Читать книгу Goddess, Awakened - Cate Masters - Страница 5

Main Street in Boiling Springs saw a few more pedestrians and slightly fewer parking spaces than normal as locals gathered for Sunday breakfast at Kara’s Kafe. Eric cringed at the kitschy spelling, but the place offered great cuisine. More than the usual diner fare, it provided the closest to a home-cooked meal he could hope for, along with the company of other people.

A lime green Beetle sat in the prized space directly out front. A jolt shot through his chest as he slid his truck a few spots behind and got out. The Bug was hers. Jocelyn’s. Hard to miss the neon car when it passed his practice, and sometimes he shut his blinds so it wouldn’t distract him. Since the Halloween party two days ago, he couldn’t stop his mind from stripping away her gold and cream outfit to explore her golden skin. First, he’d better apologize for his behavior the other night. He hated for her to think he always acted so awkward, even if it were true.

In the Beetle’s front seat, the border collie edged its nose out the window, open nearly halfway. Eric stopped beside the car and the dog wagged its tail. “Hey, boy.”

Jocelyn Gibson. Her name rolled through his mind. What was she doing here so early? He’d noticed lights on inside the B and B as he jogged past every morning. Local farmers rose that early, of course. He hadn’t expected her to.

Most clients at his veterinary practice pressed him about her. Was she as nice as she was pretty? What were her plans for the place? Did he know she was a widow too? The last question ended every conversation fast.

Occasionally, he considered dating, but he couldn’t get past the numbness inside. The first year after his wife Karen’s sudden death, he’d fought to maintain enough interest in just getting out of bed every morning. If it hadn’t been for his practice, he might not have.

Through the glass front of the diner, he saw her. In jeans, a T-shirt, and denim blazer, her honey blond hair and petite form caught his full attention.

The bell over the door jingled as he entered. Behind the counter, Sheree flashed her usual smile and waved. “Be right with you.”

Jocelyn glanced behind her, directly at him, and smiled. “Hello, Dr. Hendricks.”

Her warmth washed over him, and like waves frothing over the sand, soothed him.

Turning, she pressed closer to the counter. “So you don’t mind if I hang a sign in your window?”

“Sign for what?” He hadn’t intended to move beside her. Usually he minded his own business.

She held up a handmade poster. “I’m looking for a handyman or two.”

Her creamy skin still had a glow. Must be some special type of makeup. No one looked that good under the harsh diner lights. “Oh right. You’re fixing up the bed and breakfast.” Stupid thing to say. He already knew she was.

Pointedly, she said, “Lavender Hill Inn.”

“Lavender Hill?” The hill’s sparse grass added to the rundown appearance of the old place. He’d always believed the B and B held much more potential.

“Yes. Lavender will be our specialty.”

“What sort of specialty?” An image came to mind of Jocelyn lying atop gauzy, lavender-colored sheets. Naked. At a sudden rush of heat, he edged away from her, embarrassed. What the hell had gotten into him?

“Old family recipes with culinary lavender.” A gleam lit her eyes, blue and clear as a spring sky after a rain storm. To the waitress, she said, “Thank you, Sheree. Could I get a cranberry orange muffin to go? They’re too tempting to pass up.”

“Don’t you make your own at the…inn?” Christ, he wished he would shut up. He must sound like an idiot. Even the waitress shot him a disdainful look.

Her petal-pink lips open, Joss stared. “Annie will make a wonderful assortment of dishes, once we’re fully up and running. I still like to support other local businesses.” Taking the small white bag Sheree offered, Joss paid, then went to the door and taped the poster on the window beside it.

He stood watching like a village idiot.

Charlie Fulton approached from the back of the diner to sit at the counter, then ducked his head with sudden interest in his cup. Probably because he never paid for the last vet visit. Laid off, he likely owed more than a few others around town.

Taking the empty stool next to Charlie, Eric nodded in greeting. “How’s it going?”

“Slower than I’d like.” Charlie’s features hardened.

“No work yet?” Seemed like half the town had been pink-slipped or forced into early retirement.

Charlie grimaced. “I’m looking, believe me. Full time jobs are few and far between. I’m paying what I can as I get occasional work.”

Joss smoothed the last piece of tape across the glass behind them. “What sort of work do you do?”

Angling to face her, Charlie shrugged. “Whatever needs to be done.”

“I have plenty of that.” Her face lit in a smile and she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Joss Gibson. I bought the Suttons’ old place on Yellow Breeches Road. Can I give you my number?”

