When she stepped into the kitchen, Ty and Trevor were analyzing a giant cabinet that swallowed up one entire wall.
“I bet it’s an antique,” Trevor said. “I think it’s called a Hoosier cabinet. But you’d have a lot more room if you got rid of it.”
Ty turned to her. “What do you think, baby? You want this cabinet to stay or go?”
It took a moment for Jordan to register the question. “You’re asking me?”
“Well, traditionally women like to arrange the kitchen, figure out where they’ll put all their crap. I thought you might like some input. There’d be more storage if we kept it.”
She gaped at him, felt like she’d been dropped into a parallel universe. He wanted input? About kitchen stuff? “Are you new here? I’m a cop, not Betty Crocker. I own a coffee cup, a corkscrew, and about seventeen chip clips. I think one drawer will do me.”
Ty shrugged at her sarcasm and turned back to Trevor. “Guess storage isn’t an issue. Let’s get rid of it.”
Okay, she’d freaked and snapped at Ty. But there was something a bit too domesticated and real about making furniture decisions.
Trevor had remained silent through the whole exchange. She didn’t even want to venture a guess at what Ty’s brother thought about her.
“You don’t have to get rid of it,” she said, much softer this time. “Whatever you want to do—”
“It’s just an old cabinet, Jordan. No big deal.”
The way Ty cut her off plus the gruff tone of his voice relayed his aggravation loud and clear. He didn’t bother to make eye contact, just turned back to the cabinet and opened up all the doors and drawers.
She went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He whipped around. “We don’t have to spend any of our vacation time here. I promised you a beach. Do you want to leave?”
“No.” Her answer was out before she thought about it. But it was the truth. She didn’t want to leave. The house meant a lot to Ty, she could tell. The fact that he wanted to share it with her meant a lot, too. Maybe more than she was prepared for. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”
Moving closer to the cabinet, she took a good long look. Studied it. “I actually think this is pretty neat. There are a million drawers and doors in it and lots of cool details. But I don’t know why anyone painted it this ugly puke green.” She scratched a nail along the surface. “Still, I think it could be refinished.”
She opened her hand and smoothed it over the flaking paint. Her eyes drifted shut, and instantly she could see them, the blurred outline of the man in her dream and the woman he loved. Clearly a couple she’d never met, but she sensed they were as deeply in love as she and Ty.
The vision shifted into sharp focus, and a beautiful fiery redhead was being wrapped in the big arms of her cowboy. The woman looked utterly helpless when the man’s lips touched hers—a feeling Jordan identified with all too well.
They had to be the Hendersons.
A pull of energy had Jordan slipping her other hand onto the surface of the cabinet, too. The wood came alive under her fingertips; the piece had a spirit. Like a beating heart pulsed wildly beneath her palms. An electric jolt screamed through her system as if she were nothing more than a copper wire. A wild, crazy euphoria sizzled in her veins. Quickly on its heels, a sharp blast of fear stole the breath from her lungs.
Then the connection released her.
Jordan yanked both hands away as if she’d been juggling fire. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it came rushing back with a power that staggered her. Ty caught her around the waist.
“You okay?” Trevor asked. His words sounded odd, as if they were funneling to her eardrums through long echoing tubes.
Her legs were shaky, and she couldn’t find her voice. She nodded anyway. The next thing she knew, she was sitting in another room.
Ty turned her head to face him. “Jordan? What was that? What happened?”
“Here.” Trevor handed Ty a bottle of water. “Is she okay? Can she hear us?”
“I’m fine.” At least her voice had returned. “I got a little dizzy, that’s all. I’m sure it’s just from everything going on. The last couple of days have been crazy.” She wondered if her face was as pale as Ty’s. Probably so. “I’m fine. Go do your man stuff. I’m going to sit here for a minute.”
Her mind finally registered the soft material under her hand. She looked down. “Holy crap, you actually brought this couch? My couch?” She rubbed the material next to her hip. “How’d you get it? Did you steal it or buy it?”
