Tails of Ugly Creek

by Cheryel Hutton

  “Look, you overgrown pond scum.” I poked him with my finger to drive home the point. “I don’t give a flea’s ass what you say to me. It’s when you insult one of the wisest, nicest, most giving people I’ve ever met that you get me upset. You can question all you want, and I’m sure Aunt Octavia would be happy to discuss her ability with you. It’s when you get all smarter-than-thou with a woman who knew more before she was born than either of us will ever know that you make me want to use your head to practice pounding in nails. Understand, or do you need bigger words?”

  I took one step back, holding him with my glare. For a moment I was a little concerned he might faint or something equally pathetic, instead he closed his eyes and let his head drop forward. After a moment, there was a big sigh, and he met my gaze. “Was I that bad?”

  “Worse.”

  He sighed again and dropped into the nearest chair. “So I’ve lowered myself to the point of insulting eccentric old ladies. Whatever you want to do to me, Terri. Go ahead, I deserve it.”

  There’s not really a smell of sincerity, but the scent that came off Hunter was the closest I’d ever encountered. I sighed. “You have no idea how you come across to other people, do you?”

  “Apparently not.”

  I sat on the edge of the couch, facing him. “I don’t understand why you have your knickers in a wad over the supernatural stuff in Ugly Creek. What difference does it make whether it’s true or not? What business is it of yours either way?”

  “You got me, it’s not. I told myself that I was trying to protect unwary people from losing their money to crooks—”

  “Nobody asked for any damn money.”

  “I know, Terri. It was just all I had.”

  “Except for the truth.”

  His gaze was on his shoes as he nodded. “Except for that.”

  “You’re trying to impress somebody. I’d guess the ‘he’ Aunt Octavia was talking about.”

  He met my gaze then, and there was pain there. “Yeah. If you didn’t tell her anything, then she found out some other way that my dad and I don’t get along.”

  “Because she has nothing better to do than research random people just so she can put on a private show for no apparent reason.”

  “The alternative is…disconcerting.”

  “And by disconcerting, you mean scares the pee out of you.”

  He laughed. “I love the way you just come out and say it like you see it.”

  I touched his knee. “Tell me about your dad.”

  His lips slowly pulled into a smile. “I’m sitting in your living room and you want to talk about my dad. Not the subject I’d most like to discuss with a beautiful woman.”

  He’d called me beautiful. My inner cheerleaders were shouting and dancing and shaking pompoms for all they were worth. I let them continue their fun as I smiled at the nice man. “Please. I want to understand.”

  He shrugged. “I’m an overachiever determined to please my overachieving parents, especially my dad.”

  I realized I was thirsty, and could hear my mom’s voice reminding me that hospitality was important to humans. “Would you like some sweet tea?”

  “I’d love some.” There was relief in that voice. Happy for the reprieve, or was his mouth dry. Both, probably.

  He followed me into the kitchen. I was pouring the tea when I saw him giving a platter on the table a longing look. “Is it too early for sweets?” I asked.

  “Never.”

  “They’re homemade. Shay and I love making cookies.”

  He grinned. “I prefer eating cookies.”

  I grinned back. “Grab the platter and we’ll relax in the living room.”

  We nibbled cookies and sipped tea for a while before Hunter finally spoke again.

  “Dad is a law professor at Emory University.”

  “Georgia? I thought you’re from Memphis.”

  “Born and lived in Tennessee until my teens, when Dad landed a professorship at Emory and we moved to Georgia. My parents live in Atlanta now.”

  “Your dad sounds like a pretty serious guy.”

  “Very serious.”

  “I’ll bet he wanted his son to go into law.”

  “Wanted isn’t the word. Expected is more the truth.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She usually goes along with Dad. I don’t blame her, it’s easier that way.”

  “Is she a professional too?”

  “She’s a high school history teacher.”

  “And neither one of them would even consider something like Bigfoot could exist.”

  He snorted. “You think I’m opinionated, you should hear my dad.”

  “So, you think that if you prove Ugly Creek is paranormal-free, your Dad will be proud of you?”

  He cringed. “Well, when you say it like that…”

  “Have you considered doing what Auntie O. says and just show him the real you?”

  He looked like I’d just told him to walk naked into a freezer and lock the door. “I’d like to keep my head, thank you.”

  “Maybe he’d understand.”

  “Yeah, and maybe a flock of geese will fly to the moon. Not possible.”

  All at once, laughter poured out of me. “So you Devereux men are the most stubborn creatures on the face of the earth.”

  He leaned back and laughed with me. “It’s entirely possible.”

  I munched on a cookie as I considered that maybe this man wasn’t quite as weird as I thought he was. I noticed his bow tie was skewed, and I reached over to straighten it out. His breath sucked in, and I froze. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” He caught my hand and held it. “You know, I really did come by here to apologize. I know I was out of line yesterday. If you’ll tell me where to find your aunt, I’ll apologize to her also.”