“Sure,” Charlie said.

Pulling a scrap of paper out of her handbag, she scribbled and tore it off. “I can keep you plenty busy. How about if we talk specifics later? Sorry to have interrupted. Bye.”

Her gaze caught Eric’s and held for several thudding heartbeats. His stomach tightened. The overhead lights gave sheen to her hair and her eyes shone with warmth and intelligence, like she could see inside him and understood the turmoil beneath the hard exterior.

The world slowed around them. Background chatter, the clank of silver against dishes, faded with a roar of white noise in his head. When she turned away, an unnamable ache surged through him. An aura of light swirled in her wake.

The jingle of the bell riveted him until the door closed behind her. Like an antique record player cranked to life, the air crackled again with talk, forks on scraping plates, newspapers folding.

“Doc? Can I get you something?” a woman asked.

As if awakening from a dream, he blinked to focus. “Pardon?”

Sheree waited on the other side of the counter, concern evident in her pursed red lips and furrowed, overly tweezed brow.

“What?” He stood, his appetite gone. “Yes, give me a cranberry-orange muffin to go too, please.”

The waitress frowned and dropped a muffin into a bag. “I hope she doesn’t change the B and B into one of those garish commercial inns with a yucky blinking sign.”

An older woman at the end of the counter spoke up. “We don’t need that. Next thing you know, there’d be fast food joints on every street corner.”

Charlie grumbled into his coffee. “Boiling Springs would become another tourist trap town.”

Sheree gave a proud smirk. “We like it the way it is.”

Not likely to happen in this sleepy Pennsylvania hamlet. Glancing warily around, Eric paid for the muffin. Why the absurd conspiracy theories? Had mass hysteria taken hold? Nothing ever happened here. Everyone knew it. What the hell had gotten into them?

Making his way to the door was like fighting an upstream current. By the time he stepped outside, the lime green Beetle was gone.

* * * *

Sheree dug her glossy red nails into the countertop. What the frack just happened? Like some teenage boy, Eric stood on the sidewalk, looking down the street. After her car.

Jocelyn Gibson. If that woman thought she was going to steal Eric from her, she had another thing coming. Sheree had waited years for him to get the hint. He’d finally been warming up, smiling when he talked to her. She’d been patient as a saint, and it was wearing her out. The man could only grieve so long. She’d waited five years, for goodness sake.

When he was ready to open his heart again, he would open it to her. Sheree. No one else.

The sign in the window caught her eye. A handyman or two, indeed. The man in black was exactly right. Jocelyn Gibson had to go.

* * * *

Standing in the foyer, Joss surveyed the expansive front parlor. The inn needed renovations. Now. She wasn’t about to let a little thing like demons stop her.

Her mother had always said every house had its own personality, and just needed the right touch to bring it out. This place held such promise. When the realtor had called the rambling Second Empire-style Victorian a gem in the rough, Joss had agreed. She loved its woodwork details, not fussy like the gingerbread of other Victorians. No one else seemed to share her clear vision of the inn standing out on the hill like a shining jewel. Instead of its cracked gray-green paint, Joss pictured a magnificent Painted Lady of violet and lavender hues.

It would take a lot more than visions to make it happen. First things first. After dragging the step stool to the window, Joss unfastened the heavy drapes. Their faded burgundy accented the hues of the worn Chinese carpet, but that musty old thing was going too.

Overcast as the day was, light filled the room as the curtains dropped atop a plastic bag. Stepping back, her excitement grew. The three floor-to-ceiling windows provided a wonderful view of the field leading to the road. “What a huge difference.” The next curtains would be sheer to let in the sunshine.

Behind her, Aunt Lydia said, “Oh, my, yes.”

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“You know me. I never sleep well. Too sensitive to atmospheric disturbances.” Her slippers scuffed across the rug to the tufted sofa where Lydia draped herself. “Except for the stale odor, this is rather comfy.”

“Isn’t it? I’m having it cleaned and reupholstered.” When her grandmother entered, fully dressed, Joss went to her. “Morning. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

Gram hugged her. “Jocelyn, you had an eventful evening.”

To say the least. Gathering the votive candles, she spoke as if distracted by her work. “More guests than I expected.”

Standing slowly, Lydia’s blood-red nails clenched the air as if pulling herself up. “I’ve never seen so many fae invade a home at once.”

