The Nymph's Curse: The Collection

by Danica Winters

  “Hello?” Harper answered.

  He cleared his throat, unsure of exactly what he should say. “Hi. How’s it going? Your chin okay?”

  There was a long silence. “Who is this?” she finally answered.

  “Sorry,” he said with an awkward laugh. “This is Chance. Chance Landon? We met yesterday. At the casino.”

  The pause from the other end of the line made a thin film of sweat rise in his hand.

  “Yes, Chance. I know who you are,” she said, her voice growing higher in pitch. “I’m surprised you called.”

  He was shocked. Didn’t most men she gave her number to call? Or did she not give out her number very often? He hoped for the latter.

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you a little more about Carey. I tried to get a hold of her this evening, but she didn’t answer her phone.”

  Harper sucked in a breath. “I’m working on some things right now, why don’t you meet me at my sister’s house?”

  He grabbed a pen and wrote down the address she gave him on the hotel’s stationary.

  “And hey,” she continued. “You aren’t some serial killer or something, are you? I can trust you, right?”

  He snickered. “If I were a serial killer I think it would be a little too late to ask the question — I already have your address.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of confidence you just instilled in me.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’m not that kind of man. You have nothing to worry about from me.” He caught himself. “I mean as long as you don’t gamble.”

  “Nope. Not a gambler.”

  It was too bad. He would have liked for her to take a gamble on him.

  Chapter Five

  Specks of dust splashed up into the thin sunbeam streaming through the curtains of the long neglected spare bedroom. The specks danced in lonely circles as Harper sat the collapsed cardboard moving boxes she carried onto the floor.

  The roar of a truck echoed through the still room as it pulled into the driveway. She stood up and peered out of the window, careful to stay behind the drapes so Chance couldn’t see her watching. Hopefully he wasn’t anticipating getting any wealth of knowledge from her about Carey. For all she knew the woman could have been a princess or a fraud — the man had to know more about her than she did.

  He looked strikingly handsome in his western style denim jacket, and the fur collar accented his well-loved white cowboy hat. The hat was so low she couldn’t see his eyes or the medium length brown locks that lay underneath.

  Chance stopped on the path that led up to the front door and rearranged his jacket as if he was shaking away his nerves. The simple action brought a smile to Harper’s face. Maybe he hadn’t come here only with the intention of learning more about Carey. Maybe it was possible he had come here to learn about Harper as well. It was a silly, immature hope that he would be interested in her, and Harper tried to tamper the thought as she made her way downstairs.

  When she was halfway down the creaking steps, there was a knock at the door, but she didn’t speed up.

  She stopped behind the door and took in a long breath. He’d only come with questions, nothing more.

  There was another rap of his knuckles against the door. “Harper? You home?”

  She slid back the lock and opened the front door. “Hi, Chance. Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just upstairs trying to get started on boxing up the house.”

  “No problem. You need help?”

  “No, but thanks. This’s my sister’s house. I’m just getting things in order to sell. Why don’t you come in?”

  There was a moment of awkward silence as he walked in and stood by the door. “Um, thanks.”

  Some of her nerves melted away. If he was here to sweep her off her feet, he was making a poor showing. She had been silly to read her own daft hopes into the meaning of his visit.

  “So what would you like to know?” She was so uncomfortable around him, her toes curled. “I mean about Carey. I promise I told you everything she told me.”

  “I’m sure.” He glanced around the room like he was lost in the small 1950s two-story house. “Where’s your sister? Is she coming back tonight to help you get things ready for the sale?”

  The pain of his words was immediate. People had to keep pulling at the stitches she had put on her heart and reopening the painful wound of her sister’s untimely demise. Maybe she needed to wear a sign that read Yes, my sister is dead. Maybe people would leave her alone and she could sequester the pain away.

  “My sister, Jenna, died a few weeks ago in Montana. I just came down for the services and to get all of her affairs in order before I get back to work.”

  His tight, nervous expression went slack. “Oh my God, Harper. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” she lied. “It’s all going to be taken care of soon. Then I can get back to Seattle.”

  “Seattle, huh?”

  “The Emerald City.”

  “I thought that was in The Wizard of Oz.”

  She couldn’t control the laugh that slipped from her tired body. “Yes, like Oz. There’s no place like home.” She clicked her heels.

  He gave a quick nervous laugh as he pulled off his cowboy hat, revealing his disheveled locks. He dropped his arm and curled the brim in his fingertips. Watching him stand there at full nervous attention, she couldn’t help the feeling that she was making him endure some kind of mental torture — even a human man had to feel the emotional weight of this mournful place.

  “Hey, why don’t we get out of here?” She offered. “I need a break. I’ve been working all day.”

  His fingers relaxed on the brim of his hat. “That would be great. What are you hungry for?”

