by Beth Ciotta
Silence greeted his snarled outburst.
Joe worked his jaw. “What?”
“You tell me.”
He shook his head, paced two steps, and stopped. “Goddammit.”
“That bad, huh?”
Well, hey, okay, what the hell? Isn’t this why he’d called his brother in the first place. “I love her, Murph.”
“I know. I saw it in your eyes months ago.”
“Thanks for cluing me in.”
“Where love is concerned, a man’s gotta come around on his own.”
Joe sighed. “It’s kicking my ass.”
Murphy laughed softly. “It’ll do that. So, where is she now?”
“Sleeping. She’s wiped out. I’ll be surprised if she wakes before noon.”
“I guess you’re going to Paradise Valley.”
Joe frowned. “I have to help her face whatever happened. I don’t want to involve the authorities until I know exactly what we’re dealing with. Right now, I don’t know what’s real or imagined.”
“Understood. That’s why I’m not sharing any of this with Lulu. As far as she knows, you and Sofia are having a torrid affair, period. Speaking of, according to the morning talk shows you two are shacked up somewhere in Arizona. If those cowboys really are on the hunt, then the media pointed them straight in your direction.”
A muscle jumped under Joe’s left eye. “Let them come.”
“Right.” Murphy whistled low. “You’re in the mood to kick some ass.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rainbow Ridge, Vermont
Let me get this straight,” Jean-Pierre said. “You are telling me Hollyberry Inn is haunted?”
Rudy propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at his bedmate. Even though they hadn’t made love last night, he felt incredibly close to his partner this sunny morning. Continued honesty, he’d thought upon wakening next to the man, was a good way to start the day. Instead of jumping in headfirst and declaring his love and intentions, he decided to ease his way in via Casper the-not-so-friendly ghost. “I know it sounds crazy. That’s why I didn’t tell you over the phone.”
“Ah, oui. It sounds magnificent, this story of Casper Montegue. But, I prefer dealing with a ghost rather than a … a … ”
Rudy stared down at Jean-Pierre, hoping the Frenchman recognized the affection burning in his heart and eyes. “You’re the only man in my life, Jean-Pierre.” Normally, he would have followed up that statement with a caress, a kiss—but he didn’t want to risk rejection. He needed a sign or, even better, a verbal go ahead.
Jean-Pierre scratched his whiskered jaw, poked his tongue in his cheek. “What of Jake?”
Rudy smirked. “You know what I mean.”
The corners of the younger man’s lips twitched upward.
The smile was weak, but there, and instilled Rudy with hope. Hope that they were on the road to complete recovery and a blissful future.
“Do you think Jake is angry with me?”
“For punching him in the nuts?” Rudy grinned. With the heat of the moment behind them, he was able to find humor in last night’s brawl. He didn’t even mind that he had a shiner, a badge of black and blue fury that showed JP cared. Jake on the other hand … “I don’t know about angry, but you might not want to ask him any favors for awhile.”
“Perhaps a gift would help to make amends?”
Rudy shrugged. “He’s not like that, but there is a fabulous antique barn not too far from here. You know how he feels about antiques.”
“Perhaps a sugar and creamer to augment his demi-tasse cup and saucer collection.”
“Maybe. Or else …”
A scream rent the air, propelling both men into a sitting position.
“Merde,” Jean-Pierre exclaimed, a hand pressed to his chest.
Another shrill shriek had Rudy throwing aside the patchwork comforter and scrambling out of the crocheted-canopy bed. Foregoing his robe, he raced out of the door in his striped boxers, sailed down the hall, and nearly collided with Jake—also in his shorts. The P.I. shoved through the door of Murphy’s assigned suite and then into private bathroom, Rudy on his heels, Jean-Pierre close behind.
The scene that greeted them was straight out of a Farrelly brothers’ movie. The men froze in shock.
A buck-naked Lulu danced around in the bathtub, squealing while struggling to reaffix the showerhead. In the chaos, she’d knocked aside the shower curtain. Water sprayed everywhere soaking the walls, the bath mat, the guest towels …
Rudy palmed his forehead. “What the …”
Lulu jerked around, screamed at the sight of the three men, and quickly gave them her back. “Get out! Get out!” Realizing she was showing them her bare butt, she squealed louder, dropped the shower head, and slapped her palms to her cheeks. Yeah. Like that was going to help.
