“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.
Nope. No way.
EIGHT
Istared at the ceiling, unable to get Roan off my mind. Okay, so his bread was fabulous. Too fabulous. So fabulous the man had invaded my thoughts. I needed a distraction.
“I have a lead on Lucky Strike.”
“Thank God.”
I bolted from the bed and flipped on the switch. Susan stood by the door, dabbing ghostly powder on her face.
I threw on my jacket. “Where is he?”
She closed the compact and slid it into a ghostly pocket. Some spirits were way too attached to the things they’d done while they were alive. When I died, I hoped I went straight into the afterlife and didn’t sit around putting on lipstick and mascara.
“You’ll see,” Susan said. “It’s cold outside.”
“Did you see what happened to Xavier?”
“No. That nincompoop Nancy made me leave the restaurant before she scared y’all. Told me she’d set my hair on fire with grease if I didn’t.”
“You know you’re dead, right?”
“She’s a nasty spirit. I wouldn’t put it past her to figure out a way to screw with my looks. I wasn’t going to take any chances. Everyone hates her. She especially has it in for Ricky who lives at the bookstore.”
“Why?”
“Said he stole a roll or something.”
“Someone murdered Xavier.”
Her jaw dropped. “Who?”
