“It has everything I need.” She didn’t lower her hands. Chris may not be as large a guy as she was used to dating, but there was nothing soft about him. She felt the dense muscles of his chest through his vest and shirt. And he was taller than she remembered. Being out of body did strange things to one’s perspective.
She made to move around him in the tiny square footage, and Chris went the same direction, they veered the other way, simultaneously correcting and ended up doing an awkward dance in the center of her travel trailer. Both stopped moving, her smiling, Chris frowning.
“Our first dance?”
“There’s no music,” he said.
They shimmied around each other, and Naomi grabbed the split of champagne from her mini fridge. “I can fix that.”
Chris sat at the table as she set the champagne down, then turned to the shelf that held her MP3 player and docking station. Her crystal prayer grid glowed softly, working its magic. After the accident, her grid had been a jumbled pile of stones, copper wire, and scraps of paper. Rebuilding turned out to be a good thing. Starting over from scratch felt cleansing and that made her happy. Naomi chose her coffee shop playlist, a mix of acoustic rock, jazz, bluegrass, and other songs that didn’t require head banging, mosh pits, or anything else inappropriate for an intimate dinner.
Before sitting down with Chris at the table, she did something she hardly ever showed anyone. She thought Chris would accept her skills without question, or fear. Naomi picked up the small box of matches from the table and lit one. She held the flame in front of her, closed her eyes, and then lightly blew the flame toward the table. The match extinguished, but the tiny orange and yellow flame rolled like a ball through the air toward the food. The fire darted beneath the pot, lighting the chafing fuel with a whoosh of blue flame, then soared over and landed in Naomi’s green pillar candle, lighting the wick. She waved a hand at the curtains surrounding the table, and they pulled aside letting in the evening light.
Chris remained motionless as she worked her minor magic, but a smile sat on his lips when she was done. She slid into the seat opposite him.
“Now it’s ready. Dive in. Oh, wait. One last thing.” She concentrated on the small bottle of champagne, visualizing the bubbles and the air inside pushing upward and out of the bottle. The cork shot out, hit the ceiling, and ricocheted across the trailer. “I forgot to open that.”
“You are harmonious with the air.”
She beamed. She knew he’d understand. “Just as you are with the spirit world.”
“In a way.”
She winked at him, and they picked up their forks.
“This is how you don’t cook.” Chris gestured to the fondue pot and the plates of cut up vegetables, meat, and bread.
“This isn’t cooking. This is simple.”
“It’s more cooking than I generally do.”
“But you’re a dude. Most men I know don’t really cook. They just heat stuff up. Which is sort of what we’re doing now.”
He didn’t agree or disagree but dipped another chunk of French bread into the melted cheese.
After he had finished chewing, he said, “And the champagne is better than I thought it would be. It complements the fondue.”
“I’m glad you like it. I’ve been saving it until I found a vortex. I always celebrate when I find a new one.”
“I’m sorry you were not there to see when I closed it.”
“Don’t apologize. I feel it in the air and under the ground. It’s not as strong as the first morning, but it still exists.”
Chris nodded as he tried a piece of beef in the cheese sauce. “It was like capping a well. The vortex is a powerful one. It needed to be restricted. I don’t have to explain it all. You saw what happened when it was fully open.”
She watched him carefully and felt the intention in his words. “It’s nice to talk about it with someone who understands. I’m going to guess you don’t have someone to talk with about your work very often?” She made it a question.
Chris delayed answering. She wondered if she inadvertently crossed a line with him. Like most witches she knew, she was highly sensitive to other people and their behavior and attitudes. Empathy had its rewards, but also its challenges.
He leaned against the backrest, forearms resting on the table. “Most days speaking to anyone is a horrible effort. I would skip it altogether if I could get away with it. Right now, I don’t mind talking to you about the case. I’m not sure what to make of the connection between us. This is new for me.”
Naomi considered this pronouncement for a second. “I guess with the right company, anything can happen,” she said cheerily and dipped an apple slice in the cheese.
