Skeleton's Key (Delta Crossroads Trilogy, Book 2) (5 page)

“I just don’t think you need to be down there messing around.”

“Messing around? Excuse me, but this is my house, and I’ve had some experience. I also know my way around an old foundation.”

Cage’s brown eyes flashed. “Yeah, you’re the old house expert, and we’re the lesser beings. We get it. Doesn’t mean you know a damned thing about digging up bones.”

Her heart beat at an alarming rate and pain throbbed in her temple. She tried to ignore them and focus on the tall man glaring down at her. Her equilibrium felt like she’d just staggered off the tilt-a-whirl. “When was the last time you excavated bones? Right, you haven’t. So we’re even.”

Jeb cleared his throat. “I’ve got to pick up Billy. Be back in half an hour.” He slipped between them and out of the kitchen. A few moments later, the front door opened and shut.

Dani and Cage faced off, the tension-filled silence sucking the air out of the room. Her head continued to pound, and the ache in her shoulders spread down her arms. She stuck her chin out against the pain. “Jeb made the decision, so we’re wasting our breath.”

“Unbelievable.”

“What?”

“You just waltz down here and take over. Like I haven’t been sweating buckets working on this house, taking care of her when no one else would. Just come in and tell me how it’s going to be. Typical damned Yankee.”

She stepped forward, finger in the air. Sudden dizziness overwhelmed her, and Cage’s angry face suddenly blurred. Dani blinked and then swallowed hard. She was thirsty as hell.

“Dani?”

Her face landed against something firm and smelling of a mix of sweet musk and summer air. Cage’s chest. Strong, large hands closed around her upper arms, pulling her upright. Cage’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke and his voice rang in her ears, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“So hot.” Her mouth felt swollen and dried to a pulp. She pushed against Cage. “It’s so damned hot here!”

There was a scraping sound, and then she was sitting in a chair. More dizziness. Sourness rumbling in her stomach. She leaned forward, putting her head between her knees and trying not to fall off the chair. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

She heard the sound of rushing water and then cool wetness hit the back of her blazing neck. Fingers on her chin, raising her head up. A glass pressed against her lips and a flash of dark, worried eyes.

“Drink.” Cage spoke in her ear. His voice was nice. A tenor. She wondered if he could sing. “Dani, you need to drink some water.”

She obeyed. The cold liquid tasted like heaven, and she drank greedily. Her heartbeat eased enough for a moment of clarity. “Oh shit. I got too hot. I’m so stupid.”

Cage’s arm came around her. He pulled her to her feet. “You need to lie down.”

“You’re hot.” She pushed against him. “And making me hotter.”

“You can’t walk on your own.”

“I can.” She couldn’t see straight and her legs felt like jelly, but the closeness of Cage’s body smothered her. She tried to step forward, but he held on tightly.

“Would you let me help you? And keep drinking that water. Slowly.”

“I’m fine.” She gave him one last hard shove, escaping his grip, and stepped forward. The small kitchen tilted, whirling around her in a rush of colors. She caught a glimpse of Cage’s face before her legs failed and the vinyl floor hurtled toward her face. Her hands smacked the vinyl, but Cage’s quick reflexes kept her from a full face-plant.

Stunned and head swirling, she twisted into a sitting position, cradling her head in her hands.

“Sit there and relax. Take sips of water.”

This time, she didn’t argue. The vinyl was cool against her legs anyway. She closed her eyes and slowly drank, barely aware of the sound of Cage’s feet moving around her. Embarrassment began to offset the dizziness. Here she was bragging about her capabilities, and she couldn’t even remember to stay hydrated in the heat. She pushed her hair off her face trying not to think about the drowned rat look she had to be sporting.

A blast of warm air rushed over her. She looked up to see a small oscillating fan sitting in the doorway between the parlor and kitchen, its cord stretched tight.

“Best I could do.” Cage gestured to the whining air conditioner over the sink. “This window unit is doing a piss-poor job, especially if you’re not used to Southern heat. We need to get a bigger one.”

“Thank you.” She stared at his legs. He had an ‘L’ tattooed on his calf with the letter’s stem in the shape of a cross.

