Page 6 of Adored by the Grumpy Ghost (Mapletown Monster Mates #1)

Winston

I couldn’t take it anymore. That man, that animal, belching in Natalie’s presence.

Demanding money for the meal he brought her.

Asking how her mother was. Did he really not know she died?

He spoke to Natalie as if she were a child, and not only did she allow this behavior to continue, but she also actively sought his touch afterward.

It’s been a very long time since my days as a bachelor, but this is not how a gentleman behaves when he’s trying to court a lady.

Have sexual relations changed that much in the last two centuries? Is this the way men act now? So arrogant in their ability to attract a woman that they abandon even the most basic manners and standards for personal hygiene? I’m appalled at that possibility.

Perhaps Mark is the exception, and society has not fallen so far from where it once was. Regardless, I know scaring him out of here was the right decision. It was obvious Natalie wasn’t going to, and as frustrated as I’ve been with her messiness and melancholy, Mark was a thousand times worse.

Since the moment she arrived, I’ve watched her. Studied her. Her needs are so simple, and it takes a second, maybe two, of looking into her sparkling brown eyes to know what they are. How could Mark be so oblivious? That revolting prick.

I didn’t mean to frighten Natalie, though. Mark pushed me to the edge, and when I spoke to her, it was using a tone that should’ve been reserved for him. Now, my new roommate is running across the gravel driveway without anything on her feet.

I sigh as I follow her, knowing this is a disaster I created, and it will get worse before it gets better.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask, allowing my mist-like form to come into view.

She spins on her heels to face me, stubbing her toe on a large rock and falling flat on her ass as she lets out a stream of curses.

“An aptly timed reminder that you’re barefoot and won’t get far.”

“What in the––” she begins, then sees me, and starts crawling backward with fear tightening her features. “Oh my god. Wha––Who are you? What do you want from me?”

Her chest heaves, and she pauses, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes.

“There’s nothing there,” she says quietly to herself. “This is grief. Just grief. It’s consuming you, and now you’re hallucinating.”

“Not hallucinating,” I point out, floating closer until I’m about a foot away. “My name is Winston.”

“No, it isn’t! Because you’re not real!”

“I’m quite real, Natalie. Dead, but real.”

She’s whispering to herself now as she drops her hands in her lap, eyes still pinched closed. “Go in, get your shoes, your purse, and your keys, and get out of here.”

“And go where? Will you chase after that Mark fellow? See if you can stay with him for the night?” I ask, seething in disgust at the idea. “He might allow it, but I reckon he’d also ask you to pay a nightly rate for shelter, wouldn’t he?”

I didn’t notice the distance closing between us while it was happening, but now I’m hovering above her, so close that I could take my corporeal form and wipe the tear streaming down her cheek if I wanted to.

When she opens her eyes, they’re glaring at me. Vitriol has her jaw clenching as she takes me in, not flinching or questioning my form.

“What the fuck do you know? You spy on him for an hour, and you think you know him? Or me?”

“I’ve watched you for many hours. Since the day you arrived and unpacked your things in my house.”

“Actually, it’s Lindsay’s house. Does she know? Is she aware there’s a pervy ghost floating through her halls?”

I scoff. “Please. I have no interest in peeping on you during private moments. I’m a gentleman and would never cross such a line. When you engage in sexual acts in the living room, however, and let the carpet catch fire, it’s hard to ignore.”

She throws her head back and lets out a mocking cackle as she gets to her feet. “Oh, like you had nothing to do with that candle falling over.”

Why should I admit the role I played in getting Mark to leave?

I don’t owe this woman anything. In fact, she should be thanking me for helping her avoid a decision she was sure to regret in the light of day.

Yet, here she stands, with her hands on her wide hips, scolding me like you would a child sneaking a slice of cake before dinner.

Then again, threatening to make Lindsay aware of the situation has me nervous.

I decide to ignore the mention of Lindsay and try a softer approach, hoping she forgets she brought it up in the first place.

“I was surprised you’d allow someone like him anywhere near you, and despite the execution, I swear that my intentions were good.

I thought I was doing you a favor by getting him out of here. Clearly, I was wrong to get involved.”

“Yes, you were,” she shouts. “It’s none of your business who I allow near me.”

I hold up my hands. “You’re right.”

“Well,” she begins with a huff, “thank you for apologizing.”

“I didn’t apologize,” I correct her. The mere suggestion of that irritates me.

“Yes, you did.”

“I said I was wrong,” I tell her. “That’s not an apology.”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you serious? It’s the same thing.”

“An apology implies regret. I have no regrets about what I said. Mark is a loser. If your mother were still here, I doubt she’d approve of him.” It’s not what I meant to say, or the tone I meant to say it in, but the words are out, and I wish I could take them back.

This is what I should be apologizing for, but Natalie doesn’t let me. She grabs a rock and hurls it toward me. It goes through me, and she lets out a frustrated growl as she stomps back into the house. I don’t follow.

She returns to the driveway moments later with sandals on her feet, her car keys in hand, purse slung over her shoulder, and an old bottle of rum tucked beneath her arm that she must’ve taken from the liquor cabinet. Then she climbs into the backseat, stretching across it and opening the bottle.

“My car’s almost out of gas,” she shouts at me. “But you win, asshole. The house is yours. Tomorrow, I’ll be out of your hair. Just please, let me sleep out here in peace tonight.”

I nod before disappearing into the sticky night air, giving her the space she desires, but it’s a farce. I’m still here, she simply can’t see me. Would she drink and drive? I don’t think she’d be that stupid, but I can’t be sure, so I remain close by, ready to intervene if needed.

Natalie shuts the back passenger door, kicks off her sandals, and leans against the back seat as she takes a long pull of the rum. Fiddling with her phone, she puts on the same music she’s been playing at an absurdly high volume, at all hours of the day and night since she arrived.

Goddamn Taylor Swift.