Page 22 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)

Mortified, I cover my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. I was going through the mugs and this spider, this fucking huge spider the size of a muffin, just comes out of nowhere and–”

He helps me to my feet and cups my cheeks. The movement is so fast and tender I stop talking. “Why do you apologize so often, sweetheart? And why do you do it now?”

“Because I probably freaked you out by screaming, and then you had to rush in here and catch me before I cracked my damn head open…”

His lips curve into a lopsided grin that makes him look boyish, and I wonder for a moment what would’ve happened if we had grown up at the same time.

I certainly would’ve noticed him. Cheekbones like his are hard to miss.

Would we have found each other? Been attracted to each other, like we are now?

“Ah, yes. It was certainly a hardship to open my arms and have a radiant goddess fall into them,” he says, then crosses his arms and tries to look stern. “The trauma will probably haunt me for many lifetimes.”

I playfully shove at his chest. “Okay, fine. I take back my apology.”

“As you should. You screamed because you were frightened. There’s no need to apologize for such things.”

He’s right. I toss out apologies far too often, just like every other woman I know. Then, something occurs to me. “How did you know where I was? Were you in the hallway?”

Blood rushes to his cheeks as he pretends to fidget with his suspenders. I notice the subtle tan line around his ring finger where his wedding ring used to be. When did he take it off? “I…”

“You…?”

His voice lowers to a whisper. “I always know where you are.”

A pleasant heat unfurls in my chest, spreading down to my belly. “How?”

His mouth twitches as he tries to find the right words. “I have no idea. At any time of day, if you’re home, I can feel where you are. My body just knows .”

I want to focus on how convenient that is, for moments like this when I fall off a high surface and come close to death, but I can’t.

Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when the words, my body just knows are so loaded and full of longing that I worry I’ve soaked my underwear to the point I’ll start to drip.

I’m tempted to demand Winston bend me over the kitchen stool and fuck me into oblivion, but there’s a matter much more pressing that needs to be dealt with first.

I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. “Can you kill the spider for me, please? If we lose track of that thing, I’m going to have to burn the house down.”

Winston chortles as he removes his boot. “How would Lindsay feel about that?”

“She’d fully support my decision. We don’t fuck with spiders.”

“As you wish.” He turns to mist and floats up to the cabinet. “Allow me to vanquish this beast.”

Once he reaches the mugs, he lifts the boot in his hand and says, “There you are,” just before he slams the heel down onto the shelf.

The shelf snaps in half, the rest of mugs and saucers sliding down into the crack.

Winston launches himself away from the cabinets, landing at my side.

As the mugs tumble onto the shelf below, it, too, breaks, and the rest of the shelves follow suit.

The shelves hit the counter, then fall to the floor in a raucous clatter, the ceramic shattering into tiny pieces.

One of the cabinet doors falls on top of the pile, the other dangling by a single weak hinge.

“Jesus, Winston!” I shout, horrified by the destruction. “I asked you to kill a spider, not make it look like we dropped a grenade in here.”

He shifts into his corporeal form, his face frozen in a yikes expression. “I didn’t hit it hard enough to wreck the cabinet.”

I sigh. “Did you kill the spider, at least?”

He looks down at his boots, then lifts each one to examine the soles. “Shit. I don’t know.”

“Fantastic. What the fuck am I supposed to tell Lindsay?” My head is pounding so hard I assume Winston can hear it. “This is a disaster.”

“There it is,” Winston hollers, leaping over the pile of wood and glass and coming down hard. He lifts his left boot and smiles. “Got it.” When he shoots me a proud grin, I’m only slightly relieved.

After he wipes the spider guts off his boot, he picks up the broken shelves, looking closely at each one.

“See this here?” he brings a board toward me, pointing at the edge, where the paint has been stripped, several layers of wood gone, and there are little holes going almost completely through to the other side. “Looks like termite damage.”

“Oh god, termite damage?” My gaze roams around the room, and bile rises in my throat at the thought of termites feasting on every piece of wood in this gigantic mansion. “If they’re in here, they’re probably everywhere, right?”

He nods, his brows pinched together. “Yes, that’s likely.” Bringing his hand in front of his face, he flexes his fingers before curling them into a fist. “That explains how the shelves broke so easily.”

