by Jo McNally
The only sound was the softening shush of wind through the trees outside, and the distant roll of thunder. Everything outside the circle of light cast by the lanterns was pitch-dark. She didn’t move, but he could sense she wanted to. Maybe that was just him seeing what he was wishing for, but he could almost feel her struggling.
What was the right move for him now? Scoop her up in his arms and kiss her, like some Hollywood hero would do? That’s probably what Dr. Find-Love would advise, especially since he already had her face cupped in the classic Hollywood pre-kiss move. Instead of pulling her in, though, he took his hand from her cheek and rested it lightly on her shoulder.
The old ladies told him to use his heart, not his head. Not Dr. Find-Love. And his heart was telling him to wait. Be patient...let her deal with her struggle on her own terms, not his. No games. No pressure. He’d stated his case. The next move was up to her. She stared up at him, her forehead furrowed in confusion.
“That’s it? No more begging? No more grandstanding?”
“Not unless that’s what you want from me.”
“No. Definitely not.” She chuckled, her hand still in his. She squeezed his fingers. “But I can’t help imagining myself answering your request by filling out a spreadsheet so you’ll know all about me.”
He’d just started to answer when there was a large thump outside, as if something had hit the back of the house, and the sound of breaking glass. Owen looked over his shoulder and down the dark hallway in the direction the sound came from. Lucy...well... Lucy leaped into his arms with so much force she knocked him backward a few steps. While screaming. He gripped her around the waist, laughing in surprise as he turned toward the hall, swinging her with him. He really had no choice, since her arms were locked around his neck.
“What the hell was that?” Her words came in a rush. “No! Don’t go down the hall without a light!”
He was reaching for his cell phone light, ready to tell her he figured a hallway was a straight, safe path, even in the dark. But he stopped when he heard the pure panic in her voice.
“Hey...” He rubbed her back with his hand to sooth her. “Relax, babe. Everything is okay.” He moved away from the hall, toward the table where the lantern sat. “It was probably just a tree branch or something coming loose from the storm. You stay here and...”
“No! Don’t leave me alone.” She buried her head in his neck and he froze. He was holding Lucy Higgins in his arms again. He brushed her hair with his mouth, knowing he couldn’t take advantage of her fear. No matter how tempting.
“Babe, it’s okay. Open your eyes. The lantern’s on. You’re not in the dark. But I need to go check what happened. If that was a window that broke, the rain will get in.” She hesitated, then her grip slowly loosened on his neck. He slowly set her feet on the floor. “You can stay right here where it’s safe, or you can come with me and bring the lantern. Which is also safe. Your choice.”
She stepped back, one hand firmly wrapped around his forearm. She blinked and looked around the softly lit room. “I can’t stay here alone.”
“Okay. You grab that lantern and I’ll take this one. Plenty of light. Hold my hand...thatta girl. Where does this hall lead?”
“Um...to the kitchen, and then the staircase. Past that is the back door to the deck and yard.”
“So pretty much a straight line. I’ll lead the way.” They moved down the hall, with Lucy so close she almost tripped him a few times. They passed a dining room on the left, then a spacious kitchen with ivory cabinets and marble counters. The lanterns cast weird shadows around them, especially as they moved past the open stairway leading up to what he assumed were the bedrooms. His fingers were losing circulation from her tight grip. They were going to have a good long talk after this. This was no average I don’t like the dark sort of fear.
He held his lantern higher as they came to the back, looking for the sparkle of broken glass on the floor. He didn’t see any, but it occurred to him at that moment that he didn’t think Lucy was wearing shoes. A glance downward confirmed it. He stopped abruptly, and she bumped into him with a gasp.
“What is it? What do you see?”
“What I see is that you’re barefoot, and there might be broken glass back here. Stay put, and let me check it out.” She started to protest, but he shook his head firmly. “Not negotiable. Stand right there. We already know no one’s in the house but us.” He swung the lantern toward the windows, which were all intact and closed. “The door’s locked. And seriously, Luce—you know I’d never ask you to do anything dangerous.”
Lucy hesitated, then nodded...a bit reluctantly, but in agreement. “You’re right. Of course. You’re right. I’ll stay here. Just...hurry, okay?”
He slid her hand off his arm and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he stepped outside to the deck, he saw the cause of all that noise. A large limb had fallen from the maple tree behind the house. It looked as if it had rested on the support for the pergola overhead at first, then fell to the decking, taking a section of railing with it. A narrow wrought-iron table had been knocked over, and something must have been on top of it. There was a planter broken at his feet, and shattered purple glass all over the deck. A mess, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Other than the planter and the glass object, of course. He went back inside, locking the door behind him. True to her word, she hadn’t moved. Her eyes were wide and dark. He slid his arm around her waist and turned her around, heading back toward the front of the house.
“A tree limb broke the railing and knocked over a metal table. Looked like there was a planter and something glass that broke when it fell.”
