Page 19 of A Secret In The Garden

Jasper didn’t move for a long moment, and I wondered if he was going to say something else. He probably thought I was crying, hunched over like I was. But instead, he sighed—low, like he was trying to let go of something. His footsteps were slow when he finally stepped a little closer, the sound muted against the cold marble floor.

Fuck.

“I never meant to…” His voice trailed off, and I could tell he was wrestling with the words, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He exhaled deeply, like it was a struggle to get the words out at all.

I could feel him moving closer behind me. What if he saw the locket move?

“I shouldn’t have said what I said about your family,” I said, cutting him off nervously. “I don’t know why I—You were right. It’s unbelievably lonely here. I’m sorry I—” Words left my brain as the locket moved, making a sound as it rattled from under my shirt, louder this time. I needed to get him away from me before he realized I had what I suspected was his mother’s locket in my hand.

Panicked, I turned to see if he noticed. Thankfully he’d turned around, facing away from me.

Keeping my back to him just in case, I hurriedly pulled the chain out from under my shirt and grasped ahold of the locket. It rolled slightly in my palm. Something was inside, desperately struggling to get out. With a quick glance backward to assure myself that Jasper still wasn’t looking, I opened it.

I swallowed my scream as a white dove flew out of it and whipped past my face, flapping its wings wildly as it soared directly toward Jasper. The dove painting was no longer a painting but a real-life dove, gliding through the kitchen of Blackwood Manor.

I whipped around to watch the chaos unfold, unsure of what to do.

“Holy…shit,” Jasper said as he fell back away from the bird. “The fuck?” He moved the crisp button-up he wore to grab a sleek black pistol tucked in the waistband at the back of his dress pants.

A shiver ran across my skin. Did he always carry a gun in his own home, or was that just while I was here? Which of those would be the better answer?

“Don’t hurt it!” I cried, and he dropped his shirt instantly and started swatting at it. It was fluttering in circles above his head, trying to land on him.

“What the fuck is a pigeon doing in my kitchen?” he said as he dodged the bird chaotically.

“Just hold still. It’s a dove!” I shouted at him. “Let it land!”

“It’s gonna shit on me!” he called back as he continued to flail frantically.

A snort of laughter escaped me as I watched the scary, handsome millionaire spin and twirl, trying to keep the flapping bird off him.

“Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” he said, as the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Stop!” I shouted back when he moved across the kitchen, bringing the flapping bird toward where I stood.

Laughter left my throat as I tried to evade him and run into the large, open pantry, but he cut me off with the stealth of a panther, cornering me in the nook of the L-shaped counter.

“Get back over there!” I commanded through my throaty giggles and the sound of flapping wings. My hair was whipping into my eyes with the wind from the bird’s chaos.

“You do think this is funny,” he said with a huff. He put a muscular arm on either side of me, completely boxing me into the corner with his body, trying to transfer the bird onto me.

He was so close that I could see the loose thread on the top button of his shirt, the smattering of stubble across his tan face, the soft look in his deep brown eyes as they caught on mine.

The air shifted between us, no longer full of humor. Instead, a curious hunger filled the room.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I was suddenly aware of every molecule in my body. It felt as if they’d all awakened and suddenly started to reach for him. I couldn’t seem to look away from his mouth, from a tiny freckle on the bottom corner that touched his lower lip. I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.

His breath tickled across my face. My eyes wouldn’t move, my energy too focused on not leaning in any farther. We are going to kiss, I suddenly thought. What do I do? Do I grab his gun? Kiss him back? Taste the small freckle on his lip?

“Has it landed yet?” he whispered.

I continued to watch the freckle. I had no idea what he was talking about.

I stared at him for a second before realizing he was talking about the bird. My eyes moved over him before I realized that the dove had landed on his shoulder and was happily watching the two of us with a hint of mischief in its expression—could birds look mischievous?

“Don’t move, it’s on your shoulder,” I whispered and looked around the kitchen. “Should we try to put a pot or something over it and take it outside?” I was at a complete loss for what to do when your haunted-locket dove went haywire. Was I supposed to put it back in the locket somehow? That seemed harsh. Release it? Oh my god, was it Hester? I needed to find pictures of Hester to see if she even was the ghost. It could be an aunt or someone. I looked at the bird again with more apprehension. There was most definitely a familiar twinkle in the bird’s dark reddish eyes.

Was it Hester? And was she…trying to get me close to her son?