Okay, it wasn’t her couch exactly, but the one from her apartment in Titus. The style had been outdated twenty years ago and it smelled a bit musty. But it was softer than a cloud and big enough for them to lie on and wrap comfortably around each other. A warm flush zinged through her when she remembered the last time they’d been wrapped around each other on it.
“I’ll give you two a minute.” Trevor left.
“What happened?” Ty asked quietly when they were alone.
“Nothing, I just . . .” They had slept, so she couldn’t blame the dizziness on being tired. They’d eaten, so she couldn’t blame hunger. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.”
“Fine.” He held up a hand to cut off her lame excuse—clearly not her best evasive effort. “Have it your way. But just once I’d like a straight answer from you about what goes on in that head of yours.”
“Well, okay.” She leaned close to his ear. “I was just remembering the last time we were together on this couch. I was riding you like a woman possessed. I didn’t think you’d want me to share that image with Trevor.”
He stood, and his features softened. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir, cowboy. I’ve never claimed to be anything but.”
Ty shook his head and headed toward the kitchen.
On a big exhale, she let her head fall back against the couch. She’d dodged a bullet with Ty.
She glanced toward the kitchen. Expecting the unexpected while being asleep had become routine, but she’d been wide awake today, hadn’t she?
It wasn’t that a vision or a spirit had never approached when she’d been awake. It was just that she’d become very skilled at blocking the visions, shutting them down before they even began. Not this one. It had grabbed hold and hung on, releasing her only when it was damned good and ready.
What the hell that meant, Jordan had no idea. But she was beginning to think someone else was living in this house. She wondered just how badly Ty would freak if she told him she suspected the spirit of Ellie Henderson was sharing the space with them.
***
Ty and Trevor disappeared into the stable. Jordan had watched through a kitchen window while they hauled more tools from Trevor’s truck than either of them could ever possibly use. Apparently they were setting up shop.
She had to admit she was getting a kick out of seeing Ty so excited about the prospect of buying this house. She looked around the big kitchen. Man, it needed a lot of work. Was she really going to agree to this? A permanent relationship? A permanent mortgage?
She stared at a cooktop that was probably from the seventies. It occurred to her that she’d gone from one apartment or condo to another, always searching for a place that felt like home. No rented apartment had ever come close. But this big old house and its dusty, outdated kitchen were soothing in a way she couldn’t begin to understand.
Even with the certainty that she and Ty weren’t the only ones staying there.
There was no denying the energy that had crackled through the bedroom last night when their tempers had flared. And then she’d had the dream. Today, when she’d touched the cabinet in the kitchen, something or someone had force-fed her a vision she couldn’t have blocked with a suit of armor.
It hadn’t been violent or threatening, but she couldn’t afford to be naïv
e, either. Spirits appeared when they had something to say. It was rare, but sometimes spirits could be possessive of their environment. By the end of their vacation, she’d need to determine if the house was safe for them to live in.
She explored every corner of the kitchen. Cleaning just that room was going to require buckets and sponges and mops. Ty and Trevor had brought plenty of tools, so maybe they had cleaning supplies, too.
Following a path to the stable, she slipped inside its heavy wooden door. Aerosmith echoed off the walls. Ty and Trevor didn’t appear to hear her enter. She moseyed down the center of the building, checking out all the features. She’d never been in a stable, never had any desire to enter a stable, but this one was actually pretty neat.
It was huge. Six horse stalls lined one side of the wooden structure. Stairs that led to a loft rose from the other side. Just past the horse motel, a huge area opened up. Maybe it was for big tractors or small airplanes or giant keg parties. All Jordan knew was that she’d figured out why Ty had fallen so deeply in love with the place.
She wasn’t stupid. This was a man cave.
