“Yes. We did fairly high fences today—he’s had enough.” I laid my forehead against my horse’s warm neck. A knot of pain was developing between my temples. I’d slept fitfully in Sam’s twin bed, my dreams spinning into nightmares of Dothan being killed. How did I end up infatuated with a guy whose future was doomed?
“I was watching you,” he said.
A tiny thrill danced up my spine. “Oh?” I tossed my brush back into my tack box and grabbed a grooming cloth.
“You’re amazing. How did you learn to do that?”
“Years of practice.” Warm blood crept up my neck to redden my cheeks and feed my pounding temples. “I used to compete in horse shows pretty regularly.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“No,” I answered firmly, my voice edged with pain. Showing was something I’d done with my mother. I gave it up the day she died.
He didn’t press the issue. Instead he held out a hoof pick for me. “Hooves?”
“Already done. But thanks.” I gently wiped Beau’s eyes and mouth with the cloth, trying to calm my frazzled nerves with the final task of the grooming routine. Tension continued to emanate from Dothan in waves. I felt very certain he was about to hit me with some sort of emotional bomb.
Nothing detonated, however, as we returned Beau to his stall and collected my things. Most likely because Dothan remained silent the entire time, and as hard as I tried, I was unable to read his mind.
He followed me to my car, carrying my saddle with his usual ease. I popped my hatch and he settled it on the bright blue plastic saddle stand inside. I tucked my grooming kit in the open area underneath and laid the bridle on a towel. “I should really clean my tack today,” I said in a shaky voice. Would Dothan try to kiss me goodbye? He shuffled his boots in the dirt, appearing almost as nervous as I felt.
“Well, I guess I’ll get going,” I added finally. Dothan reached toward me, and my heart lurched to a stop in a violent seizure. But he just opened the driver’s side door and stood back.
“So, you’re cleaning your tack today?” he asked.
I slid into the seat, trying to remember to breathe. “Yes. But that doesn’t take very long,” I added. Too eager, Jamie, I silently scolded. Control yourself.
He leaned on the open door, peering at me thoughtfully. “I could come by later…when I’m done here.”
I gulped, picturing the two of us alone in my apartment. “Um…okay. I’ll be around.” Sad but true. My one friend had already devoted her Friday night to me.
He nodded. “See you later, then.” Closing the door gently, he stood back and waited for me to start my car.
Ordering my hand to stop shaking, I jammed my key in the ignition and twisted. Nothing happened. Instead of rumbling to life, my engine responded with dead silence as I repeatedly turned the key.
Of course. I cursed inwardly, rubbing my aching forehead. An open bottle of water rested in the cup holder, and I took a quick swig. Better.
Dothan’s face appeared in my window, his brow furrowed with concern. The door opened and he peered down at me. “Everything all right?”
“My car won’t start,” I explained with a shrug. “It was fine earlier.” Shaking my head, I downed the rest of the water.
“Can I try?”
I looked at him skeptically. “I know how to turn the ignition. Nothing’s happening.” But I exchanged places with him, hiding a satisfied smirk when he received the same results. I had no business smiling, I reminded myself. Without my own mode of transportation, my life would truly dwindle into a state of atrophy.
He climbed back out, unfolding his long body from my tiny car gracefully. “Do you know anything about engines?” he asked. His tawny eyes bored into mine as if he were interrogating me about something much more vital than the subject at hand.
I couldn’t think of any reason to lie. “I know where it’s located. That’s about it,” I admitted with a heavy sigh.
He chuckled as he reached back inside the car to release the hood. “Mind if I take a look then?”
“Be my guest.” I made a magnanimous sweeping gesture toward the front of the car with my hand.
His dark blond hair fell forward as he studied the uncooperative engine. I watched the sunlight play on the thick golden streaks, my stomach muscles tightening with a potent mix of desire and envy. What I wouldn’t give to have hair like that, I thought as I twirled a lock of my own loose brown curls. My fingers itched to touch his messy, silken strands.
