Twisted (26 page)

“Let’s go rescue Fin,” she said. “She doesn’t belong with the gaggle of girls that came to gawk at my brother.”

I didn’t protest and we trudged our way through the sand. When we reached Finola, she looked so defeated that neither Daphne nor I felt compelled to give her a hard time. Instead, we pulled her away from the crowd, back to our comfortable group of three.

Finola and I didn’t stay at Daphne and Xavier’s long. It was a school night but more than that, Finola’s nerves seemed to have been shredded by her failed attempt to talk to Alex. She barely spoke as I drove her home. Against my better judgment I actually felt bad for her. Not that I wanted Alex to be interested, but I knew how she felt.

Unless you finally own up to your feelings, that’s all you’ll ever be.

Daphne’s diatribe refused to be banished from my head. If I were going to finally be honest with myself, I needed to face it. I wasn’t really fooling anyone. Except for maybe Tristan. I was pretty sure he had no idea. But I needed to stop lying to myself.

Not that it would get me anywhere. If only it were that simple. If only I could tell him. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to sacrifice our friendship or my dignity. Tristan had never hinted at feeling anything more for me. And lately, even our friendship felt strained.

So for now, I was going to continue to let it go.

I let out a piteous sigh as I turned into The Bella Luna. My headlights sliced across our home. It stood at the top of a bluff. It overlooked the Atlantic on one side and the lights of Granite Falls lit up the night sky on the other. The house was a classic Victorian. It had been in our family for over a hundred years. Mom had inherited it from her parents when they passed away. After Dad left, she wasn’t sure how she’d manage the upkeep on a home that was so huge.

Then inspiration had struck and she’d turned her childhood home into The Bella Luna Bed and Breakfast.

I always thought it looked like a true work of art, something befitting of a painting.

The siding was pale blue. The decorative trim and spacious porches with their detailed railings were white. Decorative spindles separated the first story porch from the second. Bold, ornamental brackets rested under the eaves. The porches were wide and rounded. Lush baskets of brightly colored hanging flowers gently swayed in the breeze. An ornate cupola rested atop the spacious turret.

As far as I knew, we had no guests tonight. None were penciled in and there were no strange cars parked out front. Mom had left the yard light on for me. Her bedroom window was lit up with the pale glow of her lamp. The rest of the house was dark. I’d have to poke my head in to tell her goodnight. But after that, I was going straight to my room. I was going to toss myself on my bed. I was going to try to talk myself out of being such a coward.

Maybe then someday I’d have the courage to tell Tristan how I felt.

Maybe.

Someday.

Just not today.

“You must’ve been out late last night,” Tristan noted. He poked his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he squinted at me.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, piles of homework spread out between us. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why would you say that?”

“You look tired,” was his blunt reply. He dipped his head again as he tapped his pencil against the open notebook.

“It was worth it. I was out with my friends. Having fun. You should give it a try sometime,” I retorted with a smile.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” he said without bothering to look up from the textbook.

“Acting like you’re seventy doesn’t suit
you
,” I volleyed back.

That was a lie. I thought it suited him just fine. In fact, I thought everything about Tristan suited him just fine. Except for, maybe, his very platonic feelings for me. Those I wished would go through a bit of an adjustment.

“Mmm, check this out,” Daphne cooed from her perch near the window. Her statement was accentuated by a car door slamming shut. “I think you might have a new guest.” She cocked her head to the side, assessing him. “He’s too damn hot to be human.” She let the gauzy curtain fall back into place as she turned to face us. “Sorry, Tristan,” she simpered as she crossed the kitchen to the table.

She wasn’t being racist. Her snobbery simply wasn’t all that selective.

Without missing a beat, Tristan flipped a page in his notebook. “So, anyway, an antiderivative—”

“—is too boring to waste any more time on,” Daphne finished for him. She gracefully dropped into the chair next to mine as I got to my feet. Mom was out and while we didn’t have any guests at the moment, we tried to always be sure The Bella Luna had someone in attendance. Today, that someone was me.

“I’ll be right back. You two,” I said as I poked my finger first at one, then the other, “play nice.” Before they could respond, I was moving across the kitchen. As I exited through the dining room, the bell above the front door gave its cheery little jingle. I swerved my way past the enormous walnut table, through the arched doorway and into the oversized foyer.

Daphne had one thing right, definitely not human.

I could feel the soft, subtle hum of magic drifting through the air.

Despite my worn blue jeans and my plain, comfy white tee, I plastered on a professional smile.

“Hi, can I help you?” I slid behind the heavy, antique desk that we used while helping our guests.

“I hope so,” he said.

