Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3) (14 page)

“Are these from the actual hill in front of the house?” Arielle asked.

“I hope so,” Ken admitted with a self-conscious chuckle. “’Fraid you’re asking the wrong guy.”

At Arielle’s soft breath of exasperation, Luke stepped closer. “There’s a number on the side of the bag,” he said. “And a list of contents in this report. We’ll have to go bag by bag and check the numbers against the contents.”

She turned and caught his eye. “Would you do that?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I won’t,” Ken said, backing away. “I have a meeting and another client to deal with.”

“Can we stay here and do it ourselves?” Luke asked.

Ken’s brows knit together. “Why? It’s crushed rock and seashells, and the reports are filed with the county, approved, and finalized. What are you looking for, anyway?”

“Peace of mind,” Luke said without thinking.

Ken lifted his shoulders in a huge shrug. “I guess. I’ll be out, so let Michelle know when you’re done, and she’ll lock up after you.” He held up his hands in resignation. “Not sure what else I can do for you.”

“Nothing,” Luke said, offering his hand. “Thanks for your time.”

“Yes, and for the access,” Arielle added. “Very kind of you.”

“Not a problem.” He walked away and stepped outside. “Gets pretty hot in here, so I’ll leave the door open.”

When he was gone, Arielle reached a hand out and put it on Luke’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so nice about this.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re looking at bags of shells,” he said, holding her gaze. “But I really do want you to feel like we’ve done everything on the up-and-up, we’re not destroying a burial ground, and…” He grinned. “Dinner’s on you.”

Chapter Eleven

After opening the third bag of ground-up shells and rocks, Ari ripped off one of her latex gloves.

“This is not working.” Tossing the glove on the floor, she burrowed her bare hand into the bag and closed her eyes. Nothing.

“Be careful,” Luke said, reaching for her hand. “Those are sharp. You could cut yourself.”

“But I can’t feel anything with that glove on.”

“What do you need to feel? They’re seashells and stones, Arielle. And they’re all broken. You’re not going to find ancient artifacts in here, and honestly, I hate to be gross, but if there are bones, we wouldn’t even know it.”

“I would.” She set the bag down and leaned back against the box behind her, frowning at him. “I’d sense it.”

His eyes widened enough for her to know he was fighting the urge to laugh or make a very sarcastic remark. To his credit, he did neither, so she felt encouraged to underscore her point.

“I have intuition, Luke,” she said softly. “You can ask your sister. When the Barefoot Brides get a new client, the first thing Gussie and Willow ask me is how I feel about them. And they don’t mean do I like the bride or not. I have…intuition.” She didn’t have any better word for it. None that he’d understand, anyway.

“And your intuition is telling you there are no bones of dead people in these bags?”

She relaxed into a rueful smile. “You don’t have to fight so hard to keep the incredulity out of your tone.”

“There’s no incredulity—”

She raised her hand to stop him. “I don’t have to hear it, Luke, and that’s my point. I feel it. Your utter disbelief for what I’m saying is rolling off you like physical waves, and I can feel them.”

“Like a disturbance in the Force?”

“Your joking about it doesn’t make it go away.”

“So you have, like, ESP?”

“No.” She shook her head, looking down at the bag. “There’s nothing supernatural about my powers of perception any more than your…your…” She searched his face for an answer, but her gaze fell to his chest and shoulders. She gave his bicep a squeeze. God, it was hard. And fine. And…hard. “Your strength.”

He didn’t answer, but he might have flexed a little bit to impress her. It worked.

“I assume you developed these muscles with hard work and repeated activities,” she said.

“Not in a gym,” he assured her.

“But the ghost was in the machine, as they say. Just like my powers of perception are…here.” She tapped her chest and then her head. “And here. You were born with the genetic stuff to make these muscles, like I was born with whatever it takes to fine-tune well-developed intuition. Does that make sense?”

His expression answered for her: no.

“I can read people, and sometimes, I feel things.”

He searched her face, the humor and doubt fading as he listened, holding back his opinion.

“For instance, I got some really strong vibes—and I don’t mean that like a psychic—from our friends Ken and Michelle.”

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “Your powers of perception tell you that Ken’s a slob who doesn’t care about his environment but has the hots for his assistant, Michelle, who thinks she’s smarter than her boss.”

She rolled her eyes.

“So I’m right.”

“You’re not wrong,” she said. “But I got a little more than that surface, obvious business.”

“Like what?”

“Ken is a good guy.” She nodded, looking out the open door, thinking of the honest aura he emitted. “He didn’t tell us a single lie, he has no agenda where you’re concerned, and he has feelings for Michelle, but my gut says they are more paternal and sympathetic than sexual.”

He leaned back against his own plastic backrest, taking that in. “Really. And what about her?”

“She’s hiding something.”

“Other than the fact that she smokes in the storeroom?”

“I don’t know,” Ari answered. “She’s not honest, though, and I’m sorry if I sound weird, but I can smell that on her.”

He let out a little snort. “So dishonesty smells like Marlboro Lights.”

“How do you know that’s what she smokes?”

“They were the Legion-imported cigarette of choice. I never smoked, but I was around them enough.”

She looked down at the gallon-sized plastic bag on her lap, hoping he’d be as understanding about other weirdnesses she had. Like knowing when she’s meant to be in love with someone.

“My grandmother had this gift to the point that it might be considered supernatural,” she said softly. “She was legions beyond me, but she did teach me a lot.”

When he didn’t answer, she looked up, meeting his intense gaze.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like how to touch something and get a sense of…history.” She exhaled slowly, choosing her words with care. “I don’t tell a lot of people about this. It’s too easy to make fun of.”