“Looks like a blown fuse,” he said, pulling me from my private reverie. I blushed as his own grimy fingers pushed a piece of hair behind his right ear.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you can’t just flip a switch to fix it,” I grumbled. Reality was starting to sink in—how would I find the money for a repair bill? Nathaniel always helped me when I needed it, but I hated to ask him for more than he already gave me.
“No,” he agreed, smiling crookedly at my ignorance. “But it’s an easy fix once I have a new fuse.” He removed the rod propping the hood of the car up and closed it with a firm push. “How about this? I’ll take a break right now to drive you home, and maybe on the way we can pick up some sandwiches. Then I’ll stop by the hardware store on my way back so I can fix this later.”
Oh. A lunch date at my place. The kiss flashed thought my mind again, sending my heart into a series of frenzied palpitations. I stared at my riding boots, using a curtain of hair to shield my reaction. “Um, sure,” I managed to choke out. I tried to focus on the mundane parts of his suggestion. “But I’ll need to pay you back. For both the parts and the labor.”
His lips twitched with amusement. “A new fuse is like a dollar. And the labor consists of replacing the old one with the new one. Not too strenuous.” He reached out and tipped my chin up, his calloused thumb igniting the surrounding skin. “I’ll fix it,” he said, his voice suddenly rough with something that sounded like anger.
Had I insulted him somehow? Perhaps I had implied he wasn’t a competent mechanic. Or that he couldn’t afford the part. I chewed on my lip, thinking of the crumpled bills he’d handed over at the shop.
“If you’re sure,” I said shakily. A dollar wasn’t worth arguing over, and his electric touch always scrambled my brain. “Can I at least buy lunch?”
“No,” he said decisively. Circling around to the back of the car, he popped the hatch and lifted my saddle. “Let’s move your stuff.”
We transferred everything of value into his car and left mine sitting in the makeshift dirt parking lot by the barn. His fingers drifted toward the radio knob as we passed the White’s house, but he remembered my aversion to music and stopped himself before I even opened my mouth. He took my hand instead, and the tingle pulsed through my veins, warming my flesh. You’re fine, I reminded myself. But that nagging feeling of anxiety lingered, feeding my headache. And it wasn’t just the idea of being alone with Dothan. Something else beyond my understanding was going on here.
He confirmed my suspicions as we turned onto the road. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb across my hand.
Alarm bells rang distantly in my head, adding a musical score to the pain. “It’s not your fault.” I cut my gaze to the left to study him surreptitiously. A tiny muscle jumped along the hard line of his jaw.
“These things happen,” I added cautiously. He continued to stare out the dusty windshield, lost in his own thoughts.
I waited for him to respond, watching his grip tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white under the oily smudges. But only the quiet hum of his functioning engine penetrated the silence. I searched my mind for something else to say as a small knot of fear settled in my chest.
Chapter 16
The food helped. I focused on not tearing enormous bites out of my half of the sub as we sat across from each other in my apartment. I hadn’t realized how ravenous I was. The soda in particular eased the pounding between my temples. Closing my eyes,
I took another long sip of the sweet, bubbly caffeine.
“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. His mood had lightened on the drive as the woods along the roadside yielded to groups of shops in little plazas. We’d stopped at the deli counter of a little country store for turkey subs, sodas, and chips. I’d kept the conversation going with chatter about Sam’s big night game the following weekend. As the self-appointed team mascot, it was almost as important to me. Not only were they playing their main rivals, but the girls were getting their turn under the high school lights—something they’d had to fight for, since night games were usually the dominion of the boys’ teams.
“Much better,” I answered, savoring another cool sip. “I had a headache earlier, but it’s going away.”
His eyebrows drew together in concern. “Why didn’t you say something? We could have picked up something at the store.”
“I have ibuprofen here. But really, it’s going away.”
He slid his chair back. “I’ll get you some. Where is it?”
“I can get it,” I pointed out, even as my heart did a quick little flip. It was nice to have a gorgeous man care about my comfort.
