Soul Weaver

by Hailey Edwards

  Chloe was a perceptive woman. She would realize there was more to their connection than he admitted. But as far as he knew, there was no etiquette for telling someone their life had been saved, an irrevocable bond forged, and that he was charged with collecting their joint soul and ending that spared life.

  His muscles tensed to rise, ready to seek her out if she took much longer.

  The desire to touch her again was now a physical ache. Adjusting in his chair, he gave up on getting comfortable and braced his elbows on the edge of her desk, staring where she would sit.

  This crazed obsession for her searing through his bones couldn’t be a natural response. Their mingled essence must be to blame for this desperate attraction. Yesterday, she appeared wary and reserved. Today, she had moaned beneath him like a woman starved for what only he could provide.

  He growled low in his throat, a hungry sound. Common sense told him he should know better than to pursue a relationship of any kind with her.

  He had obligations. Her death was one of them. It was his job, his life, if he failed.

  “You look like you’re thinking hard about something.” Chloe walked in and took her seat.

  The band of discomfort cinched around his chest loosened, and he took a steady breath. She was here, safe. When had those things begun to matter? Sometime during his week in Dis when he could be certain of neither.

  He fought the urge to bite his tongue against what he had to say. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was unprofessional of me.” In more ways than one. “I apologize. I had a rough night and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  She shrugged as if she expected as much from him. “It was as much my fault as yours.” Her polite smile was a pale echo of the one he’d seen, tasted, minutes earlier. “I guess hearing about your nephew made me emotional.” She cleared her throat. “Obviously, I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise.”

  “Ah.” Gone was the flush to her skin and the hesitance in her voice. She had moved on, given him the out he needed to excuse his behavior, yet his fists flexed in his lap.

  She glanced up, dark eyes somber.

  He’d hurt her, again, and it didn’t sit well with him. Every time he tried to spare her pain, he made their situation worse. Their connection couldn’t be undone, so he would be more careful. He ignored the tiny fissure of want for her that threatened to break his resolve.

  He’d been alone too long, which explained why he craved her company. His loneliness couldn’t get in the way of her salvation. He’d risked too much for his plan to fall apart now.

  He would step back, let Neve bond with Chloe while he watched from a safe distance; then he could do his job and wash his hands of this debacle.

  He should let Chloe take her chances with salvation. Instead, he might damn them both.

  “So,” she began, “I did some digging on the Internet, and the estimate you left with me seems fair.” She scooted bits of torn paper around with her finger. The remains, he assumed, of the estimate he left with her the day before.

  When their eyes met, she blushed, then dusted the bits into her trash can.

  Despite his earlier resolve, he couldn’t bank the amusement in his tone. “So you’re interested in my proposition.”

  Her face reddened further. “I’m interested in having you work on my porch, yes.”

  “What else would I mean?”

  Her dark eyes glared a hole through him. “You know.” Her brows puckered. “Or I know what you meant. I’m not that naïve.”

  Her need to proclaim her experience made him think that wasn’t the case. Part of him wanted to explore the sore spot he’d uncovered, but the larger part wanted to guard himself against her gentle invasion into his every waking thought. There were things he had to do, things that couldn’t be done if this deadly fascination continued.

  He leaned forward, all business. “How about we cut to the chase? You’ve seen my estimate and agreed to the cost and suggested time frame.” He linked his hands in his lap so they didn’t get away from him and do something foolish, like reach for her and cover her much smaller hands with his. “I can purchase enough supplies to begin work tomorrow.” He paused. “Sound good?”

  Blinking through her surprise at his abrupt change in subject, she nodded. “That sounds great.” Rising as he did, she stuck out her hand. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  As badly as he wanted to touch her, connect with her again, he couldn’t risk it. He needed to check on Bran, and Chloe was a distraction he couldn’t afford at the moment.

  Instead, he tipped his head and sidled out the door. He didn’t exit fast enough to miss rejection flash across her face, but he couldn’t stay and make amends.

  He left before he did something they both regretted, like kissing her until she understood how deep their connection was. How powerful his attraction was to her and how hopeless their situation would always be.

  Chloe’s hand lowered after Nathaniel left her hanging. He must have wanted out of her office in a bad way to move so fast. Dropping back into her chair, she traced her mouth and her lips tingled under her touch.

  He had kissed her. Not a friendly buss on the cheek or peck on the lips, but with his tongue. She covered her stomach, but she swore butterflies were flitting around in there, bumping hard against her palm.

  She licked her lips and tasted cinnamon. Caging her tongue behind clenched teeth, she prevented it from seeking the reminder of his flavor a second time.

  Now if she only had a clue why he made his move, she could decide if she was excited by what happened or put out with him for slamming on the brakes when he initiated the kiss in the first place.

  Frowning hard at the seat he had occupied, she jolted when Neve called her name.

  “That’s not a happy face.” Neve’s attention shifted between the empty chair and Chloe’s face. “He didn’t try to take advantage of you, did he?”

  “No.” At least not the way she meant. “His estimate was fair.” Though now she almost wished his price hadn’t been. “He’s promised to pick up some supplies and get to work in the morning.”

