Restless Spirit (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

Before we hung up he said, ‘I’ll be home tomorrow. I’m taking the early flight.’

‘Good,’ I said.

I realised I’d be happy to have him home. Back on the grounds where I could get to him should I want to.

‘I missed you, Tuesday.’

A heavy nervousness settled over me and I could tell he felt some anxiety over it too.

‘Me, too,’ I said.

‘Does that bother you?’ I could hear him smiling.

‘Would you be mad if I said yes?’ I chuckled.

‘Yes.’

I went dead silent, all the words drying up on my tongue.

Then he laughed and said ‘Of course not. That was a joke. I wouldn’t be mad at you for feeling anything you feel. But I hope when it comes to me, it’s mostly good.’

‘It is mostly good,’ I said. ‘But in a very unnerving way.’

‘Well, I did my good deed for the year. Earned my nest egg for the next twelve months too. And when I get home, I plan to fuck you entirely and also good enough to last a year.’

‘It won’t, though, right? I mean that won’t be the last time you fuck me for the year?’

‘Not on your life,’ he said.

We hung up and something scratched in the basement. I remembered what Adrian said. Keep the door locked and leave the critter be.

I cracked my notebook and started writing. I liked the slow but intense pace of my emerging – I liked that I felt cleaner after I wrote. I liked that I was already thinking of how to put aside enough money for a laptop or even giving into the urge sooner rather than later and signing on to Nan’s computer.

But for now I was content to write it out long hand. Capturing the words and emotions as they bubbled up to the surface. Focusing on that instead of missing Shepherd or acknowledging that I was looking forward to seeing him again. Naked. Between my thighs.

Something made a sound in the basement. But I wasn’t afraid of raccoons or possums or even skunks. The only real thing I feared was Phil and that was because Phil had hit a point where he felt he had nothing to lose. A man who had nothing to lose was a dangerous man. I glanced at the basement door and the small skeleton key hole. Nan had the key somewhere in the kitchen but on this side of the door was a bar lock because she hated to fiddle with the old fashioned key. She said it was easier to go modern. A simple lock worked just as well.

‘You just stay on your side, Mr Raccoon,’ I muttered. At one I put on an 80s movie and rubbed my tired eyes. I fell asleep watching John Candy flip a huge pancake with a snow shovel.

The next day, I was in the shower when I felt it. That unmistakable wave of invisible energy invading your own. The same as being in a silent room and feeling that someone has walked in.

I poked my head out and looked around, brushing shampoo bubbles off my face as I looked.

‘Hello?’

I wanted my voice to be big and booming. I wanted to hear myself be aggressive and sure. Instead my call came out breathy and messy and kind of scared.

‘Adrian?’ I asked. Yes, feeling hopeful if you must know.

Nothing.

Shepherd was a plane ride away in New York. He said he was leaving early but that included a layover.

Down in the great room the phone started to ring. It dawned on me that the phone was down there, the extension in Nan’s room, my cell was somewhere at the bottom of my purse.

My eyes skittered wildly around the room for a weapon. The hiss of the shower filled my head and I took a deep shuddering breath. I had simply felt something. There was no evidence that there was anything at all to worry about.

But for my gut feeling, that is. And my gut rarely failed me.

My gaze found the medicine cabinet. An old fashioned barn cabinet salvaged and redone in a distressed white. Nan had been a very, very talented crafter and had made many old things new again. Inside her new-distressed looking medicine cabinet rested a large, sharp pair of hairstyling scissors. I know because I’d moved them the night before while rifling for a bottle of pain reliever.

‘Scissors,’ I said to myself.

‘Nan?’ I called. I’d take a ghost over a human intruder.

Maybe it was the raccoon or whatever critter Adrian suspected.

I rinsed my hair and my body, shutting off the water to hear better. All I heard was the high whine of tinnitus in my ears from the dump of adrenaline in my system.

