Was he kidding? He always behaved–maybe even more than he needed to. “I know you will,” she said, hoping regret hadn’t coated her words. She was more concerned with herself; for the last three nights, Evie had dreamt of being wrapped in Calvin’s arms. Of long, passionate kisses, like the one they’d shared outside the batting cages. She didn’t know how much longer she could wait.
After opening the back door, Calvin led her to an oak bench along the wall in the laundry room. “Un minuto, mi amor.” He headed into the kitchen, closing the door between them.
She listened to things getting shuffled about, smelled the distinct woodsy scent of a burning match.
“Okay, it’s ready.” He opened the door.
Colors–shades of a brilliant sunset–danced along the walls, the flicker of the candles’ glow. Dark raspberry glaze drizzled down a large cheesecake, centered on the oak table. “Mmm, my favorite,” she said dreamily. She counted nineteen candles as he pulled out her chair.
Calvin took a seat at the end next to her. “Make a wish.”
She smiled at him, lost in the alluring draw of his warm, brown eyes. She pulled in a breath, made a wish to keep him forever, and watched each flame flicker to nothing more than a dying spark. Blackness fell over the room.
She stayed still while Calvin’s chair scooted back, assuming he was headed to switch on the lights. But as his warm hand cupped gently around her knee, she realized he’d knelt onto the floor instead. Scooting her chair back, she allowed him to slide in between her and the table, and reached out to place her hands on his shoulders, gently, tentatively. Feeling shy and nervous.
Since that first, spellbinding kiss so many weeks ago, Calvin had seemed to be ruled by resistance. There was something holding him back, keeping her at bay. She’d often reflected on that kiss, wondered if the sensual movement of his lips could really put her into a state of euphoria like she recalled, or if she’d simply embellished the memory over time.
Would she find out now?
He moved in closer, rubbed the rough stubble along his jaw against her cheek, gently. Back, then forth. The pleasing sensation was enhanced when she caught a heavenly hint of his aftershave, crisp and masculine. She breathed him in as his lips grazed her ear.
“Happy Birthday,” he crooned in a low, soft voice.
The vibration raised goose bumps on her skin. She remained silent and still as his warm hands moved up her arms, slid over her shoulders and landed at either side of her neck. In the darkness, his thumb traced the outline of her lips.
Though the movement was gentle, she sensed tension behind it, his need to be near her, have his mouth on hers.
He graced her cheek with a soft, warm kiss, and then let out a shaky breath, heating her skin. After pulling back slightly, he explored the shape of her bottom lip with the warm tips of his fingers.
She pulled in a jagged breath, anticipation planting a nervous thrill she could barely contain. He’d kiss her; she knew it. Evie could nearly feel his resistance–whatever it was–slipping away. In that moment, Calvin Knight belonged to her.
His hands went firm, determined, as he wrapped them solidly behind her neck. He pulled her slowly, with a certain strained control to where his mouth brushed hers, warm and inviting.
Her lips parted just in time for his mouth to lock on hers, firm and certain. The heated passion in his kiss consumed her–rushed through every ounce of her blood. She felt his heart pump–fast and strong–as her hands slid from his tensed shoulders down his chest.
Her arms encircled him as the masterful pull of his strong lips lured her under his spell. A shallow sigh of pleasure slipped past her lips as his hands slid down her back. Encouraging her lengthy kisses, Calvin grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, filling the fraction of space between them. She reveled in the familiar squeeze of his fingers against her lower back.
In that moment, Evie wondered if she’d ever be the same. Kissing Calvin Knight was life changing; there was no doubt about it.
As the thought crossed her mind, she felt Calvin go rigid beneath her lips. With a barely audible groan, he pulled away. “I’ll get the lights,” he said. In a slow, gentle motion, he planted a warm kiss on the back of her hand.