Testosterone practically dripped from the ceiling. Loud power tool buzzing drowned out Steven Tyler singing about love in an elevator. She stopped, leaned her elbows on a railing that separated the two halves of the stable, and almost drooled while watching the McGee brothers in action.
Man, they looked alike. No wonder she’d almost attacked the wrong brother this morning. They both had that unruly dark and wavy hair and strong, thick chests. And, man, oh man, their asses were as pretty as their eyes.
Trevor turned off the power tool.
Ty stretched toward the radio and turned it down. “Enjoying the show?” he asked without bothering to turn toward her.
“I’d be enjoying it more if it were dripping hot outside and you both had your shirts off.”
Ty swaggered over to her, leaned over the railing, and kissed her long and hard. “So what do you think of the stable?”
“I think it’s in a lot better shape than the house. I also think this man cave is the reason you like this property so much. Tell me you don’t have some macho fantasy about big tractor machines filling up that empty space over there.”
“Are you kidding me?” he said. “That’s where the pool table and dartboard are going. And I gotta have a space for the fridge and TV.”
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes went wide. “You’re putting a TV in a barn? Well hell, let’s just burn down the main house and live in here.”
“Not happening.” Trevor laughed. “You said it yourself—it’s a man cave. Get it? No females.”
She rolled her eyes at Trevor, but she liked him a lot. Watching Ty interact with his brother was great fun. At the same time, her thoughts turned to Katy. How could she not wonder what her relationship with her sister would have been like had Katy lived? Would they have been as close as Ty and Trevor? She hoped so.
Her thoughts nosedived further and turned to her dad. Guilt struck with the speed of a lightning bolt as she wondered if she’d be a different person right now—less angry, less cynical—if she’d figured out that her father might not have been a criminal after all.
“You okay?” Ty asked.
She glanced at him and nodded. “I’m fine.” The man was dangerously perceptive to every subtle shift of her thoughts. It seemed wise to avoid any prolonged eye contact.
He lifted her chin gently. “Hey, what is it?”
“Nothing.” She jerked her face away from his touch.
He stepped around the wood railing and put his hands on her hips. Not in the sweet, sexy way he usually did, but with a firm grip that meant business. “Don’t do that to me. Anytime you want to leave here, we will. Just say the word.”
“Stop. It’s nothing to do with the house.”
“Okay.” His expression softened and he leaned closer. “Is it something to do with your dad? Did you talk to Bahan?”
She nodded again. “I talked to him this morning. Bahan’s looking into everything for me. But he’s crazy busy so it’ll be a week or so before he has any answers.” And as badly as she needed answers about her past, she also needed to figure out her future. She touched her lips to Ty’s. “I’m fine. Really. I just thought if you had some rags and a bucket out here, I might wipe down the kitchen. Or I could take Molly and go buy cleaning supplies and food.”
Okay, the last suggestion was made purely to get a rise out of him. She wanted to see him wiggle his way out of forking over the keys after claiming she could drive his truck whenever she wanted.
“I didn’t bring you here to clean or cook, baby. I can pay people to do that.”
Oh, he was good. Managed to say the words with very little panic in his tone or his expression. She stepped away from Ty and browsed through the tools. “You know, while you guys work on getting the heat going, I could even drive back to Saint Louis, pack up a bunch of stuff we might need,” she offered.
Trevor snorted. “Wow, that sounds like a great idea. Why don’t you give her the keys, Ty?”
If there had been any doubt about how much she liked Trevor, there was none now. He clearly had a perfect understanding of Ty’s neurosis concerning Molly.
Ty stared between her and Trevor. “I know what you’re doing. Sure, make fun of the guy with the nice vehicle. Just because you two are content driving around in your shit-mobiles, don’t pick on me because I’ve got a little class.”
Trevor hooted. “Jordan, look up class on Dictionary-dot-com. See if there’s a picture of Ty’s giant redneck truck next to the definition.”
Trevor wore the same shit-eating grin she’d thought only Ty had perfected. Jordan folded over in laughter.
