Haunt Me (14 page)

Jock’s gaze slid from his, and her eyes went gray again. “The other part is she was kidnapped from her true love—stolen away and kept a prisoner. No one knew she was there until her death. They heard her cries in the dark…and they put it down to the haunts, the ghosts that walk the fields.”

Warning raced over his nerves. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“The truth is in the story. You have to finish the story…I wish I knew the rest of it—how it will turn out this time. I just know I don’t want it to end that way again. So be sure, be sure of her and of you. And remember…we only get one and we’re done.”

The reminder of their family’s history and the link to his present situation seemed nebulous, but for some reason it resonated with him. For a split second, he almost recalled something that seemed vitally important, but the thought slipped away.

Tears glistened in Jock’s now blue eyes, and she pulled from his grasp. The gentle swell of voices around them rushed back in to fill the void, and the music changed. Before he could catch her, Jock turned and disappeared into the throng. Torn between following her and staying with Mac, Justin glanced at the woman rapidly taking over his heart.

Mac lifted her brows when she caught his gaze. His chest tightened. Sometimes his sister got too caught up in the town mysteries, but maybe she did know something that could help them. Mac was here with him, and nothing else mattered.

Chapter Eight

After dancing a few fast reels with a laughing Mac, Justin was grateful when the music took a slower beat in the gathering dark. Earlier he’d left Mac with an overly chatty Andie to briefly meet with the Founders Council. He’d shared with them that Mac wasn’t interested in opening up Summerfield for tours—yet. The “yet” kept them off his back, and off Mac’s back, too. He’d left the group to reclaim Mac, who Andie had kept well occupied. Although his meeting had been on the opposite side of the square, he’d still been able to keep an eye on Mac and make sure her ex didn’t bother her, but there was no sign of the man.

Folding her against his chest, he drifted from side to side and savored the moment. Her head rested against his shoulder and she relaxed. The music quieted and murmured gasps drifted over the crowd as the lights dimmed around them and the streetlights shut off.

“Look up.” He touched a finger under her chin and tilted her head back so she could see the spectacle drifting up in the sky.

“Oh,” she said on an exhale. A hundred lanterns took flight. The local fire department kept a watchful eye on the miniature lights as they filled the sky over the square, but the candles would only stay lit for a handful of minutes. The painted paper floated up like illuminated butterflies taking wing.

Mac twisted in his arms and leaned back, her head rested on his shoulder, as they watched the magic unfold.

“Wait for it,” he murmured against her ear. It was his favorite part of the whole festival. This late in the year, the fireflies weren’t as prominent, but they always put in an appearance—a last hurrah to summer. Within a minute of the torches taking flight, the fireflies began to twinkle in and out around the soaring lanterns.

A fat harvest moon hung low in the sky, but it didn’t take away from the pure radiance of man and nature sparkling together. The town considered this a blessing of sorts, the tradition dating back to when the town had been founded. He could almost imagine men in their suits and women in a kaleidoscope of colorful hoop skirts gathered on this same square, witnessing the dance of the fireflies.

Stealing a glance down, he soaked up the stunned awe on Mac’s face. Thoroughly captivated by the enchantment on her face, he kissed her earlobe.

Desire filled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For today…and for this.”

“You are more than welcome.” He added another kiss and enjoyed the delicate shudder rippling through her. Tightening his arms, he snuggled her closer.

In the quiet of his own mind, he could own up to the deepening affection he felt for her. Loving Mac would be so very easy if she would let him—and with that realization came a gong that vibrated through his soul. Something snapped into place—like a dislocated joint finally settling where it belonged, and he relaxed.

Then movement across the square caught his eye and the rightness in the moment slipped sideways.

Kevin Dillon stood in the shadows of a building, his black gaze locked on Mac and his thumb and forefinger cocked like a gun. Tension invaded Justin’s muscles and wariness chilled his spine. His vision blurred, and he blinked to clear it. The torches continued their journey to the stars and flared against the sky. A gasp went up from the crowd, and he glanced up in time to see the lanterns burn up in a spectacularly timed display, leaving the fireflies to flicker alone.

