“Take all you want,” she said, looking at the fruit wasting on the ground. “Grandma used to make applesauce, but I never got the hang of it. All I can manage is a pie.”
“Apple pie?” he asked, wiping a drop of juice from his chin.
“I’m not the most graceful person alive, but I make a pretty good pie. I suppose I could bake one for dessert tonight.” Maybe a full belly would loosen his tongue.
“Hurry and get what you need,” he said as they reached the back porch. He hurled the apple core into the trees so far it would’ve put a major-league baseball pitcher to shame, and posted himself at the door like a guard.
What did he think was out there? She changed into a print skirt and grabbed her tote bag before meeting him outside. His eyes roved over her legs, looking as shocked as if she’d slapped him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She led him toward the azaleas and pines hiding her red 1968 Fastback from view, dropping back a few steps when he kept glancing at her legs. “There’s my Mustang—”
He stopped so fast, she plowed into him. “I thought you meant a horse,” he said, finally looking at something besides her knees. He approached the car like she would Noah’s Ark, running his hands over the hood, smudging her wax job, pressing his nose to the window like a kid who’d crash-landed in the North Pole.
More proof he wasn’t a demon. All human males were as fascinated with cars as they were with breasts. Faelan appeared to be no exception.
“It’s yours?”
“It was my dad’s. He died when I was a kid.” One day the car would be hers, he’d promised. One day he’d teach her to drive. He hadn’t.
“You loved him,” Faelan said.
Bree heard sympathy in his voice. Did he miss his father as much as Bree missed hers? She and her dad had done everything together, Civil War re-enactments, metal detecting, exploring caves. The only time he’d let her out of his sight was to visit her grandmother. Bree had never understood why she wasn’t allowed to attend summer camps and have sleepovers like the other girls. She asked him about it once. He’d smiled a little sadly and said fair damsels had to be protected. That was before she found out about her dead twin.
There was a rustling in the trees, followed by a shriek, and something white flew overhead. Faelan grabbed Bree’s arm. “Let’s go.”
She opened the car door, and he shoved her inside. What was he so afraid of? “Was that an owl?” she asked after he moved around to the other side. “I’ve seen a huge one hanging around. That could be what we heard earlier.”
“Maybe.”
She showed him how to work the seat belt, then started the car. The engine roared to life, and Faelan’s eyebrows rose. At the end of her long driveway, she pulled onto the road and hit the gas. Faelan’s shoulders were thrown back as he gripped the seat. Bree played tour guide as they drove, but he wasn’t listening. His gaze was everywhere—on the car, the scenery, the traffic—but his hand never strayed from the bump where the necklace lay under his shirt. They passed a massive rock sticking out of the ground, and he twisted around. Bree saw the look on his face. Recognition.
“Is that a talisman you’re wearing?”
He clamped his hand over the necklace, as if she might leap across the seat and rip the thing from his neck. “How do you know about talismans?”
“I have all sorts of useless knowledge floating up here,” she said, tapping her temple. “Who gave it to you?”
“Mi… my family.”
“The one you can’t remember?” Touche. She saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “If you knew your last name, we could search for them on the computer.”
“Computer?”
She could tell by the way he formed the word that it was the first time he’d uttered it. “You can find anything you want on a computer, and some things you don’t, but I need a name first.”
“Hopefully I’ll remember it soon. I have nothing. No home, no horse, no food.”
She was pretty certain he’d remember when he wanted to. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Since you can’t remember anything, you’re welcome to stay here until we figure out who you are.”
He looked at her as if she’d offered him cyanide. “You’d do all this for a stranger after…” He shook his head. “Why?”
“You have an odd way of showing appreciation.”
“You’re too trusting. I could be dangerous.”
She knew he was dangerous, but he was also the key to a mystery. “I woke you. It seems the right thing to do, in here.” Bree patted her heart, and Faelan stared at her breasts. With Russell calling every day, it wouldn’t hurt to have a strong man around, even one she’d found in a crypt. Russell would think twice before coming after her with Faelan here.
“I’m becoming more and more indebted to you,” he said, not sounding pleased about it. “I can take care of the farming and chores until your brother gets here, then I’ll leave.”
Leave? She’d just found him. “I don’t have chickens or cows, but there’s work to be done, that’s for sure.” Isabel’s journal had distracted Bree from remodeling.
“I’m surprised you don’t have someone to help you with the place.” His tone gave away what he didn’t say.
