I wondered if Harriette had spent time up there. If Archer hadn’t been fucking with me, it sounded as if he’d found one of the journals like Dahlia had. Seemed like there was more story to tell when it came to our resident ghost.
I caught a shadow in the window of the tower room. Would she be happy with a baby in the house finally?
I guess we’d find out.
Satisfied that things were as in order as possible, I headed back to the Airstream. This whole chaotic renovation thing made me itchy as hell, but I knew it would be worth it in the end.
I climbed the few stairs inside, and Gizmo scampered out to meet me. “Where’s your mama?”
Gizmo chirped at me and wound around my ankles.
“Still sleeping?”
He sat down and pawed at the air with another series of chirps. And that would be the feed me language. Then again, Gizmo was always looking for food.
I opened up his preferred can of the week. Ever-changing diet for this one, but at the moment, he seemed to be happy with Chicken Delight or whatever it was called. I scooped out a full can since we’d been distracted, and I wasn’t sure he’d gotten a full helping today.
Not that the tubby cat was starving in any way.
I gave him a long stroke down his back, then I checked on Dahlia. She was curled onto her side, her dark hair spread out on my gray sheets, out for the count. She probably needed to eat, but I didn’t want to wake her. I stopped in for a shower, then I climbed in beside her.
She might still be mad at me, but her body knew what it wanted. She turned in her sleep and found me, laying her head on my bare chest.
For now, that was enough.
THIRTY
Sleeping in a king-sized bed was a novelty I could get used to. Especially when my cat slept above my head and a warm, half-naked guy was beside me.
I vaguely remembered curling into him, but the lure of sleep had been far too strong, and I’d slept right through until dawn.
Now Nolan was in his usual climber’s pose. This time, his arm was under my pillow as if he was reaching for me in his sleep.
It was a rarity for him to be comfortable enough to leave off a shirt. I had to admit he’d surprised the hell out of me when he’d whipped off the shirt during his...confession?
Maybe that was a dramatic word for it, but he’d literally stripped himself bare for me.
There was far more pain wrapped up in him than I’d even first imagined. It had taken everything in me not to wrap myself around him and beg him to stop telling me about him being alone in his workshop.
What if he’d actually bled out? He would’ve become one of those stories in a magazine about an artist who’d died before his time.
I slid my hand over my stomach. And there wouldn’t be this baby.
Definitely not in my plans, but I was already attached to the idea of it. But what if I was like Harriette?
What if I lost this baby even before we began?
“Why are you thinking so loud, so early?”
I jumped.
He opened one eye, his face smashed in his pillow. “You have a very noisy brain.”
“I was just thinking about Harriette.”
He rolled onto his side and his scar was on display. It snaked down his clavicle and along his ribs to disappear under the sheet. “What about her?”
“What if I’m like her?” I gripped my fingers in the soft undershirt I’d found in his mini closet. “What if this is just a tease?”
He brushed my hand away and pushed the shirt up to show off my still flat belly. Well, mostly flat. I had enjoyed fries quite a bit in the last few weeks. He inched down to kiss my stomach. Then he rubbed his bearded chin along the skin above my panties. “Listen here, Little Bean, you stay exactly where you’re supposed to. You have much cooking to do.”
My eyes burned as I pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Think that’s all it takes?”
“Can’t hurt, right?” He shifted back up to lay next to me. “Reading those diaries would worry anyone.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Pretty sure between the two of us, that baby will be even more stubborn. It’s not going anywhere.”
“But it could—”
He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing the words away. “It could be fine.”
“Okay.” I tried to push the fears back. Was Harriette warning me of trouble? Or just letting me know the baby was here?
He rolled onto his back and draped me over him. “Touch me, Hellcat.”