A quick assessment, one I typically gave all potential guests, led me to believe he was in his mid-twenties. He had close-cropped dark hair. His outfit was casual but the jeans were expensive. My guess was that he wasn’t a business man. Blue collar worker, then? Possibly, though that wasn’t typical of our clientele.

Perhaps he was simply stopping to ask for directions. Or maybe he wanted to reserve a room for his parents’ upcoming wedding anniversary. Maybe even a romantic weekend away with a significant other. Those were just a few of the reasons people stopped in.

“I’d like a room for tonight,” he said, cutting into my mental wandering. “Actually, I’d like a room for the week, if you have it. Possibly longer.”

My curiosity was piqued but professionalism reigned. I pushed my inquisitiveness out of the equation and pulled out my practiced tone once again.

My mother would be so proud.

“Yes, of course. We have several suites available at the moment. This late in the fall it’s typically fairly quiet around here,” I explained. My fingers slid across the thick, leather bound binder that held photos of each suite along with a written description of each room’s unique amenities. “If you’d like to look through the portfolio, it may help you choose a room. Or, if you’re unsure, I could give you a quick tour.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. The Bella Luna came highly recommended. I’m sure I’ll be satisfied with whichever room I’m appointed to. So,” he said with an easy smile, “how about you choose a room for me.”

It was more of a command than a question. Regardless, I answered with a smile as I mentally flipped through the rooms in my mind. There were the more feminine Willow, Aspen, and Briar Suites. None of which seemed remotely fitting for the man before me. That narrowed my selection down to two.

“I think you’ll be quite pleased with the Ash Suite.” The dark, masculine tones of the Ash Suite seemed more suited to him than the Linden Suite with its subtle tones of blue and gray.

“Very well. The Ash Suite it is,” he agreed.

“If you could just fill this out…?” I slid a guest card his way.

As he was filling in his information, I penciled him in for the week. We still used an old fashioned reservation book. Maybe one of these years Mom would move onto a computerized system. Possible, but doubtful. I added a note that there may be an extension to the weeklong stay. With the tourist season behind us, it wouldn’t be a problem. It was highly likely that we’d acquire another guest or two over the next few days. My note would simply alert Mom to work around him.

I took the credit card he was handing me and swiped it through the machine. Accepting credit cards was Mom’s one and only indulgence to modernization of The Bella Luna  B & B. Once the card was swiped through, I glanced at the name.

Levi. Mr. Levi Devane.

We could easily work around however long he chose to stay. Quite honestly, I hoped he’d stay for a while. We’d had a very profitable summer but I knew Mom could always use the income. Even though she had inherited the house free and clear, there were always other bills to contend with.

“Would you like to get your bags first? Or would you like me to show you to your room first, Mr. Devane?”

“It’s just Levi. And if you could show me to my room, that would be nice. I have a meeting in town shortly. I’ll bring my bags in when I return.”

“Right this way.” I moved from behind the desk. He followed as I led the way up the staircase.

“So what brings you to Granite Falls?” I asked over my shoulder. “Are you here for business or—” I cut myself off before I could say pleasure. Something about the word just sounded…tacky. “Something enjoyable?” I tossed out instead.

“A little bit of both. I’m in town to do some research. But it’s a subject that I care a great deal about. Therefore, that makes it enjoyable.”

I padded down the hallway with Levi a step behind me.

“The Ash Suite is the last door on the left. I think you’ll find it peaceful. Hopefully you’ll be able to find everything you’re looking for while you are here,” I said as I reached the suite.

He let out a little chuckle. I wasn’t sure what I’d said that was even remotely amusing. “Oh, I do hope so,” he replied.

I pushed open the heavy, paneled door. The Ash Suite was our most spacious suite. The king-size, cherry, four-poster bed was the room’s focal point. Directly across from it was a brick fireplace built into the wall. It was still a bit warm for evening fires but it was grand to look at all the same. The walls in the room were painted a deep cocoa that complemented the hardwood flooring. The thick, gold brocade bedding was elegant. A matching cherry dresser flanked the bed on one side, a side table on the other.

I stole a peek at Levi’s face. It seemed rather impassive. I felt a pang of disappointment at that. I wanted him to love the room. I wanted
every
guest to love their room. I contained a sigh, reminding myself that he was a male. Therefore, he may not be capable of an adequate amount of appreciation. I quickly moved on to something that he might actually find pleasure in. Food.

“I believe my mother, Renee, has raspberry stuffed French toast planned for breakfast. If you’d prefer something else, perhaps scones or crepes, please feel free to let us know. Breakfast is served every morning at eight o ’clock. If that time doesn’t work for you, it can be adjusted with prior notice. ” That pronouncement finished my spiel.

