Road Rage (13 page)

She fastened the buttons on her shirt, working from the top down to cover those beautiful breasts first. He didn’t blame her. Nothing killed the mood like trying to convince your new girlfriend she wasn’t dead. She looked like she wanted to believe him, but didn’t dare to. He’d spend the rest of the night trying to bring her around.

He didn’t believe she was dead. A dead woman shouldn’t have a pulse, but he’d felt her heartbeat strong and eager against his lips when he’d kissed her right between those perfect breasts. Not to mention, a dead woman shouldn’t be able to come like a screaming banshee. His chest swelled with pride at the memory of her very vocal orgasm–it had been a release of far more than just sexual pleasure. She’d let go of a whole host of fears and worries, and she’d done it because of him.

No, she definitely wasn’t dead. There had to be some other explanation for her being here, and he wouldn’t rest until he figured it out.

DG smoothed the front of her shirt, then hugged her knees. Her toenails were free from polish, like her fingernails. He liked that. She wasn’t flashy. Nothing about her said,
look at me, find me beautiful.
She simply was beautiful.

But sadness touched her eyes. She tried to hide it from him, but he saw it anyway. It made him ache for her.

“Hungry?” Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. “I’m not sure.”

“How would you like to try eating something? I’ll make you some dinner and serve it to you right here.” He patted the bed, then got up and pulled on a t-shirt.

She glanced at the clock. “It’s one in the morning.”

“So it is.”

Her lips, still plump from his kisses, curved into a small smile. “Most people have already had dinner by one in the morning.”

“Most people don’t spend what should be their waking hours stuck in fog.”

She paled.

He’d taken a stab in the dark, and was right. She’d tried to be casual about it, but the haunted look in her eyes when she’d mentioned that fog had clued him in. It was like a prison to her. His chest tightened. He’d do anything to keep her from having to go back there. “How long has it been since you’ve gone outside?”

She looked up, and her expression said it all. She was afraid to believe she could do something as simple as go outside and look up at the moon.

He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go fire up the grill. I’ve got some steaks marinating.”

“Um–” She twisted her hands in her lap as she knelt in the center of his mattress. “If I get off the bed, you won’t see me. Or hear me. Or feel me.” With each statement, her voice shrank.

“But I’ll know you’re there,” he said. “Come on. I’ll leave all the doors wide open. You can always come back here and call out for me if you need anything.”

Her eyes widened with hope, but her lips pressed in a fearful line.

“Or throw a lamp.”

She smiled, and stopped fidgeting with her hands.

“It’ll be okay.” He took one of those delicate hands and tugged her forward.

“But you need to sleep,” she said even though she kneel-walked to the very edge of the bed.

“Probably. But I’ll survive without it.” He winked to reassure her. “I’ll find some time to sleep tomorrow.” When she looked at him skeptically, he said, “Promise.”

Her face brightened, and she squeezed his hand. She let one foot down off the bed. He held his breath as their gazes locked and she let her other foot down. Her shorts rasped against the sheets as she stood up.

Then she was gone. She just blinked out of existence, right before his eyes.

His hand suddenly looked ridiculous, hanging out there like he had an invisible dance partner. Was she still holding it? “I miss you already,” he said, choked up with the truth of it.

She appeared again, her hand still in his. Her other hand touched the rumpled sheets. “I’ll stay close. Promise.” Her face shone with excitement. He couldn’t back out now, no matter how strange this was. Besides, he had a plan.

He didn’t have much to go on as far as learning how he could help her, and helping her shared his number-one-priority spot with fixing things between him and Haley. DG didn’t seem to want to talk about the fog or how she’d ended up in his bedroom, of all places, and he couldn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes, he’d probably want to forget everything in the arms of a lover, too. But as much as he wanted this woman in every way he could get her, he couldn’t bring himself to get any more physical than they already had without some getting-to-know-you time. Hence, a date, or as close as they could get to one. And if she could eat, that would tell him something about her. The more information he could scrape together, the better his chances of helping her.

DG slid her hand out of his. “So you don’t feel silly,” she said with an understanding tilt of her head. He lowered his arm, and she disappeared again.

“Okay, sweetheart. Here we go.”

He headed for the kitchen, giddy and awkward. Sharing his living space with her brought an unexpected sense of comfort, but not hearing her footsteps, the rustle of her clothes, her breathing, or the thousand other little sounds a person took for granted when not alone reminded him how eerie this was. He didn’t mind the eeriness. DG needed to get out of his room and live. Hell, if this worked, maybe tomorrow night, he’d take her for a drive, see if any places nearby sparked her memory.

Mind spinning with possibilities, he pulled the shallow casserole dish with the marinating steaks from the fridge. “I bought these for Haley. Steak and potatoes are her favorite.” Good thing his neighbors couldn’t see in his windows and see him talking to nobody. He’d laugh at how ridiculous this felt, talking to his invisible girlfriend, if it didn’t make him so damn happy.

He pictured DG leaning on the counter, listening and nodding her encouragement. He knew the exact expression she’d have on her face, the way her lips would purse as they smiled, a little mischievous, a little amused, a little aroused. How could he know something like that? How had she gotten so deep under his skin?

He cleared his throat. “She went through a vegetarian phase last year, but now she’s on meat again. Deidre–that’s her mom–doesn’t eat carbs, but Haley loves baked potatoes.”