I tied my robe and found those scissors and pocketed them. Slipping from the bathroom as quietly as possible, I walked softly through the bedroom. Nothing. I found the cordless phone from Nan’s nightstand and stuck that in my other pocket. Then I poked my head into the storage room. With the stacks of stuff, the armoire full of clothes and the slanted walls that were the earmark of A-frame walls, it was hard to tell if anything was out of order. The house had no attic proper and I wondered if one of Adrian’s critters had found its way into what was basically the storage area of the home.

I stood there silently for a moment and not a single thing moved. Nothing appeared disturbed.

From the lake shore I heard a radio playing. Some classic rock song about making love. I heard what sounded like a weed whacker and I wondered if Adrian was out there fixing and testing equipment.

Another furtive sound but thanks to my distraction, I could not tell its origin. There was no way to tell if it was inside or outside or as simple as an innocent nosy squirrel scooting across the roof.

Great – paranoia, fun for all ages …

I pulled on motorcycle boots, well-loved faded jeans, a linen swing top and a crocheted vest. I had the day to putter and fuss around the house. The main room needed to be tidied and probably vacuumed. I remembered to return the scissors to the medicine cabinet so I didn’t impale myself the next time I wore my robe.

Maybe I could go through the storage room for more vintage clothing finds, that might distract me. But the idea of poking around in that abandoned room made me prickle with nerves.

Maybe not.

Downstairs I looked out the front door to see Adrian coming across the driveway and I threw the door open. ‘What is that?’

‘That is a raccoon cage. And this is a can of tuna,’ he said, climbing the steps. He looked handsome and doable in his jeans, work boots and flannel. A feed cap covered his brownish red hair and when he smiled at me I wondered why I had given up all the fucking.

Oh yeah. To figure out my own damn self.

‘Come on in. Can I get you coffee?’

‘Yeah, sure. I like it sweet like my women.’ I didn’t see it coming. The slap landed on my ass with a hefty crack and I yelped. ‘Sorry, sorry. I know I’m not supposed to touch,’ Adrian sighed but then he grinned.

I shook my head and went to get our coffee. He really was a hottie. I hoped that Tammie appreciated it. She seemed a bit ditzy but very nice. Probably the perfect girl for the likes of Adrian. He’d constantly be told what a big, strong, strapping man he was. What a fierce player he was in the sack. What a good man he was.

And he was.

We had our coffee and he peeked out my back window at the lake. ‘Who the hell is sitting out there with a radio in this? I mean it’s sunny, but Jesus. It’s windy as hell and only about 50-something degrees. Not really sunning weather.’

I shrugged. ‘I’ve been told that the Apple Festival brings all kinds.’

He laughed, rubbed his eyes and yawned. ‘Yeah. That’s true. We had a woman who came as a vendor one year who was selling sweaters made from Alpaca hair.’

‘That’s not so weird,’ I said.

‘She brought the Alpacas and promised to spin the fabric on site.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh. The sheriff’s department had a field day with that.’

‘I bet.’

‘I have a date with a critter and then a real one for lunch later. Best get moving. You sure you’re OK, Tuesday? You sleeping well? You look a bit tired.’

‘Gee, thanks. How flattering.’

Adrian shrugged. ‘Sweetheart, you are always hot. That’s a no brainer. I just want to know if you’re OK.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, deciding not to tell him about my weird feelings. It was just the new life I had to settle into. It had me all off balance. I had seen zero evidence that anything besides my overactive imagination was going on.

‘Good. Now I’m going to go put some stinky tuna fish in your basement – ’kay?’

I snorted. ‘You are a prince.’

I saw him off and when the phone rang I dove for it. Something about the long day stretching out ahead of me had me on edge.

‘Hello?

‘It’s me.’

I knew that me. Shepherd. ‘Hey, you. I thought you were in the air.’

‘Delay. Some technical difficulties.’

‘Boy that’s reassuring,’ I said.

‘Tell me about it,’ he growled. ‘For some reason I wanted to let you know. It seemed important.’

‘Because I’m that awesome?’ I teased.