  “Well, that’s good news, then.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway,” she said, moving on, “I know it’s not my place, and it’s your call whether you go through with it, but I made some phone calls last night, and there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Chloe winced. Yesterday, she’d gotten off the hook with Neve too easy, and she knew it. Today she would pay for the false sense of normalcy in unsolicited advice, like always.

  People reacted to learning about her condition in one of two ways. They either outright denied the possibility of the disorder’s existence, or they played Good Samaritan and tried to fix her.

  Both routines proved equally frustrating for her, and them, because her problem wasn’t something the wave of a magic wand could fix.

  Hands splayed across her thighs, she waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “It’s like this.” Neve pulled a wrinkled flyer from her pocket. She handed the paper to Chloe, who recognized the logo. “I called the chamber of commerce looking for a schedule of community events, and the clerk told me the National Fair is coming to town.”

  Chloe traced the familiar elephant and globe design. “They come earlier every year,” she mused. “When I was a kid, Dad sneaked me out of the house on nights Mom hosted her quilting circle.” She smiled. “I don’t think we ever saw more than one act, but we ate until cotton candy and sausage dogs came out of our ears.”

  Mom never went with them. She had to have known where they were going, because she knew everything that happened under their roof. More than likely, the same anxiety that made it impossible for her to let her daughter go for eight hours during school or leave the house without Chloe’s father had prevented her from enjoying the one childhood indulgence Dad refused to let Chloe go without.

  Lowering the paper, she considered all the girls who grew up swearing they wouldn’t become
their mothers, only to wake up one day and realize it was already too late. She mentally added her name to the tally.

  “It sounds as if you were close to your parents.”

  Concern radiated from Neve, but Chloe didn’t want a therapy session. She got her weekly recommended dose of psychoanalysis as it was.

  “We were very close.” The memories of being wrapped in their love made her throat tighten. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you off topic. What about the fair?”

  Neve’s face scrunched up as if she might argue, but in the end, she leaned over and flipped the paper. On the back, a whimsical logo, also familiar, decorated the center of the page.

  “Did you draw this?” It was the McCrea family crest, the same one used in the sign over the bookstore. “It’s beautiful.”

  Shrugging aside the compliment, Neve tapped a finger on the words below the design. “I was thinking if you were interested, we could participate this year. The clerk said he waved fees for participants with educational materials. We could set up a literacy booth or something.” Straightening, she added, “It could be fun and it would be good promo for the store.”

  She made her plan sound so easy, as if they could be a team. But they couldn’t be, and Neve must realize Chloe couldn’t venture out so far. “It’s held at the fairgrounds on the other side of town, which limits what I can do to help other than sponsor you.” She considered Neve. “Are you sure this is something you want to tackle alone?”

  “I doubt there’ll be a rush. I should be fine.” She smiled. “Besides, I have helpers lined up.”

  Snap. Neve did move fast if she had already wrangled volunteers. “What about supplies?”

  With a sheepish grin, she admitted, “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I thought about asking the library to loan me some of their children’s books. I might even be able to talk Mr. Donor into donating some face paints and brushes, that kind of thing. I’d probably have to add his store’s name to the sign.” She paused in her planning long enough to ask, “You wouldn’t mind sharing the spotlight, would you?”

  Chloe didn’t answer for a minute. She was lost to her thoughts.

  “Over the years, I’ve heard a lot of parents complain about the lack of a children’s section at the library, so I doubt the library has much in the way of loaners.” Here was an area where she could help. “How about this? I’ll let you pick a dozen or so of the children’s books I have in stock. At the end of the fair, you can donate them to the library so they’ll be there to use again next year.” Assuming Neve stuck around that long. “And if you want to paint faces, then we might as well go all out. There’s a small party supply store in the next town over. I’ll give you enough money to cover whatever you’ll need to do that, plus a little extra if you want to pick up some favors or candy or whatever you think the kids would like.”

  “Wow, Chloe, thank you.” Neve checked the wall clock, making Chloe smile. Her kind of excitement was infectious, and Chloe struggled not to get wrapped up in the same urge to hit the ground running and make their plan happen. A second later, Neve’s expression tightened. “I promise this will be the last time you see me coming at you with my hand out.”

  “You asked to help promote my store, not for a handout.” She softened her tone. “The money I decided to throw at you is going to a good cause. Plus, it will give me something to do. I can help make signs or stuff goodie bags to help you get ready.”

  “You’re helping out enough as it is.” Neve’s smile widened. “But a girls’ night in could be fun, if you’re up to it.”

  “I’d like that.” More than she could admit without sounding pathetic.

  She’d already filled today’s humiliation quotient by falling into the arms of a near-stranger, so she wasn’t in a hurry to compound her embarrassment. If everything about Nathaniel didn’t seem so familiar, she could have resisted him. Though she suspected she really didn’t want to. The thought of him sparked a question. “Can I ask you about something?”

  “Of course.” Neve leaned her shoulder back against the door frame. “Ask away.”

