Midlife in Glimmerspell

by Addison Moore

  She all but flips me the finger as she takes off and I lean toward Cash.

  “I spoke with Vera Henley, and she let me know Little Ms. I’m Your Girl”—I hitch my head Silvia’s direction—“has a secret that concerns the deceased.”

  His lips twitch my way. “And I can tell you’re determined to winnow it out of her. Remind me to put you on payroll.” He reaches over and takes up my hand. “Now what were you going to ask?”

  I won’t lie. It’s a bit strange having a man I hardly know take me by the hand, but since my hormones aren’t exactly demanding I jump into bed with him, it doesn’t feel wrong either. It feels safe and perfectly platonic. Here’s hoping he’s getting that same vibe. I’d hate to disappoint him if he thinks he’s getting a bite of Buttonwood pie for dessert.

  “Glimmerspell,” I whisper the town’s name as if it were a deep, dark secret, and it just might be. “There are rumors, which I’m sure you’ve heard. Rumors that center around vampires, werewolves—and fairies.” I lean in hard when I say that last word in the event one of the blue-skinned fae roaming the premises hears me.

  His chest pumps with a silent laugh, but he’s not smiling.

  “Billie.” He sighs as he looks me right in the eye. “I could tell you many things, some of them completely untrue just to steer us away from the subject.” His lips twitch side to side as if he were considering his options. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to tell you the truth. The real question here is, are you prepared to handle what I have to tell you?”

  “Oh yes,” I blurt the words out just as a flash of heat hits me all at once. Every muscle in my body freezes as I pause a moment to evaluate the situation. I’ve had a handful of these devilish heat waves over the last few days and nary a tick of the clock did I skip. In fact, I soaked my nightgown twice last night to the point I had to get up and throw on something else. Here’s hoping this is just one of those run-of-the-mill hot flashes whose end result is nothing more than a trickle of sweat running down my décolleté and making me wish I could run outside and stick my feet into the snow. But the floor beneath me begins to bounce and the scenery in the room begins to blur.

  “Oh no.” I give Cash’s hand a hard squeeze before pulling away.

  “Whoa, Billie, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just fine.” I glance to the bar and spot a familiar brunette who happens to share my lavender blue eyes. “I think I see my niece,” I pant. “I’ll be right back.” I stagger in her direction, only to find it’s not the living niece but the not-so-dead one. “Mabel.” I go to grab ahold of her arm and push right through it. “You chose a fine time to do your best impersonation of thin air.”

  “Sorry, I can’t seem to control it at the moment. My spirit just seems to know what to do and when to do it,” she says, laying a hand over my back. “Wow, Billie, you’re a mean shade of green. Are the burgers that bad tonight?”

  “No, I’m having a spell. I think I’m about to exit the building in a very untraditional manner.”

  “Oh my goodness,” she trills as she does her best to navigate me to the side of the bar, and just as soon as I step behind a potted silk banana tree, everything around me goes black. The last thing I hear is Mabel saying she’d call Morgan for backup.

  “Poor Cash,” I say as the scenery comes into focus and I find myself in a room full of steam. The sound of water running fills my ears, I’m looking at navy subway tiles along the wall, and a pool of water is at my feet. I look up, and to my horror there’s a man running his head underneath a shower nozzle—a very naked man with a pretty decent hind end, might I add.

  A howl escapes me just as the naked man in question spins around and lets out a brief howl of his own.

  “Geez!” he shouts, and then in an instant we both freeze solid.

  This isn’t just any dripping wet, naked man standing before me.

  “Elliot?” I gasp.

  “Billie?” he looks perfectly stunned. He looks pretty perfect, too, but that’s neither here nor there considering the fact he’s about to arrest me for breaking and entering—and probably a few more offenses I’m not entirely aware of. “How the hell did you get in here?” He gives me the once-over with that wild, stymied look in his eyes.

