Page 7 of Squad Ghouls

I turned back around and tried feeling for them on the ground, trying to inch and stretch in all directions.

“PLEASE STOP MOVING!”

I halted in confusion. “Are you okay?” I asked genuinely.

“I don’t think I ever will be again,” he muttered. I didn’t think I was supposed to hear that.

He moved then, easing off my legs. A warm weight stretched out alongside me and I caught my breath as a whiff of aftershave tickled past my nose before something smooth and plasticky tapped my hand.

My glasses!

I snatched them eagerly and pushed them onto my nose and over my ears, the world coming back into focus. I grinned, turning to find the same handsome face that had stared at me from the other end of a gun up close and personal.

He really was kind of a hunk. Exactly my type. Tall, broad shoulders, a sculpted chest under a tight shirt. His hair was cropped short and pushed back, and I knew it would feel so good to run my fingers over it. Not that I’d feel a complete stranger’s hair. Not me.

He had an angular, classically handsome face, full lips, and dark, piercing eyes that stared at me in a way that made me feel…more naked than I actually was. Not that I was naked, mind you. Just…bare legged. As the gods intended.

I blinked owlishly and then remembered I should probably be talking and not staring. “Nice to meet you. I’m Owain. Not a ghost. I like shorts.”

The guy snorted, making another pained face as I said the last part before closing his eyes and shaking his head against some unknown force.

I peeked around to make sure none of the squad were messing with him. They weren’t. They were just poking their heads out of the walls and ceilings, ogling us.

Grandma Bronwyn in her severe, traditional Welsh outfit and her spoon wagging. Harri with his messy ginger ringlets spiralling down like streamers from the ceiling and the added accessory of a disembodied fist clutching at them through the popcorn texture. I guessed Harri and Larri were fighting again. Popty was peeking out from the corner, only his bright eyes visible in the darkness of his amorphous, shadowy shape. And Barth, his huge tricorn hat giving him away from where he was hiding at the end of the corridor, cannon aimed and linstock already lit and ready to go.

One missing. But I wasn’t worried about that one. He wasn’t gonna create trouble now.

I shooed them away with my hand and awkwardly tried to turn it into a dance move when the guy opened his eyes again. He stared at me strangely. I was used to it, but my cheeks still flushed as I finished my half-hearted sprinkler move.

It would have looked better if I weren’t still on the floor. Maybe I should have done the worm instead.

“My name’s Ryan,” the guy, Ryan, said eventually, like he was still processing my sick dance moves.

“Croeso,” I said. Ryan tilted his head. “It’s, uh, welcome. In Welsh.”

“You couldn’t have said that earlier instead of drowning me with flour?” Ryan asked, as dry as Mr. Nubbin’s ashes on the mantel. If they were still on the mantel? Could be why Harri and Larri were arguing again. If Harri moved his beloved cat into their room and triggered the memory of Larri’s allergies… Yeah, somehow dumber things have set them off in the past.

“All’s fair in love and B&B defence.” I shrugged, opting to deal with dead cat drama later.

“This is a dream, right?” Ryan asked me. “My alarm will go off any second now.”

“If I say yes, will you leave?” I asked carefully. I could work with delusion.

Ryan swore, colourfully, and got to his feet, swiping at the remaining flour before eventually deciding to remove his arms from his boiler suit and tie it around his waist. It left his upper body in just a white tank top, and I stared up at his rippling muscles with appreciation, feeling all tingly and hot under the collar.

He may have been the enemy, but he was still pretty lush.

I felt Grandma Bronwyn’s disapproving stare against the back of my head while Harri leaned out of the ceiling a bit further to take his own closer look, dragging Larri with him.

I startled when a hand was offered to help get me off the floor. Because, oh yes, I was still down here. I took the hand, feeling a few calluses on his palm before I was hauled bodily upright without having to help at all.

My stomach went a bit topsy turvy at that.

I wasn’t swayed at all though! I tried to communicate that to Bronwyn’s unimpressed glare, which had formed behind Ryan’s shoulder. I wasn’t weak to muscles and a pretty face and a nice voice—if a bit sarcastic—and oodles of natural sex appeal. Pshh! As if!

Bronwyn swiped her spoon across her neck.

Okay, yeah. This guy had to go.