“Shoot, you’re a pro at multitasking-keeping up your work, helping with the house, getting ghosts to the other side. And if there’s a way, I’m betting you’ll get Celeste back too. Face it, you always get the job done, no matter what the job is.” Nan uncurled her legs from the chair and stood. “Why would this time be any different?”
She was right. Why shouldn’t he be able to pull it all off this time? Only, this time he was talking about the ghost who’d controlled his entire being with her kiss.
“And Dax,” she said as she started to walk away.
“Yeah?”
“Let me know when you get Celeste back.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll let everyone know.”
He left the house with Nanette’s final words echoing in his thoughts. Nan hadn’t said if you get Celeste back; she’d said when. And that was exactly how Dax felt. He’d lost her twice, but, on the reverse side of that, she’d made it to him twice too. If she could make it twice, she could make it again.
Third time, he prayed, was the charm. And hopefully, Ryan would offer a little insight about how to make it happen.
5
THE DRIVE FROM the plantation to Ormond, where Ryan and Monique’s house was located, typically took about thirty minutes. Dax made it in twenty. He pulled onto their street and immediately noticed that the small house they were renting was lit up like an airport runway, with Ryan’s truck piled high with furniture and backed up to the front door.
Dax parked the car and climbed out, immediately noticing that Tristan was here; his Jeep was parked outside. Obviously, Monique had recruited the oldest male cousin of the bunch to help unload, since her brothers were both preoccupied with hospital duty and helping spirits. Dax could only imagine the cussing Tristan was doing at being the only Vicknair here.
As if on cue, Tristan’s tall frame exited the open front door of the house and he swore a stream of expletives that would make a sailor blush. “Did you leave anything at the plantation?” he asked sarcastically.
“Oh, stop complaining,” Monique said, dusting her palms together as she followed him out. “This is the last load, and I’ve cut your hair for free since I opened my shop. You owe me.”
“Shit, I’d rather pay for the cut.” Tristan tested the weight of a tall dresser by lifting one end. “Tell your husband to get out here and help me with this one,” he said, then apparently noticed Dax. “Scratch that, Dax is here. Come on over here. It’s about time you showed up.”
Monique brushed a big blond curl out of her eyes. “Hey, did you come to help?” she asked, then frowned. “You look terrible. What’s up? Something wrong?”
“Yeah,” Dax said. “Something is definitely wrong.” A major understatement. He’d lost the woman he loved-twice.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Celeste. She came back, and then she left again.” Dax helped Tristan maneuver the dresser off.
“Celeste? She came back?” Monique sounded as surprised as Dax had been when he’d first seen Celeste and Prissy in the sitting room. “Your ghost?”
His ghost. That was a nice way to think of her, but it was kind of hard to call Celeste “his” when he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. “Yeah, she came back today with my assigned spirit, and then she left.”
“Left? As in, back to the other side?” Tristan asked.
“As in,” Dax said, nodding. “And I’ve got to figure out how to get her back.”
Tristan put his end of the dresser on the ground with a thud. “Come again?”
“I’m going to figure out how to bring her back, and I need Ryan to help me make that happen.”
“That’s my brother,” Monique said, beaming. “Just because she’s a ghost doesn’t mean it can’t work out.”
Tristan shook his head. “Hell, the whole family’s going nuts. First you go and marry a spirit, and now he’s thinking he can bring back one who’s crossed.”
“I don’t know if she’s crossed or not,” Dax explained. “My gut tells me she’s stuck somewhere in the middle.”
“You do realize it’d be a whole lot easier to find you a girl that’s still breathing, don’t you?” Tristan said, giving Dax one of his trademark skeptical looks that made most folks think twice about whatever they were contemplating.
Lucky for Dax, he was immune to it. “Hey, if I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.” Typically, Tristan wouldn’t have let that go without another smart-ass remark, but evidently, he could tell by Dax’s tone that he wasn’t in the mood to be messed with tonight, especially not when it came to Celeste.
“Like I said,” Tristan repeated, “this family’s losing it.”
Monique moved to one end of the dresser. “I’ll help Tristan with this. Why don’t you head on into the kitchen. Ryan just carried some chairs in there, so you’ll have a place to sit and talk. He’s due a break anyway, he’s been unloading trucks all day. And you don’t need to worry about helping us, we’re almost done. You concentrate on getting Celeste back.”
Tristan’s jaw fell. “You’ve gotta be kidding. You’re going to let him show up now, at the end of the day, and during the last load, and get by without helping? Shit, I’m just your cousin, he’s your brother. I’d say he pulls rank on helping you move.”
“I’m sorry, Tristan,” Monique said sweetly. “Are your muscles hurting? I guess I assumed firemen were strong enough to take the heat.”
“Hell,” Tristan said, but he chuckled, and lifted his end.
“Now go talk to Ryan. Maybe he can help you figure out how to get her back,” Monique instructed, ever the bossy sister. “Ryan! Dax is here, and he wants to talk to you. I’m sending him around.” Moving slowly toward the house and grunting a little with each step, she glanced at Dax and ordered, “Walk around the side of the house,” while Tristan backed through the front door and cussed when his knuckles scraped against the frame.
Following Monique’s command, as if anybody in their right mind would tell her no, Dax rounded the house then climbed the steps leading to the kitchen, where Ryan was lifting a boxful of appliances onto the counter. His gray T-shirt had a sweat-dampened V from the neck to the chest, and his hair was even darker than usual, in wet waves from exertion.
“Come on in.” He turned toward a red-and-white cooler shoved to one corner of the kitchen floor and withdrew two Cokes, then handed one to Dax. “Here. Monique said she didn’t want us drinking beer while we’re moving her furniture,” he said with a shrug. “So, in the interest of maintaining marital bliss, this is the best I can do.”
“Coke is fine,” Dax said, taking the icy can from Ryan.
“Have a seat. I guess the two of us are supposed to take a break and chat, while Tristan busts his balls hauling furniture.” He said the last words a little louder than the rest.
“I heard that,” Tristan grumbled from the hall, and Monique laughed loudly.
Dax popped the top on the can, then took a much-needed dose of carbonated caffeine. He hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink since that cup of coffee he’d had with Nan, not that he’d even thought of taking care of those types of physical needs while Celeste had been here. Taking care of sexual needs, on the other hand…
“So you need to talk to me?” Ryan asked, sitting at the table, then taking a long drink from his soda. “Damn, I’d really rather have a beer.”
“Ryan?” Monique called sweetly, her voice echoing down the hallway from the front of the house.
“Yeah?”
“Honey, did you enjoy yourself last night?”
A long pause caused a noticeable silence.
“Did you?” she called again.
“Hell, yeah,” Ryan finally answered.
“Well, if you want to enjoy tonight, you’ll stop complaining about there being no beer in the house.”
Another long pause, then Ryan shrugged, and smiled. “Deal.”
“Good then, that’s settled,” she said rather triumphantly, either because she was getting her way now, or because she’d also be getting her way later.