“You can say that again,” he said quietly. “But I’ll restrain myself, even if I don’t quite grasp it.”

“I don’t expect you to restrain your jokes or understand this,” she replied. “What’s real to one person isn’t always real to another.”

His brows furrowed. “Real is real, Arielle. Something either is or it isn’t.”

“I guess that’s a question for philosophers,” she agreed, not really wanting to get into a faith debate right here and now, especially one she had in her own head often enough. “But you asked, and I’m telling you what my grandmother could do. I picked up a little bit of it. I haven’t really tried to perfect or even use the skill because, frankly, it’s not part of my daily life of designing sets for weddings. But when I found those pearls…” She let her voice fade off. A pragmatic person like Luke would never understand.

“Tell me,” he urged. He put his hand on her arm and added enough pressure that all her nerves started doing their happy dance again.

She gave her head a tiny shake.

“Arielle. What did you feel when you found the pearls?”

“Like the universe wanted to tell me something important about that place.”

He took a slow breath, still studying her. “And what did it tell you?”

“I don’t know. You knocked me right off my feet before I could take my next breath.”

Inching back, he gave a quick laugh. “I showed up right then?”

“Scant seconds after I found the pearls.” Unable to resist, she turned her hand over and slid it down his arm a few inches to capture his fingers in hers. She could feel his pulse, his heat, his strength, his aura.

His aura that
still
told her he was The One.

“My timing is always impeccable,” he said. “I shut the universe up.”

“Unless you were what the universe was trying to tell me.” She swallowed at the admission, feeling warm and close in the small space.

“What do you mean?”

“Either the universe was warning me that you were heading this way to destroy something important.” With her other hand, she lifted the bag to show him what she meant. “And you have to be stopped.”

“Or?”

“Or you were heading this way to…”
Change my life
. She felt herself inch closer to him. “To…”
Take my heart
. And closer. “To…”
Be The One
.

The door closed with a bang, making them both jump.

“Aren’t you two almost done here?”

Luke let out a soft grunt only Ari could hear. “We were just getting started,” he whispered.

She smiled and pulled back. “Nearly,” she said, turning to watch Michelle on the approach. “Do you need to lock up?”

“I want to go to lunch.” She put a hand on her hip. “Find everything in order?”

“We did,” Luke assured her, standing and reaching for Ari’s hand. “And I think we’re done, right, Arielle?”

She let Luke pull her up, then zipped the bag she held. “Were there any other samples taken from the property?” she asked.

As Michelle got closer, Ari could smell that acrid odor of cigarettes, but a cloying scent of something else nearly covered it. A flower, like honeysuckle, but not as pretty. Jasmine? Or maybe Ari was smelling dishonesty because it emanated from this ragged, unhappy woman.

“That’s all Ken gave me,” Michelle said. “That don’t mean that’s all there is, but I do my best, you know?”

No, she didn’t know. “Why wouldn’t he give you everything?”

Michelle looked from one to the other, lifting a narrow shoulder, then sliding her fingertips into the slit pockets of her jeans. “He’s Ken.”

“What does that mean?” Luke asked.

“Nothing.”

They both looked hard enough at her that she took a slight step backward, her shoulders hunched. “He likes shortcuts, is all. He might not be, how do I say it, afraid to shade the truth to save or make a buck.”

“Then why do you work for him?” Ari asked.

She shrugged again. “He goes out all afternoon and I can take three-hour lunches. So…” She flicked her fingers to dismiss them. “Let’s get you guys out of here so I can start one now, okay?”

Ari started to replace the bag in the bin, but Luke stepped closer to the woman. “You must be really efficient if you can take three-hour lunches and keep this room as organized as you do.”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, no doubt feeling the same impact anyone with a couple of X chromosomes would feel. “I am,” she said. “And you’re cutting into my work time.”

She tempered the smartass comment with a smile. “Hey, I don’t mean to be a bitch. It just comes so naturally.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh, which felt oddly honest coming from her. “And, listen, I don’t mean to run you two out of here, but let me help you out. Take a bag from that box. Go get it tested or whatever. All we got is Ken’s word that he tested these, but if you take them somewhere else, you can be sure that’s the truth.”

Luke gave her a long, hard look, then nodded. “All right. We’ll do that.”

She pushed past them and chose a bag from the box. “Here you go.”

Luke took it, handing her the paperwork they’d found on top of the bin. “You might want to file this in the proper place, in case someone needs to look at it again.”

“I’ll do that,” she said, taking it and stepping to the side to let them pass. “After my three-hour lunch.”

Luke put his hand on Ari’s shoulder and led her out, but when she passed the other woman, their arms brushed and something pinged in Ari’s head.

Might have been a warning, but it could have been the sickening smell of her perfume. The thing Ari didn’t tell Luke about her intuition was that sometimes…she was wrong.

* * *

“Whoa, Mr. Fancy McFancyPants.”

Luke speared the twelve-year-old doing homework at Gussie’s kitchen table with a look. “You’ve spent entirely too much time with my sister, Alex.”

The girl grinned and pointed her pencil eraser at him. “Any chance you understand algebra? Because my soon-to-be Aunt Gussie couldn’t solve for X if it bit her.”

“Hey.” In the kitchen, Gussie tapped a wooden spoon on the side of a pan. “I did that word problem for you.”

Alex rolled her eyes with true preteen precision. “You gave me a story about a guy who met a girl on a plane to St. Louis. The question was, how many hours did it take the plane to get there?”

“Long enough for him to get her phone number.” Laughing, she turned to look at Luke. “Whoa, Mr. Fancy McFan—”