Chapter Eight
Dusk was all but a memory when Nate pulled into the driveway and parked under the carport.
“Wow,” he said, looking around the windshield to take in the house.
“Yeah. It is.”
“You can afford this with your business?”
She regarded him from the corner of her eye. “Only when you skim off the top and hide it from the Feds.”
Nate did a double take.
She met his gaze.
It took a moment, but Nate finally broke and started to laugh.
“It was my grandmother’s,” she explained.
“Ah,” he said before he reached for the glove compartment and retrieved his gun.
“Do you always have that on you?” Luna asked.
“More often than not.”
“Have you ever used it?”
He hesitated. “Yes. And no, I haven’t killed anyone.”
She felt a chill run down her spine, and not the good kind. “Let’s hope you never have to.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
By the time Luna crossed through the back door of her house, she felt as if she’d aged five years.
All the adrenaline of the past three hours had dumped into her system, leaving her exhausted and numb.
One wall in the mudroom had hooks for coats and cubbies for muddy shoes.
Luna shed her coat and hung it haphazardly on a hook.
Nate walked in behind her, her suitcase in his hand.
In the kitchen she dropped her purse on the island.
“Nice,” Nate said, looking around the room.
Luna offered a noncommittal noise.
“Is that a greenhouse?” He looked through the glass door into what was exactly that.
“Yup. I’d love to say I use it to its full extent, but I’d be lying.”
“Wow.”
The house was quiet with only the hum of the refrigerator and the ambient noise of electricity filling the space. Some might say you can’t hear electricity, but Luna always argued that point. If you really want quiet, wait for a power outage. Proof enough for her that electricity had sound.
“Miley should be walking in the door any minute. Don’t shoot her.”
Nate smirked. “I’ll try not to.”
Midnight announced her presence before strolling into the room.
“You have a cat?”
“Her name is Midnight. She doesn’t take to men. Don’t take it personally.”
Midnight looked at Luna, then Nate.
Before she could hiss, Luna reached down and picked her up.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll take this to my room and then show you around.”
“Has the house been empty all day?”
“Yeah. Miley works twelve-hour shifts.”
“Then how about I follow you upstairs and make sure there aren’t any surprises,” Nate suggested.
Luna stared at him, blinked, and kept staring. Surprises? “What . . . You think someone could be in the house.”
Nate shook his head. “Probably not. But there is a reason your brother suggested I stay over.”
There went that chill again.
Luna looked Midnight in the eye. “Is anyone here?”
Midnight’s answer was a headbutt to Luna’s chest and a purr.
“Fine. Follow me.”
Victorian homes were made up of several rooms and expansive hallways. The Canning home wasn’t any different.
The only real exception was when Nana removed one wall from what was an office and a sitting room and made it a family room.
Luna pointed and offered her dime store home tour.
“There is the obligatory formal living room that no one ever goes into. And no, I didn’t decorate it, and it hasn’t been touched, other than cleaning, since Nana passed.
The dining room,” she said, pointing to the obvious.
“The den . . . or family room. A bathroom.” She stopped at the stairs and indicated farther down the hall.
“There’s a laundry room, storage room converted from a tiny bedroom, half bath, and stairs to the basement. ”
Nate nodded. “Is there a door?”
“Yeah. To the backyard.”
They started up the stairs.
“Are these original floors?” Nate asked.
Luna glanced at her feet. “I would imagine.”
“Amazing.”
She’d taken them for granted, but looking at them through Nate’s eyes, she had to agree. “They are, aren’t they?”
The second level was all bedrooms.
Luna pointed. “Miley’s room, Ash’s room, another bathroom, guest room, my office . . .” She kept walking. “My room.”
Nana had expanded the primary bedroom by removing a hall closet. There was a fireplace and an en suite bathroom. Along with a reading nook that looked out over the backyard. “You can set that down anywhere,” she said, pointing at the suitcase Nate still carried.
“I’m impressed,” Nate said.
Sound drifted up from the first floor.
“Luna?” Miley called from downstairs.
“Up here,” Luna replied.
“The roommate?” Nate asked.
“Yeah.”
Nate stepped around Luna and peeked into the bathroom.
“All clear?” she teased.
Midnight scrambled to get out of her arms and jumped to the floor.
“Looks like your guard cat did his job.” Nate pushed aside the curtain and glanced outside.
It felt good to laugh considering her shit day.
“Whose car is in the driveway?” Miley asked before ducking around the corner and into Luna’s room.
