allowed me to speak above a whisper.
Madeleine knocked on the door, and we both jumped. “Y’all okay in there?”
Dean jerked on his pants and went to the door to talk to his sister. It took some convincing, but Madeleine went back to her room believing I’d had a vivid nightmare. Dean settled back in next to me but didn’t fall asleep so fast this time.
“Can you smell that?” He pitched his voice low.
“Yes.” I explained no further. He pulled me tighter against him and kissed the back of my neck.
“Was it her in your dream? Was it Shayne?”
“I dreamed her death. The killer buried her alive back there. The dirt was going into her nose and mouth, and—”
“It’s all right. She’s gone now.” Dean stroked my arm, but his hand shook.
“I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I was going to die in the dream.” Should I tell him to go back to his room if he’s too freaked out? Maybe, but I didn’t want to be alone. Not after that. “I was afraid I’d die in the dream and die here too.”
Dean drew in a sharp breath, his body tensing next to mine. He took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll wake you up if you’re struggling.”
The rest of the night passed with both of us falling asleep and jerking awake. When dawn poured through the windows, Dean kissed me. “Try to get some sleep, babe.” He brushed my hair away from my face. “I have to get started working.” I nodded and curled into a ball, the tenderness in his eyes a warm comfort.
After he quietly slipped through the door, the odor of Shayne’s perfume hanging in the air made me think sleep impossible. I got up and sat in the brocade armchair near the window and tried to think of ways to lessen Shayne’s power over me. Fear from the night before lingered in my nerves like a hangover, making me feel both nauseated and exhausted.
###
I jolted awake to full daylight streaming into Shayne’s room and someone pounding on the door. I straightened in the chair and wiped sweat from my face. I checked my cell phone and saw it was nine-thirty. How did I sleep after last night?
“Yes?” I hollered at the door.
The door cracked open and Madeleine stuck in her head. “Breakfast is in ten minutes. It’s the best meal we have, the only one Mom doesn’t cook.”
Malaise evaporating, I bit back a smile remembering the scene last night with the cakes and donuts and Dean’s and Madeleine’s open dislike of their mother’s cooking. It made the Turgeau family seem more down-to-earth. Or maybe I was getting used to the idea of this family, of having a rich boyfriend.
“I’ll be there, but it may be more than ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll save you a muffin if it looks like things are going fast.”
I pushed myself out of the chair, chuckling. Growing up in my grandmother’s home as an only child insulated me from many experiences. Life as part of an extended family surprised me by being enjoyable. It almost made me forget the drama with Shayne’s ghost. But not quite.
My clothes from the night before still lay crumpled on the floor. I shook them out and pulled them on. I stepped out in the hallway and realized I didn’t remember how to get back to the main part of the house. I had been so busy playing fish out of water, worrying about what Dean expected of me and what I could deliver that I hadn’t paid attention. I went back in my room—Shayne’s room—and looked out the window, trying to decide which direction to go.
Back out in the hallway, no more sure of myself but a lot more determined, I headed in what I thought was the right direction. Before long, I found myself lost in a maze of hallways, leading to rooms obviously unused by the family. I made a disgusted sound. This place is like the friggin’ Bermuda Triangle. Amelia Earhart is probably in one of these rooms. In my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of swishing dark hair passing one of the open hallways. Awash with
Madeleine knocked on the door, and we both jumped. “Y’all okay in there?”
Dean jerked on his pants and went to the door to talk to his sister. It took some convincing, but Madeleine went back to her room believing I’d had a vivid nightmare. Dean settled back in next to me but didn’t fall asleep so fast this time.
“Can you smell that?” He pitched his voice low.
“Yes.” I explained no further. He pulled me tighter against him and kissed the back of my neck.
“Was it her in your dream? Was it Shayne?”
“I dreamed her death. The killer buried her alive back there. The dirt was going into her nose and mouth, and—”
“It’s all right. She’s gone now.” Dean stroked my arm, but his hand shook.
“I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I was going to die in the dream.” Should I tell him to go back to his room if he’s too freaked out? Maybe, but I didn’t want to be alone. Not after that. “I was afraid I’d die in the dream and die here too.”
Dean drew in a sharp breath, his body tensing next to mine. He took my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll wake you up if you’re struggling.”
The rest of the night passed with both of us falling asleep and jerking awake. When dawn poured through the windows, Dean kissed me. “Try to get some sleep, babe.” He brushed my hair away from my face. “I have to get started working.” I nodded and curled into a ball, the tenderness in his eyes a warm comfort.
After he quietly slipped through the door, the odor of Shayne’s perfume hanging in the air made me think sleep impossible. I got up and sat in the brocade armchair near the window and tried to think of ways to lessen Shayne’s power over me. Fear from the night before lingered in my nerves like a hangover, making me feel both nauseated and exhausted.
###
I jolted awake to full daylight streaming into Shayne’s room and someone pounding on the door. I straightened in the chair and wiped sweat from my face. I checked my cell phone and saw it was nine-thirty. How did I sleep after last night?
“Yes?” I hollered at the door.
The door cracked open and Madeleine stuck in her head. “Breakfast is in ten minutes. It’s the best meal we have, the only one Mom doesn’t cook.”
Malaise evaporating, I bit back a smile remembering the scene last night with the cakes and donuts and Dean’s and Madeleine’s open dislike of their mother’s cooking. It made the Turgeau family seem more down-to-earth. Or maybe I was getting used to the idea of this family, of having a rich boyfriend.
“I’ll be there, but it may be more than ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll save you a muffin if it looks like things are going fast.”
I pushed myself out of the chair, chuckling. Growing up in my grandmother’s home as an only child insulated me from many experiences. Life as part of an extended family surprised me by being enjoyable. It almost made me forget the drama with Shayne’s ghost. But not quite.
My clothes from the night before still lay crumpled on the floor. I shook them out and pulled them on. I stepped out in the hallway and realized I didn’t remember how to get back to the main part of the house. I had been so busy playing fish out of water, worrying about what Dean expected of me and what I could deliver that I hadn’t paid attention. I went back in my room—Shayne’s room—and looked out the window, trying to decide which direction to go.
Back out in the hallway, no more sure of myself but a lot more determined, I headed in what I thought was the right direction. Before long, I found myself lost in a maze of hallways, leading to rooms obviously unused by the family. I made a disgusted sound. This place is like the friggin’ Bermuda Triangle. Amelia Earhart is probably in one of these rooms. In my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of swishing dark hair passing one of the open hallways. Awash with
Similar Books