“You’re still eating.” He nodded toward his sandwich wrapper, which was empty save for some stray bits of shredded lettuce. “Where do you keep it?” he asked again, crumpling the paper from his lunch into a ball.
“In the cabinet right next to the fridge,” I said, taking another bite. I was suddenly pleased I kept the ibuprofen next to my vitamins in the kitchen, and not in the bathroom closet with my industrial-sized box of tampons and the sticky retainer I never bothered to wear.
He returned quickly, offering up two tablets from the palm of his now-clean hands. I swallowed them gratefully, chasing the pills with the last of my soda. He moved behind me to settle his fingers lightly on my shoulders.
“Okay?” he murmured, gently kneading the muscles at the base of my neck with his thumbs.
“Mmm.” I closed my eyes as his strong fingers melted the tension from my upper body. One hand drifted up past my shirt to cup my neck, adding a warm tingle to the massage. He gently played with pieces of my hair with his other hand. The pain had disappeared, replaced by an intense pleasure I never wanted to end.
“I should go soon,” he said, forcing me back to reality. His hands slid down over my shoulders to rest on my upper arms. “But I was thinking…before I go, do you think you could show me those rare books you store here? I’d be really interested to see them.”
Huh? My eyes flew open, as if vision would help me process this bizarre turn of events. I bit down on my lip, a sliver of my earlier anxiety returning to stab at the pit of my stomach. His request seemed calculated, despite the forced casualness of his voice.
“Um, I’m not sure if I should do that.” I turned my head, craning my neck in a futile attempt to gauge his expression. But with him standing behind me, I could only see his strong hands, still wrapped around my upper arms. His fingers tightened to a grip that suddenly made me feel trapped.
“Oh,” he said, clearly disappointed. “Sorry for suggesting it, then. I just find that kind of thing fascinating. Weird, I know,” he added with a derisive laugh.
I could believe that part, I thought as my mind flashed back to the extravagant purchase he’d made at our store. And while it seemed like a strange hobby for an 18-year-old guy, it was the kind of thing that kept Huntsville Vintage in business.
He combed his fingers through the length of my hair. “It’s okay. I should get to the store to pick up that new fuse anyway.”
Guilt washed over me. I reconsidered his request, shifting through the potential ramifications. I didn’t believe he would try to steal a valuable book from us.
It really wasn’t a big deal, I decided. As long as I was right there and we took the proper precautions. “You know what? It’s fine. Nathaniel won’t mind,” I added, hoping it was true.
He pulled my chair back purposefully. I was stunned once again by the beauty of his face. His eyes shone with excitement as they met mine. He brushed his knuckles across my cheek and my doubts momentarily fled.
But they returned as I opened the unlocked door at the top of the staircase. I came into this part of the house all the time when Nathaniel wasn’t here—it was an extension of my home. Now, though, I felt like an intruder as we silently descended the stairs to the main floor.
“You’ll have to wear gloves,” I told him, my voice an unsteady whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Even though you washed your hands earlier. We keep some in the safe with the books.” I led him into Nathaniel’s room, my pulse thudding uncomfortably.
“Of course,” he murmured agreeably. “How many do you keep in there?”
“I think just three. But it’s been a while since I looked in there.” We crossed the room to the closet. “They’re original copies from the 17th and 18th centuries.”
“It’s not just their age that makes them so valuable,” I prattled on, unable to control my nervous chatter. “They’re considered rare, which is determined by supply and demand. And by the condition of the books,” I added, opening the closet door. The safe was inside, on a sturdy table taking up the space where a spouse’s clothes would have hung, had Nathaniel ever married.
“The oldest one is also transcribed by hand, which became more unusual after the invention of the printing press in the 1400s.”
I sounded like a crazy book geek. Shut up, I ordered myself, as I reached a trembling finger toward the keypad. Dothan was leaning forward expectantly, his breath in my ear. “Um…,” I trailed off, not sure how to tell him to avert his eyes.