Dani pointed a shaking finger. “Your girlfriend?”

“What?”

She took another pull of water. “The tattoo. I assume your girlfriend’s name starts with an ‘L.’”

“My sister.”

She finally looked back up at him. He leaned against the doorframe, feet crossed at the ankles, arms over his chest, and his damp, wavy hair pushed off his forehead.

“Feeling better?”

“A bit,” she said. “So, you and sister must be close. Twins?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and a shadow of something passed in his eyes. “We were. She was murdered four years ago.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” Dani wanted to crawl into one of the shabby cabinets and hide. “I had no idea. Did they…is her killer in prison?”

“Caught a couple of months ago.”

“Small blessing, right?”

Cage chewed on the inside of his cheek as he nodded. As she started to cool down, Dani noticed he was flushed, too, and covered with a fine sheen of sweat.

“How do you stand this heat?”

He grinned, the gesture reaching his eyes for the first time. “Born and raised in it, sugar. Part of being a good ole’ Southern boy, you know.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just…I want to be a part of things. Ironwood means a lot to me.”

“How’s that? You just got here.”

She hedged, unwilling to share too much with a stranger. Then she remembered his sister. Least she could do was reciprocate with a piece of her own story. “My mom and I always wanted to buy a plantation house and restore it. She got sick–diabetes–and didn’t get to live her dream. I promised her I wouldn’t make that same mistake.”

He studied her for a moment and then pushed himself off the doorframe. “All right, then.”

“What was your sister’s name?”

“Lana.”

Dani didn’t need to see his face. Grief colored his tone.

She finished her water, rolled to her knees, and slowly got to her feet. Cage immediately took her elbow, and this time, she didn’t push him away.

“So.” She steadied herself. “Who’s the best A/C man in town?”

A
fter her near-fainting
spell, Cage insisted she rest. As he led her through the house toward the parlor, Dani stopped in front of a closed door and twisted the knob. “Is this the butler’s pantry?”

“Yep. Like I said, church kept it locked.”

“Any idea when it was last opened?”

“You’d have to ask them. Or Lee. You’ll be working for him at the historical foundation, right? He knows as much about this place as anyone.”

“That’s right.” Dani traced the intricate marking that decorated the pantry’s door. Shaped like a magnolia leaf, the worn design still had detail. “He’s actually the one who told me Ironwood was for sale. I couldn’t resist the place. Do you know him?”

“Sure. Good man. He’s done a lot to preserve Adams County’s history. You’re lucky to be working with him.”

They reached the parlor, where a modest looking couch and overstuffed chair were set up, a beat-up coffee table between them. “Some of my parents’ old furniture. I set it up here so I’d have somewhere to sit when I was inside working.”

Dani sank into the couch’s soft cushions. A tall oscillating fan stood near the window air conditioner, both working hard to keep the room semi-comfortable. “Thank you. I didn’t think much about furniture, to be honest. My stuff is being shipped next week. I couldn’t reschedule after I decided to come early.”

“You sure hauled down here fast.” Cage sat in the chair and gave her a lazy grin. “So is the South all you dreamed it would be?”

Dani scowled. “I haven’t been here long enough to tell.”

His smile stretched wider. “You have to come prepared for the heat. Drink lots of water. And from the looks of your skin, lather up with sunscreen. You’ll burn in minutes down here.”

“I burn in minutes everywhere.” Dani’s porcelain skin was the envy of many of her friends, but her freckles and sensitivity to sun had never allowed her to be an outdoors person. At least not without smelling like a tanning salon.

“I’d like to see more of the house,” she said. “And I need to get a hold of Lee for the keys to the locked rooms. And I want to get upstairs.”

“Slow down.” Cage held up his hands. “You can call Lee in a bit. As for what I can show you, there’s the downstairs bathroom. It’s not great, but it’s clean and in working condition. Got an old clawfoot tub that’s not too run down. Servants’ quarters, too. They are pretty bare. But I’m not taking you upstairs.”

“Why not?”