“Or, I’ve been possessed.”
“Oh, but Mr. Shaman, you’re way too powerful to be influenced by some puny little evil spirit.”
“Anything can happen,” he said flatly, but a half smile teased the side of his mouth as he mimicked her words.
They dipped and twirled cheese on the ends of their fondue forks for a few minutes, then Chris said, “There are many new birds in my yard today.”
As if on cue, a robin sang out as if to rule the neighborhood. The birdsong filled the camper, overriding the music playing through the speakers.
“They follow me,” she admitted.
“I like it. They sound happy that you are here. I think the bird population has tripled.”
“I’m happy to be here too,” she said. If that wasn’t a blunt hint she was interested, she didn’t know what was.
“Do you hear them at five o’clock in the morning?”
“I don’t. I sleep like a rock… a rock beneath a rock. Not much gets through when my eyes are closed.”
“Good to know,” he said. “You were the same way out of body.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Naomi was subtly making up her mind about Chris and how far she would go with him. Her gut knew she would go all the way if he hinted any attraction to her. She was curious, but so much more than that. Her nerve endings sizzled when she was near him, and the butterflies were on crack. It had been a long time since there had been butterflies and she couldn’t ignore it. And that kiss. He kissed as if he was interested.
“Do you want to eat dessert outside? Listen to the birds while we eat chocolate?”
Chris’s gaze lowered to the table where no chocolate was in sight. Was this mixed signals again, or was she trying too hard to figure him out?
“Sure,” he said.
She rose from the table and grabbed the tray of fruit and cake. She turned to hand it over to Chris. Once again, he stood behind her without her hearing him move. It was unnerving. Then it dawned on her that when she astral traveled she most likely did the same thing to him. Although Chris, of all people, would be used to being around others who never made any physical sound… since they didn’t exist in the third dimension. “Can you carry this for me?”
He took the dessert tray, and she picked up the small covered pot from the stove. Chris led her through the gate and around the side of the cabin to his patio where he placed the tray on the table.
“Will you start the fire? I’d like to see you practice your craft again.” He nodded toward the stone fire pit built into the patio. Kindling wood sat in the center waiting to be lit.
A crisp nip in the autumn evening gave her baby goose bumps — not full-fledged goose bumps but smaller ones. A fire would be perfect to lift the chill.
Naomi placed the chocolate fondue pot on the table and turned her attention to the fire ring. She wanted to cast an illusion this time and considered how to go about it. With Chris watching, a tiny amount of expectancy warmed the center of her chest. She listened to the robin belting out his evening song and heard the fluttering wings of a junco as it darted across the patio. She glanced skyward for a moment, thinking, and noticed the first star of the night. Then she had it.
Naomi murmured under her breath. “Star light, star night. Cast away all that is bright. Let yourself
be the only one, and share with me your fire until I say you’re done.” A soft wind brought the smells of fall, dry earth, and leaf mulch. Dead grasses rustled as the illusion of midnight fell over them like a black veil. The single star Naomi had been watching fell from the heavens in an arc of blue flame. The star came to rest mere inches in front of her nose. Naomi snapped her fingers and pointed to the fire pit. The star shot over to the stone ring and dove beneath the splintered kindling wood. A shower of neon blue and white sparks danced around the twigs and branches until a small flame ignited. The orange and yellow fire lifted the enchantment, and the backyard came into focus. Pleased with her creativity and spontaneity on demand, she played it cool by walking over to the pot of warm chocolate sauce and removing the lid.
“What’s your favorite thing to dip in chocolate?” She uncovered the tray and picked up a strawberry.
Chris’s gaze held steady on the growing flames. “Great Spirit gave us the stars. The Sacred Mother gives us life. It is rare to find someone blessed with many gifts from both Creator and his counterpart.” His eyebrows rose and fell as if contemplating and accepting Naomi’s talents in one subtle yet expressive gesture. His eyes shifted to her face. If she weren’t mistaken, his appreciation of her magic passed like an invisible current from him to her, stroking her ego without using any further words. She smiled as she dipped the berry in the chocolate.