‘Yes,’ he said. His tone dead serious.

Flustered, I twisted my hair around my finger and sighed. ‘You are awesome too.’

‘I want to be home,’ he said.

‘To commence with the fucking?’

‘Yes, but also because … I’m just being the pain in the ass overprotective person that I am. But just pay attention,’ he said.

‘To what?’

‘Your surroundings. I have this bad feeling. Last time I got it, I told my mom and she laughed at me. She got mugged the following day.’

‘Jeesh,’ I said. A wave of unease threatened to drag me under. ‘Thanks for that.’

‘I know. I’m Mary fucking Sunshine. But can you just humour me?’

I wasn’t about to tell him I had a similar feeling. ‘Sure. No problem. When is your flight?’

‘If they can pull their heads out of their asses and pull some spare parts out of their attics, maybe around lunch time. Which will put me home after my stopover around dinner or so.’

‘OK,’ I said.

He told me he missed me. I told him I missed him too. I almost told him to hurry but I didn’t want to be a big dramatic girl about it. Instead I whispered, ‘Be safe.’

‘You too,’ he commanded.

I hung up.

‘I’ll try.’

Chapter Thirty-two

More time to burn, so not what I needed. I changed into running clothes and laced up my shoes. I’d take a run, get rid of some of my tension and settle something in my mind.

I ran down the lake shore road. Thankful for no tourist traffic. The stretch along Main Street had been mobbed since the apple festival began, but I didn’t see much change along the lake road.

Noises, possible vermin in my house, strange men at my window. There were three men in my life currently. One who was away. Two still in town. There were two others I’d left behind and one of those two I feared. I wasn’t quite convinced this was just me freaking myself out.

My feet crunched and popped gravel and crushed shells as I ran to the picking fields and yelled ‘Hey!’ to the figure in the middle.

Reed looked up, his hair blowing around his face when the wind kicked up. He raised a gloved hand and dropped a handful of berries into a basket.

‘Working your own farm?’

‘I am. Just the end of the season stuff. Marilee out at the general store makes preserves with it. She sells them around the holidays and I get a 50 per cent split of the money. If I take it.’

‘But you don’t?’

‘Hell, no. That pays her Christmas bills for her kids,’ he said.

Good man.

I nodded and put my hand on my hips, bending at the waist, trying to catch my breath.

‘How about some tea? Water?’

‘I’ll take the water,’ I gasped.

I followed him in and waited while he washed his hands, then I took the offered glass. When it dribbled down my chin Reed chuckled and took his finger to sop it up. Then his finger, warm and clean and smelling of soap pressed my bottom lip and desire arched through me.

I had not promised Shepherd anything. And he hadn’t asked. For all I knew he was out there in New York fucking every girl to bat her lashes at him.

‘You have that look,’ he said with a grin.

‘What look is that?’

‘The fuck me look.’

Heat rushed to my cheeks and I looked away from him. I wanted to be fucked. I just didn’t know by who. Or was it whom? As if that mattered right now.

‘Oh,’ I said. Then I cleared my throat and barrelled on. ‘You haven’t been um … lurking around my house, have you?’

‘Lurking?’ His ocean coloured eyes sparkled with amusement and when he licked his lips that desire flared in me again. He had fabulous lips. Hot and sweet and plump. Good kisser, Mr Reed Green was.

‘Maybe not lurking. You haven’t been … screwing with me? Trying to scare me? You know, messing with me, Reed!’ I laughed, suddenly feeling very, very stupid.

‘Nope. The only time I screwed with you, babe, you were completely aware of it,’ he said. He stepped into me, pressing his full lean length against me. When my heart sped up this time, it had nothing to do with the run.

His cock was hard.

My breath fled my body in a shuddering sigh and I said, ‘OK, just checking. Thanks.’

‘You still on the no fucking policy?’

His fingers walked over the front seam of my running pants and my clit thumped to life.

‘Trying,’ I breathed.

‘So if I did this, you’d be averse to it?’