  “I—” Oh God. About a dozen options run through my mind, none of them viable. “I don’t know.” I toss my hands up as he switches off the water and snaps a towel off the door before wrapping it around his waist. “I was on a date—with Cash. Poor Cash,” I whimper.

  Elliot inches his head back a notch as if he were suddenly interested in what I might have to say. It would figure. His hatred for Cash trumps the fact he’s got a loon materializing from thin air in his shower.

  What am I saying? Elliot Greenly is a hot commodity. I bet he’s had his fair share of women popping into his shower unannounced. This was probably one of his few solo endeavors as far as water closets go.

  “So you were on a date?” A sly smile curves his lips, but dear God, that water beading off his hair, off the scruff on his cheeks, down that chiseled, chiseled chest.

  Wow.

  He’s got biceps and triceps, and lats, and a bona fide six-pack—maybe eight—heck, it might be twelve. It’s safe to say Elliot Greenly is put together in the exact manner God intended. Me, on the other hand? I’m a hot, sweaty mess wishing I could join the birthday suit party and run a vat of ice-cold water over myself. With all this humidity I can feel my hair suffering the Einstein effect as it rises to the ceiling.

  “Did you say something?” I blink back. “Never mind that. What day is it?”

  “Tuesday night. Why? Are you trying to kick off your weekend a little early?”

  “I don’t see why not. It’s not a bad start.”

  He’s back to frowning at me as he helps escort me out of his shower—an ample venue that could easily host a party of twelve, and I’m betting it has.

  “All right, Billie. What’s going on?” he says as he leads me through his palatial stone-covered bathroom and straight into his royal chambers. The walls are covered with dark gray damask wallpaper, a king-size bed sits in the middle with a navy comforter, and a gray couch sits off to the side. The faint scent of his cologne warms the air and a suit is lying over a recliner in the corner.

  There’s a big screen on the wall in front of the bed and a dresser to the left of that. The entire room is the size of a small city, and from the expansive windows just beyond the sofa, I can see a city lights’ view of what I’m guessing is lower Glimmerspell.

  It’s safe to say he doesn’t live a stone’s throw from Main Street, and I might run into a few transportation problems as I try to make my way back.

  He lands us on the sofa, and we sit facing one another—with him air-drying with that towel cinched precariously around his waist and me wondering how in the heck I’m going to get out of this pickle.

  “Did I hear you say you were on a date with Cash?” That amused smile is right back to flickering on his lips. “Let me guess. You smelled the ridiculousness on him and decided you wanted to end your night with a real man.” His grin grows wide before dissipating altogether.

  “Nice try, buddy. Actually, we were having a nice time. We were sitting there having a conversation about our kids, about my investigation—which he is in complete support of.” I pause a moment to give him a wry smile. “And then I asked about Glimmerspell. He said he had the answers I was seeking, but that the real question was whether or not I was prepared to handle what he had to tell me.”

  “Bastard,” he says it under his breath and lower than a whisper as if it wasn’t meant for my ears at all. “And did he tell you?”

  “No. I started in on one mean dizzy spell and—” My mouth hangs open as I look into his clear green eyes and that electrical jolt jumps from him to me once again. I don’t know that I want to out myself as the town lunatic so quickly to a handsome man such as this, but seeing that I ended up inviting myself to watch him as he bathed, I don’t thin
k I have a choice. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve already been checked out by an entire slew of doctors and they’ve all come to the same conclusion. I’m more or less fine. It’s just that I get these weird hot flashes.” I wince. “And I know they make me sound ancient. But I don’t feel ancient. I mean, I’m not running out and stocking up on prunes and oatmeal just because I’m on the runway to my fifties.” I leave out the fact that I’ve had oatmeal for breakfast for the last twenty years. With steel cut oats, what’s not to love? “But anyway, that’s neither here nor there. I’m basically as confused as to how I landed in your shower as you are. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  His brows swoop in. Elliot sits back, relaxed with his chest expanding as wide as a football field. That towel wrapped precariously around his waist is slowly working its way open, and I’m half-expecting it to fully expose him at any minute. Not that I haven’t already seen the goods. As far as dangling appendages go, Elliot is well-equipped to frost any woman’s cookies. And he may not be frosting my cookies, but he’s sure as heck melted my butter.

