Cursed (Book 1, The Watchers; Young Adult Paranormal Romance) (19 page)

 “Does the clock
start now?” he asked.

 “No.” With one
last kiss to his neck, I reluctantly stood up.  “In fact, I should go to bed. 
We need to get a good night’s rest for tomorrow.  I intend to stay up the whole
24 hours.  I don’t want to miss a minute.”  I leaned down and kissed him on the
forehead.  “Sweet dreams.”

 “They will be,”
he assured me.

 When I got up the
next morning, there was a note on the kitchen counter.

    
Lilly, I’ll be back at 9 to start our
day together.

     Love, Brand

 I smiled at the
simple way he signed the note. I still had a hard time believing I had found
someone so special.  The college recruiter had been right after all: college
had allowed me to start a whole new chapter in my life.

 Tara came up
behind me and read the note over my shoulder.

 “So y’all spending
the day together?” she yawned.

 “Yeah.  I told
him I wanted to spend a day doing his favorite things.  Don’t wait up for me. 
It’s supposed to be a 24 hour date.”

 “24 hours?” Tara lifted a dubious eyebrow in my direction.  “I don’t know about that Lilly Rayne.”

 “Listen, Tara.  I
know you’ve been trying your best to make sure my virtue stays intact but
you’re just going to have to trust me.  Nothing’s going to happen.”

 “I trust you.  I
just don’t trust your hormones,” Tara said with a sassy attitude but completely
serious.  “Just make sure you keep that phone on you at all times in case I
need to get in touch with you.”

 I promised to
keep the cell phone in my pant’s pocket.  Tara seemed appeased by that small
concession.

 “Maybe I can get
Simon to come over and study while you’re away,” she mused, a slow smile
spreading her lips at the prospect.

 “Ok,” I said,
crossing my arms over my chest and cocking a hip.  Two could play at sassy. 
“Do I need to stay here to chaperone?”

 “No,” she said
indignantly.  “I can take care of myself.  He ain’t getting’ nothin’ from me. 
I can keep my man in line.”

 I went and took a
shower.  I wasn’t sure what to wear so I opted for a pair of jeans, sneakers
and simple blue cotton button down shirt.  I put a few things in a backpack
since I was going to be spending a full day and night with Brand:  an extra set
of clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, hairspray, and make-up bag.

 Brand was prompt,
as always, and picked me up at exactly nine.

 “What are we
going to do first?” I asked as we made our way down the highway towards his
house.

 “I’m going to
show you my latest favorite hobby.”

 “Latest?  Do you
switch hobbies a lot?”

 “More than you
might think.  You can only do one thing for so long.”

 “So what’s your
hobby now?”

 He smiled and
looked at me from the corner of his eyes.  “You’ll have to wait.  I want to see
your initial reaction without knowing anything before hand.”

 Well, that had me
intrigued.  Less than ten minutes later we were parked in front of Brand’s
house.  He took my hand when I stepped out of his car and walked me into his
home.  He led me up the stairs to the second floor which I had not seen during
any of my past visits.

 On the loft
landing, there was a large pool table and a couple of chairs.

 “Do you play?” he
asked nodding to the table.

 “Not very well…”
I hedged.

 “Maybe I can show
you a few tricks later, if we have time.”

 We passed the
table and went down the hallway which had four doors leading off of it.  He
opened the first door to our left and motioned with his hand for me to enter
before him.

 When I walked
into the room the first thing I noticed was the strong odor of wet paint. 
Scattered around the room were numerous paintings.  Two caught my attention
immediately because they were being displayed on easels on either side of the
French doors, which faced towards the lake.

 They were both of
me.

 The first one
looked like me sitting at my desk in physics on the first day of classes.  The
second looked like me in the gazebo the night after we had supper at Utha
Mae’s.  They were both beautifully painted reminding me of pictures you would
normally only see in a museum. 

 “Do you like
them?”  Brand came up behind me and put his arms around my shoulders.

 “They’re
beautiful.  Is that the way you see me?”

“What do you
mean?”

“Well, I love the
way I look in them but they seem more like fantasy versions of me, too
perfect.”

“I painted you
exactly the way you look.  I wish you would realize just how gorgeous you are.”

