The Drake House (11 page)

“I am not a child!” Trisha boomed, impatience seeping through gritted teeth.

Nancy softened. “No, you are not. But spring is the worst for those nightmares of yours. If you’re alone,
chica
, who’s going to help?”

Trisha threw her head back. Her chestnut hair with all the glorious red highlights swept down her back, finally free. “I’ll set the alarm.”

Eduardo didn’t appear satisfied. “You haven’t woken to it before.”

Raising his hands in defeat, Brad uttered, “I’ll stay.”

“No.” She’d obviously had enough. “You all need time off away from here. I can handle myself for a damn week.”

Nick pretty much got the gist of the situation and rose from his chair. “I’ll stay. Though I don’t see how some sleepwalking is this serious, I’ll stay here if it will give you all time off and peace of mind.”

Before Trisha could mutter a protest, Brad whirled on him. “You wouldn’t see the seriousness of it because you’re not here at two a.m. She’s out the door and lost in the orchard before you can open an eyelash. Her screams are so blood-curdling you can hear them three counties over. Half the time you can’t wake her.”

He had no idea, and judging by the mortified look on Trisha’s face, she didn’t want him to know. So, he stepped back and banked the anger festering. “Now I know. I’ll stay, and she’ll be fine.”

Tears welling, Nancy patted his cheek. “Thank you.”

Shaking her head, Trisha hugged Nancy, then Eduardo. “I’m sorry for the trouble. Have a good time in Chicago with your family. And don’t worry about us here.”

With a nod they departed, so she turned to Brad. He hauled her to him. “I’ll be fine. Nick’s here.”

She didn’t catch the loathing glare between the two men, but when she pulled back they masked it. “I’ll see you in a week,” he muttered and left.

She stood eyeing the door with her back to him long enough for him to know a blow was coming. Much to his surprise, without uttering a sound, she walked into the kitchen. He figured he should say something, but her pride and privacy were obviously wounded. He knew that feeling, knew the hot pressure of it, and so he’d wait until the composure came before talking to her.

Watching her from the kitchen doorway, she glanced up from digging through a drawer, not in the least surprised to find him there hovering. “I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

“What?”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to sleep with you at all. So if this is why you did this…”

He took the flashlight she yanked out of the drawer and set it down very precisely on the counter in front of them. “I’m not responding to that.”

“Fine,” she barked and rounded him. Gripping her flashlight again, she slammed the back door behind her.

Grinding his teeth, he followed her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m closing up the ranch houses,” she said, storming toward the back of her property.

“All right,” he sighed and jogged to her side. “I’ll come with you.”

Entering the first ranch, he waited in the doorway as she set the timer on the living room lamp. Disappearing down the hallway, he listened as she programmed the thermostat and came back out. Punching in a code to the alarm system, she ushered him out with an irritated wave of her hand and locked the door.

After doing the same with the other ranch, they headed back up to the main house in silence. He let her wallow awhile until she put the kettle on for tea. It would be so domestic, playing house with her, if not for the anger hovering. “Are you going to speak to me, or are you not finished acting out yet?”

“Do you want some tea?”

He walked over and draped his arms around her from behind where she stood at the kitchen sink. Gently, he pulled her to his chest and squeezed when she didn’t resist. It was comforting, familiar, and sent a warning straight to his brain how well they fit together. “That’s not what I meant by talking to me.”

“You should’ve checked with me before offering to stay.”

Yes, he should have. But what difference did it make now? She would’ve said no. “I did it so they would have a good time off and not worry about you.”

She turned in his arms to face him. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. We are not a couple. This is a fling…”

“It isn’t.” She didn’t know the least bit about him either. If she did, she wouldn’t be letting him hold her. “I don’t know where this is going, if anywhere, but I deserve more than the word
fling.
I apologize if your privacy was violated.”

There was that look again—a cross between guilt and sadness. Her brown eyes darkened a fraction before she recovered and nodded the moment away. “All right, now back up so I can make us some tea.”

