Blake quirks an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I got something off of him when we first met—you’ve known him a long time, right?”
“I thought you couldn’t read stuff about me?” Blake says, his voice a bit tighter than before.
“I can’t—but when I shook Aiden’s hand, I got snippets. He must have been thinking about it,” I say.
“What kind of snippets?” Blake asks, his eyes wide.
I blink fast, trying to recall.
“Uh—something about him being little. He lost his parents, too, right? A car accident—but you stepped in even though you were trying to work your way up the Special Forces ranks,” I say, biting my lip.
He narrows his eyes, giving me a once over.
“You’re shitting me, right? This is some sort of a joke?” he says, shifting back a bit.
“No,” I say, shaking my head, “why would you think that?”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“You asked me to sit down with you, remember? How the hell would Aiden put me up to anything?” I say, suspicion arising.
Blakes lips press into a thin line as he shifts away from me, facing the other side of the booth instead of looking at me. His face flits back and forth through myriad expressions until he finally stops and twists back around to me.
“You’re telling me you picked all that up from shaking his hand?”
I roll my eyes.
“Duh. Psychic, remember?” I say, pointing at my head for effect.
“I—I gotta go. Thanks for the talk, Diana. I’ll see you around,” he says, shifting out of the booth and out of the door before I even have time to process what’s happening.
Shifting in my seat, I press my back into the booth.
What in the hell just happened?
“Sure know how to freak a guy out, eh?” Max says, wandering over to the booth. He grabs Blake’s cup, and wipes up his spot with a wet rag.
I turn and glare at him. Something in his smug grin makes me snap.
“Your girlfriend’s cheating on you with the mailman,” I blurt out, downing the rest of my mocha.
I’ve known for ages, but it’s none of my damn business. I guess now I don’t care.
Max steps back, eyes wide with panic.
I push past him and walk out the door before the backlash of questions can hit. Glancing up and down the street, Blake is nowhere to be seen—so I walk back to the shop on my own.
Why would it matter if I knew about Aiden’s parents or the way he gave up his military life? And besides, why is it a shock to Blake? It’s not like I hide being psychic. What in the hell gives?
Opening the door, the ding of the bell pisses me right off.
“Who the hell installed that stupid bell?” I say, glaring at Ren as I walk in the door.
Ren’s face goes from borderline bored to “oh-shit” in under a second.
“Uh-oh. Things not go so good with Mr. Tight Pants?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Ugh. Shut up, would you? And do something about that damn bell.”
I head straight into my reading room and slam the door.
“What the fu—” I groan, walking to the back door. I place my head on the window with a thud.
I’m so stupid. Honestly, it’s not like I haven’t learned in all these years—but something about Blake let me relax a bit and open up. And why? To be bitten in the ass again?
Stupid, Diana. What a naive, idiotic move.
Ren knocks on the door. As it opens, he waves a white handkerchief from the crack.
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath.
“What do you want, Ren?” I say, walking to my desk and sitting down.
“Wanna tell me what happened?” he says, walking in the room tentatively.
“If I knew, I’d tell you. I honestly have no idea.”
Renaldo grabs the chair from my reading table, dragging it over to my desk.
“He didn’t try anything funny, did he?” Ren says, crossing his arms over his chest, and going all protective.
“In a coffee shop?” I shoot him a look from under my eyebrows.
He shrugs, “You never know. Stranger things have happened.”
“True.”
I bite my lip, trying to keep myself from combusting. For a moment, a simple, strange, beautiful moment—I felt like I was connecting with someone. Not through my gifts, not with the knowledge they placed in my head—but in the normal, ordinary, blissfully human way. Person to person.
“I thought—I actually thought things were going okay.”
I drop my head to my hands, raking my fingertips through my hair as it falls forward.
“So, what then?” Ren asks. “Did you piss him off? I mean, not that you would—okay, maybe you would, but—”
“I told him about something I picked up at his house. An impression about him through his adopted son, Aiden. That was all. I mean, it’s not like he—”
“So ya wigged him the eff out, huh?”
Renaldo raises his eyebrows, casting a “knowing” look my way.
“How? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been upfront about the whole thing from the start. For Godsakes, it’s how we got put in each other’s way in the first place. He needed my help.”
“Did he really?”
“Oh, would you stop with the cryptic? Just spit out what you want to say,” I say, frowning.
“Well, mkay—here’s the thing—and you know this better than anyone, but I’m guessing your emotions are starting to muddy the waters. You freaked him out because he wants to believe you. It’s pretty damn obviously there’s a vibe going between the two of you—and if ya wanted, it might go flammable. But my guess is—as much as he wants to believe you, he sorta doesn’t either. Am I right?”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“My abilities—they don’t work right when I’m around him.”
Ren shifts in his chair, his mouth popping open.
“And you’re only telling me now? When did you first learn this?”
“I don’t know—the first night, I guess. I didn’t know what to make of it. It’s never happened before.”
“Well, no wonder. The man didn’t really give ya much credit, because you didn’t give him much to go on.”