“Aw... I’d just put some pansies in that planter. It was full of weeds when I moved in. The glass must have been the oil lamp I put out there. It didn’t have any oil in it, though. I found it in a closet—I’m sure it was a reproduction. At least, I hope it was, since I’ll have to replace it now. It was purple and matched the pansies so nicely. I used museum putty to anchor it to the table so it was safe from wind, but if the table went over...”
She was babbling, probably a result of the adrenaline rush she’d just had. As they got back to the living room, he turned her to face him.
“What happened in your head when we heard the glass break? Why are you so afraid of the dark?” He brushed her hair over her shoulder and tucked it behind her ear. The pink was almost gone now, except for the very tips. “I know you don’t like the dark. But I never knew why, and after tonight, I think I need to.”
She stepped back, leading him to the front of the house and the huge Victorian sofa by the front window. In the muted lantern light, he couldn’t be sure of the color, but it was something dark. It was long and low, and the back was deeply tufted. He sat near the center of it, expecting a stiff horsehair cushion, but was surprised at how comfortable it was.
He looked around the room, taking in the heavily carved furniture and about a dozen old paintings and photographs filling one wall. Most were portraits of people in Victorian garb, with dark, heavy frames. There was a nice Persian rug on the floor, and heavy brocade curtains pulled back with golden tassels on the tall windows. Lucy liked things clean and simple. This room was not that.
“This place doesn’t strike me as your style.”
She gave a soft laugh. “It’s definitely not. It was furnished as a vacation rental property. It’s mostly reproduction stuff, like this sofa, with an occasional real antique thrown in for atmosphere. I’m pretty sure a lot of it came from garage sales.” She looked at the lace-covered tea table in the corner. “Rendezvous Falls is famous for its Victorian houses, so they leaned heavily into that for the decor. But the kitchen is updated and nice, and the upstairs bathroom has a really cool claw-foot tub and a walk-in shower.” She was still talking fast, but this time he had a hunch she was doing it to avoid his original q
uestion. Lucy noticed his expression and her words trailed off. “But you didn’t ask for a history of the house’s decor, did you?”
“Nope. I want to know how you got so scared of the dark.” He looked at the artwork across from them. “Although I can understand why having all those grim faces looking at you could freak you out. This place isn’t haunted, is it?”
She settled back on the sofa, looking at the portraits with a shudder. “Don’t joke about ghosts! But no, I don’t have the sense there are spirits wandering the rooms here.” She paused, glancing around nervously. “At least, I don’t think there are. But one never knows. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t know for sure what’s here. Especially with the lights out.”
“Are you saying you’re genuinely afraid of ghosts?” He had a hard time believing she was afraid of anything, but...ghosts?
“Well... I believe in ghosts. Not that I’ve ever seen one.” She shook a finger playfully at the portrait wall, talking to the pictures. “And I don’t want to see one, either!” Her other hand was still in his, and she squeezed his fingers. “It all started with my horrid cousin Barbara.”
“Have I met her?” He’d met plenty of the extended Higgins family, but the name didn’t ring a bell.
“Hopefully you never will,” Lucy said firmly. “She’s actually a second cousin once removed or something. Her father was my dad’s cousin, I think. Anyway, she’s a nasty piece of work. The last time I saw her—at Grandma’s funeral—she hadn’t changed. She’s that worst sort of Southern belle, who smiles at you like you’re her best friend while she gleefully stabs you in the back.” Her voice had grown harder with each sentence, making her dislike crystal clear.
“O-kay. How did this evil Barbie make you afraid of the dark?”
Lucy barked out a laugh. “Oh, God, she hates to be called Barbie. Promise me if you ever do meet her that you’ll call her that.” Whether she’d intended to or not, she’d just suggested a future where he would still be a part of her life. That door was opening more all the time.
“I promise. Tell me what Barbie did.”
She leaned toward him. She was close enough now that he could smell her perfume. It smelled like the flowers she loved so much, with just an edge of something spicy. He remembered a food truck he and Lucy went to in Wilmington. They sold cupcakes, including a dark chocolate version with a hint of jalapeño. Unexpected. Delicious. Just like Lucy. He waited, knowing she was trying to get her courage up. Or was she thinking of happier times, too?
She stared at him for a long, highly charged moment before she started the story. As much as he wanted to hear it, he was disappointed the brief, intimate moment had been broken.
“When Kris first got sick, Mom and Dad were constantly going back and forth to the hospital in Durham, and they stayed overnight a lot. I was eleven, and I got pawned off to friends and relatives who offered to watch me. Some were more enthusiastic about it than others. Barb’s parents were nice enough, but she did not want me hogging her spotlight as the precious only child.” One shoulder lifted slightly. “She was the ultimate mean girl. Had the adults all convinced she was an angel with her sweet smile and all those pretty dark curls and pouty lips. But she and her nasty little friends were nothing but bullies.”
She stopped, her brows drawing together as she frowned at a memory. Without thinking, he released her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t resist, moving closer yet before she continued the story.
