It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,95

a new one for showing up so early, I left him with Steve and the squatters so I could dry my hair and make myself at least semi-presentable.

Gideon was thrilled by that as well. His joy at the simplest things was humbling.

“Daisy likes an obscene amount of syrup on her pancakes,” Steve announced, hovering over the griddle and sighing dramatically. “How I wish I could still eat. Those look so damn good.”

“They should,” I said. “Gideon is a chef… and a doctor… and a lawyer… and a dog trainer, among hundreds of other things.”

“Cool your jets, hot pants,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “You’re making me sound like an overachiever.”

“If the shoe fits…” I said, grinning. “And while we’re on the subject of dog training, can you tell me what breed Donna is?”

Donna wagged her tail and barked. Both she and Karen had placed themselves strategically to catch any food that fell off the countertop.

“Not sure you’ll like the answer,” Gideon said, squeezing oranges for juice.

“Very little surprises me anymore,” I said, setting the kitchen table.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” I said, not feeling quite as confident as I hoped I sounded. What the heck could my puppy be? A freaking demon?

“Donna’s a Hell Hound.”

Well, at least I was close…

“Okay,” I said, stopping mid-napkin fold and staring at my adorable puppy in shock. “I stand corrected.”

Gideon glanced over at me and raised a brow. “Very rare and very special. Where did you find her?”

“My girlfriends gave her to me for my birthday,” I muttered, still staring at Donna, who was now dancing in circles hoping for a pancake. Hell Hounds liked pancakes?

Heather had picked her out for me. Heather had believed my crazy story that was full of holes about John. Did Heather know about Donna? Did she know about me?

Impossible. I reminded myself that she’d walked right through one of the dead at my birthday dinner. No one who could see the dead would have done that. Right?

“Right,” I said aloud.

“Right what?” Gideon asked as he plated the pancakes and turkey bacon and then poured orange juice and coffee.

I was surprised that he made my coffee the way I loved it. He put a big squirt of chocolate syrup into the shot of espresso and then added a bunch of milk and poured it over ice.

“Right nothing. I was just talking to myself,” I said, watching him put a straw in the coffee and setting it on the table. “Can you read minds?”

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “Steve clued me in to your interesting coffee preference. Hungry?”

“Always,” I said, sitting down and digging into the best pancakes I’d ever tasted.

Steve and my other dead guests joined us as we ate and chatted. Gideon was as gracious to Steve and the dead as he was to me. He couldn’t understand a word my squatters grunted, but he was polite and kind. It was every kind of bizarre.

The con side of my mental list where Gideon was concerned grew smaller as the pro side weighed in as the projected winner. Gideon knew what I did and I knew what he did. Being able to be honest was freeing in a way I’d never known. I’d lived a lie with Steve for twenty years. And even though I wouldn’t trade my life with Steve, I had no intention of ever living that way again.

“Donna doesn’t look like a Hell Hound,” I commented as I drenched my pancakes in syrup.

Gideon’s eyes grew wide as he watched me destroy his pancakes with maple syrup. He winced and shook his head. “Steve wasn’t joking.”

“You should try it,” I suggested, pointing my fork at him. “It’s delicious.”

“I’ll just enjoy watching you,” Gideon said, grinning. “Back to Donna. What do you think a Hell Hound should look like?”

“Umm… horns, fangs, red eyes,” I said with a mouthful.

“Maybe a cheesy black hooded cape and a scythe as well?” he inquired dryly.

“Fine point. Well made,” I said with an eye roll. “I just didn’t think a Hell Hound would be so cute.”

“And who knew the Grim Reaper would be so hot?” Steve chimed in. “Oh my God, I just sounded so gay.”

“Kind of,” I said with a laugh.

“Feels good,” Steve said with a sad sigh. “Death has been a rebirth for me in some ways. But no downer talk. I stand by my statement that the Grim Reaper is hot.”

Gideon glanced over and I shrugged. “I told him who you were. He thinks it’s great.”

“Steve, I really like you,” Gideon said

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