It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,61

sex on two legs and I didn’t do sex. If I was truly going to have to work with him, I needed to banish the thoughts from my head. I’d embarrassed myself enough. My lack of skill in the bedroom would not be added to the list.

Back to business. “Okay. So, I was wrong about what you do. Would you like to explain it to me or am I going to have to guess?”

“I don’t send anyone to hell,” he said, taking my cue and getting to the reason he came. “People determine their own fate during their life.”

“Got it. So why do you exist?”

“I’ve asked myself that question many times,” he muttered.

“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

“Nothing,” he said flatly in a cold tone. “I’m only called upon when a soul’s fate is in question.”

Well, that was certainly interesting. I wondered which one of my ghosts’ fate was in question.

Oh, hell no. I was pretty sure I knew who it might be.

“Can God or Satan see the truth? The real truth?” I asked, feeling a little sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure I believed in God or Satan, but I figured using the names sounded professional.

“Not following,” Gideon said.

I stood and began to pace. My head started to throb and my heartbeat felt like it was skipping every other beat. John didn’t commit suicide. But if the higher powers—whoever the heck they were—went by what was believed as opposed to what really happened, John could get sent to the wrong place. I wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d already been murdered. He wasn’t going to pay for a suicide that he didn’t commit.

Maybe I could show John’s phone to Gideon and clear it up before a tragic mistake occurred. It was possible that the reason I stole the phone was for this very moment. Sarina would get away with murder, but John wouldn’t suffer in death.

Heaving out a huge sigh, I went for it. “You can’t have John. He didn’t kill himself. If you want proof, I have it.”

Gideon stared at me perplexed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t?” I asked, feeling my heartbeat settle back to a rate that wasn’t going to give me a stroke. I was only forty, but my hobby was definitely raising my blood pressure.

“No. I don’t.”

“You’re not here to take John?” I wasn’t quite sure I believed him. He seemed to be nicer than I would expect the Grim Reaper to be, but he was still the Grim Reaper.

“I’m not here to take anyone anywhere,” he said.

“Why are you here then?”

“I’m here to see you. To get to know you,” he replied. “There is no soul in question right now.”

I was a little confused, but maybe this was normal protocol. I really needed to talk to Gram. I hadn’t asked any of the right questions.

“You’re just here to say hi and then you’re leaving?”

“Something like that,” he said with a laugh.

“And you’re positive you’re not here for John?” I needed to make sure we were clear on that point.

“Not here for John,” he promised.

I nodded in satisfaction and sat down on a chair that was still a healthy distance away. “Good. What else do I need to know?”

“I’ve come up with a penance that can show your remorse for brutally attacking me,” he said, looking so serious it was funny.

“You started it,” I pointed out with a giggle.

“I thought you were dead.”

“And smacking and shaking a dead person is a good plan of action?” I questioned.

“Fine point, well made,” Gideon said, grinning. “However, it would be good for our working relationship if I knew you were truly sorry.”

“And how would I go about showing you I was truly sorry?” I asked as the atmosphere went from friendly to loaded with sexual innuendo.

“A kiss,” he replied.

Not going to happen. A kiss with Gideon was more dangerous than dead man mind-diving. I was certain of it.

Wait. A. Minute.

Did he pull this crap with all the Death Counselors? Had he hit on Gram and my mom too?

That was so gross, I almost couldn’t comprehend it.

Was he even the same Grim Reaper who had worked with Gram and my mom? Was there a family line of Grim Reapers just like there was a line of Death Counselors?

The sour look on my face must have clued him into my thought process.

“I’m not that unappealing,” he said dryly. “Since it can’t be that, would you like to tell me what’s going