He kissed me, his tongue warm and gentle. His hand sliding below the elastic waistband of my pants. I was already warm from the run, but his touch made me warmer. I felt my body respond almost violently, growing plump and swollen and wet for his fingers.

And then there they were. His fingers. Sliding down lower and entering me, inching in slowly to draw back out and press my own wetness to the nub of my clit. I gasped into his mouth and Reed took the opportunity to kiss me deeper.

He slid his fingers back into my cunt, flexing then hard and then driving them deep. The kiss grew more aggressive and he pressed his cock to my leg. I felt him fumble for his button and his zipper and then the whispery sound of his fist around his erection.

‘I won’t try to fuck you.’ He murmured it against my throat, licking the cooling sweat off my pulse point. The pressure of his tongue – just on my skin – made me moan.

‘No. No fucking,’ I said, not even sure myself at this point.

I did not want to be exclusive. The thought scared the shit out of me. Me and exclusivity –commitment – did not mix. Our history was bad. And yet my heart seemed to have another opinion because even though I arched my body to meet his probing fingers, I didn’t cave.

He rubbed his cock a bit harder and I reached out to get him in hand. I stroked him, feeling the silken steel length of his hard-on. ‘Oh, she’s touching me this time.’

‘Shut up, Reed,’ I said.

He chuckled, biting my shoulder gently through my sweatshirt. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, babe.’

I grinned and kissed him, turning fast to pin him to the counter this time. My hand sliding up and down to work him, pausing only to run my thumb over the weeping tip of his cock.

‘You have a little precome there, man,’ I said, laughing.

He stuck his tongue deep in my mouth, sweeping it over mine and nipping the very tip of my tongue so I jumped. He brushed a tender bundle of nerves deep in my pussy just then and the first blissful flex-shiver of my orgasm flooded my pelvis .

‘I don’t know why. It’s not like you turn me on or anything,’ he growled. Reed wrapped his free hand in my hair and I pictured Shepherd using my braids to guide me as I sucked his cock.

Reed tugged a bit tighter as my cunt flexed around his fingers and I started the long slow unravel of a climax. ‘Oh,’ I said as he tugged again.

But it was more due to me imagining Shepherd fucking me from behind. Pulling my hair. Whispering dirty, dirty words to me as he did me hard.

I came with a rush and a sigh and as my pussy worked around his fingers he gave an almost tortured groan and came with me. His come jetting out over the top of my fist, across my sweatshirt. The salt water smell of it heavy in my nose.

We paused, eye to eye and he grinned at me. ‘You make me feel like a teenager. As just evidenced.’

‘I know the feeling,’ I said. He pulled his hand free of me and then of my pants and Reed said, ‘You sure I can’t make you that tea?’

I shook my head no. ‘You sure you’re not messing with me just to be funny or anything?’

He nodded, blue eyes suddenly honest and sombre. ‘I’d never do that, Tuesday. Especially if I knew it spooked you. I’d cop to that for sure to put your mind at ease. Do you need me to come stay there until your …’ He cleared his throat, frowning. ‘Neighbour comes back.’

I barked out a laugh and kissed his nose. ‘No. I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter. I just wanted to double check with you.’

Before things could get any more sticky between us – so to speak – I gave him a wave and ran out the door.

I took off at a good clip for home. The apple festival was calling me. I’d go and walk around and eat and see what there was to see. It would distract me and let me soak up my new home’s environment. And it would give me time to think.

Something I felt I desperately needed.

Not a lot of people look like me in Allister Lake. Most of the women wear jeans and riding boots. Big wool sweaters that have been made by other local women. They have long corn silk coloured hair or hair the colour of warm rich cocoa. They wear just enough make-up to accent but not enough for you to be able to tell for certain they’re wearing it.

Basically, I stick out.

But no one said a word and a good number of the locals I recognised nodded or raised a hand in greeting.

‘Ah, so you came out to see what there is to see.’

