"You don't have the charcoal on there," I told her. "That is what you're supposed to saturate with the lighter fluid."
She looked at me over her shoulder.
"I don't have any charcoal."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Then how did you expect to light this grill and keep it lit?" I questioned, barely keeping the exasperation out of my voice. "Or were you just in the mood to light a fire?"
I stared pointedly at the hamburger patties that were incredibly way too fat, and needed to be smashed down at least an inch, knowing damn well and good that she didn't intend to just light a fire.
"You sound like my husband," she said, and the buzz of electricity between us was enough to cause me to groan. On the inside, at least. On the outside, I was calm, cool and collected.
"Maybe your husband just knew his shit," I suggested mildly. "I think there's a bag of charcoal at my place. Give me a minute to run down there. Take those inside and smash them down until they're about an inch thick. Oh, and make sure you wash your hands when you're done."
I could've kicked myself at that last comment.
That'd been something else I used to say to her.
She'd gone into nursing school, and her hand washing habits had gone from good to excellent. If we went to a store and she touched a cart, she washed her hands. If we went to dinner, and she touched a menu, she washed her hands after. If she had to shake someone's hand, she washed her hands after.
Being a nurse had clued her in to the diseases that were a daily part of the world that she lived in. The things that could cause her harm if she didn't take the necessary hygiene steps to prevent them.
Germs also became a constant battle. I, of course, teased her mercilessly about it back then, and apparently, it was something I continued to do to her now.
Shit.
I'd called Sienna ‘Sugar Girl' the other day, and now I was teasing my wife about things that the old me-the dead me-used to tease her about.
Son of a bitch, I really needed to get the fuck away from here, or she was going to figure it out.
I could already see the wheels turning in her head.
"I can cook these inside," she murmured. "On the griddle."
That was true. She could.
But I didn't want her to go quite yet.
That's not what I said, though.
"That's true. You could," I agreed amicably.
She eyed me.
I could see those wheels turning, and I had to resist the urge to leave. Again.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?"
I looked at all the light in the house, and I shook my head.
"No."
Her mouth pursed. "Then I think I'll cook them on the griddle. Goodnight, Mr. Ghost."
With that, she walked inside, leaving the grill, and the puddle of lighter fluid, in the middle of the driveway.
It was only after I'd put it all away and had walked back to my trailer, that I realized this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
I wanted to stomp into my house, gather my woman up in my arms, and crush her to me while I held her enough to start making up for the six years' worth of holding her and cuddling that I'd missed out on since I had ‘died.'
"Dammit. Damn. Damn," I grumbled. Then fell back on the shitty, cold bed and closed my eyes.
I needed to stop.
Really. I needed to.
But I didn't.
And within two weeks, she would have all the evidence she needed.
Chapter 15
Give up carbs? Over my bread body.
-Meme
Mina
"Sienna," I called. "Are you ready to go to camp?"
I'd signed Sienna up for a week-long camp called ‘Police Explorers' that was put on by the local police department. Though, she had been the one to request to go. She'd asked me to do something, anything, but the daycare that I'd planned to put her into while I worked, and Aaron, one of the Dixie Wardens in this chapter, had suggested the summer camp.
One was put on each week for four weeks by a different officer at the department, and they had no problem, whatsoever, if a child attended all of them as long as she was picked up by the time the camp let out.
At first, that had been a problem for me since I didn't get off of work until six, and the camp ended at four, but I'd then been informed by the ladies of the club that she would go home with one of them for the two hours it took me to get off of work, and that I could pick her up there.
So that was what I'd done, and had been doing for the last two weeks.
Today, Sienna was being taken home by Aaron, though, since he was the one putting on the camp with his K-9 officer, Tank.
"Yeah, Mom. Does this look okay?"
I turned to see her dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and tennis shoes.
"Yes," I informed her. "Looks perfect. Why?"
She looked down at her pants. "Someone said that they were too tight yesterday, and that I was showing off my butt."