I hugged his arms
to me.  “Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“I was hoping I
could talk you into sitting for me.  I mostly have to do these by memory.”

“Sure,” I said
instantly wanting to play the muse to my own Michelangelo.  “How do you want
me?”

“That could be a
dangerous question.”  I could feel him nibble at my neck.  I leaned back into
him reveling in the feel of his complete adoration.

“Oh?” I sighed. 
“Why dangerous?”

“Well, if I had my
way, you’d be completely naked.”

“Hmm, well, that’s
not going to happen,” I said, stepping away from his intoxicating kisses and
turning to face him.  “But I do have an idea.”

“What’s your
idea?”

“You’ll need to
leave the room for a minute.  You’ll see when you come back in.”

He looked at me
with questioning eyes, but didn’t ask for an explanation.  He kissed me on the
cheek and left the room closing the door behind him.

I quickly shed my
clothes except for my panties.  There was a clean white drop cloth sitting on a
chair in the room.  I quickly wrapped it around my body letting the last part
drape to the floor like a train and held the part across my chest securely in
place with one hand. I flipped my head to mess up my hair a bit so that the
strands would fall around my shoulders naturally.  I could just imagine what Tara’s reaction would be when I told her about this.  She would probably say I was acting
like a hoochy mama trying to tempt Brand into kissing me first.

Actually…that
wasn’t a bad idea.  What if I could get him to kiss me first?  Then my promise
to him would no longer apply and we could stop denying ourselves that pleasure.
It could work.

“Ok, I’m ready,” I
called, excited by my newfound mission for the day.

Brand walked in
the room.  When his eyes landed on me, he let out an audible gasp.  I saw him
swallow hard before he said, “Talk about not playing fair.”

“How do you want
me positioned?”

A cheeky grin
spread across his face, and he just shook his head at me.  “That’s probably not
the most appropriate question to ask me at the moment, Lilly.”

It took me a
second to catch on but when I did I felt my cheeks flair with embarrassment.

“I do have an idea
though.”  He opened the French doors which lead out onto a balcony.  The cool,
gentle breeze coming off the lake water felt wonderful against my flaming
cheeks.

He brought in a white
wicker chair and positioned it diagonally in the middle of the door frame.  He
asked me to sit on the edge of it with my back as straight as I could make it. 
He pulled the sheet away from my legs and positioned them in a relaxed pose. 

He had a canvas
already set up in anticipation of my posing for him and quickly began
sketching.

“So how long have
you been painting?” I asked.

“A little while. 
I find it therapeutic.”

Careful not to
move my head too much, I searched with my eyes and looked at the paintings hung
on and propped against the walls.  A lot of them were of Abby during different
stages of her life.  One picture caught my eye.  It was hard to tell what it
was exactly.  There were a lot of colors and it almost looked like an abstract
painting but there was a discernable face underneath that I couldn’t quite make
out.  It was almost like looking at one of those 3-D pictures where you have to
stare to the side of it before your eyes can focus on the object hidden within.

“That painting,” I
said keeping my eyes on it.  “Is there a face in it?”

Brand followed the
direction of my gaze.  “Yes,” he said.  “I’m surprised you can see it.  Most
people can’t.”

“Who’s it of?”

“My father.”

I looked at Brand
and saw a brief moment of pain cross his face.  I was instantly sorry I had
asked about the painting.  I could tell from his expression that the loss of
his father still hurt to think about.

Almost an hour
later, Brand stopped working and covered the canvas with a sheet.

“I don’t get to
see it?” I asked.

“Not yet.  It’s
not finished.  When I get through with it, I’ll show it to you.”

He left the room
so I could put my clothes back on and told me to come down to the kitchen when
I was ready.

As soon as I made
it back down the stairs, I could smell a wonderful aroma coming from the
direction of the kitchen.

 “Are you cooking
your favorite dish?” I asked taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter.

 “Yes, it’s
lobster risotto with black truffles.”

 As I watched
Brand work in the kitchen, I marveled at how quickly he could manipulate things
with his hands.  It was just like when I watched him work on my painting
upstairs.  He moved with a fluidity and assurance I had never seen in anyone
before.  Nothing in the way he moved indicated he was unsure of himself or what
he was doing, no hesitations, no missteps.

