Chapter Twelve
Mel stared at the ceiling as it brightened and willed away the dull headache and twinge of nausea. It wasn’t fair to have a hangover with absolutely nothing to show for it.
Breathe in, breathe out.
She might have slept a bit out of sheer exhaustion, but sometime in the early hours she had awakened. Someone had been having a restless night, and, suspecting it was Daniel, she’d reached out to be certain.
Sorrow and loss. Resignation and defeat. Anger…and something like awe.
She’d wondered what was causing him so much pain and had been tempted to slip out of bed and get closer to his room so she could quiet that frantic pulse of emotions. But her better judgment had won out, and she had turned over and tried to sleep.
Then, laughter, joy, and playfulness had bubbled through her dreams like a fizzy alcoholic drink, first charming and teasing her, then arousing her and making her dizzy.
In her vague dream, it had been Daniel’s laughter she heard and Daniel’s kisses that enflamed her.
Desire had built slowly at first, kindling in her blood, tingling along her skin.
Daniel’s gentle caresses had become demanding and possessing, then stopped.
She awoke clutching the sheets and craving Daniel’s touch, needing his lips on hers.
Tears threatened, and she reached for the pendant lying on the bedside table, sliding it over her head. Had that been Daniel’s dream? Or hers?
There was a whisper of sound outside her door, as if someone was standing there, listening. Too late, she realized she wasn’t shielding.
Worry. Arousal. Fear. Daniel.
She hesitated a moment, then slid out of the bed, found her jeans, pulled them on, and opened the door.
He was gone. She stepped out and saw him making his way across the gallery, one hand brushing the wall.
He only wore pajama bottoms, and she had to admire the way the soft fabric barely clung to those hips of his.
She was going to call his name, but he stopped and turned around.
She recognized that confused squint from Italy.
He wouldn’t be able to see her in the dim shadows.
Daniel’s disheveled dark hair spoke of an equally restless night. He disappeared into his room. Whatever had drawn him to her door, he’d changed his mind. It was probably best to leave it at that for now.
She stayed in her jeans and pulled on a black T-shirt with the Rider-Waite Magician tarot design on it—her preferred comfort clothing.
Wearing this shirt was like getting a hug from her parents.
She was glad she’d kept it in her backpack.
Shoes, on the other hand, were a problem.
She had her travel flats but didn’t want to chance them if Daniel decided to take her on a tour of the mountain.
She had a new pair of Merrells, but they still needed to be broken in.
She sighed, thinking about the well-loved shoes that had gone up with the RV.
With her hair messier than usual, her feet in the new Merrells, and her stomach growling, she headed down the stairs.
Despite the farmhouse ambiance, the floor plan was pretty modern.
The great room opened to the upstairs balcony and had ceiling-to-floor windows and French doors across the rear of the house, so it resembled a huge, enclosed porch, with dropped ceiling fans and overstuffed, colorful furniture.
In a huge sunroom, a short gray-haired woman in an apron bustled around a long table loaded down with serving dishes and carafes.
Guests sat at an assortment of patio tables and chairs.
The furniture was a hodgepodge of styles and materials.
There weren’t many children here, only a couple of toddlers.
A lot of retirees who looked like walking testimonies to a healthy lifestyle.
They all seemed to be in good spirits, and not too noisy emotionally.
She turned away from the windows and almost tripped over a rangy-looking brindle hound that sat next to the wall.
“Hey, fella.” She knelt and let the dog sniff at her arm. “What’s your name?”
“That’s Pooka,” someone said behind her.
A dark-haired man in jeans and a T-shirt sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “He knows better than to come into the kitchen, but it doesn’t stop him from getting as close as he possibly can.”
“Hello, Pooka. You’re a good boy.” Mel waited until the dog nosed at her hand, then scratched under his chin. “A handsome boy too, hmmm?” Mel rubbed the long, silky ears. She’d always wanted a dog, but her travels kept her from having one.
She stood and brushed her hand on her jeans, then held it out as she went into the kitchen. “You must be Nick, Daniel’s brother-in-law?”
The man at the counter stood and took her extended hand. “You must be Mel. Good to meet you.”
“I was just admiring everything. This place is just amazing.” She looked around at the huge refrigerator designed to look like an old icebox, with distressed oak doors and antique hardware. Even the stove and microwave looked antique, but her reporter’s eye easily picked up the hints of modernity.