Jake recovered first. He snatched an oversized bath towel and slung it around her body, heaved her out of the tub, and into Rudy’s arms. “Dammit,” he said, struggling with the chrome lever. “The faucet’s broken.”
“I know,” Lulu yelled. “Why do you think I was fussing with the showerhead?”
“Beats the hell out of me!” Jake shouted. “Christ, this water’s freezing.” Soaked to the bone, he continued to wrestle with the outdated plumbing.
Rudy passed Lulu off to Jean-Pierre, barely containing a bout of laughter. “Let me try.” He shouldered his way in, twisted, pushed, pulled, and somehow managed to cut off the water. Then again, he’d been wrestling with faulty plumbing and wiring for weeks. Thanks to the century-old property and a meddlesome ghost.
“You are shivering, Chaton.” Jean-Pierre briskly rubbed his hands over Lulu’s bare arms.
“The hot water cut out,” she said through chattering teeth. “I thought someone flushed a toilet in another bathroom, so I tried to adjust the showerhead away from me, you know, just until the hot water returned, but it broke. The showerhead,” she clarified, staring at her toes, the sink, anything, Rudy thought, other than the three half-naked men surrounding her.
Jake snagged a towel from the rack and mopped his face and hair. “Why the hell didn’t you just get out of the tub?”
“I did, but then the water was … I thought I should … ” Her lower lip trembled.
Uh-oh, Rudy thought. “Um, honey. Where’s Murphy?”
Lulu wiggled out of Jean-Pierre’s arms, shoved her wet ringlets off of her stricken face. “Jogging.”
Just then Afia stepped over the threshold wearing zebra pajama bottoms and a matching Tee. Hands folded protectively over her rounded stomach, she looked harried and out-of-breath. “What’s going … ” her bloodshot gaze slid from a soaked, towel-clad Lulu to her wet, half-naked husband, “… on?”
Lulu’s cheeks burned red.
“Oh, no,” Rudy mumbled, just as the straight-laced storyteller burst into tears.
“Aw, hell,” Jake complained, tossing aside the towel.
Jean-Pierre scrambled for tissues. “Do not cry, Chaton.”
Afia moved toward the weepy storyteller and slipped on the wet tile.
Rudy caught her, no harm done, but Jake blew his cork.
“Dammit, Afia, I told you to stay in bed! As in don’t move. But no, you just had to investigate!” Panicked, he grasped her shoulders, inspected her head to toe. “Are you all right? Did you pull a muscle or anything?”
She batted away his hands. “No, I didn’t pull a muscle or anything. Stop treating me like an invalid. And stop being such a worrywart!”
“I’m not a worrywart!”
Rudy snorted. “And I’m not gay.”
Lulu blew her nose in a wad of tissues and glared at Jake. “Stop yelling at Afia!”
“I yell because I care. I’m irritated because I’m tired.” Jake nailed the dripping-wet sprite with an exasperated look. “If you and Murphy hadn’t been going at it like bunnies last night … ”
Lulu gasped as if slapped. Mortified, she clutched the bath towel tighter and f
led the bathroom in a teary huff.
Afia frowned at her husband. “Nice going, Mr. Sensitive.” She strode after Lulu.
Jake took off after his wife. “Ah, baby. Don’t get agitated. It’s not good for you and the …”
“Stuff a sock in it!” she cried before her voice faded down the hall.
One door slammed and then another. Lulu must’ve taken refuge in an empty suite.
Eyes wide, lips pressed together, Rudy glanced at Jean-Pierre. “It’s not funny.”
The Frenchman’s shoulders shook with restrained mirth. His eyes twinkled. “No. It is most serious. This unfortunate,” he fluttered a hand toward the shower, “incident.”
They held out another two seconds before covering their mouths and doubling over with muffled laughter.
Barely able to catch his breath, Jean-Pierre pointed to the broken plumbing. “Casper’s handiwork?”