Ren shakes his head and shrugs.
“So this is my fault?”
“Hell no. Serves him right. You don’t get to be as renowned as you are by telling bullshit.”
My eyes widen and I smirk.
“I’m renowned?”
Ren flicks his hand in the air absently, “As if you didn’t know. Pu-leeze. Well, if you ask me, you have two choices.”
“I do, do I? And what are they exactly?”
“You have to decide—does it matter he thought you were full of rainbow farts, or doesn’t it? If it does—and I’m pretty sure it does—then you need to go out there and show that man who’s boss. I mean, you’re Diana Hawthorne, dammit. He’d do well to remember it.”
He nods his head in final punctuation to his declaration.
“I think he’s already acquainted—it’s what freaked him out, remember?”
“Then show him why it matters. Find those men, close the loop on the case you both worked on. I can handle the fort here.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
My lips flatten into a thin line, and I can’t help but envision Ren throwing a party—frat style—while I’m away.
“Duh. I’ll have a massive sale with all the goodies we just got in. And I’ll raffle you off on a date,” he says, grinning.
“Deal. With everything but the date,” I say, standing up and pushing away from my desk.
“Where are you going?” Ren spins around in his chair as I make for my coat.
“Following your advice. I’m going to show Blake who’s boss.”
10
FOR THE LIFE OF ME, I can’t remember the way to Blake’s house. I wasn’t paying e
nough attention when he was driving—and God knows I can’t use my abilities to locate him. I try tapping into Aiden instead, but the damn kid is in town. All signs are pointing to the college, so that’s a whole helluva lot of no help.
“C’mon, Diana. There has to be another way—” I say to myself, my hands sliding down my face.
My eyes widen, and I could smack myself in the face for the stupidity. You don’t realize how much you rely on your abilities until they go on the fritz like this. Deductive reasoning goes out the window when it’s easy to just know something.
I pick up the green, corded phone in my kitchen and call the store. After a few moments, Ren picks up.
“Inner Sanctum Books and Gifts, Renaldo speaking. What can I do for you?” he says with his signature lilt in his voice.
“It’s me. Can you do me a favor?”
Dropping his “shop” pretenses, he says, “Of course. Have you found Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome yet?”
“Er—yeah, not yet,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s why I need your help. Do you have a number for Ted and Lacy?”
“Yeah, I think so. Hang on,” he says, setting the phone down with a thud.
A scrambling sound erupts on the other end, then a small thump before he picks up.
“Okay, got it. Ya got a pen or something?”
“Sure, go ahead,” I say, getting my pen and notepad ready.
“Alrighty. It’s 273-3593. Hopefully they’ll be able to getcha hooked up.”
The double entendre in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but I let it slide all the same.
“Thanks, Ren. I appreciate it. Now, get back to work.”
“Of course, slave driver. There’s oh, so many people here to contend with now that you’re gone.”
I can practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Well, then it’s your job to drive more people into the shop, isn’t it? Get those MyFace ads up and running, would you?”
Ren’s sigh is thick. “Facebook, dear. Facebook.”
“Whichever. Pull more people in to the store, kay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Gonna be harder now without our illustrious psychic. But I’ll do my best. Ciao.”
He hangs up before I even get the chance to say goodbye.
Shaking my head, I immediately dial up Ted and Lacy’s number before I lose my nerve.
“Hello?”
“Is this Lacy?” I ask.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“This is Diana Hawthorne.”
“Oh—oh, hi, Diana. What can I do for you?” Lacy says, her voice instantly perking up at the sound of my name.
“Well, a couple of things actually. First—how’s Esther doing? She okay now that she’s been back home?”
“So far. We’ve been dealing with nightmares, but nothing we can’t handle—thanks to you and Mr. Wilson.”
“Great, that’s what I was hoping to hear. I mean, not that she’s having nightmares, but that she’s adjusting after such a traumatic ordeal. I hope she continues to get better.”
“I’m sure she will. We have a great psychiatrist working with all of us.”
“Good. I’m sure there’s a lot you all need to talk about. Say, the other thing I was wondering about—do you happen to have Blake Wilson’s address or phone number handy? I’d like to get in touch with him, but I don’t seem to have any of his contact details here.”
“Sure—let me have a quick look. I’m pretty sure it’s in my phone. Can I put you down for a second while I have a quick look?”
“Absolutely, take your time,” I say, tapping the end of the pen on the notepad in front of me.
After what feels like eternity, Lacy comes back to the phone.
“Okay, I have both. His number is 273-4414, and his address is 22341 Wild Rebel Road.”
I snicker to myself at the street name.
“Thanks, Lacy. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do. Is—is everything okay? With the case, I mean…”
“Oh yeah—everything’s fine. I just have some questions for him. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with you or Esther.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Lacy’s sigh of relief is palpable.
“Well, thanks again. Talk to you soon,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I stare at the details on the page.
Do I call? Or do I show up unannounced?
