Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,53
Joel’s metallic blue Maserati perched atop the double chimneys.
Meredith fluttered across the grass like a crepe paper streamer. “What’s he doing here?”
“Evan?” Sassy’s shocked gaze was glued to the car. “He’s staying here.”
“Over my dead, decomposing body.”
Sassy glanced at the ghost in surprise. “You know him?”
“Oh, yeah.” Meredith made a rude noise. “Emo Boy and I go way back. He’s trouble walking. I worked on a case that involved him.”
Worked a case? Sassy would be willing to bet the only thing Meredith had ever “worked on” was a tan.
“I didn’t know you were a detective.”
“Do I look like Nancy Frickin’ Drew?”
Producing a card, Meredith handed it to Sassy. The card read Bitchin’ Banshee Services: We’re Scary Good in glowing letters.
“My client hired me to approach his boss on his behalf.” Meredith fluffed her hair. “I persuaded Evan to let Mr. Henderson go.”
Sassy stared at the ghost in confusion. “What’s Evan got to do with it?”
Meredith rolled her eyes. “Everything, boo. Evan is the zombie master. He plays with dead things. It’s a hobby with the creep.”
Chapter Seventeen
Later that morning, Sassy stepped out the front door showered and dressed. It was good to be wearing her bra and panties again, fresh from the laundry. There was something icky about wearing another woman’s lingerie—even brand new—especially knowing that woman had used the sexy underthings to entice her brother.
After taming her fairy-fried curls into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, Sassy had solved the problem of what to wear. She’d turned one of Trey’s Charvet cotton shirts into a darling short dress. Turned-up sleeves, a contrasting silk tie belted at the waist and voila!—instant outfit.
The pop of color in the tie matched her Sergio Rossi sandals. No more hiking boots or oversized robe. No more see-through tee shirts. She was back, in her high-heeled glory. Cinderella and her mice had nothing on Sassy Peterson.
Grim, clad in a black tee shirt and jeans, stood in the driveway with Evan and Taryn. The simple shirt and denim molded to the big warrior’s hard body in a way that made Sassy sigh. Grim seemed much happier now his boots were dry. His shoulder-length hair gleamed red in the sun.
He looked up as she came out of the house, his gaze traveling from her legs to her face and back again.
A nervous thrill shot through Sassy and settled in her stomach. Grim Dalvahni was a hot, sexy beast and he wanted her. The knowledge was as exciting as an end-of-season sale at Bergdorf. For a moment, Sassy was back on the pier in Grim’s arms, and he was kissing her.
That kiss had changed everything. Boy, oh, boy, if she weren’t engaged...
She shoved the thought in a mental box and slammed it shut. She was engaged. End of subject.
A frown gathered in Grim’s golden eyes. “Where is the rest of your garment?”
Sassy did a quick spin. “This is it. Isn’t it totally presh?”
“It is too short. Wear something else.”
“I don’t have anything else to wear.”
Back home, Sassy had a fourteen-by-sixteen walk-in closet full of expensive clothes. Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t trade this makeshift outfit for all the designer apparel in the world. The universe had dumped her in a fifty-gallon drum of crazy and she’d survived.
This dress was the product of her imagination, her resourcefulness, and resilience.
Bring it, Witchy Poo. Sassy Peterson was a force to be reckoned with.
She pranced down the steps in her heels, joining Evan, Grim, and Taryn on the driveway. Side by side, they gazed at the roof where Daddy Joel’s Maserati gleamed in the sun like an oversize weather vane.
“How are we going to get it down?” Sassy worried her bottom lip. “Should we call a wrecker?”
“Not unless they have a crane,” Evan said in his lazy drawl.
He was wearing one of Trey’s shirts, a cobalt blue polo that hugged his lean frame. The color looked super with Evan’s black hair.
He slid Grim a glance. “One more time. How did the car wind up on the roof, Big ’Un? You were vague about that part at breakfast.”
“In truth, I do not recall.” A dull flush crept up Grim’s high cheekbones. “I assume I put it there for safekeeping.”
“You were crunk.” Evan shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Word of info. Most people don’t park their cars on the roof. Good thing Peterson didn’t live in town. There’d be questions.”
“He has a point, Dalvahni,” Taryn said. “You are in violation of the Directive. Remove the carriage at once.”