Neither had Joss. When she was a girl, swarms of glowing beings would flicker in the blades of grass, or leaves of trees. Sometimes flit to her window. But come inside? Only on occasions of rare importance, according to Gram. “Aunt Lydia—”

Her aunt came toward her. “The sign was very clear.”

Evading the interrogation, Joss wrestled a wing-back chair to the center of the carpet. “I can’t let myself believe in bad luck.” Safer to make her own luck through hard work than rely on luck bestowed by mythological creatures.

Gram stepped closer. “They’ve come back, Jocelyn. I’m not surprised you found their favor again, given our family history.”

Lydia added, “You must treat them with respect.”

How could she admit she’d hoped they’d return? That in planting a field of lavender in the spring, she’d hoped to encourage them to stay? Nor could she admit last night’s dream to her aunt. Like the fae lights, it had happened before. She had the same fantasy every night.

Long after saying goodnight to Gram and Lydia, Joss had stood at her bedroom window and had imagined a field of purple waltzing with the breeze beneath the stars. The image stayed with her as she settled into bed, coaxing her to sleep. Rather than fading, the dream had grown more vivid with the lights out.

The evening star shone more brightly than usual and led her to the stone bridge connecting the yard to the field. The silhouette of a man beckoned from beyond it. She crossed the bridge into the lavender, and its blooms caressed her legs as she walked. Instead of its scented oils soothing her skin, it stimulated her. The thought of meeting him excited her too. Dusk deepened quickly, and even though she stood in front of him, she couldn’t see his face. He leaned down to kiss her. Pressing against him, her body fit snugly against his curves. He took her down into the lavender, then filled her, body and soul. The stars glimmered so bright and low, they mingled with the violet blooms. He was so tender, yet strong. His caresses so loving, he brought her to heights she never imagined, and only after she was fulfilled did he allow himself release. Afterward, he rolled onto his back and pulled her close, his skin warm against hers. His voice rumbled through his chest. “Who needs fireworks with so many fireflies?” Her fingers trembled with the reverberations and she closed her eyes to listen to him breathing.

She’d awakened in a luscious afterglow, yet bothered because she had no clue who he was or when she’d find him. Or what he’d meant about fireworks. In the dream, she’d understood his words clearly, but in the light of day, the meaning evaded her.

A knock at the door provided a welcome distraction. Joss crossed the foyer to open it. “Should be Mr. Fulton. I’ve hired him to help with restoration work. You might want to get dressed, Aunt Lydia.” Providing Charlie with a paycheck gave her the warm and fuzzies, but she’d have to be careful with her limited funds.

Lydia finger-combed her hair. “Oh, I don’t know. He might be a fellow in need of some womanly charms.”

Clucking her tongue, Joss couldn’t hold back a smile. She waited for Gram to lead her aunt through the dining room before opening the door. “Good morning.”

Mr. Fulton’s greeting faded away as his gaze followed Lydia, who threw an inviting glance over her shoulder and sashayed into the kitchen. He snapped shut his mouth. “Mrs. Gibson. Hello.”

“Please call me Joss. Ready to get to work?”

Stepping inside, he scanned the foyer. “Call me Charlie. And just tell me where to start.”

“Good question. Probably stripping the wallpaper, don’t you think?”

With a nervous shrug, he chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”

Poor man, so anxious to make an impression. Or maybe he wasn’t used to owners pitching in to help. Time was of the essence. She needed the work done quickly.

Outside, Annie’s car pulled alongside Charlie’s truck.

To Charlie, Joss said, “I’ll whip up the wallpaper removing solution and be back in a second. Would you move the rest of the furniture away from the walls?”

“Sure,” he said. “I brought some tarps along too.”

“Great. Be back in a minute.”

She entered the kitchen as Annie plunked her purse on the counter. “Morning, everyone. I’m not late, am I?”

“Right on time.”

After sipping the last of her coffee, Lydia washed the cup. “I should get out of your way.” She sidestepped Joss, waiting with the bucket.

“Will you be staying today?” Joss directed the question at both Gram and Lydia.

Lydia tightened the belt of her robe. “I have an appointment this afternoon. I need to get dressed and vamoose.” She sauntered into the dining room.

Mouth agape, Annie watched. “She’s a wonder.”

Gram sighed. “Exactly. We won’t define what sort.”

Joss gave a wry smile and filled the bucket with hot water mixed with dishwashing detergent.

Pouring coffee, Annie chuckled. “It’s a shame she couldn’t stay to help.”

“She’s better at existential projects. But I appreciate you coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Annie grabbed the three sponges off the counter. “I’ll go say hi to Charlie.”