The social anxiety in me says to call and be done with it. The psychic in me wants to see his reactions and get a better read on him and the situation.
“Dammit.”
I rip the piece of paper off the notepad and grab my car keys. Walking out the back door, I head to my tiny garage. My itty-bitty Prius has sat dormant for months, resting inside the barely wide enough space. Seriously, whoever built garages in the early 1900s didn’t expect people to be able to open car doors once they were finally inside.
Sliding behind the wheel, the car still fires up on the first try—no problems whatsoever.
I rub the steering wheel, giving a little silent praise before shifting into reverse. It isn’t until I’ve left the confines of my back alley that it occurs to me, I have no clue where this Wild Rebel Road actually is. And without the creepy assistance from a sat navigator, I need to do things the old-fashioned way—with a map. Especially with my intuition on the super fritz when it comes to him.
Pulling into the nearest gas station, I fill up on gas, and yank the map of Helena out of the glove box. It takes ages to finally pinpoint the street on the map, but thankfully, the course is relatively simple. In fact, now I can see why alarm bells didn’t go off right away. We drive right by the Helena PD on the way to his place.
Taking a deep breath, I lay the map out on the passenger seat and climb back inside.
“Okay, Diana. Let’s do this,” I whisper under my breath as I put the car in gear.
The roads look different during the day—far more relaxing as I leave the confines of the city for a more open layout. It doesn’t do much to chill out my nerves, unfortunately.
I take a deep breath and roll my eyes.
“For Godsake, you’re not asking the man to marry you, Diana. Would you get a grip?”
I twist my fingertips around the steering wheel and concentrate on the road. The drive there is fairly easy, now that I have a clear direction, thank goodness. Before I know it, I’m already turning down his twisting, long driveway.
The Tudor style home still looks impressive in the daylight and the massive trees in the front are probably gorgeous, come summer time.
Putting the car in park, I kick open my door and walk to the front entry before I can talk myself out of it.
I rap on the door hard, then step back and wait. Crossing my hands behind my back, I pace the front stoop for a moment before deciding it’s been long enough and try again.
When still no one answers, I try the handle, hoping for an easy win. Unfortunately, the door’s locked.
Dammit.
I should have called first.
Leaning toward the narrow window beside the front door, I place my head on the glass, trying to get a good look inside. Unfortunately, the narrow access only grants a view of the entry way wall.
“Now what, Diana? Wait around like a lost puppy? Or go home and give him a call like you should have done to begin with?”
As I start walking down the steps and toward my car, a dark red, beat-up pickup drives up. It comes to a halt beside the garage door.
“Hey, whatcha doing here?” Aiden asks, throwing open the door. “Was Blake expecting you?”
I shake my head. “No, kind of an impromptu meeting. Is—is he home?”
Tipping my head toward the house, I keep my eyes trained on Aiden.
“Dunno. I’m here with you,” he smirks. “One way to find out. C’mon.”
Aiden grabs a backpack and unravels his keyring in search of the front door key.
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mean to intrude or anythin
g.”
“Are you kidding? You’re saving me,” Aiden chuckles as he twists the handle and swings the door open wide.
“Oh?”
“Yeah—I’d have to do homework if you go,” he laughs.
“Well, I can’t let you die of knowledge, now can I?” I chuckle.
“Exactly,” he winks, throwing an easy smile. “You hungry?”
My eyebrows tug in. I really only had one purpose—to put Blake in his place. Not raid his kitchen.
“I’m okay,” I say.
“You sure? I’m gonna whip up some nachos quick. I’d be more than willing to share.”
Aiden nods to the kitchen, urging me to follow along.
“No, really. I’m good.”
“You’ll miss out. I’ll even put avocados on it,” he says as we enter the broad expanse of a kitchen.
It’s still as sparsely decorated as the rest of the house, but you can tell a lot more care and consideration has gone into this space. Things are laid out very precisely, and the stainless-steel appliances are meticulously clean.
“Oh, and there’s coffee,” he adds.
“Alright, you twisted my arm. Coffee would be lovely.”
I take a seat and belly up to the breakfast bar the way I would at home. Aiden’s energy is very easy going and relaxed. Surprisingly, he sets me at ease right away and dispels some of the anxiety I was feeling about coming here.
Aiden sets to work, maneuvering the kitchen like a true pro. Grabbing pans, and fresh ingredients from the refrigerator.
“So, you said you were here for Blake, right?”
“Yeah, I need to talk to him about some stuff. We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we were together,” I say, leaning forward.
“Yeah, he has a way of putting people off at first, but once you get to know him, he’s really a big teddy bear.”
I smile, getting impressions immediately from Aiden of all the good times he’s had with Blake. Christmases, surprises, special treats, and birthday parties over the years. The images flash by quickly—so quickly, in fact, he probably doesn’t even realize he’s conjured them with such potency.
“You’ve known him a long time, huh?”
“Yeah, guess you could say that,” Aiden nods, stirring some sort of black bean mixture and adding cheese to another pan to start melting.
Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1) Page 10