While Calvin served up the cheesecake, Evie worked to dismiss the strange way he’d pulled away from her. The delicious taste managed to distract her for moments at a time, yet her thoughts would return, with new recollections–haunting reminders of the magnetic pendant, the dark drawing and the mean, whispering voice.
Calvin scooted a small box across the table. “This one is kind of for the both of us.”
With a quick tug, Evie slid the ebony ribbon from the box. She removed the lid to see a small, black object.
“It’s pepper spray,” he explained. “I said it was for both of us because I’d feel better knowing you were running with a little… protection. I don’t like the idea of you jogging without it.” He took hold of the device, explaining the features of the small gadget, showing her how to turn the spray nozzle into lock and safety mode.
While he spoke, Evie became unaware of his words, too distracted by his desire to protect her, keep her safe.
“It’s probably not much of a gift, but I really wanted you to have it.”
Evie smiled. “No, it means a lot, actually. Thank you.”
He scooted the second box toward her.
After removing the lid, she took in a quick, short breath. An oil painting lay nestled within a gold sheet of tissue paper. She recognized the piece as one they’d critiqued during the historical portion in art class. A painting called, The Storm, by Pierre-Auguste Cot. She remembered because she’d fallen in love with the painting the moment she’d seen it. “I love this,” she said in a whisper.
He gave her a satisfied smile. “I thought so. You spoke up about this one in art, and I could tell that it really did something for you. So you haven’t already bought it?”
“No, but I wanted to.” She removed the framed painting from the shallow box and took in the beauty of the art. There was something incredibly romantic about the image. It depicted a young man with his arm around a woman. They appeared to be taking shelter–both gripping the same gold, flowing sheet that canopied them as they ran. Soft colors and flowing lines created a world of wonder where the two seemed to have nothing more than each other.
“It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to hang it in my room. Thank you.” She stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “And thanks for the weapon.” She giggled as she kissed him on the other cheek. Wrapping her arms snuggly around him, she contemplated the blessings in her life–one in particular–and brought her lips to his ear. “I don’t know how I got so lucky … to find you. I must’ve done something right.”
As soon as the words escaped her lips, Calvin stiffened. He pulled away, nearly glaring at her. “You may not feel that way for long.” A strange sort of irony coated his tone.
Evie grimaced. “Why would you say that?” She’d said it playfully, hoping to lighten the sudden darkness in his eyes.
But it didn’t.
His pained glare only intensified as a crease settled in his brow. His lips parted, and Evie feared he would say something she didn’t want to hear. Her heart sped into a quickened thrum as she surveyed the grave expression on his face. The look of anguish. Guilt.
His lips hardened into a straight line. “I’m not as great as you think I am, Evie,” he murmured. He shook his head, looked away from her. “I better get you back home. It’s late.”
***
The moment Calvin returned, he headed straight to the attic, determined to find what Grandpa Knight had left behind. They’d kept his old journal, and Grandpa was sure to have written something about the curse.
Anger fueled him forward as he dug through boxes, the pull chain from the light still swaying above his head. An old camera. A small set of leather-bound books. Letters. The journal.
In a mad rush, he flipped through the small b
ook, scanning the contents on each page until one stood out among the others. This page wasn’t attached to the binding like the rest. The yellowed, almost transparent piece of parchment had been tucked in the center of the old journal. The intricate letters in black, oily ink seized his attention at once. He read over the words, the deep tenor of his grandfather’s voice ringing loudly in his head.
To be a Knight
A loathsome state
Devastation
Your only fate
Robbed by murder
Is the one you love most
A victim of
The Raven-haired Ghost
He read over the words once more, picturing his mother’s lovely face, recalling the day they’d buried her. He thought of Evie next–her beauty and warmth–squelching the horrid memory of the nightmare he’d had. The one where she lay dead, all the color and life drained from her body. The haunting dream in which–in the end–he was to blame.
A quick burst of rage took over, causing him to slam the journal shut. Cranking his arm, he wound back and chucked the small book across the dimly lit space. “Damn it,” he yelled, hating the dilemma before him.