Joss carried the bucket to the front room where Charlie finished tugging the last tarp along the floor, the clustered furniture in the center already covered. They set to work in easy camaraderie.

When Lydia and Gram said their farewells, Joss took a short break to see them outside. On the porch, Taz barked once when Lydia tooted the horn.

By noon, a pile of shredded wallpaper sat atop the tarps. Joss ran her hand along the wall. “Some parts are still tacky. Diluted fabric softener should take care of it.”

Charlie stood back to assess their handiwork. “In a way, you’re lucky the paper was so old. Newer types can be tough to remove.”

Giving her shoulder a squeeze, Annie brightened. “I’m starving.”

Joss’s stomach grumbled in reply. “Yes, let’s eat.”

Annie drew her to the kitchen and unpacked the cooler. The chicken salad pita pockets lined with lettuce revived them, and they worked past six.

Before leaving, Charlie hesitated at the door. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” An uneasy vibe emanated from him and Joss suspected the trouble. “I forgot to ask earlier. Would you like to be paid at the end? Or every week?”

His face relaxed. “Weekly would be a big help.”

She gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll have a check ready for you Friday.”

Charlie nodded. “I appreciate it. See you in the morning.” With a wave, he left.

Joss ran her hand across the smooth bare wall. “I’m so glad we found Charlie to help.”

“I know. I’m pooped. I’m going home too.”

Stripping the wallpaper sapped Joss’s strength for the day. Gratefully, she crawled into bed after showering. “It’s going to be great once it’s done, Taz.”

The dog leapt up and nestled against her legs with a sigh, and Joss fell into a deep sleep.

* * * *

The next morning, freezing rain pelted the windows. Her muscles aching, Joss pulled the covers over her head. No, she reminded herself. Today I want to finish priming the front room. And Annie and Charlie would be arriving soon.

Forcing herself out of bed was no easy task, especially when Taz burrowed deeper into the covers. “Traitor.” Grinning, she tousled his fur.

Shaking off the early November chill, she told herself the work ahead would make her forget the bad weather. After a quick shower, she threw on old sweats and sneakers and clipped back her hair on both sides. Fortified with fresh coffee, she began.

She had already primed one wall when Charlie arrived, and Annie soon after. About mid-morning, she caught the movement of a vehicle down the driveway. “Who’s here?”

A quick glance hardly interrupted Charlie’s roller stroke. “Looks like Doc Hendricks.”

The name sent a buzz through her.

The dark blue SUV stopped outside the stable, and the vet jogged to its doors, hunched against the elements.

“The barn must be cold.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“Invite him in.” Annie nudged her.

“No, he’s busy.” But it’s such a raw day. He could use a hot drink.

He needed something all right, but nothing she could give him. An internal battle raged within the veterinarian. Their initial brief encounter left her reeling for days, unable to negotiate the tsunami of emotion beneath his hard exterior.

Taz finally lumbered down the hall, sat down and yawned.

“Good morning, sleepy head. Do you need to go outside?”

The dog sneezed and looked disdainfully toward the wet window. At times, Taz’s other half—Labrador—seemed to take over his brain. Joss joked he had the brain of a lab and the nervous system of a border collie. Still, when grief snuck up on her—and it still did—he’d snuggle against her and gaze up at her with soulful eyes. She treasured Taz because John had given him to her. To keep her company when he was no longer there, he’d said. To guide her. It had struck her as odd, since he’d been so opposed to any talk of magic or the fae.

The memory stung her grief to life. To quell the raw ache, she did what she always did—spun into motion. “Come on. A little rain won’t hurt you.” Pulling open the door, her heart leapt to her throat, and Taz rose, barking.

The vet stood on the threshold. “I was about to knock.”

His strong presence overwhelmed her. She could only stand there, bracing herself.

* * * *

The sight of her mesmerized him. Eric purposely ignored the inn, changing his jogging route to avoid passing. To avoid seeing her. Like a school boy, he dreamed of her at night. During the day, she popped into his mind unbidden.

Dr. Avery, the large-animal vet, had asked Eric to fill in during his vacation. Unfortunately, one of the horses needed immediate attention, according to the owner. He couldn’t put an animal’s welfare above his own comfort. Or lack thereof.

No less luminous than the last time he’d seen her, Joss stood before him, her lips slightly parted, blinking in surprise.

The dog’s tail wagged even though he still barked.

“Morning.” Idiot, saying good morning to the dog in front of them. A hazard of the veterinary profession, one he normally didn’t allow others to view.

