Chapter Eighteen
“Let’s go out for a late lunch.” Alex did his best to bury his concern for Cilla, but it was impossible.
“I should wait until I hear back from guests.” She rolled her shoulders before rubbing the back of her neck.
She’d left a voice message for all of tomorrow’s reservations, explaining there’d been a computer glitch and that their reservations were confirmed.
The rest she’d emailed asking for confirmations.
“Sitting there refreshing your email won’t make it happen any faster.” He pushed away from the wall where he’d patiently watched and waited. “The passwords have been changed. There’s nothing more you can do.”
“I know that,” she snapped before huffing out a breath. “I know you mean well. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
“Get your purse.”
“I have things to do.” She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, likely fighting a headache.
God knew he had one. This weak-as-a-human thing sucked but, since he was stuck with it for the time being, he might as well use it to his advantage—to gauge Cilla’s well-being.
“You’ve barely slept. You’re tired and stressed.”
“I know what I am.” She pushed up out of her chair and pocketed her phone.
“An hour away would be good for us both. I haven’t tried the diner. Let’s go where someone else can bring food neither of us has to make.” When she bit her lip and sighed, he threw out his best argument. “I need some fresh air and bet you do, too.”
Her stomach growled, and she pressed her hand against it. “I need something.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I look a hot mess.”
Sensing he’d won, he caught her shoulders and turned her toward the hallway. “Take a few minutes and do what you need to do. There’s no one checking in today.”
Her lips tightened at the reminder of the canceled reservations. “Fine. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.” He hated seeing her defeated and would much rather she were angry with the situation.
He wasn’t lying when he’d said he needed to get away from Ivy House.
The walls were closing in around him as his assignment wound down to its inevitable conclusion.
Normally, he’d get on his Harley and ride until he outran the sense of dread, but that wasn’t an option. Not this time.
As last night had proved, there was no way to keep out an intruder who was determined to get in.
He’d checked the downstairs windows but none had been jimmied.
He wondered if either Richard or Christopher had a key to the inn.
Of course, the locks on the doors weren’t anything special.
A professional could get through them easily.
The only thing they could do was secure the place and hope for the best. If nothing else, it gave them a better chance of telling if someone had been there.
He headed upstairs and inspected the windows and the French doors in the rooms that had them. By the time he’d done the same downstairs, Cilla strolled down the hall, checking the contents of her purse as she came.
In the short time they’d been apart, the unruly strands of her hair had been tamed into their normal topknot.
It made his fingers itch to remove the clip holding it and run his fingers through the coppery locks.
She’d added makeup, too. It was minimal, but her eyelashes were darker and there was a hint of color on her cheeks and lips.
The freckles he adored were still on display.
She’d even changed her clothes, pulling on lightweight gray cotton pants that covered the scrape on the leg and a purple sleeveless blouse. Her normal canvas sneakers had been exchanged for leather sandals with faux gemstones in a rainbow of colors on the straps.
He straightened, every muscle in his body tensing the closer she got. Scooping her up and taking her to bed was not an option, no matter how much he wanted her. She looked cool, confident, and utterly delicious.
“You ready?” She stopped beside him.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, doing his best to ignore the growing tightness of his jeans. After she locked the front door, he helped her over the broken stair. He’d have to fix that later today. “Do you want to walk or drive?”
She glanced longingly at his Harley. “A walk would be nice.”
“I’ll take you on a ride later, if you want. You’re not dressed for it. You’ll need to wear jeans, boots, and a leather jacket, if you have one.” No way was he taking any chances with her safety. He might have to reap her soul, but damned if he’d be the one to end her life.
“You wouldn’t mind?” The excited sparkle in her eyes made him smile.
“Not at all.” He longed to share that part of his life with her.
“There’s nothing like hitting the open road on a motorcycle.
” Reaching down, he took her hand, twining their fingers together.
“The wind and heat from the sun on your face is a sensual experience. You’re one with the machine.
