Chapter 3
“Idon’t like it, and I don’t trust him,” Roan said later, after Ruth and Alice had left.
Yes, Alice had found the millionaire shortbread in her purse, and yes, she had shared it with us. Even though it was wrapped in a napkin, it looked way too good to pass up. I would have been an idiot to reject shortbread, chocolate and caramel.
Believe me.
“Well, you’re not the one who has to work for Lucky.” I placed a ghostly ornament on the tree. “It will be fine.”
He grunted in response.
I unwrapped an ornament from tissue paper. It was a witch coming out of a chimney. I hooked it onto a limb. “Like I said, I’ve worked with Lucky before. He can be trusted.”
“You don’t even know if what he’s saying is true.” Roan’s jaw flexed. “He could be lying.”
He probably was. “Hecouldbe.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Not really.”
He curled his hands into fists, and fire flamed in his eyes. His chest was puffed, his biceps hard. Every square inch of Roan was taut like a guitar string.
I wiped drool off my bottom lip.Get your head together, Blissful. This is an argument. It’s not time to fantasize about your fiancé.
Was I sure about that? Yes, I was.
“Can you tell me why it doesn’t bother you?” he demanded.
“Because…” I unwrapped another ornament and threaded it on a bough. “Because if you had the chance to speak to your parents again, would you take it?”
Roan shut his eyes. “Blissful, life is a cycle. You’re born, you live and you die.”
“Just because I know that doesn’t mean there aren’t things that I have to say to my dad. Things that I didn’t get a chance to in this life. Words that should have been spoken but weren’t. Roan,” I exhaled, trying to form the phrase, “I have words buried inside me, things that need to come out and be said. You don’t have to agree with me. You don’t even have to like it, but it’s the truth.”
He shook his head.
“And,” I continued, “if my father did steal Lucky’s soul, then it needs to be returned. Lucky needs it back. I don’t turn away from spirits who need me. I don’t turn away from people, either.”
I crossed to him and reached up, doing my best to cup his face in my hands. Roan smiled. “It’s so cute that you can barely do that.”
“Just because I’m short doesn’t mean that I don’t have will.”
“Why do you think I nicknamed you ‘killer’?”
I stared at him a beat before a burst of laughter shot through me. I pushed up on my tiptoes and wound my arms around his neck. “Do you understand why I have to do this?”
Rona coiled his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. “I get it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Well, I have a big, strong, handsome man to help me out if I need it.”
He smirked. “You need me? Are we even talking about the same person?”
“You know we are.” I lightly punched his arm. “But seriously, can you accept that I’m taking this case?”
He bent and pressed his forehead to mine. Warmth seeped into my flesh, and his scent filled my nose. Roan had a habit of smelling like cinnamon and cloves from all the amazing baking that he did.
“I can accept your choice,” he told me. “But that doesn’t mean I like it. First sign of a problem—”