“Possibly.” Rudy thumbed away amused tears.
“We must take action,” the Frenchman said on a giggling snort. “We cannot allow an embittered spirit to distress our guests.” He whistled low. “I cannot believe I saw Chaton naked. But of course, I have seen her nearly naked, what with her costume fittings, but, merde, Jake! How are we going to break it to Murphy?”
We. Our. In that moment, Rudy’s heart took flight. He shook a mental fist at Casper. Take that, Montegue. Instead of driving a bigger wedge between him and his lover, the ghost had just pushed them closer together.
Afia handed Lulu another Kleenex. At this rate, they’d tear through the box of tissues in the next five minutes. “Jake can be pretty blunt when he’s sleep deprived. Not that he didn’t sleep because of you and Murphy,” she hastily added. Obviously, the woman was embarrassed that her nocturnal activities had been overheard. Although, gosh, they had been pretty loud. She’d ended up putting a pillow over her face to muffle her own laughter as much as the noise.
“Honestly, Lulu. If anyone’s to blame for Jake’s lack of sleep, it’s me.” She smoothed her hand over her rounded belly. “I’m not the best bedmate these days. I get up to go to the bathroom three times a night, sometimes more. And then, because I can only sleep on my left side, I get restless and uncomfortable, so I fidget. Oh! And then there are the muscle spasms in my calves. Not pleasant.” She stopped because she was rambling. And instead of making Lulu feel better, she only seemed to be making things worse. “Anyway, please don’t worry about Jake’s insensitive crack.”
“It’s not that,” Lulu said, sobbing into crumpled tissues. “Well, it is partially, and I do apologize because, jeez, crap, how embarrassing is that?”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Afia sank down on the bed next to the towel clad woman. “It’s sweet. I thought it was sweet, anyway. Jake, I think he was a little turned on. He wanted to fool around and I … well, I didn’t. Which is unusual for me, because I really love fooling around with Jake. But lately … ” She paused. She’d never confided in a girlfriend before. She didn’t really have any girlfriends, except for Rudy. And since he had a penis she supposed he didn’t officially count.
Lulu looked at her expectantly through teary eyes. “What?”
Afia shrugged. “Well … look at me.”
She looked, blinked. “You’re beautiful.”
“I’m a cow.”
“A beautiful cow. I mean, you’re big, but it’s all in your belly, and that’s your baby, so who cares? Surely, not your husband. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he hovers. It might get annoying at times, but it’s because he loves you so much.” She grasped Afia’s hands and squeezed. “A baby? Do you know how lucky you are?”
In that instant, Afia felt incredibly contrite. She’d been lamenting the negative aspects of pregnancy, her unattractive figure—her big, really huge belly—and this woman couldn’t even have a baby. According to Jake who’d heard it from Rudy who knew it straight from the source, Lulu was infertile. Or, at least she thought she was. Tests had been inconclusive, but her ex-husband and his girlfriend just had a baby, so the fault, Lulu concluded was with her.
Afia sighed. “That was petty of me. You’re right. I am very fortunate. And so are you. You have Murphy. You have hordes of children who adore you. Unlike you, I am not naturally gifted with kids, although I seem to be getting better.” Her work at the daycare center proved an excellent way of gaining experience with wee ones. Hoping to direct the topic in a more cheerful direction, she said, “Hey, aren’t you and Murphy planning to adopt?”
Lulu sniffed back tears and quirked a bright smile. “We want a whole brood.”
Afia smiled too. “I think that’s wonderful. There are so many children desperate for a loving home. You and Murphy will make wonderful parents.”
“So will you and Jake. I look forward to creating stories for your kids. We’ll create one together, you and I. It’ll be fun.”
“Yes, it will.” Afia’s spirits lifted along with her new friend’s. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath, rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that. I guess, well, I guess a few things set me off. For one, as of last night, only two men had ever seen me entirely nude, not counting my dad who saw me as a baby, or any doctors. This morning the count is up to five.”
Afia laughed. “No offense, but I doubt you made much of an impression on Rudy and Jean-Pierre, and as for Jake, I’m sure he’s just as embarrassed as you are.”
