It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,25
feel funny inside, but his statement was odd.
The morning sun made his hair shine and his eyes sparkle. He was simply wrong in every sense of the word. No one should look as good as he did.
“Because it makes sense and will make everything easier when the stakes are high and dangerous.”
Was he crazy? Possibly. Someone as pretty as he was had to have something wrong with him. It would be unfair if he’d been blessed with both looks and brains. It made this situation a little easier to handle, realizing he wasn’t perfect.
“You take your job pretty seriously,” I commented, trying not to roll my eyes.
The stakes were never high at our firm, considering we specialized in real estate and estate planning. And they were never dangerous. I thought about pointing that out, but if he thought real estate and wills were exciting and life-threatening, who was I to burst his bubble?
“Don’t you?” he asked.
“Umm… sure. But you’re a lawyer and I’m a paralegal. We don’t exactly work together,” I explained, trying to be nice. If he wasn’t right in the head, it wouldn’t be polite to make him feel bad about it. The Southern manners thing was ingrained.
Gideon’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment. He pressed his lips together and glanced up at the cloudless sky.
“We do work together,” he said slowly, turning his head to stare at me. “We work closely together.”
Okay. He was either hitting on me in a seriously creepy way or there was something wrong with him. His gaze was so direct it felt like he was seeing inside me. It wasn’t a real pleasant feeling.
“Did you have this same conversation with the other gals at the office?” I asked, ready to grab Donna and run like hell if necessary.
“No,” he said, squinting at me in confusion. “Why would I do that?”
“Well,” I said, trying to stay diplomatic so he didn’t crack on me. I was beginning to feel a little sorry for him. “Because all of us work with you in a roundabout way—me, Heather, June, Jennifer and Clarissa.”
“I do not work with Clarissa,” he snapped and then pulled himself back together quickly.
I could have sworn his eyes had turned red for a second, but the sun was bright and I had my own cray-cray issues. As loony as he was, I was still wildly tempted to touch his face. His beauty was startling. I’d never seen anyone like him.
I needed my head checked. I had more than enough insanity in my life right now. I didn’t need to add to it. Plus, I still was unsure if he was a killer or just off his rocker.
Sitting this close to Gideon made my heart race. I knew if he tried to murder me, someone would notice. Several of the old gals from The Gladiolas Women’s Club were weeding the flower beds on the far side of the park. If I screamed, they would come running. They might be ancient, but they were damned scary.
Twice, I almost tried to start a new conversation. Twice, I mentally told myself to shut up.
What did you talk about with someone who might be mentally unbalanced?
Wait. I should know since I currently resided in that unsavory category.
Instead of following my very misguided instincts to touch him, I glanced over at the church and sighed. There was a new posse of dead hanging out and they were all waving at me. Gideon had so many screws loose, he probably wouldn’t notice if I waved back, but I didn’t want them to come over. Donna would bark and freak out. Every time a new ghost had floated through the kitchen last night, she went berserk. Which reminded me—I needed to pick up some superglue on the way home. Sam’s jaw needed to be glued back on.
Closing my eyes, I smiled. Gideon might not be working with all cylinders running correctly, but I had him beat in the batshit crazy department. If he believed that real estate and wills were exciting and dangerous, I’d hate to hear what he thought was boring. Looking back over at the church, I counted six specters. My ghostly squatter count was getting higher every day.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded abruptly, making me jump and almost fall off the bench.
Narrowing my eyes, I’d had about enough weird for nine thirty in the morning. “You’re kind of rude,” I told him.
“Your point?” he asked with a raised brow, clearly annoyed with me.