Toe to Toe by Deborah Leblanc

Author:Deborah Leblanc
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: paranormal romance, clairvoyance, paranormal abilities, mediumship, funeral home, murder and mayhem, thriller actiion, ghosts adventure funny, ghosts adventure, characters with secrets
Publisher: Deborah LeBlanc

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The one thing Guy Skinard did best when he was bored was snoop, which was exactly what he was doing while, Mr. Know-It-All Jack, was giving everyone instructions downstairs. Since Nonie had been assigned the kitchen area, Guy figured it best if he check it out before she went inside. That way, if anything out of the ordinary was running about, he could let her know about it—and hopefully get back in her good graces.

Dodging his way from room to room so Nonie wouldn’t spot him, Guy finally made it back downstairs and into the kitchen—and wished he hadn’t.

There, standing near a fireplace where he assumed most of the cooking had been done years ago, stood a large black woman with a thick neck. She looked to be about thirty-five-years-old, was taller than he was by an inch and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. She wore a faded pink and white kerchief wrapped around her head, a brown dress that looked like it had been made out of burlap, and stood barefoot. She held a flat iron skillet in her right hand.

“What you think you doin’ here in my kitchen, white boy? I sure as hell didn’t give you no invite.” She slapped the flat of the skillet against the palm of her hand as if to illustrate the sound it would make pinging against his head. Her eyes were squinty, her lips huge, and her nostrils flared from cheek to cheek. He could see through the woman to the wall directly behind her. “I think it be about time you gets to steppin’.”

Guy held up his hands as if in surrender. “We were given permission to come here,” he said. “Sort of.”

“What you mean sorta?” She took a step toward him, then stopped and cocked her head to one side. “You playin’ games with me or are you for real? I can see the cabinets on the other side of you. You one of us?”

“If you mean dead, yeah,” Guy said. “Look, my girlfriend and some of her friends were told by the state that no one lived here and hadn’t for over ten years. They said as long as they didn’t take anything from the house—not that there’s much to take—they could do an investigation.”

“What kinda investigation?”

“They’re looking for ghosts.”

The woman let out a loud belly laugh. “Your girlfriend got one up her nose and don’t even know it?”

“She knows.”

The woman took a step closer, her expression morphing from anger to curiosity. “How she know?”

“She sees me.”

“She see all the dead?”

“Not all of them, but some. More than me if that’s what you’re asking.”

The woman slapped the flat iron against her palm again. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Guy Skinard. What’s yours?”

“Tiana Lewis. How long it’s been for you?”

“How long has what been?”

“Since you been dead, idiot. What you think I mean?”

“A little over nine years.”

Tiana twirled the handle of the skillet in her hand. “Me? Not sure. A hundred, hundred twenty-five years I suppose.”

“You don’t look old enough to have been here that long.

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