Bree fired up the computer while Faelan inspected the artifacts and treasures she’d collected over the years. “What are these?” he asked, running a hand over one of the wooden boxes.
“Puzzle boxes,” she said, as the image of a face blinked across the screen, fading to black. She rubbed her eyes. She had to get more sleep. “They were my Aunt Layla’s. My dad’s youngest sister. She was only twenty-five when she died.” No one in the family talked about Layla. The topic was as taboo as Bree’s twin. “I always loved the boxes, so Grandma gave them to me.”
Faelan moved behind Bree, so close she smelled the warmth of his skin. She pushed her chair back and jumped to her feet. “I think this computer’s possessed.” She felt like tossing it in the yard.
Faelan glanced out the window and frowned. “It’s getting late. We should leave.”
“We haven’t even had dinner. Are you that afraid?”
His muscles bulged. “I’m not afraid, but there’s a killer out there, Russell or someone else. It’s not safe for you to stay.”
“I’ll take you to a hotel, but I’m not running away.” She was tired of running. Russell always found her. Besides, what would he do against a big, bad warrior? Or a big bad demon, for that matter.
“I’m trying to protect you, and you’re making it bloody hard.” He scowled at her and left the room. A second later, she heard his door slam.
Male chauvinist. She’d never asked him to protect her in the first place. After his behavior in the crypt, she wondered if he was the threat.
***
Bree studied the names until her eyes blurred. She’d seen hundreds, but no Faelan. The oven timer dinged. His apple pie. She should let it burn. She put the
A thump sounded outside, followed by a crash. Alarmed, she hurried to the back door. Faelan stood near the orchard, beside a pile of wood almost as tall as he was, holding an ax. Her eyes smarted with relief. He’d changed into his kilt again. His hair was loose, his shirt hanging over the shed door. Muscles bunched and released as he raised the ax, sinking the blade into a piece of wood. He tossed it on the pile and reached for another, splitting it clean in half. He looked up, and his eyes met hers. Something quivered inside her, terrifying in its force.
He grinned. If she hadn’t dodged it, Cupid’s arrow would’ve nailed her right there on her back porch. After all the inconsiderate jerks she’d dated, one mention of needing the wood split, and he’d done it for her. Even though he was upset.
She swallowed the ball of emotion and called out, “Dinner’s ready. I made a pie.”
“Give me a minute to stack this, and I’ll be in,” he yelled back, picking up an armload.
She walked inside, oddly disturbed for someone who’d avoided having to split a load of wood. She’d never had this strong a reaction to a man, and she’d sought out handsome men like a plant seeks light. This was bad. No matter what secrets he held, he had the power to destroy everything she’d worked for, normalcy, peace of mind. Maybe she should let Jared give Faelan a bed. That thought gurgled and died when Faelan stepped in the back door. His damp shirt hung from one hand, and in the other, he held a clump of wildflowers. He stretched out his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Her throat clogged, and she focused on the sweat trickling down his chest to keep from crying. No one had ever given her wildflowers. She swallowed and took them from his dusty hand.
“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said. “I don’t find it easy to trust people. And I’m too protective. I don’t know any other way to be. Can you forgive me?” He stepped closer and touched her arm. His pheromones shot straight up her nose. She knew all she had to do was take half a step, and she’d be in his arms.
She nodded and stepped back. “Thank you. For the flowers. And the apology.”
“I know it’s not much, but I do appreciate all you’ve done for me.” He sniffed. “Is that apple pie?”
She nodded. “Are you hungry?” He was always hungry.
“Starving.” He glanced at her mouth and quickly looked away. “I probably should wash up first. I’m sure I don’t smell as good as the pie.” He grinned and wiped his forehead and chest with his shirt, leaving her hotter than the bubbling stew.
“Eat first. Just wash your hands at the sink there. After dinner you can take a long soak in the tub. Your muscles must be sore from splitting all that wood,” she said, watching them ripple as he walked toward the sink. She filled a vase and put the flowers on the table.
Dinner was awkward. Every time she looked at him, he was watching her. It wasn’t just him. She was battling her own demons. All she could think about was that kiss in the dressing room, sitting astride his leg.
“Leave the dishes,” she said when they’d finished. “I’ll clean them up while you try the Jacuzzi.”
“Jacuzzi?”
“A big tub. Come with me.”
He followed her to the master bath. “A lot fancier than what we had,” he said, touching the marble sink. “My mom—” He paused, and Bree saw pain flash in his eyes. She pretended not to notice the slip. It was becoming a strain to keep up this charade, but he was softening toward her. She hoped he was close to telling her the truth. “This shower is nicer than the one in the hall bathroom. Or you can use the Jacuzzi.” She pointed to the jetted tub. “A massage would probably feel nice.”
“Massage?” he said, giving her a look that made her knees wobble.
“The tub… the water massages you. I don’t know why Grandma went all out on the bathroom, when the rest of the house needed work, but I’m not complaining. Would you like to try it?”
“Aye. I would.”