  She was hungry for a lot of things; she was hungry for escape, hungry for a task that would take her mind off Jenna’s death, and more than anything she was hungry to get back home and back to work — but he didn’t need to know anything about how much she hurt. “Is there a nice French restaurant close? I could really use a baguette and maybe a little basil salmon terrine.” Her mouth watered as she thought of her favorite dish. “In Seattle I get it every Tuesday.”

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hold on, let me just call the butler and the chauffeur.” Laughing at his ill-witted joke, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket and glanced up at her for validation of his humor.

  It wasn’t hard to hold back her smile.

  “Come on now, I was just kidding. Can’t you take a week off?” he asked with a slight tone of remorse. “I don’t think we have many choices. I only saw a fast food joint and a buffet place a few miles back. I don’t think they have anything that fancy around here — they’re not quite up to Seattle standards.”

  She tried to control the anger as it clambered up from the depths of her soul. If he didn’t like her for who and what she was, than he had no business spending any more time with her. “Look. I may be a little stuck in my ways, but I find comfort in things I can control. If you can’t appreciate that, then why don’t you just ask me what you came here for and be on your way?”

  He stepped back at the attack. “I was only kidding. Don’t be upset with me. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  Guilt filled her. He had only been playing. He hadn’t meant anything — she’d been too harsh. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Chance.”

  She ran her hands over her face and down her hair. “I know you didn’t mean anything. I’m just exhausted.”

  He dropped his hat on the table by the door, next to Jenna’s keys. “Here, why don’t you sit down and take a break. Maybe we can go out later?”

  Chance grabbed her hand, and his fingers curled around hers as if he had touched her a thousand times before. He led her to the couch and made her sit down. She tho
ught to resist, but her tired body didn’t want to fight his kindness. Moving to the recliner, he grabbed a crocheted blanket and laid it across her lap. “Here. Just take a break. I’ll make us some dinner and we can talk.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “I’m afraid there isn’t much in the house.”

  “I’m a bachelor.” Chance smiled brightly. “If there’s a bottle of ketchup and some cheese I can make something for us to eat.”

  He wasn’t here to antagonize her, only to be a friend — in fact, her only friend.

  “Thanks, Chance.”

  He dipped his head like he was dipping his cowboy hat in acknowledgment. “We all have tough days. And losing a loved one is about the toughest days of them all.”

  Chance turned and walked into the kitchen. The sounds of cupboards opening and shutting and a few muttered obscenities filtered out into the living room.

  A little flutter rose up from her belly and her body clenched — the sensation came as a shock. It had been a long time since she had felt anything like this — this desire. She brushed the feelings off. It was only her nymphish desires playing tricks on her.

  “Harper?” he called out, but his voice was off, drawing her concern.

  “What?”

  “I think you should come in here.”

  Throwing off the blanket, she got up and strode toward the kitchen. “Is she out of ketchup? I’m telling you maybe it’s better if we go out.” Turning the corner, Chance came into view. In his hand was a box of popcorn shrimp. “Oh, it’s not salmon terrine, but at least shrimp are in the same realm,” she said, passing him a weak smile. “I think she keeps her … I mean I think she kept her cookie sheets down — ”

  “We won’t need a cookie sheet.” Chance tipped the opened box and a white bag slid out and into his hand. “Do you know what this is?”

  The bag was taped shut. “I’m guessing it isn’t shrimp?”

  Chance held out his hand so she could more closely inspect the square. “Far from it. From what I know about drugs, which ain’t much, I think it’s heroin.”

  Harper sucked in a breath. She knew Jenna had gotten involved with some less than seemly characters of late, but she hadn’t known exactly how far her sister had fallen.

  Chance pushed the square back into the blue box. “Did you know?”

  “That my sister had a real taste for popcorn shrimp?” She tried in vain to make light of the situation, but from the look on Chance’s face there was no easy way out. “No,” she answered. “I didn’t know. We had a bit of a falling out a few years ago and I hadn’t seen her since. I’ve just been hearing things about her, and up to this point I was hoping that most of them had been distorted by hearsay. I guess people weren’t too far off.”

  “Unfortunately I don’t think they were.”

  She took the box and lifted out the square. “And you’re wrong, this isn’t heroin. I don’t know what it is, but heroin is normally brown or black if it’s high quality.”

  “Oh, really? Do you know about drugs?”

  “It happens to be my job. I’m a pharmacologist. I work with drugs for a living. I know how to make them, test them, and sell them to the public. The only thing I don’t do is use them.”

  “Well if you know so much, how do you think we should go about getting rid of this stuff?”

  The box was heavy in her hands. There were a few ways they could get rid of the drugs, but Harper wasn’t sure getting rid of it was the right move. Not until she understood everything. Not until she could understand what her sister had been doing with them.

  Jenna couldn’t have needed the drugs, not as a nymph — most drugs had little effect. She had to have been selling. And if she was selling, she had to have a dealer. Harper thought of the razor and shaving supplies upstairs on the bathroom counter. The way the razor had been laid out on the sink was as if whoever had used it had thought he was coming back. If the dealer had known Jenna had been killed, he would have come already and gotten all signs of himself and his drugs out of her house — or at the very least he would have tried to get all of his drugs out so he could sell them to someone else.