“She had a thing for scary movies. Her parents didn’t know that’s what she was watching down in their basement.” A shudder went through her. “Ugh...basements. Hers was one of the few houses I’d been in with a basement, and I’ve hated them ever since. Theirs was partially finished, but half of it, the part outside the so-called playroom, still had the original stone foundation and dirt floor. And cobwebs.” She shuddered again. “Anyway...after Kris’s first round of treatments, I ended up staying at Barb’s house for a whole week. She made my life hell, all while putting her prettiest smile on for her parents. One night she and her minions had a movie night.” She stared at the rug, lost in a childhood memory.
“Her folks thought we were watching Disney, so they went to a neighbor’s for drinks. Barb showed The Blair Witch Project. You know, the movie that was shot in the dark woods, with that wobbly flashlight? I was already traumatized from the movie, and then they convinced me to play a so-called game afterward. We had to go into the old part of the basement and find clues or something. All I know is we all went in there with the lights on and started searching. But as soon as I was in the farthest corner, they ran out, locked the door and turned off the lights.”
“Shit. How old were you again?”
“Eleven.” She pressed her body to his side. The warmth and familiarity of having Lucy cuddled against him made tears burn unexpectedly in his eyes. He cleared his throat and focused on the horrific story she was telling.
“What happened?”
“Everything you’d expect. I couldn’t see anything, so I bumped into boxes and tripped over things so much that I finally just froze, swinging my hands out in front of me and spinning around. I convinced myself that things were coming at me instead of me running into them, which was silly, but...”
“It wasn’t silly for an eleven-year-old kid. How long did those bitch...little girls leave you in there?”
“It felt like hours, but it was probably ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe even less than that. They went upstairs to get soda and chips, and took their sweet time about it. Oh, and they stomped around whatever room was over my head, shaking dust down on me, screaming and generally sending me into a catatonic state. I ended up in a ball on the floor, crying my eyes out.” She looked up at him. “I think a couple of the girls felt guilty when they found me like that. They cleaned me up and gave me cookies. Barbara just laughed.” She put her head against his chest again with a sigh. Christ, no wonder she panicked in the dark.
“My dad stopped by to check on me the next afternoon, and I jumped into his arms and started bawling. I didn’t tell him what happened—I never told anyone other than my sister, and that was years later. I just sobbed and wailed and begged him to take me home. Barb wasn’t there, and her parents were so embarrassed. I think they were afraid Dad would think they’d done something wrong. I wasn’t letting him leave that house without me, so he took me to Grandma’s. He assumed it was the trauma of my big sister being so sick...and that may have added to my...vulnerability.” She looked up again, a soft smile on her face. “And that’s the story of why Lucy is afraid of the dark to this very day. Like I said...silly.”
“And like I said, not silly for a little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, though. I’m a grown woman.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re a kick-ass woman with one little chink in her armor thanks to some nasty cousins. But it’s a very small chink...nothing that diminishes who you are. And now you won’t have to add it to that spreadsheet. Now I know.”
“Oh, God—I’d forgotten about the spreadsheet1 Dodged a bullet on that one.” She smiled. “What else do you need to know?”
She reached up and brushed her fingers into his hair, barely touching his scalp. Setting off electrical currents that shot across his skin and ended somewhere below his belt. Her eyes went wide, as if she’d felt the same thing. Her pupils were already huge because it was so dark, and the effect made them look like mirrors. Or maybe like doors...ones he wanted to enter.
“Luce...” Her name came off his lips in a breath, the most natural—and most desperate—thing in the world at this moment. “I’d rather explore the things I do know. How you feel in my arms. How soft your lips are. How you moan when I kiss you.”
She inhaled sharply, then did the exact thing he needed. She tightened her fingers in his hair and kissed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IT WASN’T A
decision for Lucy. Kissing him was just...what needed to happen. What she needed. And sure enough, she let out a soft moan when their mouths met. His arm tightened around her, the other hand cupping the back of her head as he pushed his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned again. Was this a mistake? Maybe. Probably. But he’d come to her rescue. He hadn’t laughed at her fear. He’d listened to her story—hell, he’d asked to hear it. Maybe he really was trying to change. Her tongue met his, pushing and turning. Maybe they both needed to sex away all their distractions.
She straddled his lap on the sofa, and this time he was the one who moaned. Or was that a growl? Owen’s guttural sound of desperation flipped a switch inside her, and there were no more distractions. There was just Owen. And her. And the heat of desire enveloping them both. She rose up on her knees above him, holding his face between her hands and kissing him, pushing her tongue into mouth this time. His hands fell to his sides in surrender, letting her take the lead in whatever was happening. Their mouths moved in perfect rhythmwhile her hips rubbed up and down his body. He finally growled and grabbed her waist with both hands, pulling her down against the erection she could feel growing against the zipper of his shorts. He arched up against her as he held her, and the erection went rock hard. That little voice of doubt tried to whisper one more time...this is a mistake...
Shut up, voice.
This kiss was deep. Intense. Dizzying. And unstoppable. Their lips didn’t part when she started tugging at his shirt, finally yanking it so hard the buttons went flying across the hardwood floor. Didn’t part when she tugged at his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his shorts. He froze for a heartbeat when she wrapped her hand around his now-exposed erection. Their mouths moved against each other again. More slowly now, but no less intense.
