?Your ghost game is seriously slipping if you’re getting spooked twice in the same hour.

My nose wrinkled in thought. Did ghosts even have game? And why did I have to spend my life after death with my kind-of-mean inner monologue? I could say with certainty that there would be no resting in peace—or peace at all—as long as my inner critic was still alive and well in my head.

Besides, was jumping out and saying, “boo!” part of a ghost’s job description? I had no clue. When I died, no one had been waiting to welcome me to my ghosthood with a handshake and a job manual.

The overhead light flickered and emitted a high-pitched hum. Grinding my teeth, I narrowed my eyes at the newcomer, then my jaw dropped.

Sweet and salty chicken balls!This guy was all man… in all the best ways!

His raven hair was shaved short on the sides, but had been left longer on the top, and it fell to one side of his angular face as he ducked through the doorway. Dark stubble ran along his jawline, giving him the rough, yet alluring, look of a man who was too busy dealing with dangerous crap to worry about his appearance.

The guy strode to the stack of books and swiped away the cobweb that stretched across the rows. His finger trailed down the dusty spines as he searched for the book he wanted, giving me a wonderful view of his profile.

He was the type of man who was featured as the main love interest in the paranormal romances that made up most of my TBR. Raising myself on my elbow, I studied every line of the man’s face and body. The next time I needed to imagine the faceof a sexy, brooding alpha male, I wanted to be able to call this man to mind.

“Are you going to say something? Or just stare at me like you’ve never seen a man before?” the guy said, his eyes never leaving the shelf.

Thinking I’d been so caught up in his looks that I hadn’t noticed someone else enter, I quickly scanned the room, searching for whoever he was speaking to. There was no one, other than Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Dreamy, Wasabi the rat, and me.

But no one could see me, so who was he talking to?

The man pulled a book from the shelf, then lifted his gaze and stared directly at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He raised an eyebrow and his lips twitched.

“You can see me?” I whispered, even though I knew he couldn’t see or hear me. “That’s not possible.”

Only Wasabi and the occasional gifted child had been able to see me.

“Of course I can.” The man leaned back against the shelf and flipped open the book, sending a cloud of dust billowing out around him.

I glanced down at the book in my hand, weighing my burning desire to finish the current chapter against my curiosity to speak to someone for the first time in three years.

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