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“Will you tell me how you came to live here?” She drops her phone into her purse.
“I doubt it.” I wonder how much I would tell her just to keep her coming back, just to see her.
Her laugh is musical and full of joy. It strikes me deep in my chest. “At least you’re honest.”
I wish that were always true. Moving before I think, I stop within inches of her. “It is usually my intention to be honest, but there are things that cannot be told. Do you understand?”
Pupils dilated, she touches my chest. She whispers, “No.”
Of course, she doesn’t. How could she?
“Perhaps one day you will.”
On a swallow, she steps back, then around me. “I’ll come back tomorrow morning.” At the front door, she turns. “You’re not some psycho who’s going to chop me up and keep me in the freezer, are you?”
Holding the door open, I search for the right words. “I’m not like other men, Britta. The townspeople will have opinions, but I prefer you to form your own.”
Cocking her pretty head, she asks, “Good or bad opinions?”
“A bit of both, perhaps.” I hope at least a few will remember all the good this house has done for them.
“You don’t want me to ask around.”
My laugh escapes before I can reel it in. “Asking a reporter not to be curious would waste breath and energy. I only wish that you keep an open mind. If you can, I’ll have brunch prepared at ten tomorrow.”
The way she smiles with her eyes could haunt any man’s dreams. I watch the sway of her hips as she returns to her vehicle and immediately wish I’d found a way to keep her at Scrim Hall.
By tomorrow, she’ll have heard a dozen stories, and probably never return.
It shouldn’t matter, so why does it?
* * *
It’s as if my skin has come alive. I can’t sit down. I can’t think straight. All I can focus on is Britta Daniels and howherskin might feel and, if I’m honest, how she might taste.
Pacing the library like a madman, I jump when my phone rings. Grabbing it off the desk, my brother Declan’s name flashes. “What?”
There’s a long pause. “You either need to go for a hunt, or the mayor has come asking for another favor?” His deep voice is at once comforting and annoying. It’s his nature to comfort, but he’s my brother, so I’m annoyed that he’s trying to comfort me.
“Neither. Well, maybe I’ll hunt.” I flop down in the leather chair. “Where are you?”
“I’m in New Jersey. I’ll be home soon. Are you alone?” He asks as if he knows more about my day than I do.
“Yes. The rest of the family is away. You know that.” I spin the chair around to face the books rather than the annoyingly bright day.
“You had a visitor today?” That even tone of his grates on my nerves.
“Don’t analyze me, Declan.” When he doesn’t respond, I say, “A reporter.”
“A woman?”
“Britta Daniels from WNS. She was given a list of our names and the school’s name.”
“That’s strange and fascinating, but I sense there’s more.”
Having a brother who is a reaper is a challenge on a good day, and I haven’t decided if today is a good day or the worst day ever. “There’s nothing more. She came, and we spoke. I told her what scrim meant, and she’s probably in town asking a lot of questions right now.”
“You like this woman.” There’s amusement in his voice.
