The man had a point. Despite the fact that a body had been carted off the premises mere hours earlier, there was something right about the house.
A filmstrip rolled in her head of poker nights and client meetings and family dinners. Of Christmas trees and Thanksgiving turkeys and Burt and friends…and kids.
“Can we even afford this? And by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you’ since you’re the one who pays my salary.”
He waved a dismissive hand a little too close to her face. “We’ve got this. I mean, who in their right mind would want to live in a murder scene?”
“Yeah, Nick. Who?”
“Us. That’s who.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Promise?” He held up his pinkie.
She hooked hers to his. “I promise.”
“Cool. So about that sex?”
“Not here. And after a shower. Which we’re taking at my parents’ house since our bathroom and bedroom don’t have ceilings anymore.”
“Question. Will your parents mind if I have sex with you in their shower?”
“You’ve met my parents.”
“Right. They’re super cool. My parents would never let me have sex with my hot psychic girlfriend in their shower. They’re lame.”
“How about this. We shower and eat dinner at my parents’. Then we pick up dessert from your dad’s restaurant and spend the night in a hotel.”
“We haven’t had hotel sex yet,” Nick said, perking up.
“Let’s go pack.”
“And you’ll think about the house?” he prodded.
“I’ll think about the house,” she promised.
“You know, it’s nice that you asked this time,” Riley said as they trudged up the glitter-coated stairs of home.
“What do you mean?” he asked, dividing his weight between her and the railing.
“The last time we almost died, you just moved yourself in without even asking. This shows progress.”
“So I probably shouldn’t mention that I already put in an offer on the place, right?”
“Nick, seriously? Between getting wedged in a duct and throwing my ex-husband in a dumpster, when did you have the time?”
“When we were drinking. The real estate agent is so happy she’s going to help us fumigate the place for free so it doesn’t smell like corpse.”
She was about to start an argument when Fred’s bedroom door creaked open and a woman exited, carrying her shoes in her hand.
“Grandmother?” Elanora’s feathers were askew, and her long skirt was on backwards.
“Hey! Scary Granny,” Nick crowed. “What were you doing? Having a little afternoon delight?”
“You needn’t look so shocked,” Elanora tsked. “I am human, after all. I, too, indulge in a treat now and again.”
Riley gagged and clamped a hand to her mouth.