  “You seem to have more experience with kids than I do.” The sum of Chloe’s personal knowledge extended only as far as the handful of mini-customers who left her pages sticky with fingerprints yet still managed to charm her out of stickers on their way out of the store.

  Neve shifted, seeming uncomfortable with the subject. “What is it you want to know?”

  “What’s the going rate on a ‘get well’ gift these days? I mean, I always got a stuffed toy or a new doll.” To lighten the tense shift in the atmosphere, Chloe added, “I’m guessing it’s different for boys?”

  Perking up, Neve smiled. “Yeah, boys are more into electronics or sports.” She shook her head. “Kids are so hard to pick for these days. I think gift cards are the way to go if you don’t know the child personally. Maybe add in a few balloons and a card to top the whole thing off.”

  “Oh, I like that idea.” Chloe wrote a note in the margin. “I’m sure the florist can work with me on the details.” She reached into a drawer and pulled out the phone book. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “Who’s feeling under the weather, if you don’t mind me asking?” Neve laughed. “There I go again, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.” She held her hands up, palms out. “I promise I’m not usually so nosy. I used to volunteer a lot back home. I guess I have a case of idle hands since the move.”

  Chloe smiled. “You’re fine. I’m not used to having someone to talk to. It’s nice.” Heat crept into her cheeks as she prepared an answer for the question. “Nathaniel’s nephew was injured in an accident.”

  “Oh no. What kind?” Neve asked.

  “I… um…” Chloe groaned. “When I heard accident, my brain filled in car, but he didn’t correct me. I don’t know if I got it right or if he didn’t want to seem rude. He was really upset about it, so I thought I’d do the ‘get well’ thing to try and cheer them both up.”

  Neve appeared thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, he did seem tense today.” Leaning over the desk, she snagged a square of sticky notes and scribbled down a phone number. “Don’t worry about calling the florist. I think I’ll hit that party store you mentioned tonight, so it’s no problem if you’d like me to pick up some stuff for his nephew while I’m there.” She tore off the top sheet and passed it over. “Here’s my cell number.” She sounded hesitant. “I forgot earlier or I would have given it to you already.”

  “That would be great.” Prying the paper from her tight grasp, Chloe began thinking there was good reason she hadn’t been given the number initially, and the personal information came with an unknown burden of trust. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

  “No trouble at all.” The tinkle from the bell suspended over the front door made Neve turn. “Give me enough time to make it across town after we close up; then I’ll give you a call and let you know what they have.” She tugged down her limp ponytail, then finger-combed it. “That way you can choose what I pick up.” She winked as she rebound the pale strands. “Personal touches are important when you’re trying to make a good impression.”

  “I’m not trying to impress him.”

  Neve gave her a doubtful look, which Chloe pretended not to notice.

  “I’m doing what anyone would do in my situation.”

  “If you say so.” Hearty chuckles followed Neve out the door.

  Chloe’s gaze slid back to the chair across from her desk. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She was trying to do the right thing.

  Sure she was.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunlight reflected off the dozen Mylar balloons fisted in Chloe’s hand and made her squint. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. For once, her unrest had nothing to do with nightmares and everything to do with why her sweaty palms caused the strings to slip through her fingers.

  Give or take another ten minutes and Nathaniel would be here. Hopefully, before any customers arrived. Other
wise, she might look odd standing in the foyer with the balloon bouquet held in one hand and a plush bear in the other.

  Even though Neve cautioned her against going plush, Chloe couldn’t pass up the little guy’s description. He was a ball of fluff with a ball cap pulled low over one eye and a blue and white jersey bursting at the seams. In his paws, he held a gift card sleeve that said “I hope you can run home soon.” The gift might be too babyish, but she had waited too long to change her mind now.

  Her shirt stuck to her back and made her wish she hadn’t chosen a square of sunlight to make her stand. Phew, she was getting downright steamy in here. She fanned herself, which stirred the balloons and made a few bounce off her forehead.

  She jumped when the door’s bell tinkled in protest and a person stepped inside. All she saw was the silver backsides of the balloons. The person’s steps were heavy, sure, and headed her way. She swallowed hard and tasted fear and plastic.

  The footsteps halted.

  “Is Chloe under there?”

  Her shoulders snapped back as the timber of his voice jolted her nerves.

  “Yes.” Her voice squeaked like two balloons rubbed together.

  “Can I help you with those?”

  “They’re for you.” She thrust the gifts at him with her arms outstretched as far from her body as possible.

  He accepted them with confused grace. “Thank you?”

  The balloons bobbed as if with amusement and the paper crinkled to cover… a chuckle? She couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t tell if he was laughing at her or not. She had a funny feeling he was. He seemed to do it a lot.

  “You said your nephew was hurt.” She retreated a few steps, hoping to put the counter between them as if distance would lessen the hurt if he rejected the gift. “I wanted to do something nice, I guess.”

  The room stilled. Even the balloons quit jostling one another.

  He broke the silence. “You did this for Bran?”

  Was that his nephew’s name? It must be. “Yes, I did.” A few more steps and the relative safety of the counter would be between them.