He continued. “I don’t know what I like to dip. I’ve never eaten chocolate fondue before.”
She caught herself before her jaw dropped. It never occurred to her that someone could go through life without having eaten chocolate dipped strawberries… or apples, pound cake, and pretzels. Who was this guy? She needed to correct this depravity. “Then you have to try everything.”
He sat down next to her at the table and Naomi winked as she handed him a strawberry covered in silky smooth dark chocolate.
“Pretzels and blueberries,” Chris said after trying one of each item on the tray. “And you like all of it.”
“I do.” She grinned and reached for the last marshmallow.
“This is more chocolate than I have ever eaten in one sitting. Excuse me one minute.” Chris rose from the table and went inside through the back door of the cabin.
Naomi wondered if he went inside to be sick. Wouldn’t that be a great story to tell later? The title could be, Naomi’s Dates Gone Tragically Awry. But Chris didn’t say anything about being ill. He returned twice. Once carrying two large glasses of water, and the second time holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.
“The water helps wash down all the sugar,” he explained after drinking his entire glass. He placed a hand on the cobalt blue wine bottle. “Would you like to share this with me? I don’t normally drink wine, but a client gave it to me. Since you like champagne, I thought you might like this as well.”
Naomi read the label. “I’m down for a little Moscato d’Asti. Maybe it will be my new favorite wine to go with the cake and blueberries. They are my two favorites today.”
Chris poked the corkscrew from his pocketknife into the top of the bottle and twisted. He pulled the cork out with the anticipated ‘pop’ of released air and filled two glasses. He moved his chair closer to the fire and Naomi did the same.
As Chris added a log to the fire, he asked, “Does your favorite food change often?”
“Of course. It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“Is that so?”
She was getting used to his deadpan looks. And more than that, used to the subtle shifts of his almost unreadable expressions. “Absolutely,” she flirted.
“That’s frightening.”
“It’s good for a man to be a little scared by a woman.” She sipped her wine and watched him over the rim of the glass.
“I think you just touched the edge of a little-known wisdom.”
Naomi didn’t have a chance to reply, even though the quip sat on the tip of her tongue. For an entirely different reason, Chris was not the only one who was scared now. Naomi let out a piercing yelp as a shadow appeared behind Chris — and spoke.
“My favorite brother is having a ceremonial fire and did not invite me. What did I do to shame you? Where are the medicine men?”
The ghost stepped into the light and Naomi saw it was Talks to the Wind. Only she saw him from Chris’s lap. Her arms were around his neck, and she buried her face against his chest. She glanced up to see Chris looking surprised if not shocked to find her seated on top of him.
She honestly didn’t remember moving. Naomi did a double take to make sure she had not jumped out of her body. Then she remembered the anklets, and how they kept her from astral projecting. Apparently, they worked great.
“You are mistaken. I have no ceremonial fire tonight.”
With arms crossed in front of his chest, Talks to the Wind looked them over. His gaze shifted to the table, the leftover food, and the bottle of wine. A slow smile spread across his wide mouth.
“You’re having a night with your new woman. The guides and I like this one. I am glad she has not run off to find someone not as ugly as you.”
Naomi wanted to defend Chris’s looks. He wasn’t ugly at all. In her opinion, he was extremely good looking. That is, if imploring sexy eyes above cut cheekbones, a strong jaw, a lean torso, and sinewy sculpted muscles meant a man was good looking. It certainly did to Naomi. He was hot. Then she realized the insults were part of the banter.
“Did you need something? Or are you here to generally annoy and disturb my night off?”
“Annoy? What is this annoy? I am unfamiliar with your English words.”
Naomi knew he had a perfectly fine grasp on the English language and continued to taunt Chris.