He poked fork holes in the potatoes and stuck them in the microwave for twelve minutes. Tying on his apron, he scanned the kitchen, wishing he knew where DG was. Shaking his head, he gathered up his grilling tools and unlocked the back door. “But she didn’t want to come over for dinner tonight,” he said, and a stab of guilt hit him in the gut.

He ignored it. Time with DG was too precious to dwell on negative stuff. He flipped on the deck light and opened the door. “Might as well cook them up for our first date.” Turning back to the kitchen, he tried a smile but felt weird. “Damn, I wish I could see you.”

Humid night air melted around him, and he let himself imagine the faint pressure was DG’s embrace. Just in case it really was, he stood still and closed his eyes, searching with all his senses for any sign of her. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he caught a hint of melon scent, as if she’d nestled her head under his chin.

Sighing, he stepped carefully away and onto the deck. A bare bulb beneath the eaves of the house gave enough light to see by without intruding on the beauty of the night sky. He liked that about living in a medium sized town–seeing the stars at night. Not as many as out in the country, but enough to dream by.

The stars weren’t all that made the sky bright. “Come on out,” he said. “There’s a full moon for you, tonight.”

* * * *

DG stood paralyzed in the doorway, the familiar haven of Derek’s butter-cream yellow kitchen behind her, the rest of the dark unknown before her.

What if she floated off on the breeze the moment she stepped outside? What if she left Derek’s house and couldn’t get back in? What if leaving his house broke some kind of rule and she moved on to wherever ghosts went when they failed miserably at whatever they were supposed to do?

Derek turned some knobs on his stainless steel, neat-as-a-pin grill. His handsome face relaxed into its usual seriousness. His shoulders made a strong, confident line. He was a man at home in his castle, trying to share his world with her. He wanted to give her an island of normal in a sea of strange. She owed it to him to at least try curbing her fear and trusting him.

Swallowing all the what-ifs, she lifted one foot and brought it down on the gray-painted planks of the deck. The wind didn’t sweep her away. No unseen mallet came swinging down from the heavens to punish her. Instead, warm humidity draped around her like a familiar blanket. She inhaled, and the scents of grass, shrubs and dirt filled her lungs.

She dared to draw up beside Derek as he used tongs to lay the steaks on the grate. A minute ago, she’d wrapped her arms around him as he stood on his threshold. Her heart had jumped with excitement as he’d remained still for several seconds, as if he’d known what she was doing. Then he’d stepped away, and the moment had been over. He’d gone outside, teasing her to follow with the promise of a full moon.

She looked up. There it was. Big and cool-white in a black sky. A scatter of stars shone like raindrops on a night-dark windshield. Melancholy stole over her, closing in like the heavy humidity after the crisp, air-conditioned air inside the house. Being outside wasn’t as exciting as she’d hoped.

“Bought this place two years ago,” Derek said as the savory scent of cooking meat and spices filled the air. “After the divorce. It’s a good place. Got good bones. Needed a little fixing up at first, but nothing I couldn’t tackle on the weekends. Haley even helped some. Kid’s a skinny thing, but she’s strong.” His voice lifted with pride. Then he hung his head and shook it slowly.

She hoped he got the chance to make up with Haley soon. “It’ll be okay,” she told him, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “She loves you so much, and you’re a great dad.”

“I’m a shitty father,” he said.

She swatted his muscular arm, but he didn’t flinch.

“I lost my temper with Deidre and called her a name I shouldn’t have. Haley heard.” He exhaled sharply and poked at one of the cuts with a skewer.

She wished she could do more than listen. The somber lines etched into his face made her fingers twitch to rub them smooth, to comfort him with her touch. Willing him to feel it, she rested her head on his solid shoulder.

He stilled.

For a few minutes, she did nothing but let his warmth sink into her temple.

“I love the way your hair smells.” He said it so quietly, she would have missed it if she’d been any farther away. He bent his head toward her. “Please hold me,” he said.

Her heart swelled. “Gladly.” She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled right up under the arm he held slightly away from his side. The weight across her back was comforting, even with the awkward angle. “You’ll make it right,” she said. “I believe in you.”

But he didn’t hear. He remained silent and still, only moving to flip the steaks with the arm not around her. She relaxed against him, enjoying the peace of the moment.

Inside, the microwave beeped. Derek said, “Going to move, now, sweetheart.” Then he slowly did, giving her a chance to slide away before he put the sizzling steaks on a platter to bring inside. She watched as he fixed up their baked potatoes, and followed him back to the bedroom. The smells of medium-cooked beef, butter and sour cream made her salivate. She couldn’t wait to dig in, even if she didn’t technically feel hungry.

He set the plates and utensils on the bed, and she climbed up, careful not to disturb them. She barely had a chance to turn to face him before his arms were around her and his lips were on hers.

“I missed you,” he said when he’d finished kissing her stupid. He was standing at the edge of the bed and had hauled her up against his chest. “Did you see the moon?”

“It was beautiful. And this smells amazing.” She waved her arm over their plates.

“I’ll be right back.” He let her back down until her knees sank into the comforter, left, and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of California merlot and two fish-bowl wine glasses with red ribbons tied around the dainty stems.

“I didn’t take you for a wine person,” she said, taking a glass from him and pulling off the bow.

“I’m not. This was a housewarming present from Deidre. It’s the only bottle of wine I own.” He pulled a corkscrew from the pocket of his apron, which read,
Kiss the chef
, only
chef
had a slash through it, and stylized writing above it read
CHIEF.
“Knowing her, it’ll be good.” He filled her glass to an inch below the rim.