“Jesus Christ, look at us,” Jordan whispered.

  Gideon looked at Jordan, thinking the man was speaking of them as they were at that very moment. Jordan wasn’t. He was staring aghast at their bodies.

  “Stop looking at it,” Gideon said as he hooked an arm around Jordan’s neck. “It won’t do any good, and we aren’t in there anyway.”

  “This is going to kill my mom,” Jordan muttered before sobbing. He fisted a hand and pushed it against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to be quiet. No one else can hear us.” Gideon opened his arms up and Jordan hesitated a moment. “We’re dead, Jo. I don’t really think there’s any need to worry about pride and machismo at this point.”

  They’d never so much as hugged before. A slap on the back, nudge of shoulders or fist bumps, yeah, they’d done those. Hugging was weird for them both, or at least, Gideon thought it was as weird for Jordan as it was for him.

  “Your mom’s a strong person,” Gideon murmured, hoping he was saying the right things. “She’ll get past this. She won’t get over you”—Jordan sobbed. Shit, shit, shit! Wrong thing to say!—“but she’ll get past it, Jo. She will. Maybe someday she’ll, er…maybe we can go check on her.”

  Gideon figured he deserved props for catching himself before he told Jo maybe someday his mom would join them as ghosts. He frowned. Ghosts sounded so cheesy, like something that didn’t exist except as a TV show gimmick. He guessed it didn’t really matter at that point.

  “We could go back to that little Texas town you’re always talking about hating so much,” Gideon rambled on. “Go see it, keep an eye on your mom.”

  “What’s gonna happen to us?” Jordan asked in a rough voice. “I never believed in ghosts. How can we be something that doesn’t exist? What if…” He pushed out of Gideon’s hold. Excitement lit up his entire expression. “What if we aren’t dead? Or you aren’t, or I’m not? Something, I mean. What if one or both of us is in a coma somewhere and this is a totally fucked-up dream?”

  Gideon almost wished it was. Well, he definitely wished they were both still alive, but being in a coma was almost as scary as being dead. He shook his head. “Jo, I didn’t dream that blast, or the pain.”

  Jordan’s face crumpled for a split second then he straightened his back and tipped his chin up. “So fine. We’re dead, then. Now what? We just hang around here and haunt people? Oh.” The sneaky, troublemaking look that Gideon knew so well settled over Jordan’s features. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna haunt the fuck out of the assholes who did this!”

  Gideon swung around and gestured at the point of impact on the ground, a large, scorched area. “Think he’s toast, bud.”

  “Damn it!” Jordan glanced around furtively. “He’s not here, is he?”

  “Nope. Just us. I saw some people go up.” He pointed at the sky. “Don’t know where that guy went.”

  Jordan grunted and rubbed his eyes. They were red-rimmed, and his cheeks were wet with tears.

  “You really did cry.” Gideon held up a hand when Jordan opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t tell me I’m an idiot for stating the obvious, and it wasn’t a jab at your manhood. It’s just that I’m surprised. I don’t know what we are, what we can do. Other than touch each other, and sink into the ground.” Gideon remembered something else. “One other thing. When I wanted to get to you, I thought really hard about it, then poof, there I was at your side.”

  “Poof?” Jordan asked, raising his right eyebrow in a familiar look of disdain. “Did you really just say poof?”

  Gideon was going to be the better man and not point out that Jordan had just bawled like a baby all over him. Besides, he knew Jordan was mostly teasing. If he was being any kind of mean at all, it was because he had broken down and cried.

  Despite the ‘sensitive male’ crap Gideon had heard women wanted, every guy he knew thought crying equaled weakness. Gideon didn’t, and he didn’t care what women thought of him for the most part, not if they were looking to hook up with him. Lady bits did nothing for him and never had. Jordan raised his left eyebrow as well and Gideon took a second to remember whatever it was Jordan had asked.

  “Yeah, I said poof. Get over it.” Gideon shook his head. “We’re going to argue about shit like the word poof? We’re dead, Jordan.” He’d never pussy-footed around anyone or any subject since he’d become an adult.

  “I know.” Jordan ran a hand through his hair and looked past Gideon. “God.”

