Page 44 of The Ghost and the Graveyard (Knight Games 1)
"My ex-boyfriend took all of my money."
Logan crossed his arms, his outline rippling as he concentrated. The way he held himself seemed almost lawyer-ish. I felt like he was interrogating me. "A man stole your money. Did you go to the police?"
"It's a long story."
"I have all night. Hell, I might have eternity." The ghost's molecules shifted to his smile as if the energy from his feelings was driving his physical form. For a moment, his mouth and teeth glowed, flashing at me in the dim light of the dining room. Then the expression faded to the same opaque as the rest of his body. The Cheshire cat act made the hair on my arms stand up.
"He screwed me, okay? Totally screwed me. Broke my heart, stole all of my money, and abandoned me without so much as a note. I loved him, and he screwed me."
Logan frowned and folded his hands across the table, an all-too-human gesture that made it hard to remember he wasn't alive. "You can't blame yourself for loving someone, Grateful. I may not know who I was in life, but I do remember that there are some things that just happen to you. That's why they call it falling in love. You fall. It's an uncontrollable act of gravity that has nothing to do with choice and everything to do with fate."
"You're pretty smart for someone without a brain."
"Ha, ha. I have a brain. It's just decomposing wherever my body happens to be."
I giggled, but the thought made me gag a little. "But see, I caused him to steal my money. It was the blonde paradox."
"What the hell is the blonde paradox?"
"I'm blonde, right? And sort of look like Barbie. Well, that attracts men because their caveman brain thinks I'm more fertile. But then they assume I'm stupid due to societal stereotypes about blondes and ironically become less intelligent in my presence. It's like my looks are toxic to a healthy relationship."
"Let me get this straight. You think that because of the way you look, men are drawn to you primarily for sex and then treat you like crap due to the same good looks."
"It's science."
"I think it's bullshit."
"Really."
The level of concentration necessary for whatever he was thinking about must have been steep because he flickered at the edges. Silence stretched out between us. By his expression, he was turning something over in his mind, trying to think of something to say. I crossed my arms over my chest and braced myself for a judgmental commentary.
Finally, he said, "You know what your problem is?"
"My house is haunted, and I'm broke?"
"No. Your problem is you're still angry at your ex, but you're punishing yourself."
"I'm not punishing myself."
"You are! You're blaming yourself for something he did. What was his name?"
"Gary."
"You need to take all of that anger and guilt you're holding, wrap it up in a great, big karmic ball, and throw that sucker right at Gary. "
I rolled that around in my brain. "Gary's gone. What are you proposing?"
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "I think I have a better idea. Do you have a picture of Gary?"
I waved my hand in front of my face as if the notion stunk. "Of course not. I shredded every last one."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"
God, his eyes bore into me. Was this some kind of ghostly water torture? He was practically wringing out my soul for information with his stare.
"Okay! I might have one."
"Where is it?"
