The Plan (Off-Limits Romance, #4)(22)

“Ooh, and how was that?” Kat asks, her gaze stuck to a tent decked out with Christmas décor.

“It was pretty awkward, actually. Not sure if it was me or him, but he barely even interacted with me. Acted almost pained, like he was in a huge hurry to get inside,” I report as we pass a cob-webbed tent with a hand-painted sign that reads ‘Ghost Fortunes.’ Something about the sign catches my eye, and I have to laugh when the tent’s flap swings open and a large, cloaked figure emerges. The fortune teller, tall and broad, is covered with a sheet: all white, except for eye holes.

Kat giggles. “What’s our ghost fortune, Marley?”

“I don’t know. You wanna see?”

The ghost nods, holding up a sign that says, ‘Ghost Fortune: $10. Proceeds to Carnegie Library Read for Leadership program.’

“Okay, let’s do this thing.” Kat hands the ghost two tens. I hand over two more, winking at our ghostly fortune teller. “For the kids.”

The ghost nods and gives a thumbs up, revealing large, masculine hands. Then he sweeps the tent open and beckons Kat inside a funky, bead-draped space with lava lamps and a huge crystal ball. The entrance flap doesn’t close completely, so I watch as Kat holds her hand over a little table, and the ghost leans in over it. I hear Kat giggle, followed by a soft exchange of words.

She smiles again as she says, “That sounds perfect.”

A few moments later, she emerges, mouthing something to me. Lip reading is definitely outside my skill set, so I shoot her a look that says later and follow my ghostly host into his abode.

With walls of white fluttering around us, I sink into a black bean bag and watch the ghost sit behind his table: a scratched-up, piece-of-crap, wood number with a large, fake spider perched on the edge and a sticky eyeball stuck beside the glowing, purple crystal ball.

The ghost nods and makes a come-hither motion with his fingers, and I rest my hand, palm up, on the table.

He reaches out and cradles it in both of his. As his big hands surround mine and a finger drags over my palm, I feel the air slip from my lungs. Gabe. I know it’s him before I look into his eyes.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs in put-on tone that doesn’t sound like him. He drags his finger over my palm, which wastes no time starting to sweat.

“Do things look good?” I breathe, trying to sound light-hearted.

Gabe’s eyes are hot on mine as he traces the middle line on my palm.

“They do.” His voice is a rumble I feel between my legs.

He draws my hand closer to him, and I feel chills spread over my skin. Gabe traces the outline of my thumb.

“You moved home,” he says, in that ultra-low, fake, ghost voice, his cool fingers caressing my wrist.

I nod slowly.

“To an old house, very old, with many spirits.”

My lips twitch.

“Also, there is someone else there. Someone…” He closes his eyes and rocks slightly. “Very attractive.” His eyes open. “But not very nice.”

My stomach sprouts a pair of wings and starts to flutter. “How’d you know?”

He nods at the table where our hands rest, at the crystal ball.

I bite my lip, which sort of wants to smile. “You’re right, Ghost Medium. My downstairs neighbor is a total fucking asshole.” I lean closer. “Huge dick,” I whisper. “And I do mean that in both ways.”

I can see Gabe’s eyes go squinty with his hidden smile—or, more likely, smirk. I can feel him trying not to laugh. His finger, paused in its perusal of my palm, starts tracing again. “Has this bad neighbor caused…unhappiness?” he asks, making me want to laugh at his ridiculous voice—even as my pulse races at the soft stroke of his finger on my palm.

“You know, honestly…” I bite my lower lip for effect. “I think he may be under the impression that I care more than I do. Like, he’s Fate’s VIP, this neighbor, but to me, maybe he’s just…a boring neighbor.”

I can’t hide my smirk, and he can’t hide the way his eyes crinkle. “Is that right?” he asks in his normal voice. He coughs. “Is that right,” he repeats in ghost-tone.

“Kind of a been-there, done-that sort of thing, you know what I mean?”

I can see his jaw drop, even through the sheet. He drops my hand, then grabs the crystal ball and tugs it closer. He holds up a finger. “One of my ghostly brethren has a message for us…”

“Is that right?”

He nods, running his palm around the crystal ball, which shoots out yellow sparks.

Gabe shuts his eyes. All at once, he flips them open and leans forward. “Your neighbor is a wizard, Marley.”

I scoff, stifling the howl I want to let loose. “Is he?”

“It seems so.”

“I can see how he might be under that delusion,” I say. “He’s a little kooky, by profession, in fact—but I’m not so sure your source is right on this…”

“Oh yes, he is definitely right. And the minds of wizards, they are very readable to ghosts…”

“Are they now?”

He nods. “So I have insight I can offer you.”

“Well, I’d love to hear this, then, Ghost Medium.” I lean forward.

Gabe leans closer too, his gaze burning my own. “Your neighbor is, in fact, an asshole. Since you moved in, he has been a dick most of the time.” He grabs my hand again as my face flushes red hot. “So this is my message: It has nothing to do with you. Only with him.”