  Now where was I?

  He nods as if he suddenly had the answers to both of our burning questions.

  “Let me guess”—he grunts—“you walked right through the front door. Royce has a habit of leaving it unlocked. He likes to remind me that we’re not all that valuable. But I keep telling him he’s inviting trouble.”

  “And thanks to me, you’ll be able to say I told you so.” I’d laugh if it weren’t so painfully true. “Do you think I could borrow your phone? I’d like to call Morgan for a lift back to Main Street.” I gasp at the thought. “On second thought, I don’t have anyone’s phone number memorized.” I give a hard blink. “Geez. It’s kind of paralyzing when you think about it. I mean, I still remember my house number from when I was a kid back in the Stone Ages when people hung phones onto the wall like a piece of art, but a lot of good that will do me. That number hasn’t been in use since, well, the Stone Ages. And now I’m about as lost as a child separated from its mother at the mall. I’d better get going. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t file charges. I’ve got a nasty divorce at hand, and these hot flashes have me stepping out of my mind—literally.”

  “Why would you need to call Morgan?” His brows dip in the middle, and it’s a vexingly good look on him. “Did something happen to your car? Is that why you came up to the house? For help?”

  Poor, poor Elliot, trying so hard to make sense of a senseless situation. I almost feel sorry for him.

  And I definitely feel sorry for me. A prison cell may not be waiting for me today, but incarceration of some type seems inevitable at this point. Today Elliot’s shower, tomorrow the President’s.

  “No. I’m pretty sure my minivan isn’t anywhere near your home, wherever this may be.”

  He inches back. “Are you saying you walked? From Main Street? That’s six and a half miles away—in the snow.”

  “What can I say? I love me some fresh air—and ice.”

  Six and a half miles? Gah! I’ll freeze solid if I try to hoof my way back.

  “How did you know where I lived? Did Cash tell you?” Elliot scrutinizes me with a curious stare as he searches my features for a modicum of something that resembles logic.

  “That’s the thing. I have no idea where you live. And Cash didn’t tell me anything.”

  He cocks a brow my way. “Let me get this straight. You don’t have your phone on you. You don’t have your car. You say you have no idea where I live, and yet you ended up in my shower?” He glowers at me a good long while and it too is a vexing look when juxtaposed against all that bare flesh staring out at me—I’m guessing it’s not a good sign. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s out of her mind. Why did you end up in my shower, Billie?”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence, but let’s not get hasty. I might need that insanity plea in court.”

  “You mentioned you saw a doctor. Is something wrong? Are you blacking out?”

  There’s something about the genuine concern in his voice that makes me swoon. Harold and I spent a lot of time together, and yet I never felt as though he truly cared for how I felt either emotionally or physically.

  “Nope, not blacking out—not in the traditional sense. And my doctor didn’t seem too concerned about my predicament. In fact, he thought these were female issues, so he pawned me off on another doctor. And funny story? I met your brother.”

  A depleted smile comes and goes. “Warren.”

  I give a quick nod. “He’s very thorough, I’m glad to report. He took getting to second base with me very seriously.”

  A groan evicts from him as if the visual pained him on some level.

  He takes a deep breath. “And what did he have to say—about these issues?”

  “He said it was perfectly normal.” I cringe a moment. “Only I didn’t exactly tell him the whole truth. I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?” He looks shocked that I’d hold back anything. “He’s your doctor. He’s a safe haven.”

  “A safe haven to some—a portal to the loony bin for others. Look, I’ve already said too much tonight. If you don’t mind, could I hitch a ride back to Fae Gardens? Cash was just about to spill all the deep, dark secrets this town has to offer. And not only that, but Silvia Arden is our waitress. And according to Vera, Silvia has a deep, dark secret of her own—and I’m betting it has a few deadly implications, if you know what I mean. I saw Silvia and Griffin having a nasty exchange the afternoon he died.”