He had no way of knowing if the words in the poem were true, but that didn’t matter; they haunted him all the same. If they were true, then he was guilty for wanting Evie, for even dreaming to have her as his own. But if they weren’t–if the words in that book held no merit–he’d be a fool to never try.
Chapter Seventeen
“So, was it as good as the real thing?” Evie watched as Calvin hedged, contemplating her question.
“Pretty close. I’ve never rock-climbed indoors before. At least now I know what it’s like.” He stepped out of the Jeep and onto her dimly lit driveway. Evie pushed open the door as he walked around to her side. “I’m glad you came with me,” Calvin said to her.
Evie slipped her hand into his. “Well I couldn’t say no on your birthday, but I don’t think I’d be up for the real thing anytime soon.” That was an understatement.
“Let’s see, the indoor mountains we scaled today were about fifty feet high, and the Rockies top off at about ten thousand feet.” He winked at her. “You’re off the hook until summer, anyway.”
She’d think about that when summer came. The porch steps creaked beneath their shoes as Evie led Calvin around the house and onto the back patio. A bright sliver of moon shone over the snow-capped mountains, causing the triangular tips to stand out against the black. Winter had such few hours of daylight, but Evie didn’t mind this year. Not with Calvin around.
“You guys have a pretty decent view of the mountains, don’t you?”
“Not as nice as yours,” she said.
He shrugged. “They’re practically in my backyard. It’s kind of nice to see them from a distance like this too.”
Evie turned toward Calvin, gripping hold of his other hand. A dose of heat shot through her when his brown eyes met with hers. “Okay, so you’re mine for the rest of the night. I made you this seriously amazing crepe cake. It’s topped with berries and this caramel sauce and you’re going to love it.”
His smile broadened. “I’m sure I will love it.”
“But first, dinner. And to give you a hint…” Evie flicked on the patio light. An iron fire pit stood next to a pile of wood and a couple of lawn chairs. She gave him a smile. “How does Dutch Oven Lasagna sound?”
“I’m hungry just thinking about it.”
“Good. All we need is the fire. You were a Boy Scout once, weren’t you?”
Calvin squeezed her hands before releasing them, then stepped over to the fire pit. “You know it.” He shrugged out of his hoodie and tossed it onto a lawn chair, leaving him in a white tee shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. After rubbing his palms together to warm his hands, Calvin set to work, building a teepee of logs and twigs. He scrounged up a handful of dry grass and wedged it in the center.
Evie enjoyed watching Calvin complete manly jobs with his hands, outshining her in all the right areas. She zipped up her thin coat, anxious to get close to a nice, heated fire.
“Didn’t you bring a change of clothes?” she asked. It was the first of December after all, and it was freezing.
“Yeah. But I don’t need them. I’m fine.”
She continued her survey of him, let her gaze wander over his handsome brow, furrowed in concentration. His dark hair hung loose and reckless, and it looked as if he’d avoided the razor this morning, leaving an even more defined shadow to line his jaw. Though he was lean, his arms and legs were muscular, toned and defined.
“Has anyone ever told you how devastatingly handsome you are?” she wondered aloud.
Calvin shook his head, chuckling. “No.”
“I don’t believe you. I’m sure you hear it all the time.”
The fire roared to life at the toss of his match. Bright flames of orange and gold climbed up the brittle wood, reaching toward the darkened sky. He returned to her side, slid his hands around her waist.
“Has anyone ever told you that they dream about you, night and day? About the beauty you possess, and the incredible light you lend?” His voice was soft and sincere.
The fire crackled and snapped in the distance. She shook her head.
“I do, constantly.” Calvin wrapped his arms around her, pulled her against him and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Evie let out a sigh of her own as a word floated to the surface of her mind: perfect.
After dinner, Evie led Calvin down to the basement where she had his gifts waiting.