By the time he looked back at Kevin, the man had disappeared. The man had no business being in Penny Hollow—and Justin would use every resource at his disposal to make sure he didn’t stay.

“That was amazing!” Mac said, enthused, twisting again to face him. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Heat burned through the chill on his spine and he deepened the kiss. Tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips, he delved in as she opened to him. She twined her arms around his neck, her curves pressed up against him perfectly. Sliding his hands down her back, he fought the urge to cup her ass. Some small part of him remembered where they were, and the catcalls and friendly applause breaking out around them seemed to remind her, as she broke the kiss.

He let her retreat, but not far. Her bright eyes gleamed up at him and he made a decision. “Ready to run away with me?” he murmured.

Surprise filtered through the embarrassed pleasure on her face and he held his breath. She could still say no.

“Yes.” She nodded slowly, and he resisted a small fist bump at the playfulness in her eyes. He scooped her up, and she let out a squealing laugh. God, she was so light.

Delicate, sweet, and sassy.

“Justin, people are staring at us.” She hid her face against his neck.

He glanced around, cradling her. Yep, people were staring, but fortunately, there was no sign of the ex. Clint caught his eye, giving him a knowing smile and shaking his head. The ladies seemed torn between amusement and embarrassment.

“Happy Firefly Festival, all,” Justin announced to their impromptu audience. “And good night!”

He marched away, ignoring the laughter and applause. They’d parked all the way at the end of the block, but most of the crowd stayed back in the square, which meant he had a straight shot and no one to interrupt them. But he kept his eye on the shadows, half-expecting her ex to make another appearance.

At the truck, he set her down and backed her against the door. Planting one hand on the vehicle, he let the other trail down to cup her ass through the dress. Her eyes widened and her expression softened. The moment her lips parted, he swooped in for a thorough kiss. His hips bumped up against hers, and he didn’t bother to disguise the arousal seizing control of his body.

“Please tell me that’s not a flashlight in your pocket,” she whispered into the kiss.

He tipped his head back and laughed.

…

Justin took his time with the drive back. At least on the road he had no worry about missing her ex if the man followed them—but no headlights appeared in his rearview mirror. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he liked the feeling of her pressed up alongside him on the bench seat. She
belonged
there—with him. He grew more certain of that fact with every passing minute.

The sobering thought held him its grip as he slowed on their shared road. He could take the right into his driveway or the left into hers. With no traffic visible in either direction, he stopped the truck and glanced at her. “Your place, or mine?”

Okay, he could have phrased that smoother, and from the way she chewed her lip, he wondered if she’d had time to rethink her teasing remarks in town.

“Sex changes things,” she said, her low voice stroking his senses like a caress.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t argue with the statement. Sex did change things. No matter how a couple might think of it otherwise, once they took the leap from friends to lovers, backpedalling could prove extremely difficult. “And I’m not going to push.”

“So you don’t want to have sex?” She lifted her head and studied him.

He reached up and flipped on the overhead light so she couldn’t miss any trace of his expression, then met her gaze and held it. “I absolutely want to have sex with you. But I’m not going to push or demand or have expectations. Good things come to those willing to wait, and I’m a pretty patient guy.”

She’d had enough angst. Her ex-husband aside, she’d mentioned her family exactly once and the feeling she’d expressed hadn’t been friendly. In the weeks since her arrival, he’d seen no evidence of friends checking on her or much in the way of outside contact.

She’d run away from her life and locked herself away in Summerfield. He had his foot in that door; he didn’t want to risk leaving her alone for a few hours of pleasure—no matter how wonderful. His body protested, but he ignored the tight fit of his jeans. Seeing the bigger picture was what restoration was all about. Mac needed the time and the energy.

She was worth it.

“It’s late,” he murmured when her silence lasted longer than a minute. If it took her that long to consider it, then taking her home was the right call. He shifted the truck back into drive, then froze when she covered his hand on the steering wheel.

“I’m kind of damaged, Justin.” She wasn’t looking at him. She stared at their hands. “More than a little, I think, because there’s this little voice in me that says go for it, live impulsively. You’re a sexy guy and, God knows, you can kiss.”

