by Lexi Post
Once her bed was made, she sat on the settee across from it to watch the door. She could have witnessed Braeden’s ride through the village as she had Stephen’s many times, but when she’d peeked out from the kitchen to see Braeden leave the inn, a shiver of dread raced up her spine. He made the costume appear too real, and when he bent low to allow the specter through the front door, her memory of Brom ducking his head through that very door had knocked the air from her chest.
Brom had been gone four years now and she still missed him. The change in time had started when he disappeared, though none of them had realized it at first. It was one Oldtime year later before those in Sleepy Hollow discovered their little village was on a different timeline than the rest of the world. She’d noticed a young version of Brom come to the village, which at the time celebrated Halloween. The tall, lanky young man held a baby boy with the same dark hair he had. After a brief conversation, she began to have an inkling, but when old, drunken Kolbus Van Bueren went missing and was found the next weekend, or rather his skeleton was found just past the border of Sleepy Hollow village, Maxwell’s grandmother had pronounced their dilemma at a town meeting. For every week of Oldtime, a year passed in Newtime. They only had this one weekend in common.
So Braeden was not Brom, but he had to be a descendant of his. That meant Brom, trapped in Newtime, had found another love, married and had children. Everything she and he were supposed to have had. Brom was no more, but she still loved him. Braeden, being so similar physically, dredged up powerful feelings for her, but they were for Brom. Luckily, Braeden planned to leave in the morning.
The grandmother clock in the hall toned one. The short Dutch-made clock had been a gift from her cousins. They had visited her when she was young. She loved the clock as it kept her on schedule, ringing its chimes every fifteen minutes. She wouldn’t get much sleep this night if Braeden didn’t return soon. Tomorrow, all her other guests would rise early to work the festival for the last afternoon, and then at midnight, Sleepy Hollow village would remain in Oldtime while the rest of the world continued.
The door to the inn opened and Braeden entered. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Unlike the loose clothing he’d worn earlier, his black shirt exposed his large, muscular arms. It was also tight against his body, showing a wide chest and narrow waist that fit snugly into black leather pants and riding boots. The rush of heat that hit her cheeks had everything to do with the pure sexuality the man exuded and nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Her body came alive, sensitive even to the light brush of air as he turned to close the door.
The sinews in his shoulders flowed with his movements, and she wrapped her arms about her as if that would help her ward off the desire hitting her full force. Tearing her gaze away before he noticed her distress, she looked at her hands to study a nail that had grown too long.
Footsteps halted before drawing near, and she looked up as if just noticing him. She kept her gaze on his face and it was easy to see he was disturbed. “Was your ride uneventful?”
He stood in the opening to the parlor, his brows furrowed. “Why do you ask? Did you expect something to happen?”
Taken aback by his suspicious tone, she shook her head. “No, but I do know Gunpowder doesn’t take to everyone the same.”
“I didn’t ride Gunpowder. I rode Daredevil.”
“Daredevil?” She couldn’t stop her intake of breath at her shock over him riding Brom’s horse. “No one has ridden Daredevil except Ludo and—Are you all right?” She took the opportunity to scan his arms for scratches, but soon lost track of why she examined him as desire rolled through her like a sudden thunderstorm.
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest, making it hard for her to ignore the massive tendons he displayed. “I’m fine. I didn’t know you cared.”
That brought her gaze up, and her back. “I don’t like to see anyone hurt, and Daredevil has been known to throw many a rider. It’s nothing personal.”
“I’m sorry.” He stroked his hand through his short hair again and stood away from the wall. “It was a weird night.”
A shiver raced up her back at his puzzlement and effectively cooled her blood. “What happened?”
He stepped into the parlor to sit on the opposite settee, but when he noticed her blankets, he stopped. He glanced at the chair, guessing as she did that it wouldn’t hold him, and sat next to her instead. Not exactly comfortable, but not uncomfortable either.
“I’m not sure what happened. The ride through the village was perfect. The costume did the trick and people were duly frightened. And the ride through the wood was exhilarating.”
Kat was mesmerized by his eyes as they glowed with his excitement. Their amber depths turned a golden yellow near the center.
“But then I came to the church and…” He looked away and leaned his elbows on his spread knees.
She placed her hand on his arm, surprised by its unexpected warmth. “You came to the church and what, Braeden?”
At the mention of his name, his gaze returned to hers. “I’m not sure. I saw something, I think.” He shook his head. “It was probably just the moonlight playing tricks on me.”
“There was no moon tonight. If you were by the church, you may have seen something. You would not be the first. Here in Sleepy Hollow, it is not so strange.” She smiled, needing to reassure him that he was not crazy. It was hard enough with Oldtimers, but for a Newtimer to witness the supernatural, that had to be difficult.
He studied her face. His intense gaze made her stomach feel like fireflies danced inside it.
“I thought you didn’t like me. Why are you trying to make me feel better?”
She widened her eyes. “Not like you? Why do you think that?”
His hand covered hers on his arm. She looked down to see her small pale fingers engulfed by his darker ones. Her arm tingled as he gently enfolded her hand. “Because you always seem to be irritated with me.”
