by AJ Rose
Nate appraised him openly. “Yeah, well, ski bum doesn’t look great on a résumé.”
“Says who? Pretty sure the ski instructor job you want requires enough experience to be able to teach it.” He took on a mock innocent tone. “Whatever would the rich people who come to ski here do without instructors to keep them from falling on their butt implants?”
Having just taken a drink, Nate nearly spit it all over Mitch for the second time that evening as he tried to contain his laughter. He slapped a hand over his mouth until he could swallow, and his eyes watered.
Mitch grinned. “People come in all shapes and ages, interests and abilities. It’s called diversity. If you want to be a ski bum, be a ski bum. Who cares, as long as you’re happy and not imposing on anyone else?”
Nate sobered, his lips stretching in a smile that popped his dimples. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Mitch. You have this quiet wallflower thing going, but the words that come out of your mouth are astonishing.”
“I’ll try to keep a lid on that,” Mitch teased.
Nate grew serious. “Please don’t. I like it.”
Mitch’s face heated, and he was grateful when the waiter arrived with their food. They were quiet for a bit while eating, and then Nate wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward.
“Tell me something about you no one knows.”
Uncomfortable, Mitch was about to answer with something silly and offhand, but he realized this could be his golden opportunity to feel Nate out for information.
“I believe in ghosts,” he said. “Probably doesn’t help keep me from freaking people out, but there it is.”
Nate chewed thoughtfully. “What evidence do you have to support your theory?”
I’ve accidentally made one. “Um, well, there are far too many people who’ve seen unexplainable things. Yeah, a lot of that stuff can be proven as a hoax, but I’m not so sure science has the technology to measure that plane of existence. Not every ghost story is fake, I don’t think.”
“You ever live in a haunted house?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Mitch conceded. “And I’ve never been spooked by a ghost.” Technically it was true. Serena Clancy’s ghost hadn’t scared him at all while he’d been waiting for those firefighters to extract him from her mangled car. From what he’d learned from his family, new ghosts were pretty powerless to move things, make noise, or otherwise haunt in a way most of the living believed. Just like he had to flex his reaper muscles for them to work better, ghosts had to work to become influential on the physical world they’d left behind. “What about you?” He kept himself from looking behind Nate to the next table, where Soul Girl was hanging out, perusing the menu over the shoulder of a diner seated there.
“I freaked my mom out after her uncle died. I was five. I told her I’d had a conversation with him a week after his funeral, and she said he’d probably enjoyed that when he was still alive. I told her, ‘No, Mommy. I talked to him yesterday.’ She said I wasn’t funny.”
“Did you talk to him?” Mitch asked curiously.
Nate shrugged. “I don’t remember, honestly. I think I wanted her to feel better, so I tried to tell her he was fine. She didn’t like it, so I never said anything like that again.”
Mitch tried to recall if his parents had told him about being a reaper at five and couldn’t. He remembered that conversation vividly, but not how old he’d been at the time. He’d have to ask his dad. Maybe Nate’s situation was the same. If he is a reaper.
“Huh. I can see how that would scare a parent. Kids can be creepy little things. That’s why there are horror movies about them.”
Chuckling, Nate took a bite. They talked about movies that had tested their fortitude, and other ghostly stories, and Mitch found himself laughing more than he had in a long time. They had pretty similar tastes, and when Nate said he preferred to read the book instead of watch the movie, Mitch downright swooned. Not that he’d have shown it or said it out loud. It felt good to talk to people about something other than when their door was coming for them or where in the store those Grey books were.
“My turn to ask you something,” he said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and pushing his mostly empty plate away. “Tell me about your last boyfriend.”
Nate shook his head, grinning. “Isn’t that a taboo topic?”
“Taboo to ask about your past? How so?”
Nate’s face turned pink. “Um, well it’s supposed to be against dating rules.”
With a raised brow, Mitch let Nate squirm. “We’re on a date?”
