“Who is it?” Eric’s hands were huge and held my butt easily, but he was nervous. I could feel him shaking every place we touched, the heat flowing off his hands was crazy—like being pressed up to a furnace.

“My ex-husband is out there, trying to get more money out of my gran’s house.” I fought not to snarl the words. Eric’s life was on the line and I couldn’t just blow that because Himself was walking through the house that was by rights mine.

“You’re squeezing me,” Eric whispered. “Like, very hard, I can barely breathe.”

I forced my legs to relax as the voices moved away from Gran’s room. I let myself slide off Eric and then pushed the sliding door open. A bit of fresh air was not a bad thing and I needed to clear my head.

“I’d put a hex on him if I could,” Gran said. “Little twerp. Steal my house and sell it, will he?”

I glanced at her and noticed that Eric did too. “You can see her?”

“I’m something of a ghost myself—depending on who you ask— so I can see her,” he said quietly. “It’s one of my abilities.”

“But you’re solid, not a ghost,” I said, letting myself be distracted by Eric’s quiet voice.

He shrugged. “Not everyone can see me, Breena. Even in my human form, I can slip by unnoticed. You didn’t see me at the graveyard gate until you whispered your prayer of seeing.”

“Oh,” Gran cooed, “you remembered.”

Himself’s voice rose, cutting them both off. “Do the auction this weekend. Put a reserve on it of four hundred thousand.”

Monica gasped. “That’s very low for the current market.”

“I want it gone, and I want the money,” Himself said. “Are you telling me you aren’t able to sell it? I’ll get someone else then.”

What an ass. He’d pulled that crap with me more than once. Ask a question and then pull the rug out from under you before you had a chance to answer.

She sucked in a sharp enough breath that it echoed through the house and then she quickly back-pedaled. “No, no, I can sell it. We’ll do it on Sunday. That’s a good day. I’ll start distributing flyers now. I have a couple leads already.”

“Good. That’s more like it.”

Gawd in heaven, I wanted to smack his face on her behalf for the condescension in his voice. I clenched my hands, fingers curling into tight fists.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” Gran said. “He will.”

The door downstairs clicked shut and I wanted nothing more than to run down there and push Himself down the stairs. Forget hexing him, I’d settle for watching him die on the steps. Slowly. In a great deal of pain.