Accidentaly Divine by Dakota Cassidy (best large ereader .TXT) 📗

table in a butternut stain that matched the flooring and began to pour, offering the delicate floral cup to her with a warm smile.

She took it, and tried not to stare at his blue hair. “Thank you…”

He stood back and put his hands behind his back with a warm smile George felt to her toes. “Archibald, Ms. Maverick. I’m Archibald, or Arch, if you prefer. The glue that holds these fluffernutters together. I cook. I clean. I occasionally help with a case when needed. I am a jack of all trades, master of many.”

George held the teacup in her hands, welcoming the warmth of the liquid, and asked, “Are you…paranormal, too?”

His blue eyes, lined with age, twinkled. “Indeed, mistress. Or, I am again, I should say. Quite recently in fact. I am what one would call a troll. Hence the blue hair, of which I’ve grown quite fond,” he said with a gurgle of a chuckle. Then he straightened and sought to capture her gaze with his. “Now, fear not, for you’re in the best of hands. They’re loud hands, argumentative hands, chaotic and, in the case of my Nina, foul-mouthed hands without doubt, but rest assured, they are the best in the business, my dearest girls are. If you can bear the tumultuous rumble of dissent at every turn, you’re going to be just fine.”

She’d address the part about him being paranormal again and a troll later. Paranormal overload was becoming a thing. Yet, for some reason, for some odd, unexplained reason, hearing Archibald’s words brought a small peace George sorely needed right now.

At first she’d been pretty calm, but the deeper she dove into this, the more she heard from Dex and these women, the further she fell down the rabbit hole where fear was sure to latch hold of her if she gave it the opportunity.

And she couldn’t afford to let that happen—not ever again. She’d seen the bottom of the barrel and it was ugly. Worse, it hurt.

Peering at him over the cup of steaming tea, she gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you, Archibald. Er, Arch.”

He smiled again and gave a light clap of his hands. “Good then. Now, should you need to talk to someone, especially a newly minted paranormal such as myself, do come chat in the kitchen, where I shall prepare a feast like none you’ve had before. You will sup with us this eve, won’t you?” Then he shook his head as though the notion she wouldn’t join them was plain bananas. “Bah. Of course you will. I insist.”

He was off before she could confirm and then the room went silent for a moment before Marty was up on her feet, smoothing her hands over a sapphire-blue knit dress that matched her eyes perfectly, the gold bangle bracelets she wore tinkling cheerfully.

With a warm smile, she said, “So of course you’ll stay here until you’re acclimated as an angel, George. We’re happy to have you.”

“But what about your family? Won’t this be an intrusion?” She never wanted to be an imposition.

Marty smiled. “My husband Keegan’s out of town on a daddy-daughter vacation with our Hollis, and I’m free as a bird, but even if they were here, you’d still be welcome to stay. Keegan knows the score with OOPS and he’s very supportive.”

For the first time, George took a real look around at the beautiful home Marty had created. Still decorated for Christmas with soft whites and pillows with red ticking, pops of various blues and grays here and there.

The artwork of the ocean in soft, muted pastels, the family photos of her little girl and her incredibly handsome husband, mingled with pictures of the OOPS women and their children, and she grew nervous.

“Why do I have to stay here? I couldn’t impose. I mean, I have a place to live. I have a house and…I have responsibilities and…” She couldn’t think of all the things she had, but she had them, and she wanted to go back to them.

Dex had said she could stay here on Earth with her things. That’s what she wanted to do.

Wanda reached for her hand and squeezed it with motherly warmth, her gentle expression soft in the glow of Marty’s huge Christmas tree. “George, sweetie, it’s okay. We just thought it might be easier to help you if you were here with us where there’s plenty of room. Marty has a magical guest bedroom with sheets to absolutely die for. We usually have to cram ourselves into the client’s tiny space in order to be available to them twenty-four-seven, we just thought this might be easier, seeing as you’re a local. But we can go to your place, if you’d like. We want you to be comfortable. That’s what’s most important to us. If we need to pack a bag, just say the word.”

Nina clucked her tongue in agreement. “Yeah, that, and we can keep track of you so when the bad motherfuckers come looking for you, we can protect your tiny ass. It’s easier—”

A zing of fear skipped along her spine. “Bad?” George yelped, pushing herself forward on the couch. What bad motherfucker was going to come looking for her and why?

“Nina!” Marty swatted the vampire. “Nothing bad’s going to happen. Jesus. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”

Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed an aggravated sigh. “Nina, she’s an angel. It’s very different from the clients we’ve dealt with in the past. Who would want to hurt an angel of all things, Ms. Doom-and-Gloom?”

“The devil?” Nina asked, making a face at Wanda.

The devil? Hold on. Just hold on. The devil was real?

Duh, stupid. If Heaven and angels are real, why wouldn’t the devil be real, too?

Dex sat forward as well, the muscles of his thighs flexing through the fabric of his jeans. He looked at Nina, his dreamy eyes serious. “Listen, I know you guys have dealt with some dicey characters in the past, but it’s not like that. We know