Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed scarlet. That plus her gaze locking on to his privates helped to clue him in. He grabbed the hand towel from the handle on the oven door and used it to cover as much of himself as he could.
“Why’d you scream?”
“Um,” she cleared her throat, her gaze stuck to the towel. “There’s a scorpion in the dishwasher. It startled me.”
“A what?”
“A scorpion.”
“Did it sting you?” He barely recognized his own voice, high and tight. His heart pounded.
The few scorpion species in Florida weren’t considered that dangerous, but they all had venom. Everyone reacted to venom differently.
“Relax. It’s just a common striped scorpion.”
He would hyperventilate if he wasn’t careful. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. His voice lowered to a register he was more used to.
“Did it sting you?”
“No. I was going to catch it in this glass and use the spatula to keep it trapped, then take it out back and let it go.”
He felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. No way was he letting her near it.
“Give me the glass.”
She laughed, tossing her head so that her hair fell past her shoulder. Such a casual gesture. She really wasn’t afraid at all.
He was scared enough for both of them.
“I can catch the little guy and take him outside. I’m not afraid of scorpions.”
Her words sent a chill down his spine. Garrett had heard a similar sentiment plenty of times when he was a kid. Dylan had always been overconfident when it came to wildlife. Reckless.
“Relax, little bro. I’ve got this.”
Garrett held out his hand, forcing it not to shake. “Give me the glass.”
“It’s going to take two hands to get him and you’re a little…busy.” She let her gaze return to his towel, then looked back to him and laughed. “I can handle it, really.”
No. Way.
He tossed the towel onto the counter and held out his empty hands. “Hand them over.”
Rachel’s gaze shot back to his privates, her eyes seeming ready to pop out of her head. She extended her arms slowly.
As a doctor, he was used to viewing the human body with clinical detachment. He wasn’t used to being the one under inspection. And she was examining him thoroughly. He didn’t know if he was more flattered or chagrined.
She snapped her gaze back to his at last and did one of her fake laughs. “I guess now we’re even after what happened earlier.”
Earlier? Right. When he’d helped her out of the tub.
That was just a day in the office, though. She needed help, he gave it. He had done his best not to look.
This was different. The way she stared with that unfocused look, as if she wasn’t just seeing him but was thinking about things she’d like to do with what she saw—that was different.
She was ogling him. No doubt about it. And if he kept thinking about that, there was going to be more to see.
Garrett took the glass and spatula from her, then knelt on one knee next to the dishwasher. The scorpion was near the drain. How had it managed to squeeze through the drain cover?
Its tail was curled over its back and its pincers extended. An aggressive stance.
“Did you poke it?”
“Poke…”
Sweet Lord, have mercy. He cocked his head to the side and gave her a look that said, really?
Apparently it was enough to get her mind back on task. There was a potentially dangerous animal right next to them. Now wasn’t the time for flirting or games.
She cleared her throat and said, “Of course not.”
He reached into the dishwasher—grateful for his long arms—and quickly dropped the glass over the scorpion. It immediately lashed out, its tail and pinchers bouncing off the glass with a tink-tink-tink.
“Are these things always this cranky?” he asked.
“It could have come across some soap or something that set it off.”
He lifted the glass just enough to slide the spatula beneath it. Rachel had picked one out that didn’t have any slats. There was no chance for it to escape. When the scorpion was secured, he flipped the glass over, keeping the spatula flush with the top.
“Nice form,” she said. “I mean, with the trap. Not that the rest isn’t nice as well.” She gestured to him, then looked away, her cheeks reddening further. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
He tried to give her a smile, but what he managed felt more like a grimace. He stood, and this time she kept her face pointing at the ceiling.
“I’m going to take it outside.” He headed through the living room to the sliding glass door that led to his backyard and she followed.
“I’ll get the door for you.”
He slipped into the shoes he kept by the back door, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Six-foot seven, dripping wet, and carting around a pissed off scorpion while wearing nothing but a pair of sandals.
Rachel slid open the door and Garrett stepped into the brutal late-afternoon heat. The air was humid enough that the water on his skin didn’t even feel like it was going to evaporate.
He crossed his backyard, glad for the privacy provided by living away from the city. The canal was a good thirty yards from his back door, but he didn’t want to chance the scorpion finding its way back into the house.
There was a sheer drop-off to the water on both sides of the canal and it wasn’t more than six or seven feet across. The occasional gator passed by, so even though they didn’t have a slope to get onto Garrett’s lawn, he carefully scanned the area for any visitors.
He paused by the edge of the water, then removed the spatula and swung the glass so that the scorpion flew across the canal and landed in the grass on the other side. There was his good deed for the day.
Garrett shivered, even though the heat had killed the last of the chill from the AC on his wet skin. Buttonbush and saw palmettos grew thick among the yellow pines and palms on the other side of the water. There were probably hundreds of scorpions out there. Snakes, spiders, all kinds of things that could hurt Rachel.
