Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
I f Georgette suspected she was noisy before, she knew it for certain as the masked man looked at her and placed an index finger against his lips, warning her to be silent. She wanted to run or scream or call for help, but instead she froze in place, her knees locked as her heels and the back of her head touched the wall behind her. Later she would wonder why she froze. In the moment she had the crazy thought that maybe he didn’t see her, even though he stared right at her. Or maybe she thought if she stayed still enough he would realize she wasn’t a threat and might go away.
Instead he took a step forward.
Georgie’s hands flexed, as if they had some intent to push her away from the wall, which was news to her because the rest of her body remained locked in place. But then, before he could advance further, the man paused. His head cocked to the side like a dog that heard something. His glance fell to Georgie once more, and then he turned and darted away, disappearing into the inky blackness of the hallway as if maybe he’d never been there at all.
And a new man replaced him. This one was also dressed in all black but, unlike the previous one, was a welcome sight.
“Hey,” Burke said. He touched her arm, to make certain she heard him. His demeanor was casual, as if it were noon and not two in the morning, as if he wasn’t supposed to return for another day at least, as if Georgette wasn’t rooted to the spot like her life depended on it, drained of all color and energy.
Now her body decided to work again, this time springing her forward and into Burke’s unsuspecting embrace. He caught her, not because he wanted to, but because he presumably had highly honed reflexes. Georgie wrapped her arms and legs around his body and held on like she was the famished koala and he was the last remaining eucalyptus in the forest. Safe. It was more than a word in that moment, it was a full-body feeling. She knew that whoever was in her inn and for whatever purpose, Burke would take care of it, would take care of her.
Her relief was so overwhelming that it took her a moment to realize Burke’s chest vibrated, a sign he was talking to her. She eased back, focused hard on his lips in the darkness.
“What?” she said.
“You missed me?” he asked. His expression was perplexed and maybe a little uncertain. The question caught her off guard. Had she missed him?
She shook her head. “Someone was in here.”
Because he still held her, she felt his entire body tense as his lips slowly and emphatically mouthed, What?
“Someone was here, dressed in black. They may still be here.” Furtive now, she glanced around. Was the person watching them? Would he hurt Burke because she’d been careless in her relief? The possibility brought a stab of panic and she clutched him closer, an impossibility because he set her down.
Her glance was so busy assessing for threats that she missed his words, so she had no idea what he said or why he set her down and took her hand. And she became more confused when he began leading, practically dragging, her toward the stairs.
“Wait, why are we going up?” she demanded in a hiss, a useless question because she could neither see nor hear his reply.
Georgie dutifully trotted behind. What choice did she have? Burke held her hand like a vice, urging her ever upward toward his bedroom. Had he actually made the place into a saferoom? What about her guests? Her glance turned regretfully behind her, worried for their safety. In their drunkenness, they would definitely be in danger, but Burke was relentless in his urging, pulling her faster and faster toward the darkness of his turret. Georgie couldn’t see a thing and stumbled twice. Each time Burke caught her before she could fall, but even then they didn’t stop.
He darted into his room, closing and locking the door behind him, stripping his jacket as he walked toward a desk with a computer. Since Georgie had no idea what he was doing, she took a moment to glance around the room. It was more finished than before, but roughly. The drywall had been started, but no mudding or taping. Dust covered a lot of surfaces, and Georgie wondered how he stood it. A well-used shop vac stood in one corner, along with plastic-covered and wadded tarps. Suddenly she was thankful for her poor hearing, because all the sawing, hammering, and vacuuming must be quite a racket. She hoped it hadn’t bothered her guests, but so far no one had complained. Maybe Burke did it during the afternoon hours when no one was about.
The newest addition to the room was a large bed. And even though it was rumpled and sleep-worn, it looked so comfortable and inviting that Georgie stumbled toward it, suddenly exhausted. She slipped off her shoes and crawled onto the bed, curling into a ball as she turned toward Burke, trying to figure out what he was up to.
His computer monitor began flicking through images. At first Georgette thought he might be watching a movie, but that made no sense, given the circumstances. Alarmed now as recognition began to dawn, she sat up.
“Is that my inn?” she hissed.
She had no idea if he spoke, but he definitely nodded.
She slid off the bed and strode up behind him, agog as she leaned in for closer inspection. “You set up cameras in my inn?”
This time she was close enough to hear him and read his lips. He made certain to turn toward her before he spoke. “Obviously.”
“ Burke, ” she exclaimed.
“Just a second, I’m trying to find the guy.”
The computer screen flicked through familiar images like an ill-cut movie, the hallways, the kitchen, the grand entrance, the formal living room, the exits, the exterior. Over and over again, rotating between images while Georgie watched her night play out in reverse. There were her guests, stumbling to bed, there was she, tidying the kitchen and prepping the morning’s breakfast, there were the guests, belting karaoke, there was she, herding Brody out the door, there were the guests, laughing as they stumbled toward the entrance of the inn, there was Georgie, putting down her book to greet them.
The day continued to unwind as Burke shifted between frames, cocking his head this way and that, until eventually he sat back with a, “Huh.”
“What?” she asked.
He faced her. “I didn’t see anyone.”
She bristled. “I saw someone, Burke. Saw him move and advance toward me.”
“I believe you,” he said.
She was so ready to do battle that it took her a few seconds to diffuse. “You…do?” He nodded. “Even though you didn’t see him?”
“Yes, Georgie, I do. You’re not hysterical. You wouldn’t make something like this up, even though you’re exhausted.”