“Yes?” was the uncertain reply.
“Okay, then tell me about your first boyfriend. That’s safer, right? Come on. I’ll tell you about mine when you’re done.”
“Wow, you really are totally unpredictable. Okay, I was sixteen, and it shocked the hell out of my twin sister to catch me kissing this kid named Joey after training one day. She didn’t care that I was gay; she was more worried about me losing focus on the race we were in the next week. We knew our parents wouldn’t be thrilled because of the time and money they’d invested in our skiing, so I begged her to keep quiet because I didn’t want my dad threatening to yank me. He’d been talking already about how we couldn’t ski forever and how an education was more important. Anyway, Tate—my sister—knew that, too, and didn’t want to give them any excuse to pull me. She said she didn’t want to ski if I couldn’t, and she was better than me. She helped me keep it a secret from our parents by making excuses so I could stay late and hang out with Joey at the lodge.
“The next week, we were at our race, and I’d just skied the best run I’d ever had on that course. Joey was right behind me, and his run put him second after me in the standings. Joey came over to the spectator area where I was watching with my parents, and I thought he was going to kiss me right in front of them. I was so high on adrenaline and excitement, I was all ready for it. Turned out I was standing next to his girlfriend, who got the kiss instead.”
“Ouch.”
“The girls’ race was after ours, so Tate was there, watching the whole thing. She recognized his girlfriend as a competitor from another town. Not only did Tate trounce her time by a full second, when they were at the awards ceremony, she asked if the girl and the third place winner would take a selfie with her. When she went to show them the photo, she pretended to hit the wrong one and brought up a shot she’d taken of Joey kissing my cheek three days before. When the girlfriend demanded to know who I was, Tate answered, ‘Oh, that’s my brother and his boyfriend.’ Poor Joey got dumped twice in one day, and he lost. He got nosed out of third place.”
Behind Nate, Soul Girl smiled. Mitch guessed she’d enjoyed the story.
“I gave Tate hell for outing someone against their will, but I did that later, when we were home and no one would hear. She never did it again. Not that Joey wasn’t an ass, but he didn’t deserve that, even if he shouldn’t have been stringing some girl along like that.”
“Tate’s an unusual name for a girl,” Mitch commented idly, not saying a word on the morality of outing a cheater.
Nate finished his last bite of pasta. “Short for Tatum,” he said after he’d swallowed.
“Which one of you is older?”
His smile was wistful. “I am, by two minutes.” The conversation fell between them as if it had landed on the table with a thud and a twitch. Nate cleared his throat. “All right, your turn. Tell me about your first boyfriend.”
“I’ve never had one,” Mitch said with a wicked grin.
Nate tossed a piece of breadstick at him in indignation. “Not fair! You’ve never had one? I find that hard to believe.”
“I’ve dated, but never the same guy enough times to call him a boyfriend. And that was in college, so when I came back here….” He trailed off.
Nate cleared his throat. “You have a brother, right?”
“Yeah, Morgan,” Mitch answered, narrowing his eyes. “How’d you know that?”
If Nate had been awkward before, he descended into downright embarrassment now. “I, um, asked my friend Wes about you after we met at Whole Foods.”
“Oh? And he told you about my family?” Mitch’s veins filled with slush. “I’m sure you got all the gossip, then, didn’t you? Is this Wes friend of yours Officer Cooley? I think there’s only one Wes in town. Bet you he made some comments about me having something to do with the woman who was hurt in the parking lot that day, didn’t he?” Resignation painted his face as he realized what this whole evening was. Curiosity at best. At worst, another person trying to gawk at the spooky Seeker family, or maybe Nate and Wes had made a bet.
“He told me some stuff, but—”
“And what, you wanted to see if you could touch me and live to tell the tale?” Mitch signaled the waiter. “Check please, and there’s a bigger tip in it for you if you get it here in the next minute.”
