by Layla Frost
My mom had died while giving birth to me. They’d found her grave—something my father had denied existed.
“Why the trip down quasi-fucked-up memory lane?” Lula asked, her concern evident.
“I know this sounds nuts, but after staying with my grandma, I’d been convinced there was someone out there I was supposed to know. I’d assumed it was my mother. What if it was Nate?”
“Holy shit. I never thought of that. Did he say anything about any of your visits?”
I shook my head. “There weren’t many of them, and his memories are jacked-up. Sometimes they’re clear, other times they blend.”
“I get my weeks messed up, so I’m sure a few centuries can be hard to keep track of.”
Slumping back, I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone, and I have no way of getting a hold of him.”
“He probably just needs time.” Lula tucked her short black hair behind her ear, the small smile on her lips telling me she was thinking of Chase before she continued. “Laugh at my mushiness all you want, but I know Chase and I are soul mates and could never be apart for long.” She paused, waiting for me to make an inappropriate joke, which was likely what I would’ve done in the face of serious emotions.
That was before.
Her brows raised slightly, but she had no other reaction to my lack of comment. “We’re just the run-of-the-mill soul mates. A paranormal-spanning-centuries connection? No way will he be able to stay away forever.”
Though her description was over the top, I said, “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
I thought about all I wanted to say to Nate—starting with an apology.
She stood, tossing a pillow at me. “I’m stealing coffee before I head into work. This hangover is kicking my ass, and if I fuck up, someone isn’t getting paid. Or they’re getting paid millions.”
Looking at the time on my phone, I saw it was almost noon. “Uh, you know what time it is, right?”
“Yeah,” she called from the kitchen. “I had a feeling I’d be busting into those little bottles of booze, so I took the morning off.”
“Good thinking.”
“Speaking of booze, when did you start drinking scotch?”
“What?”
“There’s an unopened bottle in here. Good stuff, too. Feel free to include it as a wedding gift.”
Nate must have gotten it.
A couple minutes later, she came back into the room, travel mug in hand. “Before I go, can I ask one more thing?”
“Anything.”
“Why are you watching Harry and the Hendersons while you cry?”
I glanced at the screen, seeing the dreaded part was approaching. The movie was on its third loop, and still the ache in my chest grew as my eyes began to sting.
“It’s a long story.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sloppy Seven and a Halves
Denny
“WOW. I MEAN… WOW.” The man held a weird looking magnifying glass up to the stitching in the fabric of the pants. “The authenticity is spot-on, but there’s no way these garments could be in such remarkable condition.” He looked up at me, suspicion and excitement warring on his face. “Where did you say you found them?”
After Lula had left earlier that morning, I’d pulled myself from my funk and gotten busy researching different professors and museums. I’d expected it to be difficult finding anyone willing to talk, but my first call had been a success. The history professor at Salem State University had promptly returned my message, setting a meeting for that afternoon.
Professor Morgan’s initial skepticism had quickly morphed to joy as he’d thoroughly inspected both pieces.
“I recently inherited my grandma’s house,” I answered. “I’ve been sorting through what was left behind and came across them.”
“And she wasn’t an actress? Or involved in any historical productions?”
I shook my head. “The house is in Salem, but she’s never been involved in the reenactments or anything.”
“Salem?” He stroked the fabric with a gloved hand. “That makes sense.”
“Why?”
“If these were authentic, I’d say they were from the late 1600s. Right around the witch trials.”
“I thought the style back then was ruffles, coats, and poofy pants.”
“Yes, that’s true, but most people had to make their own clothing. It wasn’t uncommon for single men to lack the skill to do such intricate designs. And, as is the case even now, there were those who disliked the pomp of the style. Unless they held office or were attending church, they wouldn’t wear the traditional garb on a daily basis.”
“But it looks from that period?”
“Even if not from that time, it’s fashioned as an amazing replica.” He handed me the magnifying glass, pointing to the thread, then the hem, and finally explaining something about the fabric.
Maybe Nate was a witch who was hiding when he got trapped.
That would mean the hunt wasn’t all hysteria and false accusations.
“I’d love to do more research if you’d allow me to keep it for a short time.” Professor Morgan carefully folded the top. “I’m still finding it hard to believe it’s truly over three hundred years old.”
Holy shit, is that how old Nate is?
“I’m not—” I started.
“Even if they aren’t genuine, the level of craftsmanship is amazing. I wouldn’t damage them during research so they could be put on display after.”
“That’s not—”
Professor Morgan wasn’t listening, his cheeks flushed as he spoke passionately. “But being able to remove a small square for analysis would help. It could be from the back where no one could see, and—”
I reached my hand toward the tunic, but he moved them from reach. “Professor Morgan.”
“Sorry, sorry, but you need to wear gloves.” He handed me a pair from his desk. “I can get a little carried away. My ex-wife often says if I were as enthusiastic about her as I am about new discoveries, we’d still be married.” His eyes fell to the tote bag I’d brought the clothes in before he walked to his closet. He pulled out an oversized Ziploc bag and a small vacuum.