  His left cheek cinches to the side. “She’s on my list, too.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

  “Let me slip into something a little less comfortable.” He shifts in his seat before leaning my way. “But I’m not going to let Cash tell you a thing about Glimmerspell.”

  A choking sound emits from me, but before I can contest, he holds a finger up between us.

  “I’m going to fill in the blanks for you, Billie. It will be me. Not him. Cash Archer is vying for you. And his intentions are less than chaste. I highly doubt he’s the man you’re looking for.”

  An audible gulp comes from me as I offer up a circular nod.

  “I’ll just wait outside your bedroom,” I say, showing myself to the door.

  Apparently, I’m on the second level of what looks to be an amply spacious home. I meander my way down to the first floor while looking at the menagerie of pictures on the wall on the way down. They’re mostly of a younger version of him, his son, I’m assuming. A few T-ball pictures are scattered about, along with a few school pictures as well, but there is a smattering of old black and white photos that look as if they belong to another era entirely. I’d like to think they were old family portraits passed down from generation to generation, but more than likely there’s a fifty-fifty chance they came with the frame.

  There’s a chill in the air that only seems to grow as I hit the first floor that spills into a cavernous living room, dining room, and enormous kitchen off the back. There’s a stone fireplace large enough to roast a deer in off the grand room with a few dark couches that surround an oversized TV that’s featuring a horror flick at the moment. The floors are stained dark, and there’s a coat of arms over on the far wall, black, silver, and maroon with what looks to be two swords crossed over it. Thick shag carpets are scattered around the living areas, and the faint scent of popcorn fills the air.

  The sound of a girl squealing comes from the sofa and I sigh in that direction.

  Figures. I’m not his only intruder for the night.

  I’m about to make my way over when I spot not one but two dark heads sitting awfully close to one another as they take in that horror flick.

  I bet that’s Royce. And I bet he’s got a hot date.

  Like father, like son.

  Not that I’m Elliot’s hot date—but still the night is young and he was probably showering in anticipation of his own hot date.

  The young girl turns her head slight
ly and a wailing sound rips from me just before I jump behind the wall that leads into the living room.

  Elliot comes down the stairs at a quickened clip in a sweater and jeans along with a pair of dark boots on, ready for the elements. His spiced cologne reaches me before he does, and with his dark hair still dewy from the shower, those clear green eyes, I do my best not to swoon.

  I hold a finger to my lips and motion for him to come in close.

  “What’s going on?” he whispers with his brows furrowed, giving him that impossibly sexy look he’s evidently unable to escape.

  “It’s them! That’s what’s going on.” I pull him close in the event he wants to get wild and stroll right into his living room. “It’s Harper,” I whisper. “She’s out there with a boy, who I’m assuming is your son. Are you nuts for allowing this to happen?” I give him a light swat on the arm and he frowns.

  “I had no idea it was happening.” He tips his head that way. “Looks harmless enough. They’re watching a zombie movie.”

  “Looks harmless enough if you’re the father of the boy,” I tell him. “We’re going to have to go in there and bust up the party.”

  He pierces me with those crystalline eyes once again and a spear of heat runs through me. Not the deadly heat that slingshots me through time, but the far more incendiary heat that blows my hormones up like a match in a fireworks factory.

  “How are we going to explain what you’re doing here, Billie? And the fact that we’ve been upstairs for seemingly hours?”

  I make a face at him. “We’ll tell them I was teaching you how to knit.” He flinches as I say it. “What’s the matter? Too manly to knit one, purl two?”

  His lips part to answer just as a rustling sound comes from next door and both Harper and Royce step into the foyer.

  In one herculean move, Elliot pulls me into a darkened corridor and holds me close as we watch Royce and Harper pull on their coats.