“Told you, it’s in lousy condition. I’ve never even set foot on the stairs. The main staircase has several rotting planks, and I’m not sure about the structural integrity. And the servants’ stairs are even worse. I wanted to get a structural expert out to assess them, but I was told to wait for you.”

“Surely Lee will know someone.”

“He will,” Cage said. “He’s helped on the restoration of several of the town’s old houses and worked on other big historical projects all over the state.”

“He’s one of the reasons why I chose Mississippi,” Dani said. “I knew I wanted to come south, but I also considered Charleston, South Carolina. Lee convinced me to come here instead. After he told me about this place.” She looked around the parlor. Faded, peeling wallpaper decorated most of the room, probably hung sometime around the turn of the twentieth century. Several rectangular-shaped areas of the paper were more visible than the rest.

“Where are the pictures from this room?” Dani asked.

Cage shrugged. “Well, CaryAnne Laurent was the last family owner of Ironwood. She died in ’51, I think. By then, the plantation was on its last legs and had been for years. Everything was left to the bank, and they liquidated. Now, the historical foundation has found some of the family items, but a lot of them are lost to history.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard that story. Same thing has happened to so many of these old places.”

“Passage of time.” Cage lazily got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. The muscles across his back rippled with the effort, and Dani hastily looked away.

“I should call Lee,” Dani said. “But first, let’s look at the servants’ quarters. Then the bathroom. I need a shower.”

The house’s water
pressure was terrible, but the soft water cooled her skin. Ironwood had two bathrooms downstairs, but the one in the servants’ quarters was in poor condition. This one, in the rear of the house and near the library, was functional. Judging by the majolica tiles around the mirror, baseboards, and old wainscoting, Dani put the bathroom in the 1920s era of Ironwood. The fixtures were typical of the wealthy class of the era: a separate shower stall and a marble-topped vanity and porcelain sink supported by two nickel-plated legs, with brackets attaching it to the wall. Only the old clawfoot tub dated back to the nineteenth century, and Dani wondered why it had been kept. While it was a romantic feature to a restorer, most of the upper class happily replaced the clawfoots for the corner-style, recessed tubs as a sign of their social status.

Not that Dani was complaining. It wasn’t in working condition, but she had high hopes of restoring the old tub. God knows she could use a soak in it after today.

She and Cage had toured the house, and he’d stood patiently while she examined every possible nook and cranny, muttering about wood rot and replacements and moldings. Normally she would get lost in her assessment, but his presence overshadowed her work. His gaze made her overheated skin remain hot as he watched her move about the house, answering her questions with a tone that made it clear he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

At least they were on mutual ground.

She wasn’t sure if Cage resented her or appreciated her ambition to save the house or was just being a good guy. Whatever the issue, she hoped they could get along instead of continuing to butt heads. She needed his help.

And he’d been decent enough to stock the bathroom with towels and washcloths, so she couldn’t complain.

Only the demanding grumble of her stomach could tear her away from the soothing water. Stepping out of the shower was nearly as bad as stepping out of the airport. She’d set up the oscillating fan, but all it did was move the hot air around. And by the time she’d dried off and soaked as much moisture out of her hair as possible, she was sweating.

Lovely.

She passed on the blow dryer, instead twisting up her layered hair into a knot and letting some of the tendrils fall around her face. She slipped on one of her new, lightweight sundresses. Sitting down on the tile floor, she hunched in front of the fan to apply a modest amount of powder and lip gloss, then a little mascara. Good enough. Her makeup would probably melt off within the hour, anyway.

Her shoes clicked against the floors as she made her way through the kitchen and back to the parlor. The basement door had been closed, but a chill trickled down her spine as she passed. Tomorrow she’d be digging for bones.

The smell of men’s aftershave caught her attention, and her stomach did a strange little dance. She found Cage in the parlor, lounging in the recliner. He’d obviously gone to the carriage house and cleaned up. His hair was damp, too, pushed back off his tan face in brown waves. The black shirt and faded jeans he wore fit his muscular body well, and Dani suddenly felt like a shy, geeky teenager.

She shook it off. “You’re back.”

His smile did nothing to help her anxiety. “Yep. Figured the least I could do as a Southern gentleman was show you around town and take you out for a decent meal.”

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