“Not at all,” Nate protested. “I’m new here and—”
“Thought you’d walk on the wild side, is that it? Well, I can assure you, I’m pretty boring.” Mitch was shaking, and a tiny part of his brain supplied a timid argument to counter his gut feeling. If he’s a reaper, the rumors wouldn’t have put him off, and obviously he’d want to get to know you. But he told the voice to shut up. He’d been the butt of enough pranks in high school, he wasn’t interested in enduring any more. “Your friend Wes can help you find out more about the town. Good luck getting your dream job, Nate.”
The waiter returned, and Mitch shoved more than enough money into the payment folder to cover the bill, then hurried out to the car. Of course the rain had hit while they were eating. Of course he’d get soaked to the bone. He fumbled his keys and dropped them in a puddle, cursing when he tried to use the clicker and it wouldn’t work. He was jabbing the key into the door lock when a hand on his elbow whirled him around, surprising him.
“Are you done assuming you know what I’m thinking?” Nate asked, his hair dripping water down his face. “When Wes told me what people say about your family, I was thinking how lonely it must be to have no one in town to talk to.”
“So this is a pity date? I’m charity?” A burn behind his eyelids signaled to Mitch he was about at his limit. He was so tired. So sick of being alone, having no one but his family to talk to, no prospects for his future. Tonight, for the briefest of moments, he’d had real hope that perhaps Nate would be different. Perhaps he could make a real friend.
Maybe it was time for him to leave Caperville. He’d go somewhere crowded, with at least a couple hundred thousand people, where it’d be harder to notice his odd “luck” at being around fatal accidents. Maybe he could have a friend or two.
“You’re not charity,” Nate said vehemently. “You interest me.”
“Yeah, the Seeker freak is always good for a few chills and thrills.”
“Stop it,” Nate snapped. “I deserve more credit than that. I’m not like the town assholes, okay?”
“How could I possibly know that?” Mitch demanded, blinking rainwater out of his eyes. Or maybe it was tears. At least he could blame it on the rain.
Nate grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, right there in the parking lot, out in the open, where anyone looking could see and judge. Mitch was so taken aback, he didn’t respond, and when Nate pulled away, expression fierce and challenging, Mitch had nothing to say.
“I like you,” Nate said. “I want to get to know you. Date you. I don’t give a flying fuck what people in this town think. From the things you’ve told me, there aren’t very many of them worth knowing. I’d like to make up my own mind. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day at the store. I don’t know why, and I don’t really care. All I know is tonight was the best time I’ve had in six months, and I’m not about to let you walk away thinking I asked you out because you’re some kind of carnival sideshow.”
Mitch gaped. “You really had a good time?” He hated himself for asking, for letting even a spark of hope rise from the ashes of his mortification. But at the same time, if Nate was different, it would be stupid to walk away in a huff. Hell, even if he’s not a reaper, you haven’t dated since college, where no one knew about your family.
“Yes, I did. Up until about five minutes ago.” Nate dropped his hands, then ran one through his short, wet hair. “I get why you’re suspicious after the way everyone else treats you, but I promise I’m genuinely interested.”
“Oh God,” Mitch groaned. “I’m such an asshole.” He let his chin fall to his chest, deep humiliation taking hold, only this time it was his own damn fault.
“Better to be an asshole while standing up for yourself though, right?” Nate tilted Mitch’s face up with a finger beneath his chin. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“What for? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mitch said in a rush.
“I’m sorry for all those people who made you feel like you couldn’t trust anyone.”
Mitch scoffed. “Not your fault.”
“I know how you can make it up to me.”
“How?” At this point, all he wanted to do was go home to Sadie, bury his face in her fur, and die of embarrassment.
“Have a drink with me this weekend. Maybe we can turn one of the clubs in this town gay. Loosen everyone’s sphincters so they’re not so damn uptight.” He grinned, his blue eyes clouded in the dimness of the parking lot lights.
