A Ghost of a Second Chance (Rose Arbor series Book 1) by Kristy Tate

Author:Kristy Tate [Tate, Kristy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Laine woke with the sun on her face and quilts tangled around her legs. She watched Ian sleep, an activity of long ago. She’d forgotten what this was like, watching him in his unguarded moments. He looked different. Older. He hadn’t shaved and his hair had been mussed. Stirring, he flung his arm over her. In his sleep, he pulled her close and she let him draw her to him.

She had so many questions. A night in a cabin didn’t answer any of them. In fact, their night together just seemed to highlight all her questions in red. How had he found her? How had he known that she needed him? His hold on her tightened and his breath fanned her cheek.

At this moment, did she turn away? Sanity told her that she should, but she closed her eyes, seduced by the warmth, quiet, and comfort.

She had so many questions, but they could wait.

***

Cold. A breeze smelling of doused fire blew from somewhere. Instinctively, she reached for Ian’s warmth, but found only icy sheets. Realization washed over her, and she sat up. Her eyes felt gritty, her teeth fuzzy. She needed a bathroom. A real one. One with white porcelain and running, flushing water. She wanted bath salts, body gel and a loofa. Lying down, she pulled the quilt over her head.

She’d spent the night with Ian.

Nothing had happened.

That, at least, was good. Right? Sex would only have complicated things.

She’d cuddled up to him. For warmth.

Peeking out from under the quilt, she wondered where he’d gone. And why.

Outside the window, a bleak sun shone in a steel gray sky. Laine sat up and looked at all the damage the storm had caused—downed branches, bent trees and thousands of pinecones scattered on the ground. Just yesterday, it’d been warm. Or was it two days ago? She couldn’t remember.

Where had Ian gone? She knew he wouldn’t leave her alone. Laine climbed from the bed, but she took the quilt with her. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she went to inspect her dress. It’d dried stiff. The paint had turned from splatters to streaks and the colors had melded to a smear of puce. She didn’t want to wear it, but what choice did she have? Sighing, she sat down on the bed. Where was Madeleine when she needed clothes? She spotted Ian’s bag in the corner.

He’d left the bag, but taken his wallet and phone. Twinges of guilt pricked her as she went through Ian’s things. She told herself he wouldn’t mind—after all, it wasn’t so long ago when they would have shared an overnight bag.

Like they’d shared everything.

She gathered what she needed—toothbrush, toothpaste, and comb. Her hair, a snarled curly mess, resisted her efforts, and she twisted it up into a bun. She went outside in search of a privacy tree or make-shift potty. Lots of trees, but no Ian.

She returned to the cabin and put Ian’s toiletries back in his bag. A small book hid beneath his clothes. I’m not snooping, she told herself, although, of course, she was.

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