Hauntingly Happy by HP Mallory

Author:HP Mallory
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: midlife crisis, ghost romance, paranormal womens fiction, pwf, midlife fiction, womens midlfe
Publisher: HP Mallory

Chapter Thirteen

I flipped through my armoire, hangers sliding along the metal rod, wondering what I should wear that might give me the upper hand in bargaining with a ghost pirate.

I wanted to look nice, but maybe not too nice. Truth was, I was nervous, and unsure, but my appearance was something I could still control in the mixed-up mess my life had become. It was probably the only thing I could still control. So yes, I was going to spiff myself up a bit. But I didn’t want to go too far and give Jean Lafitte any more ideas than he already had.

I felt like I was suiting up for battle—as if the skinny jeans I slid over my hips could offer me some edge in negotiations. Well, one thing I could count on was that Jean Lafitte was still as fond of women as he was when he was alive. And, if I did say so myself, this particular pair of jeans made my butt look pretty good. I could also admit, if reluctantly, and only to myself, part of me wanted to look pretty because Drake was coming with me.

On that subject, since I hadn’t felt my best lately, I definitely hadn’t looked my best, and though it was totally silly and narcissistic to admit, I wished the first moment Drake had come back to life, I’d actually looked halfway decent instead of halfway dead. But, alas, things were what they were and it wasn’t like I could go back in time and change them…

Unless.

Peyton, you are not going back in time to put on mascara and do your hair! I yelled at myself. You have more pressing concerns to think about!

Right. Good point.

After anointing myself with more Uncrossing Oil to maintain my energy supply for the evening, I slipped on a red halter top when a soft knock on my bedroom door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Ma minette,” Drake called through the door. “Are you ready to go?”

I took a deep breath and put one small dab of gloss on my lips before straightening away from the mirror.

“I’m coming,” I called back, and made my way to the door.

I smiled at Drake as I stepped into the hall with him. He looked handsome as ever in a dark button up shirt and slacks, his hair brushed back off his forehead. It was strange, but even though Luke Montague had always struck me as Drake’s doppelganger, there had always been something about Luke—maybe in his manner or his words—that had separated him from truly embodying Drake. And yet, now, with Drake at the helm of Luke’s body, there was nothing about Luke that didn’t remind me of Drake. It was as if they were one and the same and always had been. Almost as if Drake’s spirit had sharpened a few edges, dulled others, changed a bit of this and that and ultimately created an embodiment of Drake Montague that was as exact to the original Drake as it was possible to be.

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