Almost Midnight (45 page)

Fredericka heard his words and she wondered how he could know just what to say.

Right then she recalled Cary's callous remarks about her father's death and tears filled her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“Saying the right thing.” She brushed a few tears from her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, as if he could tell she was crying.

“Yeah.” She took in a shaky breath. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. You want to hear me bitch about something? Maybe it will make you feel better.”

“Go for it,” she said and chuckled just a bit.

He laughed, but something about the sound said he was serious. “My sister.”

Fredericka glanced down at the newspaper still on the workbench. She'd brought it with her from Holiday's office. She'd read the whole thing before she'd gotten to work.

When he didn't say anything else, she spoke up. “I read about it this afternoon.” She paused. “What do you think happened to her?”

“What do I think happened? I think that asshole of a boyfriend happened. But I can't prove it. I can't even prove she's dead, but I know she is. If they could just find her body then … then maybe they could hang that guy high.”

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“Me, too.” There was a long pause. “She was only my half-sister. My dad was married to someone else before he knocked up my mom. Linda was ten years older than me. She used to tell me, ‘Don't you sass me, I changed your diaper.' We never lived together but we saw each other three or four times a year. But when I was in the hospital after the accident, she came to see me every day.”

Tears filled Fredericka's eyes. And just like that she wasn't afraid of seeing a ghost. She wanted to see her. Wanted to find a way to help both his sister and Brandon.

“I'd come to see her when she'd just moved here,” Brandon continued. “We were looking for a place for her to buy and we found this house. It was more money than she had. I'd just gotten paid for two big pieces I'd done, so I agreed to help her with the idea that when I got four or five pieces to show, she could open the front two rooms into a gallery.

“You want to hear something crazy?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said.

“I sometimes feel her. It's as if she's here.” She heard him inhale. “Have you seen the chimes hanging up in the front room?”

“Yeah.” Chills ran down Fredericka's spine, remembering the ghostly sound of those chimes. And then she recalled going into the house to the absence of that sound when Brandon had gone to speak to … Oh, shit. Brandon had said the guy waiting in the car had been one of Linda's old boyfriends. Was it the same boyfriend Brandon suspected of killing her? Was that why they had gone dead silent? Was Linda trying to tell her something?

“They were hers.” Grief sounded in Brandon's voice and she ached for him. “She made them. She used to say she wasn't really an artist, but she was. She needed to believe in herself. I hung them right after I got that room finished. Not to sell, but … because I just wanted some of her in the shop. But sometimes when they ring, there's not a bit of air flowing in the house.”

*   *   *

The next day, Fredericka walked into history class, her last for the day. Afterward, she was heading to the gallery. When she saw Cary standing by his desk, offering her a slight smirk, she pushed back her fury. She didn't do it because it was the right thing to do; she did it because if she was going to outfox and stop the jerk from causing her trouble, she was going to have to have all her wits. And when livid, one was often witless.

Cary met her gaze again, briefly, and she saw it. He wasn't finished punishing her.

Game on,
Fredericka thought. All she had to do was figure out what he planned on doing and put up a roadblock. It wasn't even all that hard to do—just start thinking like an asshole, because that's exactly what he was.

He moved in front of the class. As he did she wondered how she could have ever thought he was someone she wanted in her life.

“Okay, everyone, pass up the twenty questions you were to answer. And I'm not going to lie to you. These will count for a big part of your grade.” Something about the way he said it sent a warning bell through her.

Fredericka looked down at her paper. She'd spent two hours last night on her homework, making sure she hadn't missed one question. No way in hell was she going to let him accuse her of not doing her work.

“Here.” Della—a vampire and one of Kylie's roommates—who sat behind her, handed up her homework along with the other three students' behind her. Fredericka hesitated and then she purposely didn't put hers in the stack when she passed them up.

Only after Cary had collected all the papers in the front row and set them on his desk, did Fredericka raise her hand. “I'm sorry, I forgot to put mine in the stack.”

She stood up, and then turned to Miranda, the student sitting in the next row. She held out her paper to the witch. “Oh, did I complete them all?” she asked as if worried.

The witch leaned in.

“Weren't there twenty questions?” Fredericka asked.

“Yeah,” Miranda nodded and glanced up from the paper.

“Good,” Fredericka said and then moved up and in front of the entire class, she put her paper on top of the others.

Cary stared at her, another flicker of anger bright in his eyes. His face even got a little red. He knew exactly what she was doing. Covering her ass. But she'd let him know. She didn't give a damn what he knew, or how much it pissed him off, as long as he wasn't able to tell any more lies about her.

Forty minutes later, a bell rang announcing the end of class. Fredericka, her books already stacked, was the first to stand up.

“Fredericka,” Cary said, over the bell. “I need to speak with you a second.”

The temptation to just walk out hit her, and hit hard. But she knew he'd use it against her. Standing there, listening to the shuffle of students leaving, she was left to face him.

 

Chapter Eleven

“Where were you running off to?” Cary asked Fredericka, as soon as the classroom door closed.

She wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business, but that might add fuel to his fire. So instead she just lied. “Nowhere in particular.”

“Then why don't you stay and help me grade some papers?”

She stiffened her shoulders. “Sorry, I'd rather not.”

His eyes turned a lighter shade of blue. Disturbing blue. “You really don't want to piss me off,” he said, his tone so threatening she almost flinched.

“I'm not trying to piss you off, Cary. But what was almost between us is over. Let it go.”

“It's over when I say it's over!” He took a step closer. “And you're damn lucky I'm even interested. Do you think I don't know that you were raised rogue?”