  “She’s not my aunt, everybody just calls her that. I have no idea where she lives either, I don’t think anybody does. She just shows up where she’s needed.”

  There was excitement in his eyes. “Interesting character.”

  “Very.” There was an instant connection between us, an understanding only two writers could experience and share.

  “Hopefully I’ll run into her.” He swallowed and took my hand in both of his. “Would you be willing to point me in the direction of interesting places in Ugly Creek, even if I am pond scum?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you still planning to prove there is nothing super or para here?”

  “I’m not planning anything right now. All I know is that I have a contract to write a book about Ugly Creek, and I could think of worse things to spend my time doing.”

  I considered my options. “You could check out the Eaglehair house. It’s where the original town charter was written. The council met there for years.”

  “And?”

  I lowered my chin and looked up at him with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. “And it’s supposed to be haunted.”

  He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  “I hate to tell you this, handsome, but pretty much anyplace in this town has a hard-to-explain story of some sort.”

  He raised his head, his hazel eyes filled with curiosity. “Did you just call me handsome?”

  I made a point of rolling my eyes. “Yes, but if you tell anybody I’ll deny it happened.”

  He grinned. “Sure thing, gorgeous.”

  My chin dropped, and I knew my mouth was hanging open, but I was so shocked I seriously could not move.

  With the tip of his finger, Hunter pushed up on my chin. He leaned toward me ever so slightly. I stopped breathing. My heart did some kind of funky thing like a butterfly slammed into me.

  He blinked as though awakening and looked at his watch. “I have an interview with the mayor. I’d better get going.”

  Think! I ordered my brain. “She’s nice.”

  “With a name like Paradise, I guess she has a lot to live up to.”r />
  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I understood what he’d just said.

  He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “So you’ll meet me at this Eaglehair house tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, at ten?”

  “Sounds good.” We were on the porch by this time. He brushed a lock of my hair off my face. “See you in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  He leaned toward me again, but this time he didn’t stop until his lips pressed firmly against mine. He pulled back and whispered, “See you tomorrow.” Then he went down the steps and out to his car.

  I watched as he pulled away, not sure what to make of the man or the feelings he stirred up in me.

  “I’ve never seen him before,” Miz C said, her words too soft to be heard by a human ear. “Wonder where he came from.”

  “His name is Hunter Devereux. He’s a writer working on a history of Ugly Creek.”

  Her eyes went wide, likely shocked to hear her barely spoken question answered. For a second she froze, then she seemed to decide to go with the flow. “He’s a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, he is.” I smiled as I turned and headed back into the house. What a day!

  And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

  Chapter Seven

  The Eaglehair house was a plain, white, two-story wooden building. The rectangular structure wasn’t much to look at, sort of a tall box with several windows, a stone foundation, stone chimney on one side, a few wooden steps leading to the front door, three windows on each floor. It looked more like a shoebox than a historically important piece of architecture built in 1774.

  “So this is it, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  Hunter and I were standing in front of the house, gazing up at its total lack of interesting features. It was nine forty-five, and the morning sun was struggling to peer through a thick bank of dark clouds. Cold air blew through the trees and I shivered even through my light jacket. Damn thin Florida blood!

  Hunter put his jacket around my shoulders. The fabric still carried warmth and a masculine, spicy scent. “You don’t have to lend me this,” I told him.

  He shrugged. “I’m not cold.”

  I decided to change the subject. “Sally said that she would be here at ten.”

  “So this isn’t a tourist thing where the house is open regular hours?”

  “Not really. Sally gives tours for groups and stuff, but mostly she just takes care of the place.”

  “Sounds like lost income to me. I didn’t even know the house was still here and that it’s possible to go in.”

  I smiled. “I told you there are a lot of weird tales that come out of this place. Maybe they spread those stories because they want to scare the visitors away.”

  He snorted. “More likely the stories are to increase the number of tourists.”

  “Except they don’t advertise the house.”

  He tightened his mouth as he frowned. “I’m still working on that.”

  A tall, middle-aged woman with a long black braid that bounced against her back as she rushed across the street. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long, I was talking to old Lou Ferguson, and he doesn’t know when to shut up.” She stuck out a hand to Hunter. “Hey, I’m Sally Eaglehair. You must be that city slicker who’s interested in our quiet little slice of God’s green earth.”

  “Hunter Devereux, and from what I’ve heard, this slice isn’t necessarily quiet.”

  I loved Sally’s laugh, and today was no exception. Bright, full, pitched in an oddly low range for such a pretty woman with a higher-pitched speaking voice.

  “I said quiet, not boring. It’s always interesting around here, but not in a bad way.”

  “Your name being Eaglehair, I take it you’re related to the original builders of this house?”

  Sally nodded as she unlocked the front door. “Distant cousin. There’s always somebody to take over care of the house, and this generation it’s mine. I love this old place, I’m so glad there wasn’t anybody else willing and able. I’d have had to fight for the honor.”

  As our hostess went into the building, Hunter leaned so his mouth was near my ear. “What do I do if I see a ghost?”