Taz’s wagging tail swept the floor.

With a downward thrust of her hand, she commanded, “Go outside, boy.”

In passing, the dog nudged Eric’s hand, so he patted his head.

Straightening, she stared after Taz in surprise. “Can I help you?”

His throat dried and his voice withered like a November leaf. “My cell’s dead. Any chance I could use your phone?”

She stepped back. “Sure, come on in.”

Apologetically, he glanced at his wet coat. “I’m soaked. I could go around to the kitchen.”

His humility might have touched a soft spot because she inclined her head toward the desk. “No, you can use this phone.”

After wiping his feet, he sloughed water off his coat and stepped inside.

Tension subsided when Annie and Charlie both said, “Hi.”

Before Joss could close the door, the dog ran in and shook, droplets flying from his fur.

“Wait, Taz. Sit and don’t move.” Joss hurried to the hallway closet and returned with an old towel. “Everything all right?” She knelt to rub down the dog.

Work, he had no trouble talking about. He relaxed. “No, actually. I have to speak with Tom.” He strode to the desk. “He was supposed to apply ointment every day to Triple Power’s eye. It’s still swollen, so I suspect he’s missed a few applications. Have you noticed, by any chance, if he’s been out here?” He lifted the receiver from the charger.

“Two nights ago, yes. We’ve been so busy these past few days…he may have slipped in unnoticed.”

After pressing the numbers, he scanned the rooms. “You did this much work in a few days?”

Pride lit her face as she stood, admiring their handiwork. “Yes. We have a lot more to do though.”

With a wince, he held the phone to his ear. “More?” He couldn’t imagine where she got the energy. Glancing around, he noted that with the curtains down and the faded wallpaper gone, the rooms appeared much more inviting.

She smirked. “I may keep the stair railing as it is.”

He stifled a smile. Touché. He held her gaze as the call rang through. Even the small connection charged the air between them.

A man picked up. Eric tilted the receiver to his mouth. “Hello, Tom? This is Doc Hendricks. I’m out at the old bed and breakfast on Yellow Breeches Road.”

The old bed and breakfast. Probably shouldn’t have called it that either.

Joss drifted into the front room with ethereal grace. She’d have fit easily into the home’s setting in the nineteenth century. The house must have been magnificent when its original owners built it in the late 1800s. Even as he argued with Tom about the horse’s proper care, Eric envisioned her in a lacy gown. Imagined the two of them riding in a horse-drawn wooden sleigh, its runners gliding across snow-covered roads.

The stable manager denied ignoring the horse’s needs. Eric knew better. Hanging up, he muttered, “Incompetent ass.”

Joss turned. “Will the horse be all right?”

Eric trudged to the hallway. “No thanks to Larsen. I’d like to take a crop to him.”

Annie frowned. “Shouldn’t the owners have looked after their horse?”

“Yes. Unfortunately they lavish their attentions on their prize Saddlebred, who brings home the pretty blue ribbons. And put too much trust in Tom to follow through with his responsibilities as stable manager.” He stared at the face of the grandfather clock when it chimed eleven. “Is that the correct time?”

Joss set the paint roller in the pan. “Sorry, it’s never right.”

Glancing at her watch, Annie frowned. “It is now.”

With a breathy laugh, Joss’s body went rigid. “What?”

“Eleven o’clock.” Confusion crossed Annie’s face.

“It can’t be.” From Joss’s reaction she might have said a bomb was about to explode.

“Why not?” Had he missed something?

Blinking hard, Joss glanced at the old clock, then at him. “This clock never tells…the right time.” Her voice faded as she spoke the last words. Her narrowed gaze swept over him, leaving a trail of heated pinpricks.

Blood coursed like gasoline through his veins, cold but ready to ignite. Every sense snapped to attention, focused on her. Something very odd was going on. Their conversation seemed to be on two levels; the words they spoke corresponded to a deeper meaning, and he had no clue what it meant. Only Joss understood, and Annie, who looked on in surprise. Charlie, however, kept painting.

Unsure how to respond, Eric flashed a tight grin. “Well. Glad it’s working again. Thanks.” He pulled up his collar and opened the door.

Joss called, “You’re welcome.”

Something in her voice halted him. A husky tone caught in his throat as he croaked a goodbye. He blinked hard and turned away without another word.