She continued to stare at their joined hands, unwilling to look into his eyes. If she did that, she would surely be lost. “It’s not you. The festival is always a trying time and my patience is not what it should be.”
“So it had nothing to do with my demand for a room?”
She looked at him then to find his mouth quirked up to one side in that lazy grin that made her heart melt. She shook her head.
“I’m glad. Because there is something about you that I like.”
“Really?” Her cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t look away.
He pulled his arm out from beneath their clasped hands and stroked her cheek. “Really. Mostly, I like that you didn’t come on to me as soon as you saw me. That in itself is a relief.”
“Come on to you? What do you mean?”
“You know. When a woman is trying to get a guy in her bed.”
Kat pulled away hard. “What? Why would I do that?”
His surprise turned into a chuckle. “Exactly.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Are you saying women, they try to, I mean, they—they…” He grinned a heart-stopping smile that had her stuttering to a stop.
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean. I’m not being egotistical. It’s these muscles.” He held his arms out straight as if that clarified everything. “In fact, I think of them as a curse. That’s why I don’t interact with people in person. I do all my work from home through my computers and phones. I learned a long time ago that being this strong can cause major—well, the point is, you aren’t like that. You talk to me as if I’m a person and not a muscle man and I appreciate that.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant about a muscle man, but she did understand what he was saying. That he was attractive was true, but she found it difficult to believe women threw themselves at him simply because he was big and she let her skepticism show by raising an eyebrow. “I’m glad I could be of some help.”
He chuckled again, a warm sound that settled around her like a fur blanket.
“You don’t know how good it is to hear your doubt, but trust me, it’s true. Maybe I can show you tomorrow.”
“I thought you were leaving tomorrow.”
As his smile disappeared, she wanted to pinch herself for making it go away. Why was she reacting this way to a complete stranger? Because he seems so familiar.
“You’re right. Speaking of tomorrow, I should let you go to sleep.” He stood, towering over her. “Are you sure I can’t sleep out here? I hate to think of you on your couch while I’m sleeping in your bed.”
She rose too. Looking up at him when standing was enough to give her a kink in her neck, never mind while sitting. “No, please. Sleep in my bed. Honestly, it would save me buying new furniture because I don’t think these settees could hold you tossing and turning on them.”
“I think you may be right. Guess I owe you one.”
“I guess.”
He remained where he was, studying her again, making her body heat.
“Did you need something else?”
“Yes, I think I do.” He stepped closer. “I need to thank you for listening to me.”
She tried to put volume into her words, but they came out in a whisper as she gazed up at him. “You’re welcome.”
One large hand cupped her cheek and his face drew closer to hers.
Enthralled, with her heart beating faster than a woodpecker at work, she could only watch.
When his face was but an inch from hers, he spoke. “Thank you.” His lips brushed against hers in the gentlest of kisses.
Before the kiss truly began, it was over, and he nodded once before turning around and striding to his room, grabbing his costume from the table by the front door on his way.
Kat stood frozen in place and brought her finger to her lips. They still tingled from the pressure of his kiss. God in de Hemel, what was she doing? Spinning around, she pulled the quilt aside and threw herself on the settee. She covered herself to her chin and closed her eyes.
Immediately she felt his lips upon hers again. Opening her eyes, she gazed across the room to the painting he’d originally stopped to view and tried to focus on the calm scene. Braeden was not Brom. He was different. He was gentle and concerned. Brom had been boisterous and a bit self-centered. She could admit that now. Then again, Braeden thought every woman wanted him for his brawn. If that wasn’t egotistical, what was? Besides, he had the exact build of Brom with his large shoulders, height, dark hair and well-defined muscles, but his amber eyes were nothing like Brom’s gray ones. Brom was her one true love.
None of it mattered anyway. Braeden would leave tomorrow, and she’d go back to her routine of having no Brom, no Braeden…no excitement.
* * * * *
Kat stopped mid-step as she came through the kitchen door. Braeden, in a snug gray t-shirt, blue jeans and some kind of brown hiking boot, sat in her parlor, one leg crossed over the other as he balanced a computer on his lap. She’d thought him long gone when he didn’t make it to her breakfast service. To see him still there sent her usual calm out the door.
His brows were furrowed as he frowned at the machine.
Taking the bull by the horns, she strode into the parlor. “Would you like coffee?”
He glanced up with irritation before he smiled crookedly. “I’d love some. Don’t you have internet here?”
“In the 1790s? What do you think?”
His bafflement was obvious. “But that is the theme of the festival. Aren’t there towers nearby?”
She shook her head as she turned, talking as she headed for the kitchen. “No. There’s nothing modern in Sleepy Hollow woods at all. That’s the point.”
When she returned with his coffee, he’d closed his computer and put it on the side table. She handed him the cup, which based on the size of his hand would take him no more than two swallows to finish. Oh well, her inn was perfectly sized for Oldtimers. She wasn’t about to change things for one Newtimer.
He took a sip and put the cup down. “I was trying to find out more about America in the 1790s. I always enjoyed history in school but didn’t keep up with it after college.”