His left hand skated from her back to a lock of hair by her cheek. He wrapped the strand around his index finger, something he’d been itching to do since he first saw her wear it down. She smelled like peaches, and again he was shocked at the minor miracle that around her, his senses came back.

“I warned you I would kiss you again,” he said, his voice thick. His cheek grazed hers, his stubble against her soft skin creating a scratching sound in the quiet room. Her long, dark lashes fell closed and he seized her mouth.

No pain came.
Why?

She responded immediately, sighing a breathy moan, no longer craving a fight. She demanded the kiss, as she did everything else.

Her tongue darted inside his mouth, mating with his, causing a ripple of pure need straight to his groin. Yeah, he wanted her. Male instincts were kicking in, but this was much, much more. Nick could see it, sense it, taste it.

Feared it.

This would become a problem down the road, when she found out who he really was. She would leave him. But at the present moment, he didn’t give a damn. His fingers dove into her hair.

Perhaps he’d give in, just this once, and see where it headed. Live again.

****

When she said she wasn’t going to sleep with him, she meant it. Sleep or anything else, he was on his third night in her guest room. Not that it wasn’t accommodating, but he
really
wanted to be somewhere else.

He wondered what it was about Trisha that made her different, made it possible for him to feel pleasure without pain. He should bolt with every icy stare, yet she kissed with passion and fire. She didn’t resist him, but she resisted the implication of him, of a relationship.

He should be grateful.

She joked with Chuck, respected Eduardo, trusted Brad, loved Nancy. But with him, she kept him a stone’s throw away as if wary of…what?

Nick liked a good challenge, always did, but this battle was not likely to be won. Because even if Trisha did give in to this chemistry between them, nothing could come of it. He was broken.

Some people just craved the ride. The swift immediate gratification and wanted to be left alone afterward. Some people wanted a family and home. He used to want things. Used to feel things. He was starting to again.

He didn’t know if he could live with that. Funny how one woman he’d known less than six weeks was curing what no doctor could.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he debated whether or not to answer the cell vibrating on the pillow next to him at three a.m. It was his night off from the station. “Yeah?”

“I knew you’d be up.”

He grinned. “Hey, Dad.”

“You didn’t answer your house phone.”

Sitting up with a grunt, Nick pushed away the sheet. “Probably because I’m not at home.”

The muffled chuckle on the other end of the phone made Nick shake his head in amusement.

“What’s her name?”

“It’s not always about a woman, you know,” Nick answered evasively. “What are you doing awake?”

“Your mother made one of those casseroles and, well…you know.”

Nick loved her dearly, as all men love their mothers, but she could poison an army without effort if she attempted to cook. “Why on earth did you let her make dinner?”

“Well hell, son, once and awhile I can let her. I might regret it the next three nights, but it makes her feel good. Now, enough of that. What’s her name?”

Nick stood up from the bed and stretched. “Trisha.”

“I knew it. You can’t lie to your old man. You seem to be fitting in nicely there, making new friends.”

Pacing to the window, he sank into a chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not in kindergarten, and I don’t think she’s a friend. I don’t know what she is.”

“I see.” His dad chuckled again. “How’s the job?”

“Good. It’s a lot slower paced than I’m used to, but I like it.” Standing, he pulled back the curtain with a finger. What his dad was really asking was
are you fixed yet?

“
The sheriff is…” Peering down at the apple trees, Nick caught a flash of white between the rows and then it was gone.

“The sheriff is what?”

Shaking his head, he cleared his vision and decided it was time to check on Trisha. “Nothing, Dad. I have to go. I’ll call you next week,” he said, tugging on his jeans. “Tell Mom I love her.”

“Will do. Goodnight.”

Closing his phone with a snap, he put it absently in his front pocket while staring at her closed bedroom door. He’d just quietly check on her and go back to bed.
She’ll never know.

Only, she wasn’t there. Running to her window, he ripped back the drape and saw the flash of white again down in the orchard. And just like before, it was gone. A row over, he saw blue. This time Trisha’s figure was clear. He muttered a sling of curses and raced back to his room. Gripping his gun and shoving it into the waistband of his jeans, he bolted down the stairs and out the back door.

