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I glanced at the snow-covered bridge that led to my front porch. “I would appreciate that, thanks.”
I exited the truck and took my sweet time walking to the house. The last thing I needed was for the werewolf alpha tosee me fall flat on my ass. Between Kane’s absence and the pack’s distaste for me, I was already up to my eyeballs in humiliations galore.
CHAPTER 2
My conversationwith West motivated me to tackle a simple project in the dining room. I was fully functional, and the day was still young, so I figured I might as well make the most of it.
The walls in the formal dining room had the misfortune of being covered in a textured, metallic mural that contravened my minimalist aesthetic. In other words, it had to go. I’d been giving it the stink eye for months, but that didn’t seem to have any effect. If only I possessed the kind of magic that allowed me to circumvent manual labor, my life would be hunky dory. Of course, someone less ethical in Melinoe’s goddess shoes might use her powers to make a team of ghosts perform all the work in the house. That someone would not have been raised by Pops.
I shook my fist at the air. “I curse you for this hideous wallpaper, Joseph Edgar Blue III.”
During the years the house sat vacant, the paper had peeled away from the walls in multiple places. I started with one of those and attempted to strip off the section.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ray advised.
I turned to observe the ghost. “Rules, Ray.”
“It’s bitter cold outside.”
“Yes, but you can’t feel it.”
“I see snow, and I feel cold. I can’t help it. You should see Ingrid. She’s shivering.”
“I thought she was enjoying the great outdoors because she was impervious to cold.”
“She changed her mind. It’s a woman’s prerogative.”
I had two octogenarian ghosts that acted like tweens. “Tell her to manifest a coat.” The ghosts could change their appearance at will, although they tended to stick to the clothes in which they were buried.
“No need. She followed me into the house. She’s in the foyer.”
“It’s not much warmer in there.” I concentrated on pulling a swath of paper, but it shredded into slivers with most of it remaining stuck to the wall. As usual, one simple task was quickly becoming one monumental pain in the ass.
“You’re going to make it worse,” Ray said.
“I don’t recall asking your opinion.” I paused. “But if I did, what would it be?”
Ray observed the mess of the mural. “You should steam it off. What’s the sudden rush to fix the dining room anyway? You planning on hosting dinner parties?”
I gave him a pointed look. “Do I strike you as the kind of person who throws dinner parties?”
“No, you strike me as the kind of person who doesn’t get invited to any because they know you won’t show up.”
“You’re very astute, Ray.”
“When you spend years as the quiet man in the recliner, you notice things.”
“You make yourself sound lazy.” What I knew about Ray suggested the man had been far from lazy during his lifetime.
“Not lazy, just introverted. Where’s your drop cloth?”
“I’m not painting the wall until the mural is off.”
“I don’t mean for paint. I mean for the debris once you start scraping off the parts that won’t budge.” He motioned to the streaks of paper that remained stuck to the wall after my peeling effort. “Makes a real mess.”
Nana Pratt entered the chat. “Why bother with all that work? Glue down the parts that stick out and paint over it. Save us all from your bellyaching.”
I leaned against the wall. “If my bellyaching is that problematic for you, I’d be more than happy to issue you a one-way ticket to the Other Side.”
