SoI deal with the ticklish itch I get when it ever so slightly dips inside my crack with each step I take. I'm able to catch a quick glimpse of the outdoors through the windows, but all I see are trees. Lots and lots of trees. Providence Falls doesn't look like this.Where are we?
"Is this your house, Mr. Shay?" And do I need to be on the lookout for a territorial woman?Oh, God...please let it just be us in the house.I can only imagine the conclusions his girlfriend would justifiably jump to.I was in hisfreakin' bed this morning, for crying out loud.
"Amos, Mercy. And yes."
"But where, though? In Providence Falls?"
He sidesteps my question as we enter the kitchen. "Let's get you that breakfast now. Does anomelettesound good?"
I suppose I'll think better with a clearer head, so I thank him and guzzle the glass of orange juice he slides my way.
"Now, oneomelettecoming right up." Opening cabinet doors at random, he mutters, "Pans...pans...where are the pans?"
Wouldn't he know where his own pots and pans were kept? This seems a little odd. But he finally finds what he's looking for, and before I know it, a plate is placed in front of me along with a fresh glass of juice. The entire time I'm demolishing this scrumptious breakfast, he silently drills holes into my head as he just watches me awkwardly try to avoid staring at his nipples. When I scrape the last bite from the plate, I daintily wipe my mouth with a napkin. "Okay, Mr. Shay. Give it to me straight. I’ve racked my brain trying to come up with answers to questions I don’t even feel comfortable asking..."
My voice trails off and I squirm in my seat when I see his blue eyes narrowing in on my face. I meet his gaze and return the favor. Gosh, he’s so handsome. A man that works with his hands is hot. A man who works with his handsandknows what he’s doing with money? Utterly dreamy.
He wears his age extremely well, too. With his silver-sprinkled black hair, blue eyes, and facial scruff, he's got a mug worth a second glance or two. Or fifty. I may not have ever had a relationship, but I can still appreciate a work of art when I see it.
"Did you hear me, Mercy?"
No, must have zoned out. The angles of your jawline are too mesmerizing."Sorry. What'd you say?"Pay attention, Mercy.He's possibly the only one who can explain last night.
"I brought you here."
Confusion colors my voice as my words slowly leave my mouth. "Yes, okay. I figured as much. But why? Where’s here?"
"We're in Pleasant Plain."
Pleasant Plain?That's four hours from Providence Falls. "You and I were in the same place? I-I don't see how... I went to bed and didn't go anywhere last night. I didn't go to Midnight Blues. How did I get here...four hours away?"
He leans closer, encasing my soft, small hands in hiscallused, massive ones.Gah, those veins.His deep voice fills the room, its sound waves surrounding me. "My sweet Mercy. Has there ever been something that you wanted, that you yearned for sobadly,but it was just out of reach? Something that was always on your mind, but you were hesitant to ask for it because the chance of rejection was too high?"
I don't answer him.Of courseI have. I even had a breakdown overitlast night, but what does this have to do with why I'm here?
"And then you realize that sometimes the only way you can get it is just to take it."
Wait a minute.
"You're mine, Mercy. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one I’ve been waiting for. Meant to be claimed. You won’t be a Callahan for much longer."
What is he talking about? Does he mean—
“I’mgonnamarry you and make you mine.”
Marriage? We don’t even know each other. Is he crazy? At least that answers my curiosity about another woman being here. I swallow down a hysterical giggle.Surely not…
"I know you don't remember much about last night. God, Mercy, you're so beautiful when you're sleeping. That's been one of my favorite things to do these past few months—watching you sleep at night. I waited patiently for you...waited while my family helped me build this house for us. And last night was when I was going to take you and bring you here, but you woke up too soon and I had to sedate you. I didn't want to, but you left me no choice."
"What?" As if on cue, my arm tingles with the phantom sensation of a needle pricking me. My heart sinks like a lead balloon into my stomach with each word he speaks, but I mask it with a nervous laugh. "Very funny, Mr. Shay. Cut it out. W-what really happened?"
He arches an eyebrow and brings my hands to his mouth for a kiss, saying everything by saying nothing at all.
The food I just ate threatens to explode from my mouth. Hedruggedme?!That'sthe cause of myfreakin' headache? Was that—my fingernails dig into my clenched palms—Mr. Shay’s body fluid all over my stomach? On my lips?
My perfume bottle... It was him.
I didn't sleepwalk.
