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“I heard that,” Ray grumbled.
Kane gestured to the house. “Shall we divide and conquer your household chores?”
“Everything we need is out and ready.” I looked at the ghosts. “Kane is here to help me hang a few picture frames.”
“I could’ve done that,” Ray mumbled.
“Oh, be quiet,” Nana Pratt said. “It’s only an excuse to spend time with him. Goodness knows she doesn’t need to spend any more time with the likes of us.”
I left them to their squabbling and retreated inside the house with my royal handyman.
I’d picked up a few framed pictures during a drive around town last week. One of many lessons I’d learned from my grandfather was the ability to scavenge household goods. Pops had been an expert upcycler. I hadn’t reached his level of expertise, mainly because I lacked his creativity, but I knew a pretty picture when I spotted one from a stop sign across the street.
Kane halted at the edge of the drop cloth on the floor. “You need a drop cloth for hanging pictures?”
“Nana Pratt insisted. Apparently, making holes in the wall can result in debris on the floor.”
Kane examined the first painting. “Gustav Klimt? Really?”
“What’s wrong with Klimt?” I fell in love with The Kiss during a visit to the Vienna museum where it was on display. When I saw the reproduction, I knew I had to have it.
The demon cocked his head. “I feel like I’m in a sorority house.”
“When were you ever in a sorority house?”
He cleared his throat. “Never mind.”
I lifted the painting and held it in place. “Is it centered?”
“A little to the left.”
I craned my neck to look at him and nearly dropped the painting in the process. “Your left or my left?”
Kane’s sigh of exasperation was whisper quiet.
Still. “I heard that.”
He moved to stand behind me. “I’m going to touch you now.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” I joked, but I knew the reason he’d given me advanced notice.
I steeled my mind as he snaked an arm along mine to guide my hand. “This left.”
A pleasant sensation zinged down my spine as his body pressed gently against mine. The last time we were this close, we were on the floor trying to rip off each other’s clothes. At the time we’d blamed a god-infested lust goat when, in fact, the goat had been of the normal sock-chewing variety.
“Think we could mimic their pose?” he asked, his voice as close and intimate as the picture in my hands. “Let life imitate art.”
I brushed him aside, too caught off guard by his bid for closeness to accept it. “They’re mythical figures. They’re not meant to be imitated.”
“Hmm. You told me you intend to move slowly with me. Now I’m beginning to think you meant it.”
“Oh, I meant it. For both our sakes.” Following the goat debacle, Kane and I agreed to move forward with our relationship, albeit at a glacial pace. He feared reverting to old hellish habits while under the influence of a goddess of nightmares.
I feared … everything.
I settled the wire of the frame on the hook. It immediately slid and tilted to the right.
Kane arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me you were raised by someone handy? It appears a few basic skills are lacking.”