I turned to find Irv in a fishing cap and a chequered barn coat. The wind was biting today, the air chilled. It wasn’t cold-cold yet, but it was definitely fall and the nip in the air was the perfect atmosphere for the gathering.

‘I did. I’m almost out of good home baked treats in my freezer,’ I said. We stepped out of the path of the main traffic and under an apple tree heavy with fruit and buzzing softly – if you listened – with lazy bees.

‘You bake?’

‘I fake,’ I laughed.

‘Written that great American novel yet?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Hardly.’

‘You know, Virginia always told me that your biggest obstacle is yourself?’

‘Me?’ I was shocked. Had my grandmother really thought that of me?

‘Yes, you. She said your fear that you couldn’t was the only thing stopping you.’

He raised an old-man bushy eyebrow at me. ‘Wow.’ I’d had no idea she felt that way.

‘Yes, wow. So enjoy our festival and your two days off. I plan to work you like a dog when you get back. You’re turning out to be a fine addition to Irv’s.’

‘Thanks, Irv,’ I said and impulsively kissed his cheek. Whether it was for the compliment or the unknown information about Nan, I didn't know.

‘Now I have to go buy six pies for the dinner rush. Maryellen Erickson makes the best and only does it once a year for the festival. Beyond that you have to be in her good graces and get one as a holiday gift. If you’re lucky … for your birthday.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ I said. ‘Might need to buy a few myself and tuck them in Nan’s magical freezer.’

‘Your magical freezer,’ he said. ‘You need to think of that house as yours now. It’s how Virginia would have wanted it.’ As I turned to wander off he said, ‘Oh and Tuesday?’

I paused and turned back to him. My stomach growled at the smell of fried dough and some sort of spice in the air. ‘Yeah?’

‘When the estate is settled you won’t have to fret so much. I think if you keep working with me to keep active you’ll be A-OK to take life a bit slow and write that novel. Your grandmother said it was in you and if there’s one thing I learned in all my years of knowing Virginia, it was to trust her instincts. She could pick a winner from a mile away. And she thought the world of you.’

I smiled at him and turned away before he could see me cry.

I bought three pies, a sweater, a handmade leather bookmark and some second hand books. Storing my loot in the Grenada seemed like a plan. I shoved it all in the trunk and decided I also needed some apple preserves and maybe some of the wool socks I’d passed about six times. I had a hard-on for wool socks. Socks were my Achilles heel so to speak.

When I re-entered the throng of festival goers, someone knocked into me. Hard. Difficult to imagine someone hitting you that hard by accident.

In the clamour of voices I was fairly certain I heard a guttural “slut” and it put my hackles up.

Spinning in a circle but trying to avoid innocents, I saw nothing. A broad back retreating could have been familiar, but I’d been in town long enough that I recognised people now. Was it familiar from the past or the present?

My body speckled with goosebumps that had zero to do with the chill wind.

‘You OK?’ a woman asked me. I knew her face from the diner. ‘Diana,’ she said, patting my arm. ‘Diana Palmer. You’ve waited on us at Irv’s.’

I smiled. I nodded. And yet I remained mute.

‘I could see you trying to place me. Are you OK? You look a little … freaked.’

‘I am freaked.’ I laughed wildly and felt stupid for it. My nerves were jangling. ‘I’m sorry. Someone just really banged into me and I guess it rattled me, is all.’

‘Oh no. You have your wallet right? Because my dad was a police officer and he said that the first thing a pick pocket does is bang into you …’

I patted my purse, popped it open. My wallet was there and when I cracked it open so was my money. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I guess it was just a mistake. I’m probably just on edge.’

‘Anything I can do, honey?’

I shook my head. ‘No thanks Diana. Thank you, but I’m probably just overreacting.’

‘A busy time with your grandmother passing and all. Hard stuff.’

I nodded. ‘Yes. Hard stuff. Thank you.’

I was officially done with the apple festival. The voice and the tone and the hard hit made me ache for home. I’d go home, eat some pie and wait for Shepherd there.