The wind drove the freezing rain into his face. Glad for its cleansing chill, he tilted his head up and strode to his truck, hoping it would clear the fog from his brain. Being around her gave him a dizzy sensation, as if she were a whirlwind enveloping him. Paralyzing him. Turned him into a mute, and deaf to anyone except her. He’d never experienced anything quite like it. Fumbling the keys into the ignition, his hands shook, though the cold temperature didn’t register.

Edging the truck down the driveway, he couldn’t stop searching for her. One last look. Stalling rewarded him with a glimpse. Joss glided past the window, then edged back, half-hidden. She was looking for him too. Impulsively, he jammed his foot against the accelerator and the tires kicked up gravel behind him.

Maybe the crazy aunt’s a witch. She’s cast a spell over me.

Now he sounded like the gossipers at the diner. The fact that he entertained such a notion proved something was amiss. Or why he reacted to her so strangely. No, overreacted. Her presence threw off his internal compass, sent the needle spinning. He had no idea which direction was up. Knew only that whatever force was at work, it drew him back, uncontrollably, to her.

He found himself outside his practice without any memory of driving there.

Glancing back, the Victorian atop the hill gleamed like a beacon in fog. Light poured out the windows with a vibrancy reflecting the life of those within. Again, the distinct impression of being an outsider struck him. Normally, he didn’t mind spending his spare time alone, or at least, he never had until he met Joss.

For the first time, memories of Karen appeared to him in an abstract way, as if from a distance, instead of hitting him like a freight train. Strange. Before, he’d been vaguely aware of his wife’s presence. Of course, he didn’t believe in ghosts, but sometimes his ache for her would ease, and Karen’s warmth would wrap around him like an invisible embrace. In the past year or so, even those brief encounters with her had abandoned him, leaving a gaping void. He finally shook off the sensation of being suspended in nothingness, of seeing life happening around him yet not immersed in it.

Being with Joss brought his solitary lifestyle into sharper relief, revealing a deep loneliness that he hadn’t acknowledged. He had his work. The practice. Memories of Karen. No need for anything else.

Though lately, the waitress at Kara’s Kafe had popped into his head uninvited. And unwanted. He’d awaken and imagine her beside him. He’d jump out of bed to put distance between them, though he knew she wasn’t actually there. Or when he drove, he sometimes imagined her cuddling into his side. It wrenched his stomach. Worse, it interrupted musings of Joss, almost as if on purpose. Sheree didn’t interest him. Why did she appear in his head?

Only when he was near Joss did the unease about the waitress subside.

* * * *

After the door closed, Joss let out a ragged breath. She waited, listening to his footsteps recede. Waiting for them to return. What am I doing? Apparently getting caught up in the poor man’s need for comfort. Then why did she wish he’d stayed longer?

He didn’t talk to her, so much as at her. Maybe he didn’t know how to relate to humans. What a shame, for such a ruggedly handsome, virile man to close himself off to others. To happiness. Maybe his vet practice provided enough for him, and filled any void of loneliness.

Concern in his eyes, Taz tilted his head, as if reading her thoughts.

Seemingly oblivious, Charlie faced the wall, painting intently. Annie, on the other hand, moved the roller slowly up and down. With frequent, furtive glances, she watched Joss.

Joss forced a smile. “We’re making good progress. The inn will be ready for Thanksgiving after all.”

In an unintentional imitation of Taz, Annie’s shoulders slumped when she tilted her head, her face filled with yearning. A silent beg for inside information. The effect was comical, but Joss couldn’t talk about what had happened.

Joss shot her a silent warning. Strange the old clock struck the correct hour. To mention it would open an avenue of discussion for Annie, so Joss bent to retrieve her paint roller. “Let’s see how far we can get before lunch.”

“What’s for lunch today, Annie?” Charlie asked.

Annie answered, “Chili and corn bread. It’ll warm us up.”

“Sounds perfect.” Even if Joss was plenty heated by Eric’s visit. His essence still permeated the room, emanating heat like a hearth fire.

Charlie agreed, and engaged Annie in a discussion of recipes.

The ping of hard rain against the window captured Joss’s attention. Beyond the spattered glass, the dark blue SUV swung away from the barn and down the long drive. A plume of exhaust trailed from his vehicle. She could have sworn he watched from within.

I don’t need any trouble. I don’t care how handsome he is. More than handsome. Now she knew why younger people referred to the opposite sex as hot. When near him, a side of her she’d locked away returned, hungry for more. The hair on her skin shot up with electricity when he stood close.

No, she should leave him alone. And every other man, after what Gram revealed.