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CHAPTER NINE
Thursday, June 10 (but only barely)
The warm buzzof the wine, lingering richness of the food and lateness of the evening wash over me while I change out of my little black shift dress and heels and into my nightgown. I grin at myself and murmur Connor’s words over for my own hearing,You are wonderful!
When I come out of the bathroom, I find Connor once again propped up on a pile of pillows, tapping the bed beside him in invitation. I smile. I hope this becomes our nightly routine to snuggle together this way. I love the way it makes me feel — treasured, respected, safe.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” Connor asks, after turning out the lights.
“Are you kidding? I ate a seven-course meal prepared by Anton Arnaud.TheAnton Arnaud The meal was as much of a floor show as it was a dinner, watching his staff prepare everything. The plates looked like paintings. And the food was amazing. It was a perfect dinner, Connor. Thank you so much.”
“It was my pleasure, Lainey Bird. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Connor’s voice is a rumble of chocolate-covered steel. It gives me goose bumps as I curl a millimeter closer into his hold.
“You seemed to be having a good time, too. Are we really going on a scavenger hunt tomorrow?”
“So it would seem.” He kisses the top of my head.
“What is all that about? The scavenger hunt for a chicken recipe?”
“Anton is big into the geocaching thing. He’s hidden the recipe somewhere in Greenville. He sent me the GPS coordinates and we get to go searching the area tomorrow.”
“And he wants us to leave what exactly for him in return? Something tells me you already knew about this.”
“Yeah. I actually brought it. I figured he’d ask me for it. He’s always wanted this special guitar pick Ox has. The two of them argued over whether Ox would ever give it to him or not.”
“A guitar pick?” My brow scrunches up in confusion.
“Anton is the biggestClimaxfan you’ll ever meet. He went full-on Superfan when Ox called about helping us set up the restaurant in Buckhead. He asked for nothing except the first guitar pick Ox ever used in a live concert. Ox damn near keeps the thing under glass. But he knew we were coming here and asked me to bring it to him.”
“So where is he hiding ze rezipe?” I ask in a mock French accent.
Connor chuckles. “Near as I can tell it’s somewhere along ze Swamp Rabbit Trail.” Connor’s voice is playful, but his tone is heavy and sluggish. He’s tired. I don’t blame him, I am, too. But curiosity wins out over exhaustion.
“Swamp Rabbit Trail?” I ask with a heavy yawn.
“Yep. More than twenty miles of food, parks and beautiful scenery. I thought we could rent some bikes and head out after breakfast — before it gets too hot. Sound good?”
I let out another long, loud yawn. I feel Connor kiss the top of my head.
“Sleep now, my wonderful little Lainey Bird.”
* * *
“Come on!” Connor’s voice is loud. He’s shouting. “Move!”
I open my eyes and hear him yelling. He keeps screaming for someone to “move” or “c’mon.” I reach to touch his shoulder and lay a hand on his chest. His body is hot, almost feverish. He twists and his fingers grip my wrist, hard. I shriek. The sound emerging from my lungs is equal parts pain and fear. My heart starts pounding.
“Why won’t you move?” Connor’s voice is urgent, agitated, and he’s screaming. His eyes are open, but he doesn’t see me. They’re glazed, unblinking and … terrifying. I try to wrench my wrist from his grip, but his fingers tighten and I whimper.
“Connor!” I call out to him, working to keep my voice from sounding panicked. “Connor, let me go. Stop it! You’re dreaming.”
Connor’s eyes blink furiously. He stares into mine for several long moments as if he can’t see me right in front of him. My lip starts trembling. I can’t help it. His grip on me loosens slightly, and I take advantage and pull away. I slide out of the bed and quickly flip on the light.
Connor’s face is pale, his eyes wide. A glossy sheen of sweat is slicked over his skin. He’s shaking. “What happened?” he stammers.
I start rubbing my wrist. “You were having a bad dream.”
“Did I touch you?” Connor’s expression is loaded with alarm. It’s a look I barely recognize on him.