She took a seat on the floor next to the coffee table and handed him the first one. “Happy Birthday.”
“It’s heavy.” He knelt by her side and tore at the paper, revealing a large, silver box. Opening the lid, he eyed the marble chess pieces, cradled in red, velvet lining.
“You mentioned losing your chess set in the move. And this one’s just like the set we have,” she said.
He grabbed one of the marbled pieces, looked over it appreciatively. “Evie, it’s great. Mine was nowhere near this nice.”
She shrugged. “Somebody had it listed online. I thought it was a long shot, but there it was. It was meant to be yours.”
He tore the wrapping from the chessboard–a cool slab of marble fastened to a dark oak frame. “This is awesome. Thank you.”
“Well, you know how you said the pepper spray was kind of for your sake as well as mine?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Well, this is kind of for me too.” She gave him a wry smile, judging his reaction. “See, I really need you to sharpen your skills, warm up at home so you can give me a little competition.” Unable to stifle the laughter, she braced herself as he lunged toward her.
Evie caved beneath Calvin’s weight as he wrestled her to the ground. With one large hand, he grabbed both wrists and pinned them above her head. “Take it back.” He dangled his hand over her body.
“No,” she said, through giggles still.
He wiggled his fingers as he brought the hovering hand closer, nearing the ticklish part of her armpit while she struggled to pull free.
“Say, Calvin has been letting me win at chess. Say it,” he urged.
“Calvin hates losing when he plays me at chess,” she shrieked.
He released her wrists and tickled her with both hands.
Evie gasped for air through laughter as the kneading tips of his fingers flittered over her stomach. His hands slid down to her legs where he squeezed at her upper thighs just above the knee. “You are ticklish everywhere.” His triumphant grin made him look younger, boyish.
She hollered and squirmed until he let up. “I know,” she admitted, trying to catch her breath. “I know.”
They were calm for a moment. Evie’s stomach ached from the laughter, and the sound of her panting breaths filled the air.
Calvin lay back on the rug, put his hands behind his head, and gave her a smug smile.
Before he could stop her, Evie lunged tow
ard him, searching for ticklish spots, poking and prodding as he had. It took her a minute, but once she found his weakness–just under his ribs–she straddled him to gain dominance, reveling in the sweet revenge.
Just beyond the sound of their laughter, came the creaking of the back door. She and Calvin froze, turned their heads toward the stairwell. Evie looked wide-eyed at Calvin, feeling like she was eight years old again, about to get busted for roughhousing.
“Hey, Calvin?” It was her dad’s voice.
Now he looked like the guilty one.
“Your phone’s going off up here.”
Evie flung herself off Calvin as the stairs creaked.
Calvin scurried to his feet. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I’d left it up there.”
“It was actually on the back patio,” her dad said. “But it rang enough times that I was able to track it down. Anyway–” Before he could continue, the phone buzzed again. “Someone’s really trying to get hold of you.”
Calvin took the phone from him. “Thank you,” he said. He eyed the small screen before pulling it up to his ear.
Evie smiled at her dad. “Thanks for bringing that down.”
“You guys going to play chess?” He nodded toward the set.
“Yeah. Probably.” She didn’t want to be rude, but she was hoping her dad wouldn’t stick around to hear Calvin’s conversation. She could guess, by the urgency alone, that it was Parker calling with one of his weekend emergencies.
“I’ll be upstairs,” her dad said, turning toward the stairwell.
“Parker, just let me call you guys a cab so you can take off.” He paused, looking down at the floor. “No, I’m not coming out there.”
Within the last month, a frantic call from Parker had become a predictable part of their weekend, and Evie could see that it was wearing on Calvin. Usually the call came much later, closer to midnight when she and Calvin were saying goodnight.
“That is not what you want, Parker. Listen, if it’s a ride you need, a cab can take care of that. Otherwise–” Calvin pulled the phone from his ear and muttered a curse under his breath. “He hung up.”
Evie's Knight Page 12