  “Stop looking,” Gideon said with only a hint of exasperation.

  “Can’t. I see Morty’s body. Fuck. His wife just had that baby…” Jordan trailed off as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what to do, Gid. I don’t know how to live—exist—like this. Why didn’t I go up? Is there no heaven? No hell?”

  Gideon couldn’t help but to glance up at the sky. At least he wasn’t boiling hot anymore under the sun’s rays. “I don’t know. I’ve never been religious anyway, so you’re really asking the wrong person.”

  Jordan let loose a laugh that sounded more like he was choking. His lips were curled up in a smile, which was how Gideon knew he wasn’t choking. That, and he didn’t think it was possible to choke now.

  “Let’s go home, Gid.” Jordan sighed heavily and took one last look at their surroundings. Sadness seemed to leak out of his pores. “I don’t even know where that is now, but I’m hoping maybe it’s McKinton, Texas.”

  Chapter Three

  One of the oil field workers, a short, stocky man who smelled like he’d worked hard all day, had caught Stefan’s eye. Stefan didn’t mind the man-sweat odor. It wasn’t like he was going to have sex with the guy or anything. He just appreciated the way the man moved. Sensuously, like a human-cat hybrid or something. He moved like sex, that was it!

  Stefan saw the name on the man’s credit card when he took it from his wallet to slide it into the gas pump’s card reader. Wallace W. Whitaker. Boy, someone’s mommy and daddy had a thing for alliteration. That was okay—Stefan just enjoyed the way the guy held himself, the way he walked. There was confidence in them he was going to try his damnedest to mimic.

  Stefan puffed up his chest. Wow, that made his lower back kind of ache. He eyed Wally again. Okay, so Wally just had a bulkier chest. Stefan glanced down at his own torso. He was kinda scrawny, but not a total twig. He pulled his shirt out from the collar so he could peer down it. He was close to having some little moobs going on in there. Not that he actually had man boobs. His pecs just weren’t rock-hard, and sometimes his nipples got hard and pointy, even puffy if he played with them enough.

  Still, his chest was soft, he guessed. All of him was. He was lean, but he didn’t have a six-pack, or even a four-pack. Hell, he didn’t even have a bottle or a can on his abs. There was nothing but pale, smooth, hairless skin and honestly, Stefan liked the way it felt under his hands.

  He’d really like to feel a hard, muscular body under his hands, but that wasn’t likely. His one foray into checking out a gay club—with the reasoning that maybe other gay spirits would be horny and hanging around—had been a bust.

  Besides, with everyone he knew in happy, monogamous relationships, he couldn’t have gone through with fucking around. Probably. It would have made him feel cheap.

  Or really happy.

  Stefan slapped his own cheek lightly. “Head out of the gutter, man.”

  Of course, Wally had to reach down and rub his cock through his hideous orange work jumpsuit right then. Stefan moaned as his own shaft grew erect. Wally kept rubbing himself as he eyed a big-busted redhead shaking her ass as she walked into the gas station. The sight did nothing for Stefan, but Wally sure liked it.

  He liked it enough to get in his truck and immediately whip out his pecker. Stefan grimaced. Well, that was a disappointment. Stefan tried not to be a penis snob when he was indulging his voyeuristic tendencies, but Jesus, that was just pathetic.

  “So much for that bravado.” He gave Wally’s extra thumb a scathing glance then left to find Lee. Maybe he’d be doing something interesting. Hopefully not having sex with Darren. Stefan would cop to having peeked on them some when they’d first started messing around. He hadn’t spied on them all the way. That would have been too many kinds of wrong, and while he’d seen his brother Lee naked before, it’d been in a totally different context. Watching Lee fuck anyone would have almost been incestuous.

  Watching Darren, however, had been an eye-opener. Just like watching Laine and Sev—talk about sex ed! The things those two did… Stefan shivered and palmed his cock through his jeans. Going to the room Lee and Darren had set aside just for him sounded like a better idea than seeking out Lee. Stefan had the urge to beat off until he passed out from coming so much.