“Not now, Talks to the Wind. I’m off duty.” Chris reached down and set his wineglass on the patio. He was careful not to tip Naomi off his lap. She saw her own wineglass near the chair leg and could not for the life of her remember placing it there.
Talks to the Wind’s grin spread into a wide smile. The gap between his front teeth flashed before he disappeared back from wherever he had come from. She shivered and ducked her head again. Goddess help her. She was never going to get used to spirits and ghosts. This could become a real issue considering she wanted to date a ghost hunting shaman.
“I almost forgot. I have interesting information for Fish Face. It can wait until you’re back on duty.”
She heard Talks to the Wind’s voice as if he sat next to them, even though he was no longer visible. Her hypersensitive nature, combined with the fear, sent a shiver colder than dry ice cascading through her bloodstream. Naomi shuddered and promptly passed out.
“You can come back now,” Chris said over her. He gently nudged her cheek as he spoke. “Talks to the Wind will not be back tonight. Naomi, wake up. His visit is not that upsetting.”
His baritone timbre lulled, enticed, and pulled at her. She drifted back to consciousness and opened her eyes. She breathed deep until her heartbeat returned to normal. Naomi stared up into the depths Chris’s nearly black eyes and glimpsed a soft side to the shaman. She saw a man with bottomless empathy and a soul so ancient that time seemed to disappear.
Naomi ran her hand up his chest until she cupped the back of his neck. She sat up and guided him to meet her halfway. He closed the gap between them and their lips met, tentative in the beginning, but a rush of pleasure and need passed between them like lightning.
It was spontaneous and thrilling. She hadn’t wanted to be with anyone since before she packed up her car and camper and left home in search of vortices, which had been over six months ago. Oh yeah, Naomi was ready to fool around. She was more than ready, and Chris seemed of a similar mind. They rose from the patio chair, kissing as they stumbled toward the door to the cabin. The screen door swung open, and Chris held her against the doorjamb kissing her properly before moving through the sunroom to the hallway. Her back to the wall, and his leg pressed between her thighs, Chris nibbled her earl
obe and asked, “What are we doing?”
“Getting to know each other better.” She was certainly getting better acquainted with the muscles beneath his shirt.
“This is okay with you?” he asked as his mouth traveled to the small divot above her collarbone.
“Oh, definitely.”
A low masculine groan rumbled out of his throat. Chris whisked her away from the wall, pivoted, and guided her through the nearest doorway. Naomi found herself kissing Chris on the bed. She didn’t stop there, and neither did he.
Chapter Seven
“I COULD NEVER be in a relationship with a smoker.”
Naomi took a drag off the clove cigarette. She exhaled, blowing the smoke away from Chris. “Geez, judgmental much?”
“Against poisoning myself? Yes, I am.”
“So you think you’re being exposed to second-hand smoke and the chemicals in my cigarette are poisoning you?” She stubbed out the poison in question.
“Correct.”
“But you admit to using tobacco on a fairly regular basis with your ceremonies.” She tipped her head to the side and eyed him on an angle. “Let me guess. That’s entirely different.”
“It is.”
“Well, what if I told you smoking is medicinal? It soothes my anxiety and helps me focus.”
Chris’s steady gaze remained cautious, and he tried to hide the humor he always seemed to feel when he spoke with her. She wasn’t lying — exactly. Naomi’s beguiling deceptions were more in line with manipulating the truth to suit one’s needs. Her cunning and crafty womanly ways enticed him as much as terrified. Part of him knew he should run, forget about her, and part of him wanted to take her straight to his bed. It was a precarious conundrum he’d never found himself in before. “Medicine and vice are two different things.”
“Touché, Mr. Abeyta, touché.” Naomi dug into her shoulder bag and took out a piece of candy. The wrapper crinkled and then she popped the candy into her mouth. Sweet green apple scented the air. “Oh, and by the way, I quit. I’m no longer a smoker,” she said around the candy.
The Misplaced: An Angel Falls Novella - book #3.5 - Ghost Hunting with Chris Abeyta Page 7