 Lunch was
prepared before I knew it.  We sat outside at a table already set with a white
table cloth and a vase of pink roses on the back porch.  I wasn’t amazed at all
at how wonderful the meal was.  The lobster was cooked to perfection, soft and
juicy. I hadn’t expected any less from Brand.

 Brand took our
plates back into the house and asked me to stay where I was while he brought
out desert.  I leaned back in my chair and basked in the warmth of the day.  We
couldn’t have asked for better weather.  It was sunny and around seventy
degrees.  The light breeze coming off the lake almost lulled me into an
impromptu nap.

“You’re here
again
.”

I looked up to see
Rose Marie standing over me.  It seemed like every time I saw her she always
had a look of intolerance at my presence on her face.  I sat up straighter in
my chair.

“Have I done
something to make you dislike me, Rose Marie?”  I was getting really tired of
feeling like I was doing something wrong just by coming to Brand’s home.  “I’m
sorry for barging in uninvited at Abby’s the other night, but I get this
feeling you dislike me for some other reason.”

“I love the
Coles.  I don’t want to see them get hurt.”

For a servant, I
thought she was strangely over protective.

Brand came back
out of the house at that moment carrying two glass bowls containing our
dessert.

“Is everything all
right, Rose Marie?” he asked setting one of the bowls in front of me and taking
his seat.

“Yes, Mr. Cole.  I
just came over to see if you needed me to do anything.”

“No, I think I
have everything under control.”

“Then I’ll be
getting back to Ms. Abby’s.”  She bowed slightly at the waist and left us.

Brand looked at
me.  “Are you all right?  You don’t look as happy as you did when I left.”

“Honestly, Rose
Marie makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong by being here.  I get this
feeling she doesn’t like me, and I’m not sure what I did that would make her
hate me so much.”

“It’s not you,”
Brand sighed.  “She’s just over protective of us.  She worries about Abby and
me too much.  Don’t let her bother you.”

I tried to take
Brand’s words to heart but still couldn’t get over my feeling of unease
concerning Rose Marie.

Brand’s favorite
dessert turned out to be tiramisu.  Of course, it was delicious.  What had he
ever cooked that wasn’t? 

As we were taking
our bowls back into the kitchen, I asked, “Ok, so I know your favorite hobby
and your favorite lunch and dessert to prepare.  What’s next?”

“Favorite sports.”

“Which is?”

“Football.  There’s
a home game today.  I thought we would go to it.”

“Ok, but be
warned, I might embarrass you.”

He looked at me
curiously.  “Why is that?”

“I tend to get a
little vocal at games.  I have no idea why but there’s just something about a
live game that gets me excited.”

“Well, this I have
to see.”

As usual there
were a lot of people at the game.  A lot of tailgating was taking place and the
smell of barbequed ribs, hot dogs, hamburgers and sausage lingered in the air
around the parking lot.  We were able to get our tickets fairly quickly and
find seats close to the 50 yard line.  A few rows below us, I noticed Michelle,
Nora and some guy I had never met sitting between them. 

When the game
started Brand soon understood what I meant about being vocal at live games.  I
couldn’t help but yell my commentary on the plays.  Though, I wasn’t any worse
than a lot of the people around us.  Who doesn’t yell “run” to the guy with the
ball if he’s about to make a touchdown for your team?  Who doesn’t call the
coach chicken when he opts to try for a field goal when your team is 4
^th
and down with only a couple of yards to go for a 1
^st
down?  Luckily,
Brand just seemed extremely amused by my behavior and didn’t attempt to hide
his head in shame. 

It was in the
fourth quarter that our fun came to an end.  Our team had just made another
touchdown when I saw the guy sitting between Michelle and Nora accidentally
throw his cup of soda in the air and have it land smack dab on the front of
Michelle’s shirt.  The look of mortification was hard to miss on her face.  I
almost went down and slapped the boy and Nora silly for laughing at Michelle’s
unexpected predicament.  The next thing I knew she was holding the wet blouse
away from her chest and running up the stairs with tears streaming from her
eyes.