“It is, isn’t it? I fell in love with it on my first visit,” Nick said, returning to his breakfast. “Married the owner so I could stick around.”
She laughed. “I can see how that could happen.” She went to the old-fashioned keeping room that extended from the kitchen at an angle. It was a cozy nook with a comfy-looking seating and a small fireplace, apparently built for the cook to enjoy.
“I love this. What a wonderful place to cook.”
“Pops originally designed it for Grace’s grandmother then renovated it more recently for Ouida,” Nick said. “She’s the best cook in North Carolina. You’ll have to try her biscuits.” He waved at the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything. Or you can go and sample the buffet if you like.”
“I heard a rumor of an espresso machine somewhere?” She looked around and spotted the Elektra.
“Well. Someone really does love good espresso.” The machine was a small and sleek steampunk design made of brass and copper that fit the kitchen décor far better than a modern-looking machine would.
“My dad will be so envious of me getting to touch one of these. May I make a cappuccino?”
“Go right ahead. But if you’re making a cappuccino, you have to make me one as well.”
“You bet.” She set to work grinding the beans. “I bet the water here is great for coffee. Well water or spring?”
“Spring,” Nick replied. “Daniel said you’re a reporter.”
“Freelance writer. Mostly environmental and nature magazines or websites. I do some editing for science journals on the side,” she said. “I also have a blog.”
“I know.” He pointed to a tablet computer beside his plate. “Excellent work, by the way, especially that one you did on biodiversity.”
She came over to admire his tablet. “Oh, wow. I have always wanted one of those. It’s got the precision stylus, right?
Have to wait until the prices come down a bit more, though.
” He was reading the Wall Street Journal.
“So, how do you manage internet up here? With all these mountain peaks and ridges?”
“Cellular extender and then fiber optic cable to overcome those peaks and ridges,” he explained.
“Grace’s grandfather was a man ahead of his time.
Installed a tower on the highest point on the property, disguised as a tree on Star Catcher Rock.
You need to get Daniel to take you up there. Great views.”
Mel continued went to the refrigerator for milk for the cappuccinos. “There are some fantastic views from that meadow up there as you come in. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Star Crossing Meadow. One of my favorite spots,” Nick said.
“I felt like I was on top of some great, sleeping creature, and those ridges were the coils of its tail weaving into the distance. I could feel it breathing.”
She sensed surprise nearby and looked out from behind the refrigerator door. A tall redhead stood in the doorway, wearing a loose robe over a nightshirt that said “I swallowed a watermelon seed” with a colorful image of a big green watermelon covering her swollen stomach.
“You must be Grace.” Mel set down the milk and came over, holding out her hand.
“And you’re Mel.” She took Mel’s hand in both of hers. “So sorry to hear about your home.”
“Like I told Daniel, I’m breathing,” Mel replied. “Much better than the alternative. I really appreciate your hospitality.”
“Well, we are happy to have you here.”
Grace went to give her husband a quick kiss while Mel finished off the cappuccinos, humming as she worked. She placed one in front of Nick with a flourish and raised the other in Grace’s direction. “Would you like one?”
Grace patted her stomach. “Only herbal tea until this little lady makes her appearance.”
“But I would.” Daniel’s voice and emotions tingled through her like a warm caress. He stood in the doorway, still in his pajama bottoms, but with a plaid shirt halfway buttoned over them, and, oddly, wearing his gloves. He looked dreadful.
“Good morning,” Mel said. He wasn’t squinting, but his color was all wrong. Without thinking, she opened up her shield.
Stress. Confusion. Helplessness. That was Daniel. Love. Fear. Frustration. Grace.
“Nick put me to work,” she explained.
Daniel leaned against the counter. “I see that.”
All eyes were on her now. She swallowed uncomfortably and forced a smile. “Daniel tells me you’re a doctor, Grace.”
“I’m not practicing at the moment,” Grace said in a self-deprecating tone.
Not completely honest, but not lying either. Hiding something. Protecting her baby brother, or maybe something else? Mel put a lid on her journalistic curiosity, for now.
Nick held up his mug. “You make a great cappuccino.”
Mel wiggled her fingers under her chin and smiled, winking at Daniel as she did. “Just a little magic.”