It took entirely too long to get to her. By the time he did, Trisha, in that
blue
nightgown of hers, was edging the property line. Breathing heavy from the run, his puffs of steam against the chilly air exploded from his mouth. He glowered at the tree line, around the property.

There was no one else out here. Her nightgown was blue. What in the hell was that white flash he saw from her window? Seeing nothing now, he whipped her a frown.

He noticed then how pallid her skin was, her eyes dark and devoid. She had an empty, haunted expression that chilled the very core of him. He reached carefully for her hand and found her arms stiff.

Stepping in front of her line of vision, he whispered her name, but she didn’t notice. She couldn’t see anything, just kept that blank, hollow stare as if looking right through him. Sliding his hands up her arms, he used a more forceful tone when calling her name.

Her eyes widened, still ensnared in a dream. She uttered an excruciating whimper and threw her head back.

“Damn it.”

He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Nick knew nothing about sleepwalking and night terrors. They were going to freeze to death if he didn’t figure it out soon. Though it had been warmer earlier, the temp had fallen to thirty degrees overnight.

“Trisha,” he said, his voice booming with concern. “Wake up.”

She began looking around, her head darting everywhere at once, but her eyes still weren’t focused. Trisha covered her ears, frantic, terrified, and screamed.

Loud. Piercing. Hysterical. The very breath ripped from his lungs.

Nick backed away from her, his palm held out in surrender, hoping that would calm her. It did no good. She wasn’t here, she was somewhere else. Heart thumping, he sucked up his pride, walked a few more feet away from her, and hit a number programmed in his phone.

“Get over here now. I can’t wake her.”

“Where are you?” Brad asked. “Jesus, is that her?”

Nick could barely hear him over her screaming. “We’re by the tree line, near the forest. The west end.”

When Nick saw Brad rushing in their general direction ten minutes later, he could’ve cried. Trisha had stopped screaming and instead curled into a ball, rocking herself back and forth, uttering something about “putting her down” and “getting out of the water.”

“Thank God,” he said to Brad. “She’s freezing. I didn’t want to leave her to go get her a coat.”

Brad’s gaze raked over Nick, taking in his lack of attire as well. “How long has she been like this?”

“Half hour, maybe.”

A loud snap echoed behind them in the dense forest.

Brad’s eyes flew wide. “What in the hell was that?”

Weapon already drawn, Nick ushered him silent without removing an eye from the woods. “Get her inside. Do whatever it is you do to wake her up.” He shushed Brad’s protests with a shake of his head. “I’m going to check it out.”

“It was probably an animal. Those woods are thick…”

Something clicked, and it wasn’t a branch this time. Nick knew the sound of a gun being cocked, and that was definitely it.

“That’s not an animal. Get her in the damn house. And call Wayne.”

Gun cocked, without a backward glance, Nick stepped over the chain bordering a hidden path, his bare feet nearly silent. Scanning for any movement, he crept through the dark. The pulse at his throat thumped as it always did in an unfamiliar situation. Instincts kicking in, he scanned both directions in his field of vision, not allowing the panic to settle in. Panic meant mistakes.

He couldn’t see a damn thing, so he relied on sound to determine where the person was, pushing the cold to the back of his mind. A crunching stir of leaves whipped him to the right. “I have a gun on you. I suggest you come out.” In the hush of stillness, he vexed his brows. “I’m with the police department. Come out now. This is private property.”

Whoever it was had a weapon and knew exactly where he was standing. So far he wasn’t trying to shoot him. It was too damn dark for Nick to even try. A shadow darted to his left, and just as swiftly, he heard footsteps running away from their position.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

Weapon still drawn, he back-stepped slowly until he was off the path and in the clearing by the orchard. A visual sweep indicated he was alone.

Chapter Seven

Brad paced the length of her kitchen. Trisha watched him from a chair in the corner, huddled under a pile of blankets he insisted she put on. His stride was tense, his hands fisted. He was worried. So was Nick. So was she.