Page 21 of Jasmine Street Blues

Loran smiled. “It seems logical. They need to learn to care for pets, not abuse them. I can swing by in the morning and help, if you’d like.”

Mac looked down at her. Those dark eyes got to her every time. She saw so much promise there. She had no business seeing anything in any man’s eyes, and yet…

“Maybe it’s too much too soon,” he said, “and if it is, tell me. You could just be there in the morning. Wake up in my house. Spend the night. Stay. Let’s…”

“See where this goes?” she finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“We’re not far from Jasmine Street. Mind if we swing by my house?”

He looked disappointed, until she added,

“I need to pick up a toothbrush and a change of clothes.”

* * *

It wasn’t too late to change her mind. Loran told herself that with every step she took. She was physically attracted to Mac. The kiss had been brief but promising, but that didn’t mean she had to do anything to move whatever this was forward. It would be foolish to get involved with any man. She hadn’t been foolish for a very long time.

Her life was basically on hold. Almost thirty-five years old, and she was marking time, playing it safe. Mac wasn’t safe. The way he made her feel wasn’t safe. One kiss, and she spiraled out of control. To be fair, it had been a long time since she’d been kissed.

Loran unlocked the front door and they all walked inside. Bubbles stayed on his leash; Mac held the lead securely. After all, this was an outdoor dog and as far as she knew always had been. Not that she knew very much about Mac or his dog.

Bubbles was getting accustomed to being led. He was much more obedient than he’d been when they’d set out from Mac’s house for their after-dinner walk. But about the time they reached the middle of the room, Bubbles started fighting against the leash. He pulled, wiggled, and barked at the bookcase on the other side of the small room.

He hadn’t barked during their entire walk, not even when he’d been confronted with the boys Mac called the Three Bs. They’d elicited a bit of a growl, but that was it. The bark was intense, loud in her small living room. Maybe he was such an outdoor dog that being inside spooked him.

“I’ll meet you on the porch,” Mac said, before looking down and muttering, “Crazy mutt.”

“I won’t be long,” Loran said.

She walked into her bedroom and grabbed a small overnight bag from the closet. She placed it on the bed and started gathering a few things. A toothbrush. Clean underwear. Would she need pajamas? Did she want to need pajamas? Makeup? Clean clothes for tomorrow morning. She stood at the open closet door, was reaching inside to grab a dress made of a fabric that wouldn’t wrinkle horribly in the small bag, when she stopped.

The skirt of the dress was in her hand, right there, but she couldn’t move. Her mind was no longer her own; slowly and certainly she lost control of her body and her mind. In an instant she forgot Mac, the kiss, her reckless plans for one night… just one night…

Her mind swam with images of the girl she’d been painting recently. She saw the dead girl vividly, was called to paint, but… not now. Please, not now. Couldn’t she have a moment’s peace? A normal life? A date with a guy she liked more than she should? A one night stand with a big sexy guy who made her heart race?

Maybe if she gave the spirit a little attention, if she painted for a few minutes, the images, the compulsion, would stop. She tossed the dress in her hand onto the bed and walked into her studio, where a half finished portrait of the young woman waited.

Loran didn’t even bother to change into painting clothes, as she always did. Painting was messy work, but she reasoned that she wouldn’t be here long. Just a few strokes to define the features on that pretty face. A touch of color to the eyes that glared at her, somehow condemning. A little attention to appease this dead girl so she could have a life of her own.

What a stupid thought. She would never have a life of her own.

* * *

Mac looked at his watch. How long did it take a woman to throw a few things into a bag? It was possible Loran had changed her mind and quietly locked the door so he wouldn’t be able to go back in, but he didn’t think so. If she’d changed her mind she’d tell him so, not creep away without a word.

He wasn’t a patient person, but he tried, giving Loran a few more minutes. After what seemed like more than long enough, he glanced at his watch again. It had been twenty minutes.

Olive walked out of the house next door, onto her own front porch. She turned her head, looked his way, and grinned widely. Yeah, yeah, your matchmaking worked. Maybe. She’d never let him live this down.

She called out a friendly hello then walked over. “Waiting for Loran?” she asked.

He had no choice but to nod.

“I knew y’all would hit it off. Knew it!” She turned her attention to the mutt.

“Who’s this? You don’t have a dog.”