Lulu blinked. “You’re not mad?”
“That Jake saw you naked?” She snorted. “He’s seen lots of naked women. Before me the man was a hound. Anyway, this was in the line of duty, so to speak. I’m not mad at all.”
“I hope Colin’s as open-minded as you.”
“Why does he even have to know? Use that imagination of yours, for goodness sake. I’m thinking you already had a towel around you when the men busted in. Just put that incident out of your mind. I’m certain the guys are doing the same.” Afia pushed her long, fine hair over her shoulders, blew her bangs out of her eyes. “You said a few things were bothering you.”
“Well, for one, I’m worried about my sister.”
“She’ll be fine. She’s with Joe Bogart. Jake describes him as a real tough guy. I wouldn’t worry overly much. What else?”
Lulu shrugged. “It’s stupid. I can’t even explain it. It’s just, lately, I’ve been feeling off.”
“Off?”
“Stressed and overemotional. Achy. Kind of like PMS, but different. The past week I’ve woken up feeling queasy. I thought I was coming down with something, but it always passes. I certainly haven’t lost my appetite.” She sighed. “I’ve been eating like a horse.”
Afia pressed her hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Could it be? And was it possible this woman could be that naïve? “Um, forgive me for being personal, but when was your last, that is, is your cycle normal?”
“It’s never been normal, and it was …” She scrunched her brow. “Hmm. Well, it’s definitely on its way. Why? Wait.” She bolted to her feet, eyes wide. “You can’t be thinking … It’s not possible.”
“You don’t have medical proof of that.”
“But, I tried for ten years, and zip!”
Afia grinned. “But you didn’t try with Murphy. Have you been practicing any kind of birth control?”
Lulu blushed. “No. I … I didn’t think we needed to.” She chewed her fingernail, stalked to the bureau, and pulled out a pair of cargo pants and a cartoon T-shirt. “I can’t even go there, Afia. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then …” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Fine, Afia thought. But later, they’d go shopping and pick up one of those home pregnancy tests. She’d beg Lulu to humor her, and she wouldn’t feel one bit guilty. She had a feeling. A very good feeling. On top of that, Jean-Pierre and Rudy weren’t snarling at each other, so perhaps they were on the mend. Perhaps she’d done a very good thing by showing up early at Hollyberry Inn. For once in her jinxed life,
maybe she’d actually instigated a string of good luck. Afia Leeds: Miracle Worker. She liked the sound of that.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so tired and cranky. Nope, she was revved and ready for a big plate of waffles. This was going to be a spectacular day. “I’m going to get dressed too,” she said casually. “Meet you downstairs. Oh, and about that naked thing. Don’t worry. I’m sure the guys aren’t stupid enough to breathe a word to Murphy.”
“Heads or tails?”
Jake leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. “Forget it, Gallow. I’m not flipping for the chance to get my ass kicked.”
Rudy balanced the quarter on the back of his thumb. “Don’t be such a pansy. It won’t come to that. It’s not like we stood there ogling.”
“Although there was a time lapse,” Jean-Pierre pointed out from his lookout station. Rudy had told him to watch out the back window and to warn them when he saw Murphy jogging up the trail. “Those few moments when we stood motionless. That could be construed by some, such as a possessive husband, as ogling, mon ami.”
The smirking P.I. looked over his shoulder at Jean-Pierre. “The woman was prancing around like an idiot, shrieking at the top of her lungs.”
“You forgot about the naked part,” Rudy said, still balancing that quarter.
Jake shot him an exasperated glare. “Not yet, but I’m trying.”
“He is coming!” Jean-Pierre let the curtain fall back into place, hurried over to the coffee grinder and started pulverizing scoops of fresh beans.
Rudy stared down at his friend. “Heads or tails?”
“I’m not …”
“Yes, you are.” He tossed the coin high.
“Didn’t I suffer enough last night when JP …”
“Heads or tails?” Rudy asked as he caught the quarter and smacked it to the back of his hand.
The back door knob jiggled.
“Tails,” Jake muttered.
Smiling, Rudy flashed him the flipside of cherry-tree-chopping GW.