If he thought about it too much, he’d never sleep again. And those were just the threats he could see. Living in the country gave him privacy from the living, but who knew what wandering ghosts might happen by.
He headed back to the house at a brisk pace, eager to put on some clothes. Rachel was staring at him through the kitchen window.
He slowed, unnerved by the intensity of her stare. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if she was seeing something he couldn’t. She didn’t look scared though. Maybe she was checking him for tan lines.
When he reached the house, he scraped the bottoms of his sandals against one of the landscaping rocks next to the patio to knock loose the few sandspurs he’d picked up. Cold air hit him as Rachel slid the door open again. He stepped inside and kicked off his shoes.
She was waiting for him with two big towels from her bathroom. She handed one to him as soon as he set the glass and spatula on the counter that ran between the kitchen and living room.
“Thanks,” she said.
“What for?”
“For not killing it. The poor thing was probably lost and confused.”
She handed him the second towel once he had secured the first around his waist. Garrett wiped his chest and arms dry, then started on his hair. He didn’t miss the way she kept staring at his chest and arms while he worked—lips slightly open, eyes heavy-lidded.
He was grateful for the towel, but he needed more to keep himself from getting into an even more embarrassing predicament. Diverting her attention would help.
“Only you would call a scorpion poor thing. That was a slick containment system you came up with on the fly.”
> “I just used what was available.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Well, it worked pretty well. Remind me to call the lawn service later. That grass is too long.”
Rachel peered out the window, then looked back at him, one eyebrow arched. “Your yard has a buzz cut. I can see patches of sand everywhere.”
“I’m more concerned with the things you can’t see. Cutting the grass shorter might not help much with scorpions, but it’ll give us a better chance at spotting snakes.”
“We could go out with a black light at night some time to see how many scorpions are out there.”
“What, they’ll all come out for a rave?”
She laughed, her broad smile soothing his frayed nerves. “Scorpions phosphoresce in black light. They should light up with a pretty blue glow.”
Pretty wasn’t a word he would use to describe a bunch of scorpions. He was certain there’d be plenty if they checked—that was a downside of being out from the city.
“How do you know this stuff?” he asked.
“I read a lot.”
“I’d rather not know how many are out there. I like to spend time on the patio and I don’t want to be worrying about how many scorpions are in my yard. Unless those citronella candles and box fans you started me using will take care of them too?”
“Sadly, that’s only for repelling mosquitoes. How are they working for you anyway?”
“Haven’t been bit for a while, thanks.”
“Do you still take out the telescope?”
“Sometimes.” Every chance he had.
He would crack open a beer and spend hours looking at the stars and planets, thinking about Rachel and her astronomy lessons.
“We should take it out tonight. I can test you on your constellations and see if you remember what I taught you. It’ll be just like old times.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
Primarily because she wouldn’t be able to see how he was blushing if they were hanging around in the dark. He wasn’t sure he’d ever stop with how she kept looking at him.
He’d imagined her seeing him naked many times. His daydreams were a far cry from the reality. For one, they were usually both naked in his fantasies. And he had never dreamed she’d have such a…hungry look to her. It was hard to ignore and even harder not to do something about.
He cleared his throat, then asked, “Do we need to do anything to keep ghosts away while we’re out back?”
She shook her head. “It would be a huge undertaking and I doubt it’s necessary. I’ve never detected a ghost out here. That’s one of the reasons I loved staying with you during the renovations. It was peaceful.”
His heart sank. Those months with her had been the best of his life. The way she’d opened up to him—the person she had revealed herself to be—had made him feel special.
But what if all her talk of feeling safe with him had more to do with an absence of ghosts rather than his presence? Thinking about it was too depressing.
“Well, I better get dressed. Be careful around that dishwasher and make sure it’s shut tight. We don’t want any more unexpected guests showing up.”
“Right.”
He felt her gaze on him as he retreated to lick his wounds.
Chapter Ten
Dinner had been quiet. After gawking at Garrett, Rachel could barely work up the courage to try to make eye contact. When she managed to glance at him, he was always looking away. Now he had her off prepping the telescope while he did the dishes.
He’d blushed all through the meal—unless his tan had managed to turn to a burn in the few minutes he was out back. Her face was probably red too. Her cheeks—among other parts of her anatomy—hadn’t stopped tingling since he appeared in his kitchen absolutely naked. She tried not to think about it. And failed.
She had known he was built from the way his clothes hugged his frame. She’d used her imagination countless times to fill in what was hidden underneath. Imagining was very different from seeing with her own eyes.
He wasn’t totally ripped with hard angles and rock-hard planes, though he obviously had plenty of muscle. The lines of his body were smooth, inviting her to explore them. That touch of softness amid his masculine lines did way more for her than abs that looked like rows of rumble strips.
