hopes up.
“I don’t like onions,” he says, digging them out of his sandwich.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
When Goliath shrugs like a big annoyed kid, I struggle not to jump over the table and kiss the frown from his face.
Instead, I just say, “I’ll remember that next time.”
Though he doesn’t look at me when I make my promise, I do catch a little smile.
“Do you like being out here alone?” I ask as the sun hangs low in the sky.
Shrugging, he puts his sandwich back together and takes a bite.
I steal his unwanted onions and ask, “When do you plan to build your house?”
Again, he shrugs.
“Can I help you design it?”
Goliath narrows his gaze as if I’m up to something. Smiling, I take a bite of sandwich and say with my mouth full, “I’ve helped design plenty of houses our construction company renovated. I know stuff.”
Awarding me a half-smile for my efforts, he says, “I don’t know where to begin. I never did construction. I don’t know how to make a house out of the shit in my head.”
“That’s why I’ll help you. There was a woman who wanted stuff changed in her house. She had a million ideas, but they didn’t work or were too expensive. I helped take her ideas and make them possible on her budget. She called me an angel.”
Goliath smiles again, easier this time. “That’s what you do for the Reapers?”
“That and a lot of the business stuff. Permits, scheduling crews. Taylor handles the club stuff like overseeing the drugs, guns, and women. She makes everyone check in twice daily ever since we lost a few meth labs. They call her ‘The Tyrant’ because she takes no shit. Me? I’m an angel. It’s kinda bullshit, you know? I’m just as bitchy as Taylor. Where’s my praise?”
Chuckling, Goliath shakes his head. “You’re too pretty to be scary.”
“Taylor’s pretty.”
“Not like you,” he says, holding my gaze for a little too long and sending my heart thumping wildly.
“Thank you,” I mumble in a voice so filled with need that I might as well spray-paint “Shelby Loves Dean” on the wall. “I really would help get your ideas organized. It’s important for you to have the house you want. I know where you used to live, and it wasn’t well suited for a man your size.”
“It did fine,” he says, defensive as always.
“Cooper Johansson’s youngest daughter is married to a large man. We stopped by their current house last year when we visited Max in Nashville. It’s just a house, you know? Normal-sized ceilings and doorways, but Audrey said their future house will fit a man of his size. Her father-in-law is big too. I hear his house was designed so he could stretch out and never smack his knuckles on the ceiling. You should have that too.”
“That guy sounds rich.”
“You have money. I researched you, remember? You make the choice to live like a poor redneck.” Goliath narrows his gaze, again feeling attacked. I wave off his pissy expression. “You only get one life, and you should want the best for yourself.”
“Fine.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen at the Victorian,” I say, changing the subject. “River and Max will move out next year. Shane will want a place of his own once River has one. They’re very competitive. Once the boys are gone, it’ll be me, Maude, our kids, the dogs, and the ghosts.”
Goliath looks amused. “Do you really think there are ghosts in that house?”
“I feel them.”
“How?”
“Like when I was researching the police reports about Violet Navarro’s disappearance and her parents’ murder-suicide. I started convincing myself that they killed their daughter. Then I felt this cold chill as if someone opened a door, but it was just the dogs and me in the TV room. I wasn’t sure if the ghost was saying I was right or wrong. Then I imagined if I were a ghost trying to convey something to a stupid living person, how would I do it? I decided the ghost was telling me that Violet’s parents didn’t kill her.”
“So the ghosts show up when you’re working that Slasher thing?”
“No, I feel them at other times. The back door sometimes ends up unlatched. The dogs bark at the ceiling. I feel as if I’m being watched. Little things. Nothing horror-movie scary, just startling when I’m alone.”
“I wouldn’t want to live in a haunted house,” Goliath says, giving his big head a shake.
“While I do get freaked out, it’s not like the movies where