Freedom is the best way to describe it. You can’t afford to make mistakes when you ride.
You have to pay attention to your surroundings, the road, and any wildlife.
There’s no protection between you and the pavement if something goes wrong.
” Not something he normally had to worry about.
They turned onto Main Street and headed toward the diner. “Do you wipe out much?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I can see why you might be worried about that, but running into you was a first. My safety record only has one black mark on it, and I’m blaming it on the deer.” It was really his father’s fault, but he couldn’t exactly tell her that.
“You really love it.” She swung their hands lightly.
“I do. I have since—” He cut himself off before he finished saying he had since they were created, cursing himself for almost slipping up. He was becoming too close to Cilla. It was easy to forget she didn’t really know him, that he could never reveal his secret. “I can remember,” he finished.
“Is that why you got into fixing them?”
This he could share. “Build, fix, customize. I do it all.”
“You made your passion your business. I admire that.”
“It’s what you’re doing with Ivy House.” It was impossible to miss the love in her voice when she spoke of the place and her childhood memories.
“I’m trying.” She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder, opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I don’t want to talk about that. Not now. It’s a beautiful day. Let’s enjoy it.”
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You got it. What did you study in school?”
Her laugh was infectious, making him smile.
“A little bit of everything—architecture, design with an emphasis on Victorian, along with a few business courses. I was all over the place without any real focus the first couple of years. I eventually got a degree in the history of architecture but got married and never used it.”
“You’re using it now. You’re preserving Ivy House and making sure it remains part of the community.”
“You’re right. I am.”
Without much prompting, he got her to open up about her love of old homes and buildings. She was so animated, so passionate about the subject. There was so much he wanted to share with her—after all, he’d lived through every time period she mentioned—but was forced to remain silent.
When they reached Susie’s Diner, he opened the door and waved her inside. A whiff of roses tantalized him when she passed in front of him. He barely refrained from burying his face in her neck. Locking down his attraction, he followed her inside, getting his first look at the place.
Delicious smells permeated the air, making his stomach growl in anticipation. The floors and counters showed wear but were spotless. Booths were tucked along the window, stools ranged in front of the counter, and tables and chairs filled the space in-between.
His gaze landed on a booth on the far end. Barely swallowing a curse, he wondered what Cilla would think if he bolted, since it was his suggestion they come here.
“Is something wrong?” She placed her hand on his arm and tugged him to the side of the entrance he was blocking so a couple of older men could leave.
This couldn’t be coincidence. The timing was too perfect. But why now, after he’d been blocked twice before?
“Alex?” Her gaze followed his to the tall man who’d slid out of one of the booths and was standing alongside it, staring at them with eyes as dark as night. “That’s your brother.”
“Yeah, it is.” Giving into the inevitable, he put his hand on her back and guided her forward. “Let’s go say hello.”
…
When he’d claimed he wasn’t close to his brothers, she’d assumed it was like many families where siblings lived in different cities and drifted apart over time. Or worse, like her and Richard, who had nothing in common and no real relationship. This was something entirely different.
The tension was palpable. It reminded her of two gunslingers facing off at high noon in an old western movie. Other than the recognition in their eyes, there was no friendly welcome or heartwarming hug. Not even a handshake.
They came to a halt a few steps away.
“Samael.” A muscle in Alex’s jaw pulsed.
“Alexiares.” They continued to stare at each other. Cilla shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wondering if she should leave the two of them alone, when a woman strolled toward them from the hallway that led to the bathrooms.
“Adrianne.” She held her hand out to the woman. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?” A short time ago, Adrianne Sharp had been a victim of a stalker who tried to take her life. It had turned out okay in the end, but not before Adrianne had ended up in the hospital.
“Hi, Cilla.” She glanced from Sam to Alex, her eyes widening.
Sam wrapped his arm around Adrianne, as if to protect her…from them. Confused, Cilla cleared her throat. “Ah, I guess we’ll leave you to your lunch.”