Fairytale Romance by Debbie Macomber

Author:Debbie Macomber [Macomber, Debbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2019-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Sherry woke at the sound of the alarm and lay with her eyes open, savoring the dream. She’d been in a rowboat with Roarke in the middle of the lake. The oars had skimmed the silver water as he lazily paddled. Everything was different between them. Everything was right. All their disagreements had long since been settled. The pros and cons of a friendly ghost named Longfellow were immaterial. All that mattered was the two of them together.

The looks they’d shared as the water lapped gently against the side of the small boat reminded Sherry of the evening they’d sat on the porch and gazed into the brilliant night sky. Stars were in Sherry’s eyes in her dream, too, but Jeff Roarke had put them there.

With a melancholy sigh, she tossed aside the covers and sat on the edge of the mattress. It was silly to be so affected by a mere dream, but it had been so real and so wonderful. However, morning brought with it the chill of reality, and Sherry was concerned for Lynn and Peter. She had to think of some way to help them.

After dressing, she held in a yawn and walked across the thick lawn to the staff room. Her arms were crisscrossed over her ribs, but Sherry couldn’t decide if it was to ward off a morning chill or the truth that awaited her outside her dream world. Birds chirped playfully in the background, and the sun glimmered through the tall timbers, casting a pathway of shimmering light across the dewy grass, giving Sherry hope.

At the staff room, Sherry discovered that only a couple of the other counselors had arrived. Roarke was there, standing at the lectern in the front, flipping through his notes.

With the warm sensations of the dream lingering in her mind, Sherry approached him, noted his frown, and waited for him to acknowledge her before she spoke. Uncomfortable seconds passed, and still Roarke didn’t raise his head. When he did happen to look up, his gaze met hers, revealing little. Sherry realized that he hadn’t forgotten their heated discussion. He’d been the one to suggest that they delay talking because things were getting out of hand. But from the narrowed, sharp appraisal he gave her, it was all too apparent that his feelings ran as hot today as they had the day before.

“Miss White.” He said her name stiffly.

Sherry grimaced at the chill in his voice. “Good morning.”

—

He returned her greeting with an abrupt nod and waited. There had never been a woman who angered Roarke more than Sherry White. This thing with the ghost she’d invented infuriated him to the boiling point, and he’d been forced to ask her to leave his office yesterday for fear of what more he’d say or do. His anger had been so intense that he’d wanted to shake her. Wrong, his mind tossed back—it had taken every ounce of determination he possessed, which was considerable, not to pull her into his arms and kiss some common sense into her.

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