“And you're a prime example that even someone from a good background can grow up to be an asshole.” She turned and walked out. Not giving him the privilege of knowing he had the power to hurt her. But his words echoed in her head and landed with a thump on her heart; at times she questioned her own self-worth.

*   *   *

That hurt stayed with Fredericka until Brandon opened the door and met her with a smile. A smile that said welcome. That said he was happy to see her. A smile that said he didn't judge her.

And just like that, the heavy weight in her heart faded to almost nothing.

“Come here,” he said.

For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. And she would have let him, too.

He caught her hand and led her into the gallery. “I want you to see my project. I woke up and couldn't sleep, so I worked.” They walked through the first two rooms to the back door and then stepped outside.

Fredericka's breath caught at the site of the wolf sculpture on the patio. “That's beautiful,” she told him and continued to admire how lifelike it looked. “Wow. Really beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he said.

She looked at him. He wasn't looking at his art, but at her.

“Beautiful,” he said and inched closer. His arms slipped around her waist, and that's when he kissed her.

The kiss started out slow, a little sweet, but got hotter. As crazy as it was, she could almost feel his purr. His heart raced against her. His hand moved to the hem of her T-shirt and moved up to touch her waist. The feel of his fingers on her naked skin had her melting closer to him. Had her wanting …

He pulled away and took in some quick fast breaths. “Sorry,” he said, looking at her, his eyes bright with passion.

“For what?” she asked.

“We should take it slow, right?”

And it was a question. He waited for her answer. And she knew what he was really asking.

A part of her wanted to tell him no. She wanted this. She wanted to feel the magic of it now and not wait. But wisdom said not to rush it.

She nodded. “Slow's good.”

“Okay,” he said. “I promise to behave.”

She grinned. “I'll try to do the same.”

He laughed. “So you're having a hard time keeping your hands off me?”

“Yeah,” she said.

He pulled her against him. “Good.” Passing a finger over her lips, he said, “I guess we should go paint.”

“Yup,” she said and pulled out of his arms, even when staying there was so nice.

They both stepped back inside. “Can you stay on a ladder this time?” he asked with a tease in his voice. “Or am I going to have to catch you again?”

She grinned. “Maybe this time I'll catch you.”

“Oh, I'd like to see that,” he said.

“You might be surprised,” she said, wondering and just a bit worried what he'd really think if he knew just how strong she was.

They were almost in the kitchen when the chimes started. They seemed to notice at the same time, because both of their smiles faded at the same instant.

“Told you,” he said.

Fredericka listened. The sound wasn't so sad this time. It was almost … almost romantic.

Was his sister watching?

Looking over her shoulder at the chimes, relief struck when she didn't see her there. When she looked back at Brandon she recalled her need to help the spirit pass over. Holiday had said that oftentimes, if a person was murdered, they stayed here to get justice against the person who'd killed them.

Brandon walked into the garage to collect the paint that must have been delivered that morning.

“Have you told the police that you think this old boyfriend could have hurt her?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. Why do you think he came over the other day? He was outraged that I told the police that he could be responsible for her being missing.”

“Why do you think he would have hurt her?” she asked, grabbing one of the ladders and following Brandon outside.

He set his ladder down beside the porch. “Because two days before she went missing she told me that they'd had a bad argument and that she was going to break up with him. She even told me that she was … kind of afraid of him.”

He passed a hand over his face as if to wipe away his frustration. “I got upset and told her she sucked at picking boyfriends. I told her it was because she had daddy issues. And while I was telling the truth, it hurts that my last conversation with her was me criticizing her.”

Fredericka put her hand on his shoulder. “I'll bet she knows you just got upset because you were concerned.”

“I hope so,” he said.

They spent the next two hours painting, working side by side. They talked about art and their plans for the gallery. He asked her to send some photographs of her pieces so he could start posting things online and hopefully drum up some business. She found herself getting excited about the prospect of selling some of her work.

Around five, when the sun was slowly sinking behind the western sky, she finished off one last section and told him she'd better start packing up her things. She got ready to go wash her brush.

“Why don't I take you out for dinner?” he asked. “It's the least I can do for you helping me.”

She wanted to say yes so badly, but her gut said she needed to get back to Shadow Falls and see just what crap Cary had set out for her this time. She moved into the garage where she'd seen a sink, a perfect place to wash out the brush. He followed her.

“How about a rain check? Maybe Friday evening?” she offered, knowing Thursday was the full moon and she really shouldn't be seeing him again until afterward, especially when temptation was present.

“Then it's a date,” he said.

“Great.”

“What about tomorrow?” he asked. “Can you come by and help me plant the flowers?”

She hesitated, knowing she shouldn't, but damn it, she didn't want to go two whole days without seeing him. It was only when she was with him that she felt happy.

“Sure,” she said.

“You don't have to,” he said as if he'd noted her pause.

“I want to,” she said as she turned on the faucet and stuck the brush under the stream of water. “I won't be able to come by on Thursday, though. I have to … study for a big test.”

“I could always help you study,” he said and moved in close. His hip brushed against hers as he held his brush under the water as well.

She felt the tingle of his touch. She dropped her brush and faced him. Leaning in, she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him. His brush dropped to the bottom of the sink with a slight thud.

His arms came around her and she held on. After several long seconds, and before she wanted to, she pulled away. “If I came here to study, I'm afraid I wouldn't remember a thing, but … how blue your eyes are, or how your smile is just the slightest bit crooked, or how good your lips feel on mine.”

He smiled. “You're probably right.” He pressed a finger over her lips. “But I'll see you tomorrow?”