Tension filled his face at the mention of college. What could have happened then? Oh no, she wasn’t learning more about him than she already knew. That path was not safe. She smiled politely and turned to leave.
“Can you tell me a bit more about this era? I’m sure you are a walking encyclopedia on it. Your inn is authentic, and I imagine your clothes and food are as well. Right?”
She stopped, unable to retreat without being rude. Turning to face him, she was struck once again by his size and his similarity to Brom. The difference was Brom would never sit still long enough to have coffee and conversation. “Actually, everyone who works the festival is very knowledgeable about this time period. Maybe you should take a walk around and visit the stalls and demonstrations. You could learn a lot.”
Having handled that little interruption, she spun again and retreated to the kitchen. Once in the relative safety of the room, she simply stood there. She had cleaning and bed making and many chores to accomplish, but she didn’t want to go about the inn until she was sure her most recent guest had left.
She strolled to the window and checked the sky. It was clear blue, and bright sunshine shone on her little vegetable garden in the back. Her potatoes were probably ready to be pulled. She could do that until—
“I was hoping I could get some more coffee?”
She looked over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, or rather, just inside the doorway as his head rose above it. She hadn’t even heard him bump his head yet, which meant he must be used to ducking. “Of course.” She walked to the stove where the pot of coffee sat, the embers of the fire beneath keeping what was left warm.
He put his cup on the wooden counter. “Here, let me.”
As he reached for the coffee, she seized his arm. “No!”
She clung to him though he stared at her as if she’d grown devil horns. Releasing him, she moved to the hook on the wall and grabbed the cloth towel that hung there. Wrapping it around the hot handle of the coffeepot, she poured him more coffee and handed him the cup.
“Thank you.” He grinned sheepishly. “I guess I have a lot to learn about the 1790s.”
She put the coffeepot back on the stove and hung the cloth before meeting his gaze. “The festival only goes until dusk tonight, so you will want to get started on that learning.”
“Come with me.”
“Huh?”
He wiggled his brows. “Be my guide. Show me how much I obviously don’t know.”
Oh Lord, being in his presence made her head spin. She couldn’t do that. “I have a lot to do here at the inn before this evening. You may not be staying another night, but I have to make the beds of the other guests and fill water pitchers and a dozen other chores. If you’re as irresistible as you say, I’m sure you will find a willing woman to enjoy the festival with.”
He took a sip of coffee and simply studied her, a habit of his that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he tried to see inside her mind.
“Tell you what.” He put the cup down. “You be my guide through the festival, and I will help you with your chores when we get back.”
“What? You can’t do that. You’re a guest.”
“Okay, so consider me an employee. I’ll help you with the chores and you can pay me by not charging me for my room.”
His arrogance at having solved the problem so easily goaded her. “That’s all fine, but I don’t go walking with people who work for me. That would be inappropriate.”
His smug look disappeared and his voice softened. “Then come with me as a friend, and I will help you as a friend.”
Her heart skidded to a halt before it decided to start pounding again. She couldn’t resist the tone of his voice or the pleading look in his eyes. Why was it important that she go with him?
“Besides, I need someone to protect me from all those willing women.”
Ugh. The man had a large dose of conceit in him. Well, good. This would be the perfect opportunity to prove his ego wrong. “Fine. Let me get my shawl and we can go. But not for long as we have chores to do.”
Braeden watched Kat leave in a huff, her bristling reminding him of a porcupine. When had he decided he liked to play with porcupines? When had he decided he liked to play with anyone? He’d avoided most human contact once he graduated college, his sole goal to make enough money to support Reed as a poor attempt to make up for what he’d done. He’d even limited his visits to his own family.
It must be the place. Sleepy Hollow. His brother had tried to tell him it was different. Even Kat admitted to strange occurrences, though he still wasn’t sure if that included spirits, but he’d be damned before he’d admit to seeing himself in ghost form. Of course, he was still alive, so it couldn’t have been a ghost. It had to be part of the festival. A magician’s trick of some kind. He wouldn’t put it past the organizers. The more realistic the spookiness, the better the reputation, and the more people came back next year. Except no revelers watched at the church.
Doors closing sounded at the other end of the inn. Kat must be gathering her wrap from the closet with the Victorian mirror. He liked the idea of her in his bedroom, or rather hers. Was she fixing her hair for him?
What was he thinking? She most likely grumbled all the way down the hall about how pushy he was. If she only knew how unusual it was for him to go out in public.
Maybe he should throw on his sweatshirt and cover his body more. He meandered over to the front bay window. The sun shone brightly and people were wearing tanks and t-shirts. He’d sweat to death if he added any more clothes. Indian summer was late this year and for once, he would enjoy it. Somehow, having Kat with him made him more comfortable with braving mankind. He was less likely to cause someone a problem with her at his side.
“Let’s get this done so we can get back to work.”
Braeden turned to find Kat had donned a cap and a pale-pink wrap that set off her soft skin. He smirked at the wisps of hair that remained outside her braid. Nope. No primping for him at all. He stepped to the door and opened it. “After you.”