'I gave up men,' she whispered.
'You ever think that you chose the wrong men on purpose?'
She laughed over the vague unease his words brought forth. 'Why would I do that? You think I
'Probably easier than to be the one doing the dumping.'
She stared up at him. 'Let me get this straight. You think I choose men that dump me, on purpose? Because it's the easy way out?'
'Maybe.'
'You know what? I don't care what you think.' He wasn't right, he couldn't be right. 'And I'm sticking to my plan.'
'The no-more-men plan.'
'That's right.'
'Being careful is good, Breanne. But holding back entirely because you're scared?' He shook his head. 'That'd be a damn waste.'
'I told you, we're strangers.'
'See, that's the thing.' Again he stepped close, his broad shoulders blocking out everything but him, the azure color of his shirt emphasizing the clarity of his eyes, intent and frustrated as they were. 'We're not strangers. Not anymore.' His eyes captured and held hers, forcing her to face that truth, at least. 'You have a passion for life. It's an attractive trait, and a sexy one. Don't waste it just because you're running scared.'
'I make bad choices,' she whispered, knowing it sounded like an old refrain. 'You're not going to be the next one.'
'But what if this is right?'
'How do I know that?'
'I think you'd just know,' he said, and ran a finger over her jaw. 'You'd feel it.'
She gave a desperate shake of her head.
Disappointment flickered across his face, but he didn't press her. He wouldn't, she realized, and that was… oddly freeing and exhilarating all in itself. In her life she'd been pushed in one direction or another by a sibling, a parent, a boyfriend. Making her own decisions had been the best gift she'd ever given to herself.
Now she just had to stay on track and make the right ones. A powerful thing, really. 'If I could just get out of here.'
They both looked out the window, to the heavily falling snow.
'I guess wanting and getting are two different things,' she said.
'I'd agree with you there.' He was no longer looking outside, but at her profile.
She turned to him and felt her heart squeeze at the look on his face. 'This is crazy,' she whispered. 'There's a dead guy downstairs.
'Yeah,' he said on a sigh that spoke volumes about his experiences. To her this was a new nightmare, but he'd seen it all before, and had even walked away from it. She couldn't begin to understand how it must feel for him to go on vacation to clear his head and still face death. 'Well, at least one thing's clear,' she said very softly. 'I have an alibi for last night and this morning.' Her gaze dropped involuntarily to his mouth, her body even now remembering how good it tasted. 'I was kissing the hell out of the detective working the case.'
Chapter 16
– Breanne Mooreland's Journal Entry
By afternoon, Breanne needed a distraction. She figured food would do it. Moving toward the kitchen, she stopped short in the hallway and stared at a new painting. Or at least she thought it was new because this she would have remembered.
It was an antique, two-person saw blade, at least six feet long, maybe more, painted with the most beautiful landscape of a raging river surrounded by a thick forest, with a storm brewing on the left. Gorgeous.
But where had it come from?
She was distracted from that by the sound of Shelly talking in the kitchen. The cook had made herself scarce all day, and Breanne had been worried about her. Relieved now, she knocked on the closed door.
'Just a sec!' Shelly called out. Then, a minute later, she opened the door, looking rosy and rushed, but neat as ever. '.'Hey!'
'Want some company?'
'Uh…' Shelly took a quick glance over her shoulder, then flashed Breanne a smile. 'Sure. Come on in.'
Breanne looked around. 'Who were you talking to?'
'What?'
'I thought I heard you talking.'
'Oh.' Shelly laughed breathlessly as she moved behind the island countertop. 'Myself. I talk to myself. A lot. Have a seat. Are you hungry? I have hot water-I boiled it in the fireplace. Start with some tea while I fix something for you.'
Breanne sat at a bar stool on the other side of the island counter, feeling the cool wood beneath her thighs thanks to the short, short skirt. She began flipping through a basket of teas to choose from.
Shelly unloaded an armful of things from the refrigerator, then began chopping carrots at the speed of light, defying gravity and all laws of relativity as her knife flew through the stack. When the carrots were gone, she moved on to celery. And then fresh broccoli.
Neither of them spoke. Breanne wanted to ask about Edward, but Shelly seemed like brittle glass, so instead she sat there shoving the chopped veggies into her mouth with the same velocity that Shelly wielded her knife.
When Breanne caught up with her, eating everything in front of her, she took her tea bag out of her mug and sipped Earl Grey.
'You know,' Shelly said, breaking their silence, 'women are a lot like that tea bag.'
'How's that?'
'You don't know how strong they are until you put them in hot water.'
Breanne laughed and it felt good. 'Ain't that the truth.'
'If men had to be half as strong as we are, our race would have died out.' A sad smile crossed Shelly's face. 'My mom said that a lot.'
Jumping at the chance to think of anything other than Edward, she managed a smile also. 'I have four brothers, so that statement would have started World War III in my house. Are you close to your family?'
'Oh. Yes.' Shelly's smile softened. 'It's just me and my sister now. More veggies?' She shoved the rest of the chopped broccoli toward Breanne. 'I'd have made dip if the sour cream wasn't questionable. Damn the lack of power.' She turned on a small lantern on the counter. It didn't light much. 'Damn Patrick for the lack of a generator.'
'A generator would be nice,' Breanne agreed, glancing out at the fading daylight. Another night in the place. Another dark night, this time with a dead body in the cellar.
No one knew the exact time of Edward's death, which meant something even more disturbing. None of them had an alibi, not even her.
Did Cooper count her as a suspect?
Did she count