She stopped short, her eyes focused on Nate.
“Who are you?”
Luna waved a hand between the both of them.
“Miley, this is Nate, Nate, this is Miley.”
“Nate? Mr. Venti, Nate?”
Luna moaned.
“Mr. Venti?” Nate asked with a grin.
“The coffee fiasco? It earned you a nickname.”
“Fair.”
“What is Mr. Venti doing here . . . and in your bedroom?”
The shit-eating grin on Miley’s face was ill placed. She of all people knew that Luna wasn’t one to entertain men at her home. Or at all for that matter.
Luna tore off the information Band-Aid and explained her crap day.
“My car was stolen at the airport. I was on the phone with Nate when I realized it wasn’t in the parking lot, and he volunteered to pick me up and drive me home.
I called Ash to see if he could help in getting my car back, and between these two”—Luna pointed at Nate—“it was determined that the piece of shit that jacked my car would also have our address, which sufficiently freaked me out, so Nate is staying with us until Ash gets here sometime tomorrow.”
Miley stood stone cold still. “Your car?”
“Yes.”
“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“And Ash thinks someone might come here . . . and what?”
“I don’t know. Wait for us to leave, rip us off. Or not wait for us to leave.” Luna let the truly ugly image go unsaid.
“Fuuuuck,” Miley sighed out.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Oh my God, Luna.” Miley moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll let you ladies talk,” Nate said, excusing himself.
“Thanks,” Luna said.
When he reached the hall, he turned back. “What is up the next flight of stairs?”
“The attic.”
“Mind if I look around?” he asked. “I want to poke into all the places someone might hide.”
“You’re the one with the gun.” She shrugged.
Miley’s head pivoted. “You have a gun?”
“I’ll let Luna explain,” he said before walking away.
Miley turned back around. “He has a gun?”
“He worked for the Feds . . . he carries a gun.” Luna backed up until she reached her bed and then flopped her butt on it. “My f-ing car, Miley.”
“Jesus.” Miley sat beside her.
“It just wasn’t there. I thought the worst thing that could happen at an airport was my luggage not making it. Never in a million years did I think my car would be stolen.”
Miley placed a hand over Luna’s shoulder. “Do they think they’ll get it back?”
“The cops didn’t really say. Ash hopes it’s in a chop shop.”
“That’s rude.”
“No . . . no he’s right. If they bothered to look at the registration, they might see the address and aim for something worth more than my old car. Hence Nate spending the night and Ash coming tomorrow.”
“What are you going to do?”
Luna released a long-suffering sigh. “Call my insurance company . . . again. Give them the police report, then rent a car.”
“That sucks,” Miley offered.
Luna dropped her head on her best friend’s shoulder.
Nate poked his head in. “If it’s okay, I’ll see what you have in the kitchen. You need to get some food in you.”
“You cook?” Miley asked.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Miley shook her head.
“We can order something. Pizza, whatever.” Luna’s words sounded as defeated as she felt.
“I can do better than pizza,” Nate said.
“You cook and carry a gun?” Miley was stuck in a loop. Luna could see it on her face.
“I’ll figure out dinner.”
And he was gone.
“And he’s hot,” Miley whispered.
Luna nudged her friend. “He might hear you.”
“I’m sure he knows he’s hot. Hot guys always know. I mean, look at Ash.”
“He’s my brother, I try not to.” Luna dragged her ass off her bed.
“Arrogant and hot,” Miley muttered.
“I don’t think Nate is arrogant.”
“Not Nate. Ash.”
Luna couldn’t argue that. “Maybe, but he’s loyal. He’s coming to deter any criminals from ransacking the house.” She started toward her bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. Try not to drool on Mr. Venti, I need to work with him after this night is over.”
“I’m on my best behavior.” Miley sat up straight with way too big of a smile on her face.
Luna rolled her eyes and turned away.
Luna Canning’s kitchen was the kind of space chefs dream of.
The island had plenty of room for prep. A drop-in sink, the porcelain kind that gave off the Victorian charm of the house.
The stovetop and oven weren’t over the top, and certainly not state of the art, but they looked like they could take on any job Nate demanded of them.
There was a mix of open shelves with floral teacups and decorative plates and serving dishes.
Ones that were likely used that one day of the year that the formal living room was occupied.
But it was more than Grandma’s antiques and keepsakes. There was an espresso maker beside the refrigerator and an emulsion blender beside that.