  Her mind was going crazy and moving into the realm of asinine. Jenna wouldn’t have dated a drug dealer. At least not the Jenna she had known.

  “So?” Chance asked, pulling her from the melee of her thoughts.

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “You weren’t thinking about snorting it, were you?” He passed her a wicked grin.

  “Like I said, I don’t use drugs. I let others do that.” She forced a tired smile. “I think we should call the police and let them know that we have found a stash.”

  “I don’t think getting the police involved is the right idea. I mean, your sister’s already passed, what good would come of dragging her memory into a drug raid?”

  He was right, but she couldn’t come to terms with not letting someone know that they had found a stash of unknown drugs. “I’m sure they wouldn’t do a full investigation.”

  “Really?” He leaned back against the counter, resting his hands on the mustard-yellow laminate. “You haven’t had much experience with law enforcement, have you?”

  “To be honest, the only time I’ve talked to the police was when they notified me about my sister’s death.”

  Chance reached out and waited for her to hand him the box. “Let me tell you something about the police. I mean, I have the utmost respect for most of them, but they are only about the job. Everything has to be done in redundancy — and here, in this small Idaho town, where there isn’t much on the social spectrum for scandal — something like this will most certainly make the news. Everyone will want to know about your sister and her past.” He pushed the tabs on the box shut. “And from what you’ve told me about Jenna, I don’t think you’d want her truth to be known.”

  She let out a long sigh. He was correct, but not just in the sense that she didn’t want her sister’s activities to be broadcast — she couldn’t let the media get close enough to notice the peculiarities that came with a nymph’s past.

  “If you let me, I have an idea.” Chance tucked the box under his arm and then took her hand. “Why don’t we go into the bathroom and dump it down the toilet? That way no one can get their hands on the drugs and no one can trace them back to this house or your sister, or worse — you.”

  Chapter Six

  The water in the toilet bowl swirled, carrying what was probably thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs down the drain. Harper dumped the empty box into the bin next to the commode.

  “Well, we have that taken care of,” she said, wiping her hands together, “but I’m still hungry. Why don’t we just go out? I don’t want to think about what you’d find next if you kept digging in my sister’s kitchen.” She gave a weak smile, but from the tone of her voice Chance could tell she was having a hard time with the thought of her sister’s illicit activities.

  The poor woman needed a break. He hated the thought of asking her more about Carey; Harper already had enough misery on her hands.

  “Sounds great,” he said, trying not to notice the way Harper’s beautiful brunette hair had broken loose of the constraints of her hair tie. “It’s been a long time since I took a woman on a real date.”

  “Date?” She jerked. “I’m not sure if we had a misunderstanding somewhere along the line here, but I’m not interested in dating anyone right now. I’m going back to Seattle as soon as possible.”

  He shouldn’t have been hurt by the words that rolled from her tongue like a well-practiced line, but he couldn’t help himself. Damn him and damn his ego. Of course a woman like her — strong, independent, and professional — wouldn’t want to take up with a man like him. From all his time reading people, it was easy to see she wasn’t interested in a man without a “real” job, a “real” income, o
r a “real” life. He couldn’t blame her. On paper there wasn’t much he could offer to a woman as far as a relationship. He was gone all the time and in his profession there was the stigma of lies and deceit.

  Hell, maybe she was right in thinking she was too good for him.

  “Okay. That’s fine. I can just get going.”

  “No.” She paused as if she was trying to recover from making the mistake of telling him what she really thought. He gave her a dry smile. She hadn’t made a mistake. She had spoken plainly and told him exactly how she felt. There was no going back now.

  “Don’t misunderstand me, Chance. I want to go, but I just don’t want you to think I’m looking for anything other than a friend. Let’s face it, you and I are too different to make anything work — at least on any other level than friendship.”

  “Well, aren’t you blunt?”

  “I’ve been around.”

  He smirked. “You have, have you?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Her cheeks grew a shade pinker. “I only meant that I’m not nineteen. I’m not falling for some guy — no matter how good looking he is — just because he’s standing in front of me.”

  His smirk turned into a full on smile — one he couldn’t control. “So you think I’m good looking?”

  “Dang you. I can’t win, can I?” She stormed out of the bathroom, but not before he saw the smile on her lips. “Let’s just go get some dinner. And no more questions.”

  • • •

  Who did Chance Landon think he was? Just because he was handsome and had the devil’s charm didn’t mean she would give him any part of her heart. And if he were smart, he wouldn’t give her any part of his.

  So far she had missed having the men she cared about crushed by the curse of the nymphs. She had let no man fall in love with her, not even her ex-husband who she’d always held at arm’s length. It was her intention to keep any man from loving her and being struck down by a tragic death — and to stop herself from following down a path Jenna had frequented.