She licked her lips and exhaled a long slow breath. He forced patience, waiting. His body didn’t have to like it, it just had to wait as he listened.

Groaning, she pushed her hand through her hair and leaned away from him. He didn’t like the distance but kept the complaint to himself.

“And I’m torn. I want to jump your bones and have one of those romance-novel torrid trysts. I haven’t had sex in so long…” A grimace tightened her face. “But that said, I’m still getting the feel of this whole being independent thing, and I don’t want to screw this up. You’re my friend, and while my current track record sucks in the friendship department, I’m scared of losing that. Throw in the haunting and…and a part of me wonders is this what we want or what something else wants?”

Since he’d had a similar mental argument on the subject, he understood her concern. But he wasn’t going to be friend-tracked. Jock had been wrong about one thing—he was already involved.

“Then you’re not ready.” Proud of how reasonable he managed to sound when his body screamed in frustration, he stared at her luscious mouth, suddenly realizing all he could think about were the number of kisses it would take to shuck her right out of that sundress to let him explore all that lovely creamy skin beneath. “And we aren’t in a hurry.”

“There you go, being perfect again.”

She really had to stop calling him perfect. He wasn’t. In fact, far from it. He’d told her he wanted to be friends, and while it was true, he’d done so in the beginning to get her to trust him and maybe help out the town. He’d told the other founders he was working on her to bring her around, and really all he’d done was taken the time to get to know her for him. Not perfect.

“Yeah, about that…” Cupping his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her forward and kissed her. She was sweet and tart and altogether his personal brand of intoxication. Nibbling her lower lip, he coaxed her mouth wider and sucked gently against her tongue, inviting her to explore his mouth. A low moan vibrated her throat and he pressed the kiss a little longer, drawing back only when his own need threatened to make very short work of that dress.

Keeping his hands to himself was going to take a hell of a lot of effort. He took satisfaction in the dazed expression on her face, the dilated pupils and swollen lips. She was definitely not immune to whatever simmered between them.

Tracing his thumb along the line of her lower lip, he said, “I’m a man, sweetheart. Not a character in a book. You think you’re damaged, and I get that. But I’m a man who likes character and sturdiness. History, if you will, in all my projects. You have history. It’s left its mark on you, but I like the
you
you are, right now. I like knowing you have that history. I want to see what we can do together, what we can build and create. Whatever happened in the past, I don’t care. I care about today and tomorrow—and the day after that.”

She licked her lips and his control slammed to the ends of its apparently finite levels. “Okay.”

“So we’re on the same…page?” He lifted his brows, deliberately emphasizing the play on words.

A giggle worked its way free and she put a hand up to cover her sexy as hell mouth. “I think so,” she said, grinning.

Amusement returned, muting the desire but not blotting it out. He tugged her hair, lightly. “Good.” He shifted the car out of park and turned off the overhead compartment light before settling his arm around her. “That said, if I show up in one of your books, I expect to be fully compensated for my time.”

“Oh?” Rich challenge layered through the syllable.

“Definitely. Only I plan to take it out in trade—definitely not money.”

Her laughter lightened his soul, even if his pants seemed unbearably tight. He was halfway up the drive when she slid a hand along his thigh and his breath clogged in his
throat.

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“If you compare me to one of your plantation projects again, I’m going to have to take it out in trade.” She gave his thigh a squeeze. “So I won’t call you a romance-novel hero and you don’t call me a house.”

“Okay. But I love every house I work on—” He pulled up to the carport and glanced over at her. “Every. Single. One.”

After walking her inside, he checked the house and made sure no one was waiting for her. Leaving her was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he didn’t go far. He parked where he could see the driveway and the doors and shut off the car. Then he made a call.

The sheriff came through—he’d tracked Kevin to a local inn. One of the deputies was watching him. Mac called Elijah next, and to his surprise, his brother answered his cell.

“I need a favor,” Justin said. He never asked where Elijah went or what he did, and he’d always imagined he wouldn’t like the answer. But tonight, it was that answer he needed.

“I’m listening.”

“I need your help keeping an eye on Mac. Her ex-husband is in town and he’s threatening her.”