“Oh, right,” he said, taking a step away and turning his face toward Nathaniel’s collection of tweed jackets and cardigan sweaters. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s just, you know, not my property.” A fresh wave of guilt lapped at my conscience. “No one is really supposed to know they’re here. Or that I know the code,” I finished, punching in the numbers. How had I come to tell him all that personal information anyway? I’d put myself in this situation with my incessant babbling. Was I really so hungry for conversation that I’d deliberately ignored Nathaniel’s instructions and just offered up family secrets? I couldn’t remember, but I was a lonely teenage girl. It was a pathetic excuse, but it was all I had.
The safe opened with a click. I swung the door open to reveal three antique leather-bound books, each sandwiched carefully between individual bookends. Legal papers were tucked away to the sides. “Okay. There’s only one set of gloves, so you should put them on before you pick them up.”
He nodded, reaching for the white cotton gloves resting in front of the volumes. Slipping them on, he gently pulled the oldest book out of its slot.
“That’s the handwritten one. Handwritten in Latin, that is,” I pointed out as he opened the worn, cracked leather to study the title page. A broken strap dangled uselessly off the right side of the back cover. “But I suppose that doesn’t present a huge obstacle to you.”
He laughed. “I can read Latin.” He turned the pages gingerly, supporting the delicate spine with his left hand.
“Well, I can’t,” I replied, losing interest. I got my fill of old books at work. With a shake of my head, I left him standing in the closet doorway and flopped onto Nathaniel’s bed.
My mind wandered as Dothan studied a page intently. I understood being obsessive about a hobby, but this was beyond strange. Here we were, two teenagers alone in an empty house, and this was what we were up to. It was disheartening, really: I was actually lying on a bed, and the guy who had kissed me so passionately a few days ago was standing a few feet away, oblivious, his nose buried in an ancient book.
I sighed, letting my eyelids drift shut. They snapped open a second later at the sound of his voice.
“This is really cool artwork. Do you mind if I take a picture of it with my phone?”
“Oh,” I mumbled, uncertain. “I don’t know abou
t that. The flash—”
He cut me off, his voice sharp as a blade. “Why is there a picture of you in your boss’s bedroom?” He stood frozen, staring past me to the bedside table.
I followed his gaze to the framed photo of me. My image smiled back from under the glass, holding up a pair of ribbons at a horse show. I couldn’t see anything alarming enough about the picture to warrant his reaction. Then it hit me. “Because Nathaniel’s my grandfather,” I said, blinking at him. Did he really not know that?
“No,” he said slowly. “He can’t be your grandfather.”
“Well, he is.” Anger bubbled up, stinging my throat. Did he think Nathaniel was some creeper who preyed on young girls?
“He can’t be,” Dothan repeated. “Nathaniel Abrams never had children. It’s not possible.”
Something was going on here that I didn’t understand. Dothan glared at me, the book in his gloved hands now forgotten.
“Maybe this will be difficult for you to understand, but family isn’t necessarily always about genetics,” I snapped. “Nathaniel has done much more for me than any man in my life, and that includes my loser of a father! We became a family because we truly loved each other, and for all intents and purposes, he is my grandfather!” My words rang through the bedroom.
“Oh, no,” Dothan moaned, his shoulders sagging as though he’d just been saddled with an unbearable burden.
A booming voice cut into the tension. “Put the book down,” ordered Nathaniel from the bedroom doorway.
Chapter 17
“Nathaniel!” I cried, scrambling to sit up on the bed. “What are you doing here?”
He cut his gaze over to me quickly, emerald fire blazing in his eyes. “There’s a silent alarm on the safe—it calls me when the keypad is touched.” He shifted his attention back to Dothan. “I know who you are. Put the book down.”
Nathaniel took a step forward, and the dull metal of a handgun caught my eye. Fear churned in my stomach as I stared at the weapon in my kind grandfather’s hand. It pointed down, toward the floor, with a terrifying contraption that I guessed was a silencer.
Divine Fall Page 10