“That’s a visual I didn’t need,” Mitch said with a shudder.
“What, dancing with me?”
“Everyone else’s sphincters. I need brain bleach now.”
Nate laughed, cupping Mitch’s face in both hands. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Mitch agreed. “I’m not much of a dancer, but I will have a drink with you.”
“Excellent.”
They stood there for long moments, Mitch at a loss for words, taking in what had just happened and trying to make sense of it. Awareness of their proximity, the fact that their clothes were plastered to their bodies, and just how sexy Nate looked soaking wet made him want to avert his gaze, but he couldn’t with his chin cradled in Nate’s hands.
“We should go so you don’t get sick before your big job interview next week.”
“Okay.” But Nate didn’t back away. Instead he leaned closer, and this time, when their lips met, Mitch kissed him back.
Chapter 5
Unfinished Business
In the days between the Italian dinner and the weekend, Mitch fought a constant internal battle. When he wasn’t trying to convince himself he shouldn’t date Nate, he tried to convince himself he should. He was so sick of it all by Thursday he was actually glad when a reap popped up on his phone’s email notifications.
He’d long ago gotten over Divinity using modern technology to send details about an upcoming soul-crossing, though he had asked his father about it once.
“Won’t the cell phone companies or email servers keep copies of the emails?”
Charles had shrugged. “I’m pretty sure there’s no trace of it.”
“What, like God divinely intervenes with my iPhone?” Mitch snorted.
“Something like that,” was his father’s cryptic answer.
“If Divinity can do that, why don’t they go around altering memories so people won’t be so suspicious of us?”
Charles leveled him with a look. “That’s a lot of brain tampering. It’s on us to be inconspicuous. They intervene when they must, not to make our lives easier.”
“No shit,” Mitch grumbled.
But even on some of the most suspicious deaths the Seekers had ever worked, no police inquiries beyond the “why were you there” variety had ever been conducted. Apparently, Divinity did influence some things, even if it wasn’t total. It seemed a big thing to chalk up to faith, but if anyone had proof of an afterlife or some hierarchy of heavenly creatures, it was the Seeker family. Who was Mitch to question what worked and how they went about it?
“Gary Williamson, 4:43 p.m., co
nstruction site for Caperville Bank on Euclid Ave,” read the email from someone named Katherine. It was always Katherine, never Kathy. No last name. Just generic Katherine meting out death sentences for people in and around Caperville. There was, in this email, a small note that the manner of death would be related to construction equipment, so it would likely be brutal.
“What’s with the unusual causes of death lately?” Mitch mused within earshot of his father but not the three pre-teen boys who’d come in to read sex scenes in the romance section without buying the books.
“What do you mean?”
Mitch shrugged. “Just seems I’m getting the weird ones lately. I know I’m in the Accidental and Violent Expiration Department, but this seems like overkill, no pun intended.”
“Probably your initiation. They figure if you get the difficult deaths in your probationary year while you have some supervision, then you can handle anything they throw at you.”
“What was your worst one?”
Charles eyed him speculatively. “Sure you wanna know?”
“Lay it on me. I need to be prepared, right?”
“It was a murder in California. Guy cut the baby out of his pregnant girlfriend’s stomach, made sure they were both dead, and then wedged the knife on the coffee table, blade up, and fell on it. He didn’t die right away.”
Mitch stared at him in horror.
“You asked about the worst one. They’re not all like that.”
“I was expecting you to say a motorcycle accident or something.”
“Those aren’t easy either, but the shit humans can inflict on themselves is far worse than any sort of accident.”
“Boy, you’re cheery.”
Charles clapped him on the shoulder. “Pragmatic. I won’t sugar coat it. That doesn’t help you.”
“Yeah, yeah. So it looks like I need to leave early. Probably have to find a way to reap him where his buddies can’t see and then stay out of sight until the tether reels him away from the body.”
Charles nodded. “I’ve got the store covered.”