Page 27 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Swiping the pot back, he butted her out of the way at the sink. “No, I’ll finish dishes while you make popcorn.”

“Popcorn?” She blinked twice. “I’m not watching ESPN with you. I hate to break it to you, Pelé, but I’m not fond of soccer.”

“No, but you are fond of The Greatest Showman because you mentioned to Cat on the phone that you were planning to watch it again, did you not?”

Heat swarmed her cheeks. “Uh, in my room, Beck, so you can lose yourself in ESPN ad nauseam.

“Soccer’s not on tonight, lass”—he eyed her with a narrow gaze over his shoulder—“and for your information, Beauty,” he said, shortening his nickname of “Sleeping Beauty”—only one of many monikers he’d coined to counter her many sarcastic ones. Be it Goldilocks or Princess to just plain “Nancy” in honor of Nancy Drew, even his nicknames endeared him to her, which got on her nerves as much as the little-boy smile he was giving her now. “I’ve been wanting to see it too, so you’re not going to make me watch it all alone, are you?”

She hesitated, in total agreement that The Greatest Showman was not a movie to be seen alone, but shared. A trifecta of musicals with a combination of the most wonderful music, lyrics, and choreography Molly had ever seen or heard. And there was no question she was dying to see it again. But not with a man who wore Gucci “Guilty” cologne, for heaven’s sake, that delicious peppery scent that followed him—and her—around wherever he went.

She’d discovered it one day on his shelf in the medicine chest, and she’d shaken her head at the irony of the name, a scent that described Brec McGill to a T— “guilty.”

Of being a player.

Of causing a messy scandal.

Of breaking women’s hearts wherever he went.

Her mouth went flat. Including hers if she let him, which she definitely would not! But it did tick her off something fierce that some of the thoughts and feelings he provoked made her feel “guilty” too. Deflecting her hesitation with a wide yawn, she offered a repentant smile, deciding the movie could wait for another night.

When Miss Lilly can watch it too.

“I’m sorry, Brec, but I am whipped, so I’m going to head on up, but I promise to watch it with you one night this week since Miss Lilly will want to watch it too.”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered, sliding her an off-kilter smile as he carried the pot to the sink, the tease in his tone a poor match for the disappointment in his eyes. “Goodnight, Goldie.”

“Goodnight, Brec,” she said, guilt weighting her down as she hurried up the steps to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before quietly closing her bedroom door. She’d even went so far as to pop a sleeping pill to take the edge off—the edge that always seemed to occur lately whenever the two of them were by themselves in a room. Because the way she looked at it, the guilt of saying “no” was a whole lot safer than guilt of another kind if she and Brec were alone on the couch in the dark.

Pinnnnng!

Molly froze in her room, fingers petrified on the last button of her unbuttoned blouse. The warning chime from her phone—the sound of the alarm system Chase and Brec had put in—shot sleet through her veins. A cold chill pebbled her skin. Someone was out there! Darting to the light switch, she slapped it off and rushed to the window that faced the front of the house, all breathing suspended as she scanned the front yard, now lit by the motion-detector light.

Hands shielding her eyes against the window, she strained to detect any movement at all, praying it was just a large spider that had triggered the alarm. Her breath suddenly caught in her throat when she spied a shadow running down the street before slinking into the woods. Heart racing, she ran to swipe her gun out from under her pillow before jerking her bedroom door open and tearing downstairs. The subdued sounds of The Greatest Showman drifted from the living room where the opening of the movie flickered in the dark.

“Brec!” Molly stooped next to the sofa where he comfortably lay, hands behind his neck and long legs crossed. “Someone’s outside!”

“What?” He turned to stare at her, obviously caught off-guard. His gaze suddenly flicked from her face to the gun in her hand before homing in on her half-unbuttoned blouse, but she was too rattled to care.

“The chimes—they sounded on my phone,” she said in a rush, double-checking the safety on her gun before tucking it into her pants. Her fingers fumbled as she rebuttoned her blouse, her words coming as hard and fast as her breathing. “And when I looked out the window, I saw someone running down the road and into the woods, so I’m going outside to investigate.”

That did it. He vaulted off the couch like the athlete he was, sprinting to the door and lashing it open after slapping on the front light. “Where?” he asked, suddenly as breathless as she.

She pointed to the dark dead-end of Aunt Lilly’s street, lit only by the light of the moon, where nothing moved but the trees in a soft breeze. Swaying as if in silent testament that someone had just disappeared into their ominous depths.

But who?

And why?

“It’s nothing, Brec. Probably just an animal,” she said too loudly, hoping to assure whoever hid in the woods that their suspicions were dismissed. “Let’s get back to our movie.” Palm to his shoulder, she steered him back inside and closed the door, clicking the deadbolt while she turned out the front light. “Stay inside while I go out to look around.”

“The devil I will,” he said, halting her with a hard clamp of her arm. “You stay inside, Molly, and I’ll ‘go out to look around.’” He darted out the back door before she could stop him, but that didn’t stop her from following, holding her breath when she spotted him creeping through the trees on the left side of the house toward the end of the street. Her heart started to pound when he vanished for several moments, and pulling out her weapon, she chased after him until she finally spotted him making his way back.

“Did you see or hear anything?” she whispered when he slipped from the woods.

He swore under his breath. “For crying out loud, Molly, I told you to stay inside.” Clearly peeved, he stormed past her on his way back to the house, reentering through the sliding door he’d exited, then waiting till she came in before he locked it.

Her chin rose in indignation. “Hey, you’re not the boss of me, Striker Boy, and for your information, I’m the one who saw the shadow, not you.”