  In the blink of an eye, he was in his room. Despite not being able to see him, and despite the fact that Stefan didn’t need any of it, his brother and Darren had fully furnished the bedroom. There was a queen-sized bed and a dresser along with a nightstand that all matched. Darren had also put a laptop in the room. Every now and then, Stefan could focus enough to tap out a short message. It took a lot of energy, though, so he didn’t do it often.

  Conner could write a whole goddamned novel on that thing. Stefan huffed in annoyance as he made his clothes disappear. He wanted to be as strong as Conner was someday, but it wasn’t going to happen. Conner’s spirit had been a dynamic one when he’d been alive. Stefan’s, not so much.

  Stefan did tap a few buttons to get the porn playing. That was worth expending some energy for. It didn’t take him long to get off as he watched the action on the screen. Two rough, gruff bear-types battled it out for dominance before the one with less gray in his hair pinned the older-looking one down and fucked him. That was hot, but the kiss they shared as the younger guy slowly pushed into his man was way sexier than the actual sex was.

  Stefan didn’t last past the kiss, but he never did. There was a tenderness in those men’s expressions that couldn’t be faked. If they were faking it, they needed to get to acting in Hollywood movies pronto. They’d take every acting award there was.

  Coming felt just as good as it had when he’d been living. Stefan moaned and clenched his butt as his orgasm spiraled up from his balls to spurt out of his slit. His cum was still warm and sticky on his skin, the scent still pungent and tangy. Stefan barely managed to keep his eyes open so he could see that kiss.

  God, he wanted to be kissed like that. Getting fucked would be good, too. He thought he’d like it way better than he had before. He was older now, more mature in so many ways, and he’d spied on enough men getting fucked that he knew it wasn’t usually the painful thing he’d experienced under Johnny’s demanding body.

  Stefan shook his hand, sending spunk splattering, except it didn’t stay where it landed. Almost as soon as it hit, it evaporated. Stefan snorted as one splotch of it began disappearing off the dresser mirror. The stuff would stay on him until he willed it gone. Why did it vanish on other objects? Maybe because it didn’t exist outside of him.

  He’d long ago given up trying to make sense or rules for what being a spirit meant. There were some basic rules, sure, like concentrating to firm up and let a living body feel you. How to move from place to place, how to think up clothes if you wanted them—most everyone did. Stefan had only encountered a couple of nude spirits, and like the tales he’d heard about nude beach enthusiasts, he had to think it’d have been better for those particular spirits to remain clothed.

  Okay, he could be a snobby little shit at times. Stefan knew he wasn’t perfect even if his spiritual brain was better than his physical one had been. He had the tendency to be a brat when he didn’t get his way, and he still liked peeking in on people when he shouldn’t, but jeez, that was about the only kind of sex he had unless he was beating off.

  That didn’t justify him being a voyeur and he knew it. Stefan swore he’d stop. In all fairness, he hadn’t expected that Wally guy to pull it out and start whacking off at the gas station earlier. If he’d had any idea how disappointed he’d be upon seeing Wally’s bits, he’d surely have split a lot sooner.

  Stefan looked down at his own cock. It was about average length, he guessed, six inches or so, but it was thick and veiny, and kind of on the ugly side because of it. He’d seen pretty dicks—long, elegant, pink, brown, mahogany, tan, ivory almost even, with sweet curves to them, or straight as a rail. The ones with only a thin vein or two were the ones he thought were gorgeous. His looked kinda too veiny in his opinion, but it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like he was waving it around at anyone.

  Stefan tipped his head and listened. He grinned and thought his clothes back on as he was shooting through the air. Walls, schmalls, he went through them too until he was back outside and able to flutter Lee’s hair with ghostly fingers.

  “Ack!” Lee spun around and swatted at him, much to Stefan’s delight. “I hate that! It gives me the heebie-jeebies, like someone’s dancing on my grave or something.”

  Stefan had never really understood that phrase. How would being creeped out make someone feel that they were psychic and aware of something that would happen after their death? It was just a stupid saying. He needed to quit over-analyzing it.

  “Can you get the water?” Darren asked as he got out of the car with recyclable canvas grocery bags hanging from his arms. “I’ve got the food.”

