“I really need to get moving,” he said.
Stop fighting your feelings.
What? Going insane because I hear voices? I need to go to work. Leave me alone.
“Breakfast is almost ready.” Courtney’s warm breath against his cool skin didn’t help his confusion. No woman had ever made him feel like she did, and that terrified him. That and the newfound friend his brain seemed to be imagining.
“Something’s bothering you,” she said matter-of-factly.
He half-expected her to look scared or confused, at the very least to be skeptical about what had happened between them. But no, she looked as if she understood what he was thinking and feeling, when he didn’t have a clue himself.
“Something bad always happens on Halloween.” Well, he wasn’t lying about that. Last year, two kids got hit by a car, and one was permanently injured. The year before, someone lit the middle school on fire, causing thousands of dollars’ worth of damage and closing the school for five days. Halloween was just one of those holidays that Owen could live without. “Especially when it falls on the weekend.” He didn’t want to think back years ago to when Halloween actually changed his life.
She pressed her lips against his neck and sighed. “I love Halloween, but I can see how it might make your job difficult.”
“Does that mean you’ll lay off the stories today?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Those stories are half the fun of Halloween. And you used to love those stories yourself.”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that. “Not the point.” He tossed the covers to the side and scanned the room for his jeans.
“Exactly the point.” As if she read his mind, she said, “Try under the bed.”
He bent over, and low and behold, his jeans were tucked neatly under his feet. After he slipped his pants over his hips and securely fastened them, he turned to face her. He still didn’t feel awkward, but he was out of his element. “Thanks.”
She shrugged, then eased herself to her feet in front of him and laced her fingers around his neck. “I believe in spirits. Does that bother you?”
This was one of those questions that no matter how he answered, he’d be in the doghouse. “Not sure.” He frowned at the bizarre turn in his thoughts. It bothered him more that he liked this quirkiness about her. It concerned him that she thought certain foods would ward off certain kinds of ghosts or goblins, and others would cleanse your aura and bring you good will. But what got to him the most was that it didn’t seem abnormal to him, and it should. Must have been growing up across the street from her grandmother. “I don’t. Does that bother you?”
She smiled, tilting her head. Her body flattened against his as she pressed her sugary lips to his mouth. She didn’t seem to have a shy bone in her body. “Hungry?” she questioned, then rolled her tongue over her lower lip.
He groaned as he glanced at the clock. “I suppose.” He snagged his T-shirt and gun and followed her down to the kitchen. The cinnamon smell intensified with every step he took. French toast had always been his favorite, but then again, she knew that. When they were kids, he’d show up on weekends just for her grandmother’s breakfast. “Can you make your grandma’s chili?” He poured himself another cup of coffee and settled down at the kitchen table with the annoying voice telling him not to screw this up. Like there was anything to screw up.
“Grandma left me all her recipes, even her love potions.” She winked at him as she set down a huge plate of French toast, sprinkled with powdered sugar and drowning in syrup, with a side of bacon. “I added some to the dish.”
“Added what?”
“The love potion.”
“You really think I need that after what I did to you last night?” Did he just say that? He lifted the coffee cup to his lips, trying to ignore her, her damn fresh scent, sexy body, and great food. Besides, that was just weird. Her grandmother used to give him powdered sugar on everything. She always said that no dish was complete without it.
“Maybe I’d like a repeat performance tonight.” The hot coffee scalded his tongue as it went down in one big gulp. He cleared his throat, stabbed his breakfast, and shoved a huge bite into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed and chewed some more.
“Could be arranged,” he said softly, taking another bite.
While he devoured his meal, she sat down across from him and nibbled on hers. She stared at him as if she were studying him. He tried not to pay any attention to her, but her gaze never wavered. “What?” he asked, setting his fork down.
“Do you regret last night?” She pushed her plate aside, clunked her elbows on the table, resting her cheeks in her hands. “Because even if nothing ever came of it, I’m glad it happened.”
He didn’t regret making love to her, but he did regret he didn’t have a clue about what he did want from her, with her, if anything. Life with a woman hadn’t been high on his to-do list. Being able to come and go as he pleased worked for him. Having to answer to someone, didn’t. He tried that once. But she wasn’t Courtney.
No, she wasn’t, and Courtney is your other half. She is what makes you whole. Stop questioning this and go with that famous gut of yours.
Then get out of my head!
“I wanted it to happen fifteen years ago,” he heard himself