  I shrugged. “Say hello?”

  He chuckled as he motioned for me to go ahead of him. Gentleman or chicken? I guess we’d see.

  Sally handed each of us a booklet. “There’s a lot of information in here, more than I give on the tours. We offer them for purchase, in case people want more details. You can look all you want. I’ll be around if you have questions.”

  Hunter had some bills out before I could get my hand in my purse. “Keep the change.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you very much. The money will go toward upkeep of the house.” She was still smiling at him over her shoulder as she left the room.

  “I’d have bought my own,” I told him.

  “You’re helping me. It’s only fair.”

  “Sounds reasonable.” I turned and started toward the back, his quiet, but deep-pitched laugh following me as I went.

  First stop was an old-fashioned parlor. This one, so said the booklet, was where the founders of Ugly Creek met to do the founding way back in 1780. “More than two-hundred years ago.”

  A strong hand clasped my shoulder. “This is what I love about writing histories. Research.”

  I smiled into Hunter’s handsome face. He was several inches taller than my five-nine, tall enough that I had to look up. Unusual, most men weren’t much taller than me “Research is one of my favorite things too.”

  “Gonna write a two-hundred year-old parlor into one of your books?”

  “I might.”

  He smiled, and my body tingled in reaction. A sudden urgency to kiss the man all but knocked me off my feet. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never felt this strong a desire in my entire pathetic life. When he turned and walked away, I was relieved I had time and space to get my stupid self together.

  I followed him as we explored the rest of the first floor. There was another parlor, a dining area, the door that led to the summer kitchen, which was located outside—without air conditioning it was too hot to cook inside the house during the summer—and a huge ballroom.

  We mounted the stairs to the second floor, which, not surprisingly, held bedrooms. There were six, furnished and preserved so they looked like they probably did when the original Eaglehair family lived there. I still had Hunter’s jacket around my shoulders, but it kept slipping, so I slid the thing on. The warmth, the spicy smell, the way it was so big it seemed to enclose me in its grasp. I lost myself for a moment to the sensual feel of the garment around me.

  A sharp gasp had me spinning around to find Hunter staring at a beautiful young woman standing just inside the open window.

  “You startled me,” he said. “I didn’t know there was anybody else in here.”

  Her long, straight black hair reached to her waist. A lock of it moved as something bright green waved at her back. Faery. My guess was that she’d come in through the window while neither of us was looking. She looked at Hunter, obvious curiosity in her expression.

  “Hi,” he took a small step toward her and held out his hand. “My name is Hunter, what’s yours?”

  Her eyes widened to an unnatural width, and she let out a soft, lyrical call rather like a sigh played on a lyre.

  Hunter held up his hands, as if surrendering. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

  I forced back the strong desire to laugh. Poor Hunter had a faery treed and didn’t know what to do with her. Didn’t even realize what she was. What was I going to do? I recognized what she was, but not anything about her kind. I did know at least some faeries spoke English. “Hello.” I tried to keep my voice quiet and friendly.

  She looked at me and blinked, let out another soft, musical sound, then took off out the bedroom door and down the steps. A shimmer followed her, and for a moment it looked like glitter hung in the air. Hunter rushed after her, probabl
y trying to see where she was going. Personally, I was just relieved she hadn’t flown out the window.

  He turned and looked at me, his expression the textbook version of confused. I smiled in spite of myself. “We got sneaked up on.”

  “Boy, that’s the truth. Good thing she wasn’t armed and dangerous.”

  “Not much dangerous around here, really. Mostly just odd and unexpected.”

  He glanced toward the door. “I’m beginning to see that.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “Let’s check out the rest of the house.”

  We explored the other bedrooms, then returned to the first floor and went down the long stairway to the basement. Rock lined walls were lined with wooden shelves installed on flat pieces of stone built into the wall and jutting out.

  “Great job with the stonework.”

  “I didn’t know you were into building.”

  He sent me a sheepish smile. “Those TV channels that show you how to update and renovate.”

  “I had to stop watching those shows. It got to where I was actually making plans to buy a house and renovate it.”

  It was quiet, and when I looked at him I realized he was frowning. “Why didn’t you? I don’t know you all that well, but I have a suspicion that you would enjoy something like that.”

  Because I’m a dog. I forced my lips into the form of a smile. “It wouldn’t have worked out then.”

  “Maybe you can one day.”

  I was saved from further embarrassment by Sally’s appearance. “Just checking on y’all and seeing if you have any questions.”

  Hunter asked intelligent, insightful questions. Okay, I was impressed. Nerdy bow tie or not, the man was deserving of more credit than I’d initially given him. Speaking of which…

  The three of us returned to the lobby via another set of stairs, and I took the opportunity to check my idea. “So,” I looked up at him through my eyelashes. “What’s with the bow tie, anyway?”

  He grinned, the varmint. “Bother you, does it?”

  I shrugged and gave him my most innocent look. “Not really, just seems a little strange.”