Six-foot-seven and he was proportional. Everywhere.
The tingling in her cheeks intensified till they almost stung. Her bra started to chafe.
The things she could do to that body of his.
She shook her head, and whispered, “Not now.” Not ever, in fact.
Everyone came with baggage. Hers extended to include the unresolved business of any ghost around that knew she was psychic. She wasn’t dumping that on Garrett.
The telescope was in the hall closet, a six-foot long refractor she had picked out for him. The shorter optical tube of a reflector would have been much more practical for Garrett’s use, but he had insisted on a refractor when she said that was her preference.
She liked the old-fashioned look of refractors—and that they used lenses instead of mirrors for magnification. If a spirit happened by the aperture of a reflector telescope while she was viewing the sky with such a powerful mirror… She had no idea what would happen.
The thought gave her a chill. His refractor might be more cumbersome, but she was grateful for his choice.
As she pulled the telescope from the closet off the foyer, she noticed there wasn’t a speck of dust on the case. The huge tripod was also easily accessible—a good sign he was using it often. She was glad the scope wasn’t languishing. It took several trips to cart everything outside and set up in the center of the patio.
Garrett joined her. He lit a couple of citronella candles and set up box fans for the mosquitoes. It didn’t take much of a breeze to keep them at bay. The candles might not be as effective, but their dim light wouldn’t interfere too much with stargazing and would help keep them from stubbing their toes.
He turned off the outside lights when everything was ready. The lights inside the house were already off. He walked to the patio table and set down an open bottle of beer—presumably for her since he held another in his hand.
Her heart gave a little tug as she remembered the first time he’d given her one and the many they had shared on this very patio while looking at the stars. It would be so easy to pretend that nothing had happened—nothing had changed—and fall back into that comfort zone. But it wasn’t really comfortable. For either of them.
While waiting for their eyes to adjust, Rachel said, “I can’t believe you wanted to cover your patio.” She tilted her head back, following the thick cluster of stars that made up the Milky Way. “You have the most amazing view of the sky. Can we start with Lyra?”
He leaned against the back of one of his wrought-iron chairs, his empty hand in the front pocket of his jeans. At least, she presumed it was empty.
“Whatever you want.”
Whatever she wanted? She imagined walking up behind him and sliding her hands into his pockets, seeing what all she could reach. Or she could approach him head-on, unzip his pants, and let her fingers follow the dark path that led to his manhood.
She bent over the telescope, working to bring Lyra into view. If she could draw him into a conversation, maybe that would distract her from her thoughts.
“I can barely see Lyra’s Alpha star in the city, let alone the rest of the constellation. The light pollution in Summer Park becomes worse every year.” He didn’t say anything, so she tried harder. “Do you remember the name of the star I’m looking for?”
“It’s probably rattling around in here somewhere.” He pointed to his head with the hand holding the bottle.
“What about what I taught you about Alpha and Beta stars in constellations and asterisms?”
He took a deep breath an
d said, “If you don’t mind, could we maybe skip the astronomy lesson this time?”
“Absolutely.” She tried to sound upbeat and hoped the dim light hid her disappointment.
No astronomy lessons. Okay.
She started to wonder if he’d actually enjoyed her teaching him about the sky when she was staying with him or if he was just being polite. The possibility was crushing. He had always seemed eager to learn. It had reminded her of how excited she was to receive astronomy lessons from Hiram when she was a child.
Rachel lined up the scope with Vega, pushing away the doubtful thoughts. She let her mind fill with the wonder of seeing something that was so far away, imagining the vast distance between her and the star—the dark space between them.
The light she saw from Vega was actually cast by the star twenty-five years ago. She had always thought of stargazing as the closest she could come to time travel. Now she knew that wasn’t the case. She had met Dante, held his hand, even hugged him. She never imagined she might meet someone from another time. It was incredible.
Starlight from twenty-five years in the past paled next to a human traveling over a hundred years through time. What must that have been like? She couldn’t wait to talk to Elsa and Dante and learn more.
Except Rachel would wait. She would force herself to be patient. They had other priorities—and so did she. As soon as she found her footing, she would figure out a way to help the ghosts of Michael’s victims.
But not tonight.
Stepping back from the scope, she said, “I have Vega lined up for you. Take a look.”
Garrett nodded, then set his bottle on the table. He wiped his hands on his jeans as he approached her, walking slowly as if he was nervous. He bent to the scope, candlelight catching in his hair. Rachel wanted to reach out and run her fingers through the pale brown strands.
His hair was as soft as silk. She knew, because once she had lost control and let herself do the very thing that tempted her. The memory came back, sharp and full of pain and longing.
They had been laughing about something while working on his house. Reaching for him had been instinct, the pull she felt toward him irresistible. He’d responded immediately, leaning in to kiss her.
Whispering Hearts Page 10