“Screw you,” Ty said. But he was smiling.
“You can drive my truck if you really want to,” he said, although he made no move to hand over the keys. “I really just want you to look around, decide if you like it here or not.”
She liked the place more than she was prepared to admit. But buying a house with Ty was a lot to take on. Everything about the idea scared the crap out of her.
He narrowed his eyes. “Relax. It’s a house, not a jail. If we decide a year from now it’s too much, we’ll sell it.”
“I call bullshit,” Trevor mumbled.
“Stay out of it,” Ty shot back at him.
“He’s only been in love with the place since he was six.” Trevor smirked at her. “No pressure, though, if you don’t like it.”
Ty’s jaw clenched. His lips set in a grim line as he glared at Trevor for a long moment. “Could you just shut up?”
“Could you just be honest?” Trevor answered without skipping a beat.
“Listen, girls . . .” Jordan slid between them, trying to understand what had caused the sudden rise in tension. “Before we have a full-blown catfight, let me say that the property is beautiful and I do like it. I just don’t know why we need so much space. Or a stable. Don’t horses require a lot of care, not to mention time? With our jobs, spare time isn’t something either of us has.”
Ty shrugged, but Jordan could tell he was irritated. Maybe with Trevor. Or maybe with her reservations and questions.
“Just because we have a stable doesn’t mean we have to have horses,” he said.
Trevor hacked out a cough.
Jordan was pretty sure she caught the word bullshit grumbled in the middle of it.
“Has he told you he already owns three horses he keeps over on Pop’s farm?” Trevor asked.
Given the fact that Jordan specialized in narcotics investigations and she’d dealt with the oddest and most violent fringes of society, very little shocked her. But Tyler McGee threw her one curveball right after another.
Ty shot Trevor a death stare. “What’s your problem? Why can’t you mind your own business?”
“Because she deserves to know how much you love this place,” Trevor shot back. “And how many times over the years you considered buying it and letting Tara take
care of the horses. If Jordan doesn’t know, don’t get pissed when she questions why you want this place so bad.”
Jordan’s chest tightened with a painful realization. She looked between the guys as they squared off, both of them still so raw from the loss of their sister.
“Living here won’t bring Tara back.” Trevor picked up a Thermos from the ground. “I’m getting more coffee.”
Ty was rigid with anger, but Jordan couldn’t help being grateful for Trevor’s interference. At least now she understood. Ty wanted to buy the Henderson property as a way of holding on to Tara’s memory.
Trevor stomped out of the barn. More than anything, she wanted to tell him that he was wrong—Tara’s spirit had been all around them since Ty pulled onto the property yesterday. But she kept her mouth shut. The less you acted like a freak and the less you talked about being a freak, the better chance you had of not being treated like one.
Ty pulled off his work gloves. “I hate it when he’s right.” He threw the gloves down, hung his head, and sighed. Then plodded to a wood bench and sat.
Jordan hated the pained look that aged his face whenever Tara was on his mind. She understood, more than she cared to, how the murder of a loved one forever altered a person’s life. Her throat swelled and cut off her words for a moment. After her own fucked-up past, the very least she should be capable of was helping Ty. But here she stood, silent and as incapable as ever.
Finally she dropped down next to him, bumped her shoulder against his. “Would it help if I got naked?”
The comment, so wildly inappropriate, made him grin. “Haven’t you already done enough of that for one day?”
She laughed. After a long moment of silence, she said, “Does the reason you want this farm have something to do with memories of your sister?”
“Maybe.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Maybe not. I loved this place long before Tara was even born. At one time, rumor had it that the Henderson’s were one of the wealthiest families in Missouri. I told you how they’d open up their farm for Halloween. They also hosted several weddings. The stable was so cool and the house was just amazing. And they always had the most beautiful horses roaming the pastures.
Protecting the Dream (A Dream Seeker Novella Book 2) Page 5