“I’m not…” she began, but then she swayed, stumbling a little. She was exhausted. She’d had a lot of sleepless nights getting ready for this bridal party, as well as a few upcoming guests. She’d needed to get ahead on her baking and do several massive loads of laundry, along with some extensive deep cleaning. Some of the bigger inns employed maids and cooks and bakers. Georgie had only herself and her driving fear of failure.
Burke put an arm around her and herded her to the bed, tucking her in when she crawled back into the spot she’d made and curled up like a comfort-seeking puppy.
“But,” she began, but Burke pushed her hair away from her face, petting her.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said.
We need to talk now, she thought and then, with a yawn, she was out.
I n the morning, Georgette woke with a sense of urgency she couldn’t explain or identify. Then it all tumbled in at once. An intruder. Burke. The guests. Burke’s bedroom. Morning. Breakfast. Late. Fail.
The thoughts slammed into her so she popped up in Burke’s bed like a hot toaster pastry, inhaling and expelling words in one panicked rush. “Oh, no, I overslept and missed breakfast.” She attempted to jump out of the bed, realized she was locked in, and would have fallen if Burke hadn’t caught her upper half and rearranged her.
The panic and adrenaline were too raw, however, and she couldn’t make her mind or body settle. What was going on? Had Burke locked her to his bed? Was he actually psychotic? Her handy brain reminded her that he’d set up cameras in her inn. She wrenched away from him and flattened against the bed, avoiding his touch.
He wasn’t reaching to touch her, however, he held up one hand to soothe her while the other reached down to unsnarl her feet where they’d become tangled in the sheets.
Oh, she thought, a tiny amount of relief beginning to eke in and calm her overheated brain. At least she wasn’t being held prisoner up here, in his secluded turret. That was one reassurance. Her panic meter pinged again before she could calm all the way. Breakfast!
She attempted to spring up again. Once again Burke held up a hand like a stop sign, palm out.
“I have to get breakfast.” She might have yelled it. She couldn’t be sure because she wasn’t wearing her hearing aids. Her fingers touched the shells of her ears. Where were they? She realized Burke was talking and squinted, trying to make herself focus as she read his lips. It was harder, without being able to hear him and put the pieces of sounds and lip formations together.
Burke gave his head an exasperated little shake and reached to a chair beside the bed that apparently functioned as a nightstand. He held out his hand to Georgette, indicating she should open her palm. When she did, he dropped her hearing aids into it and then waited until she’d applied them and turned them on before he spoke.
“I already served breakfast. All the guests have checked out.”
She blinked at him. Her only experience with men was Brody and his friends. She imagined the type of breakfast he would serve her guests, sugar cereal and black coffee, but made herself speak calmly. “What did you serve?”
He withdrew his phone, flicked open a picture, and swiveled it to face her. Georgette leaned in and saw a fruit salad, an assortment of pastries she’d previously stashed in the freezer for emergencies, a rasher of bacon, and a large bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs. It was served on the antique sideboard, like usual, along with crystal decanters of juice and water, and an assortment of coffee, creamers, and tea. In short, it looked exactly like every other breakfast she’d served.
“I…I…” she stuttered, unable to know what to say or how to continue. “How?” was what she eventually landed on.
Burke shrugged. “Basically I fried bacon and scrambled some eggs, then set everything out on fancy trays. You keep them all in the same place, and I also know where you keep all the extra pastries in the freezer.” He poked her. “You should ask for help once in a while. You’re not the only person who can keep the ship afloat, Admiral.”
Georgie’s eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall, but why? For his gesture of kindness? For her inability to ask or receive help? Or was it what lay behind those things, the reasons she was so capable and self-sufficient? Because I had to be, she thought. She’d had her brother, in the most technical sense. Brody would have dropped whatever to help take care of her, and he had, but it had cost him his dreams. Georgie had always known what he gave up to be her guardian, and she never wanted to add to his burden. So after their parents died she’d tried to become as small, needless, and capable as possible, so as not to bother him, so as not to bother anyone. She’d succeeded, but at what cost?
“Fancy taking a little ride with me?” Burke asked, cocking his head to study her. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who picked up on a woman’s unshed tears, but the way he watched her made her wonder. He looked very…concerned.
“I can’t figure you out,” she blurted. Every time she thought she had him pegged, he morphed into something else.
“Why? I’m the simplest person you’ve ever met,” he protested, and he sounded like he meant it, like he didn’t think he was complex at all. He was, though not in a way Georgie could articulate. “Can you be ready in ten minutes?”
“The girly part of me wants to say no, but the pragmatic part of me knows I can make it in five,” she said, already hopping up and heading toward the bathroom. She didn’t intend to pause when she reached the door, but she turned and caught sight of Burke. “What?” He stared at her with that inexplicable expression again, like worry but not quite.
“Nothing,” he said, pasting on an unnatural smile. “Meet you downstairs.”
“Okay,” she agreed and took the stairs at a sprint, pausing in her bathroom to wash her face and hands, brush her teeth, reapply deodorant, and finagle her hair into some acceptable arrangement. Later she vowed to shower and make herself more presentable, but this would do for a car ride with Burke, unless they ended up somewhere fancy, but that was hard to fathom. Burke wasn’t the fancy sort. He was the… She paused and regarded herself in the mirror. What sort was he?
Snapping to attention, she sprinted down the back stairs to the kitchen, pausing at the base to regard the sparkling clean horizon. It gleamed. Everything had been put away and washed, with no traces of the bridal party that departed earlier. Once again Georgie felt tears prick her eyes and once again she pushed them back, denying their release. Was she really so damaged that a simple act of kindness like washing the dishes could push her over the edge? Apparently yes.
Huffing a deep breath, she made her way through the kitchen and to the front door because even though she couldn’t get a complete make on Burke she knew this much about him: he didn’t like to be late.