“I’m sure that whatever your mother has planned will be just fine. Thank you.”

I took that for what it was: My cue to leave. I stepped away, pulling the door closed behind me.

As I bounded down the stairs I wondered what Levi was researching. More specifically I wondered why that research had brought him to Granite Falls. I loved it here but to be honest, it really wasn’t all that interesting. Of course, I would’ve liked to have asked. But Mom had pounded into my head at an early age that there was a fine line between polite interest and nosiness. Nosiness was simply not acceptable.

I wandered back into the kitchen expecting to find Daphne and Tristan at odds with each other. As it turned out, I didn’t find Daphne at all.

“She left,” Tristan said. He didn’t look up from whatever problem he was attempting to solve.

“Okay,” I said as I slid into the chair next to him. It was just like Daphne to come and go as she pleased. I watched Tristan for a moment. His brow was furrowed. His teeth were clamped down on his bottom lip, pencil poised over the page, as if ready to attack the problem at any moment.

Tristan Johnson had the potential to be completely swoon-worthy. He was tall, close to six feet. He would likely bypass that height in the next year or so. His eyes were a soft, mossy green. But it was his hair that was my favorite feature. Soft golden curls topped his head. He was neither too lanky nor too bulky.

He was damn near perfect.

I mentally cringed, shoving that thought away. Tristan and I had been friends for years. We’d met the summer he’d moved in with his grandmother. Cecily lived a few miles down the road. She was our closest neighbor. Before I was old enough to help out, Cecily would mind the bed and breakfast on occasion when Mom had errands to run.

Tristan would accompany Cecily and the two of us managed to keep ourselves preoccupied. Over the years, we’d become close friends. I considered him one of my best friends. To be honest, I was
his
only friend.

Tristan wasn’t exactly human, though his magic was so lacking he might as well be. He didn’t like to talk about his family history but clearly, his bloodline was highly diluted. I was sure that if he had a choice, he’d give up magic completely.

Oblivious to my meandering thoughts, Tristan’s pencil began to race across the page. I smiled to myself because even at this angle, I could tell he looked pleased. Leave it to calculus to put a smile on his face.

Tristan was studious, far too serious for someone of our age. He looked years older in his neatly pressed button down shirt and khaki pants. I knew without looking that loafers adorned his feet.

His only concession to something even remotely trendy was the thick band he wore on his left wrist. The black leather was worn but the pentagram, made of bands of silver woven together, was held firmly in place at its center. At each point the filigree attached a small, green cat’s eye stone.

The bracelet had been given to him by his mother before she disappeared. I was sure that was the reason he never took it off. I didn’t like to think about the other reason but sometimes, the niggling little suspicion wouldn’t go away.

The bracelet was one of the strongest protective talismans I’d ever seen. The pentagram itself signified protection while the cat’s eye stones held strong defensive properties. The stones were known for warding off dark magic. In a place like Granite Falls, there thankfully wasn’t much dark magic to fear.

I often wondered but couldn’t bring myself to ask Tristan if he thought he needed protection from us. Or, more specifically,
me
. Not that any of us would ever hurt him. But I wouldn’t put it past, oh, say, Daphne to play with him a bit.

I knew that she had tried. Thankfully, she’d never succeeded.

Maybe it was no wonder that he never took the bracelet off. That small trinket probably held more magical properties than Tristan would ever be able to possess in a lifetime.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he said with a frown as he finally pulled his gaze up to meet mine. “What’s up with you?”

I pulled my eyes from his wrist when he self-consciously tucked it under the table.

“Nothing,” I said with a shrug.

“Did you get your guest checked in?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Are you ready to get to work? You’re not even half done with the assignment.”

He had been tutoring me in calculus for weeks. I was still struggling. It wasn’t that I was stupid. I simply wasn’t interested. Honestly, when would I ever use it? Methods in Magical Theory, on the other hand, was a class I could talk about all day long.

“Sure, let’s get started.” Might as well get it over with. I lifted a finger into the air, a thin wisp of cobalt blue magic drifted from my finger to the notebook in front of me, turning the page. The tiny bit of my aura was just for show. It was one of the many things I knew would annoy Tristan.

He didn’t approve of magic use for everyday, mundane tasks. I tried to convince myself that he was simply jealous though deep down, I knew that really wasn’t the case. Like with so many other things, our magic became stronger with practice. He was so studious with everything else, I knew that if he were truly jealous, he’d be practicing his magic night and day. I doubted there was enough practice time in the world to bring his magical abilities up to an acceptable level.