“While I appreciate your… enthusiasm for the items, I’m not ready to part with them at this time.”
He studied my expression before lowering his voice. “Is it about money? My department doesn’t have the resources for this kind of purchase, but I know of a museum that would be interested. I can call them and find out what auctions are coming up.”
“No!” I shook my head, deciding to use the same excuse I’d given Hale. “I recently lost my grandma, and I’m just not ready to part with anything connected to her.”
Unlike Hale, Professor Morgan was sympathetic. “I understand.” Placing the clothes in the bag, he attached a hose that sucked the air out. When it was finished, he handed me the package but didn’t release his hold as I tried to take it. “Keep it in this sealed bag. And if you change your mind—”
“You’ll be my first call.”
It seemed to take some effort, but he let go. “If I find anything, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you.”
I was almost to the door when he called, “Miss Underwood.”
“Yes?”
“If it is about the money, just give me a number and some time before you go to other buyers.”
“It’s not. But thank you again.” Clutching the bag to my chest, I made my way through campus to my car.
I finally have an answer for Nate.
Now I just need him to come home.
_______________
After my meeting with the professor, I picked up enough Thai food to feed an army. I readjusted the paper bags and opened my front door, kicking it closed behind me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.
Nate’s home.
His gray hoodie hung from my coat rack, and I was posit
ive he’d been wearing it the night before.
“Nate?”
“Shit, fuck,” I heard from the kitchen before he stepped into the living room. “You’re home. And you brought food.”
“I did.” My eyes widened. “You got a haircut and shaved.”
It was just a few inches off his hair and his beard was trimmed, but it made a big difference. His full lips weren’t as hidden, and his cheekbones were more pronounced.
I didn’t know how someone so muscularly built could look almost gaunt, but he did, and it was just so damn sexy.
He’s my anti-hero fantasy come to life—masculine and rough with more than a hint of danger.
Starting at his socked feet, my eyes travelled up to see him wearing a pair of well-fitted, dark-washed jeans. His shirt appeared to be a plain gray tee, but it was hard to know for sure since most of it was covered by a pink polka dot apron—frilly lace and all.
Okay, maybe not so much danger.
“Were you cooking?” I asked.
“Yes, I was hoping to have it done by the time you got home. But it will save fine for another time.”
I held up the paper bags. “So will this.”
Walking into the kitchen, my body brushed against his as I passed. I shoved the bags into the fridge before turning to face him. We stood like that for a few long moments, just taking each other in.
Finally, Nate spoke. “I’m sorry I was an idiot.” His smile turned sheepish. “Leaving was not a good way to show how bad I want to stay here with you.”
“I shouldn’t have said everything like I did. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome.”
Reaching into his pockets, Nate pulled out a small wad of cash. Peeling off some bills, he handed them to me. “The money you gave me yesterday, plus payment for what I took from the bookcase.”
I’d assumed his new clothes had been bought with the bookcase money. Realizing I was wrong, I hoped he hadn’t shoplifted or robbed someone.
I waved away the offered money. “Where’d you get that?”
Grabbing the blue coffee tin out of my cabinet, he opened it and added the bills to where I kept my secret stash of emergency cash.
Well, not-so-secret.
Not that it was a big deal since it was also not-so-much-cash.
He gestured to himself. “Women will pay a lot of money for the use of my body.”
“What?” I choked out.
Oh hell, that’s worse than robbing someone.
Not really, but it’s still really fucking bad.
“I’m strong and have a lot of skills they need.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” I scoffed in disgust. My pleasure at seeing him was short-lived as my stomach clenched and churned. I must have been a masochist, because I couldn’t resist saying, “You have a lot of money.”
“I helped six women. Wait, no, seven if you count Mrs. O’Leary, though she didn’t need as much as the others. So six and a half.”
“Mrs. O’Leary? She’s eighty!” My head swam, and I was certain I was going to be sick. “Eighty!”
“Which is why she needed me.”
It’s not his fault. He doesn’t know better. Maybe prostitution was legal when he was alive.
“You’re upset,” he surmised, his brows low and his head tilted as he studied me. “Most of them are old widows with no man to do it for them. Would you have her do it herself, Denny? She’s frail and could have broken a hip. Or hurt her back again. She was telling me that she pushed herself too hard last time, twisting and bending, and it caused sciatica pain.”
Covering my ears, I yelled, “I don’t want to hear this!”
My hands did nothing to block his words, so I could still hear him say, “I still have plenty of time and energy left to help you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can get started right after dinner. Or during, if you’d prefer.”
“No way, dude.” I pointed my finger at him, scowling. “I don’t want to be your sloppy seconds… Or sloppy seven and a halves!”
He gave me a warm smile. “You’re always my first. It was slow going before I had my body, but I was working hard to help you then. And last night when I came home.”