  “Yeah.” Lee opened the back passenger door. “Too bad Stef can’t help us carry everything in.”

  It wasn’t like Stefan was going to be using any of the groceries, but he wouldn’t have minded helping. Times like that, he did miss being alive after all. Conner could cause a whirlwind that would lift up the groceries. Stefan wasn’t that talented—yet. But he was determined to get there some day. Conner said he was strong, and stubborn, a combination that should do him good except for when he put his mind to doing something he ought not to.

  Stefan settled for whipping up a brisk wind around the chickens. Darren hated one of them in particular, a Rhode Island Red that was hell-bent for Darren’s blood. The original bird that had been here years ago had long since passed on, and though Darren had sworn he hated that rooster, he’d gone right out and bought another one. There’d always been a mean, aggressive rooster on the property ever since.

  “Stefan!” Darren yelped as the rooster squawked and came at him. Stefan giggled and managed a gust of wind that put Sweety, the inappropriately named red rooster, slightly off course. Good thing too, since Darren was wearing shorts. His legs would have been left bloody by ol’ Sweety.

  The rooster shook out his feathers and flapped his wings. Stefan had a hard time not being intimidated by the evil look in the bird’s beady eyes. The rooster clucked and cocked his head. Stefan wondered if the rooster could see him or sense him somehow. It wasn’t the first time an animal had seemed to be aware of him.

  Sweety let out a warning squawk right before launching himself at Stefan. Stefan didn’t think it was a lucky guess on the bird’s part, either. Stefan shot up a good six feet in the air and barely kept from yelping. The rooster couldn’t hurt him.

  It was a moot point, just like having his heart slam against his ribs in rapid staccato was. He didn’t have an actual heart, and couldn’t fathom why his mind insisted on reliving sensations he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the first time around—who the hell enjoyed panic and borderline terror?

  “I’m going to choose to believe Stefan just sacrificed himself for my safety,” Darren said as he hurried up the porch steps. “Why is it I keep replacing those mean roosters when they die?”

  “Because you’re a masochist?” Lee suggested, which earned him a light kick to his backside when he joined Darren on the porch. “Careful, wouldn’t want you to damage the goods.” Lee waggled his eyebrows and shook his butt.

  Stefan made gagging noises even though he knew they wouldn’t hear him. God, he really was surrounded by happy couples. And evil chickens.

  That was it. He was going to go brood in the graveyard. Stefan fluttered around his brother for a second. He wanted a hug so bad, but—in a heartbeat he was soaring, outside, the sky blue and bright surrounding him.

  The town of McKinton was laid out in almost a perfect square now. Before the oil boom, only Main Street had been very built up. Now there were buildings all over.

  The graveyard wasn’t deserted like Stefan had hoped. His irritation at that ceased when he looked at the middle-aged woman standing beside a fresh grave. She held a small bouquet of yellow and white flowers in her hands, along with a few tissues.

  Tears streaked her face. Her chin quivered and her nose was red, not just on the tip, but almost all of it, like she’d been crying hard for a long time. Her eyes were puffy, and heavy bags hung dark beneath them.

  Stefan’s not-real heart plummeted. This was most likely the grave of the guy Ro had told him about. It made sense. Usually, though, the spirits arrived before the funerals—like immediately after death. Why was it that Conner had only today been greeting the newcomer?

  The best way to find out was to ask Conner directly. Stefan would do that, but for now, he couldn’t leave the lady to mourn by herself. It just seemed wrong. Her pain was so obvious, Stefan would swear it was permeating the air and weighing him down.

  He floated closer to the woman. Her brown hair dye had faded and white shone a good inch from the roots. She wore a flowered long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. Her hands were clenched so tightly around the bouquet that her knuckles were white.

  Stefan put some thought into it and carefully brushed back a strand of hair that was in her eyes. It would feel like a breeze to her, and he needed to do something to help her.

  He’d just managed to push the hair out of the way when something hit him. Stefan gasped as the air shot from his lungs. Jesus, he hadn’t known there were things that could hurt him so much in the spiritual realm!

  Chapter Four