When his lips form a slight frown, I can’t help but chuckle. “Did you think you suddenly gained the strength of an Avenger? Are you hiding a magic hammer somewhere under that billowy shirt?”

He jerks back, looking wounded. “Well, I certainly have more strength than the average man. Have I not proven that to you yet?”

He did mention throwing a car across the lawn at some point, didn’t he? I doubt he was lying about that. Teasing him is just too amusing to resist, though. I pat him on the shoulder. “Of course. You’re a big, tough guy, okay? The biggest and toughest I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re mocking me,” he seethes. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to lose his shit.

Then his gaze softens, and his grin turns wicked.

“Fine, then.” He bends toward me and buries his shoulder into my stomach as his hands grip the backs of my thighs.

Suddenly, I’m upside down, staring at his adorably tiny but firm ass.

Bastard tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “What the fuck?”

“Come along,” he says, smacking me on the butt. “Time to show you what I’m capable of.”

He carries me up the stairs, his stride never slowing. It’s not exactly a comfortable ride, though. With every step, my ribcage collides with his hard shoulder, more blood rushes to my head, and dizziness threatens to overtake me.

When he sets me down next to my bed, my legs feel like noodles. He has to grip my shoulders to keep me steady, but it’s not enough. My vision is blurred, my headache feels like it’s radiating throughout my body, and I worry my breakfast is about to make a very unpleasant return.

“Natalie, what is it?” Winston’s hand cups my cheek, the coldness of his palm instantly settling my insides. “Tell me.”

“I-I’m fine,” I say. I’m just feeling woozy from the way he carried me. This headache certainly isn’t helping, though.

“You shouldn’t go into work today. Call Dominic and tell him you aren’t feeling well.”

“No, no, no. I’m not sick. We need to deal with that mess downstairs.”

A gentle push is all it takes for him to get me seated on the edge of the bed. He grabs my ankles and straightens me out, taking the folded blanket off the end of the bed and covering me with it.

“You will rest,” he instructs. “When you awaken, if you still feel like this, you’ll call Dominic and take the night off. Understood?”

Absolutely not. Unless I’m puking my guts out, I’m not giving up a shift.

But Winston won’t budge. I know that already.

It’s not worth the energy to argue, especially since I’m feeling so drained at the moment.

A little fib won’t hurt anyone. “Fine, but either way, I need to clean up that pile of wood in the kitchen.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, then lowers his mouth to my ear. “I’ll take care of it. You sleep. You’ll need energy for what I’m planning to do to you later.”

Heat pools in my belly at his words, at the throaty rumble of his deep voice. Even when the world is spinning and my head feels like it’s going to implode, this man can get me wet with a single sentence.

Winston’s gaze is locked on me as he walks backwards out of the room, smirking confidently, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. It makes me want to smack him a little, but mostly tug his pants down and run my tongue along his hard length. I fall asleep wondering what he tastes like.

I wake up a few hours later, slightly sweaty. My headache remains, but it doesn’t feel worse, so I take that as a good sign. A full night of sleep will get rid of it. I just need to get through my shift first.

The destruction in the kitchen is completely gone when I head downstairs.

Winston has disposed of the wood and broken glass, and all that remains is the large rectangular shell that used to contain the shelves.

He’s stacked the dishes I’ve decided to keep neatly on the island, and the rest are wrapped and boxed for donation.

I’m surprised he was able to do all of this without waking me. I guess my body needed the rest.

He meets me by the front door and frowns when he sees me putting my shoes on.

“I feel perfectly fine,” I tell him. A headache isn’t enough of a reason to leave my coworkers stranded on a Friday night. It’s not like I have Covid symptoms. Besides, can monsters even get Covid? Or other human diseases, for that matter?

He purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. I appreciate his restraint because this is a battle he won’t win.

I get up on my toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

That disarms him enough to turn his frown into a smirk. He grabs me by the waist, pulling me against his hard chest. I briefly get lost in his green eyes. They seem warmer, the color lighter, somehow, when he’s like this. When he’s not so closed off and cranky. “Come home to me as soon as you can.”

Well, now my stomach is fluttering, and I’m regretting my decision to go into work. It needs to be done, though. The quicker I finish my shift, the quicker I can get home to my ghost, and finally get him inside me like I’ve been dreaming about.