“Wait. What?”
“It took me a month or so to fix the swing because I could only control the objects in short bursts. But I was able to fix some of the porch boards last night. I needed to go to the store for a part to repair the lawn mower, which is when the other women required me.”
“I have a lawn mower?” I shook my head to refocus on the important matter of his possible prostitution. “What exactly did you do for the other women?”
“I carried in groceries for Ms. Betty and fixed her dinner in the crockpot.” He lifted the apron. “That’s who gave me the protection for my clothes. Then she sent me over to Ms. Susan’s to help assemble a bookcase. I mowed the lawns and trimmed the bushes of four of her neighbors.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?”
“What?”
“Never mind. And for Mrs. O’Leary?”
“I dusted the corners of her rooms and the tops of her cabinets. Last time she tried to climb the ladder, she almost fell. I also replaced a few of her decorations while she muttered about some bastard. I didn’t pay much attention since I wanted to get home to you.”
No longer cursing the elderly, my jealousy faded, and I burst into relieved laughter. “Okay. That’s… really nice of you.”
“Next time, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of first.”
I laughed harder. “No, no. Helping them is wonderful. Honest.”
“I’ll get started on the lawn as soon as dinner is finished.”
“No, stay and eat with me. The lawn can wait.”
“Are you sure?”
The initial happiness I’d felt at seeing him returned. So much so, I launched myself into his arms and hugged him tightly. Feeling whole again, I closed my eyes and shared, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he whispered. “I’m not afraid to be alone in the world.”
Opening my eyes, I leaned back so I could see him. “I would be.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” His cocky smile faded when he cupped my cheeks. “Anything but being without you. Yesterday, thinking you didn’t want me, that scared the shit out of me.”
“I didn’t mean it how it came out. I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”
“I spent hundreds of years wishing I could leave this spot and never come back. But I don’t want that anymore. I want to be where you are, Denny. Wherever that is.”
The part of my brain that couldn’t handle serious discussions kicked into overdrive. I forced a laugh despite the intensity surrounding us. “This is insane. We’ve only known each other for, like, three weeks.”
“But I’ve known you since you moved in.” His hold around me stayed strong as he lowered his head, his lips brushing mine as he spoke. “I was lucky enough to have a head start.” As if knowing I was reaching my limit, he let me go and took a step away to stir something on the stove.
Remembering Lula’s comment about my drunken phone call, I asked, “So, uh, what time did you come home last night?”
“Late. I did what TV and movies said to do when upset.”
“You got wasted at a bar?”
He smiled at me over his shoulder. “Tried to. Alcohol had no effect on me.”
“Nothing at all?”
“No. And I drank a lot. Quickly. I brought you scotch.”
“I was wondering where that came from. So, when you got home…”
“You were asleep on the couch, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I worked outside. I left when the stores opened and then was assisting the others. When I got home, you were gone.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot.” When he turned to face me, I put my palms on his chest. “I went to see a professor today about your clothes. He said he thinks they’re from the late 1600s.”
His hands covered mi
ne, his eyes closing as he dropped his head down.
“Does that mean something to you?”
He looked at me, his black eyes blazing with emotion as he whispered fiercely, “That you would help means everything to me.”
Chapter Sixteen
This is Your Brain on Lust
Denny
“THIS IS TORTURE,” I groaned. “Pure torture.”
Lula laughed at me, making me question if she really was my friend.
Only an enemy could find my intense pain amusing.
“It’s not that bad,” she said.
In the process of lifting my glass, I paused to glare at her. “Have you seen him?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “You make an excellent point.”
After our big talk a few days prior, Nate and I had spent nearly all our time together. He continued to do odd jobs around the neighborhood while I worked, but he made sure to be home in time to cook dinner. We’d eat, watch TV or talk, and then I’d go to bed.
Alone.
Always alone.
I’d been waiting for him to make a move, but he hadn’t.
I was growing impatient.
Okay, fine, there was no growing about it. I was already full-grown impatient.
“He cooks. He cleans. He listens. He’s sweet, funny, and smart. And other than small touches and even smaller kisses, he won’t go further.” I threw my arms out, my drink sloshing over. “Why won’t he go further?”
“You did tell him you wouldn’t fuck him.”
I made a pfft noise. “That was forever ago.”
“It was three days ago.”
“Exactly. Forever.” Already tipsy, my dramatics were in full effect. “Can you imagine living with him, and it’s all-looky-no-touchy? I want!”
“Want what?” Chase asked as he came into the room. “Are you telling her about the bedroom set?” He looked at me. “You have to buy this thing, otherwise Lula will, and we do not need a whole new set.”
“No, I totally forgot.” Lula’s eyes turned wild and glazed from her shopping high. “I found this little shop filled with the best stuff. Number one being the amazing bedroom set. It’s black and kinda creepy artsy and so amazing that I’m, at this very moment, regretting telling you about because I want it so badly.”
