Page 95 of Ghost

He set the plates in front of us. “Any new revelations?”

“No!” Porter blurted.

I looked at the steaming pancakes, and then at George. “What. The. F. Is. Going. On?”

“Nothing.”

I looked at Porter and raised a brow.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

I picked up my fork and pointed it to George. “I’m.” I pointed it at Porter. “Going to.” Then, back to George. “Figure.” Back to Porter. “You two.” Then, to George. “Out.”

George shrugged and turned toward the kitchen. “Nothing to figure out.”

I looked at Porter. He was already half done with his pancakes and shoveling them into his mouth at a breakneck pace.

“I don’t know what you two knuckleheads are up to, but if it includes embarrassing me, there’ll be hell to pay,” I fumed. “Remember, I have a video of you blowing your load over the edge of the deck.”

“It won’t embarrass you,” he said.

“What won’t embarrass me?”

He cut another section of pancakes from the stack. “What’s going on.”

I scratched my arm feverishly. “What is going on?”

“Oh,” he said. “Nothing.”

I glared at him while I poured syrup on my pancakes. I had no idea what he was planning, but when I found out, he was going to pay dearly for disrupting an otherwise peaceful mid-day meal.

Because I didn’t like surprises.

At all.