Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  She’d hate to see Scout put herself through the same useless grief.

  “Every case is different, Scout. Celeste’s soul was ready to move on, there wasn’t anything anyone could do to change what happened to her. I don’t know if that’s true for Nick, or not. But you could find out.”

  “No.” Scout shook her head, her expression hard, unyielding. “No, I can’t.”

  “Scout–”

  “No!” Scout’s eyes were bleak but determined. Marsha stared at her sadly. Her friend’s hands were fisted so tightly, Marsha could almost feel the bite of nails in her own palms.

  Scout shook her head. “It’s practically the only thing he’s ever asked me to do, Marsh. The one promise he asked me to make the whole time we’ve been married. No trances, no magic, no fooling around with things on the other side. At least I can honor his wishes about that. At least I can do that much for him – can’t I?”

  “But what if it’s his only chance? What if there’s no other way?” That could be the case. She’d seen it happen that way before. In the long silence that stretched between them, Marsha could almost feel Scout start to change her mind; she could almost feel her resolve as it began to weaken. But then she shook her head.

  “I don’t know,” Scout sighed as she rubbed her eyes, pressing so hard with the heels of her palms, it was a wonder she didn’t shove her eyeballs to the back of her head. “I don’t know what’s right, anymore. I’m so tired. I just can’t think.”

  “Maybe you should get some sleep,” Marsha said, even though she knew it was a waste of time. And, sure enough–

  “No.” Scout dropped her hands from her face and sat up straight; her face composed, her posture rigid. “No, I don’t need to sleep. I’m fine. I’m just fine.”

  Ah, my friend, Marsha thought, feeling more useless than she ever remembered feeling in her life. You are not fine at all. None of them were. Not her. Not Scout. Certainly not Nick.

  And, unless something happened, unless something pretty damned drastic occurred, that was not likely to change. Except to get worse.

  * * *

  Morning had come too early for Chenoa. She’d left Liam still asleep in her bed and crept downstairs to open the bakery, pausing only briefly in her front doorway to greet the sunrise, to breathe in the fresh morning air she usually couldn’t get enough of.

  The sky was a pale, pale blue streaked with wispy yellow clouds, it promised a beautiful day. But for the first time in a very long while, Chenoa took no pleasure in the morning. As she let herself into the shop, she was aware of a not unpleasant soreness in all her muscles, along with a much more disturbing feeling of tiredness that seemed to span several planes at once. She felt drained mentally, emotionally, physically. Maybe even spiritually. It was going to take an entire pot of high octane, super-caffeinated coffee to get her eyes all the way open this morning. She just hoped her brother had the good sense to go somewhere else for breakfast, she was not in the mood for any I-told-you-so’s today.

  It wasn’t that she regretted her decision to sleep with Liam. She’d been in the mood last night to get laid, she had, and it was good. She had no reason to complain about that. As far as sex went, last night was little short of incredible. Her instincts not to siphon off any of Liam’s second chakra energy ahead of time had paid off in a very big way.

  So much so that... well, maybe that was the source of her discontent? Liam had proven to be almost tireless. But that might have been too much of a good thing. She’d always found his energy exhausting, in anything but small doses. Perhaps this morning she was just feeling overwhelmed. Last night, she’d gotten a giggle over her childish horse fantasy, but, at the moment, she felt less like she’d been running with wild mustangs, and more like she’d been trampled in a stampede, which was another thing, entirely.

  But, tempting though it was to attribute her mood this morning to simple exhaustion, she knew in her heart there was more to the problem than that. Good as it was, there’d been something missing last night. Something either lacking, or just plain wrong. She couldn’t decide which.

  She pondered the question as she went through her usual routine of turning on lights, putting on coffee, greeting her night crew, and getting the shop ready for the first rush of the day. Maybe she was still coming to terms with the chagrin that had accompanied her discovery that Liam really hadn’t had sex in mind when he’d come to see her. At least, not consciously.

  Sure, he’d said all the right things – that he’d thought about her, fantasized about her. That he’d been wanting her for months. But, when the topic of protection came up, she was shocked to find him unprepared. What the hell was he thinking? Luckily, she was not without resources of her own in that department, but if she’d really been on his mind as much as he’d said she was, shouldn’t he at least have been carrying one condom in his wallet when he came to see her – just in case?

  Given his claims and supposed interest – not to mention the tension he’d been positively radiating – shouldn’t the possibility that they might end up sleeping together have been somewhere in the back of his mind when he knocked at her door? Unless all that tension had really been inspired by someone else. And if that was the case...

  Shit. Just what had she gotten herself into, anyway?

  It had all seemed like such a good idea when she’d first thought of it. Simple. Easy. Not that complicated. Just find a partner, blow off some steam, kill the loneliness. But, like she’d told Liam last night, sometimes it really didn’t pay to rush into things.

  This morning, the steam was blown, the loneliness had been dispatched and... a partner? Is that really what she wanted?

  Was that even what she’d found?

  “Hey. There you are. What are you doing?” Liam asked, coming up behind her unexpectedly. Startling her so badly she nearly fumbled the tray of freshly baked croissants that she was attempting to slide into one of the display cases.

  What am I doing? Good question. “Messing up, apparently,” she muttered angrily, finally shoving the tray successfully into place. As she turned to face him, she was aware of a nagging sense, almost of guilt. So, okay, maybe she was having regrets, after all.

  Hands on her hips, she took in Liam’s subdued demeanor. He was looking a little morose today, and it occurred to her that he might be harboring a few regrets of his own. The thought did nothing to improve her mood. “Well. You look like hell, this morning. How about some coffee?”

  “Sure. That’d be great.” Liam nodded and then added, “And, for what it’s worth, you look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” Chenoa replied, shrugging a little as she turned away to pour him a cup. Beautiful? Come on, she looked pretty much like she always did. So, had he always thought she looked beautiful? Or was he saying that for some other reason?

  She didn’t know. And she had neither the patience, the energy, or even the time right now, to try and figure it out. “So, what do you like for breakfast?” she asked as she passed his coffee to him over the counter.

  Liam’s eyes widened. “Oh, um, I don’t know. Let me think.” He put the coffee down on top of the case as he reached for his wallet.

  Chenoa shook her head. “Liam, stop. Put your money away.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but no way were they exchanging money this morning. “I mean it. It’s on me.”

  He hesitated a little longer, finally he nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He returned his wallet to his pocket. They stared at each other for a moment, and then–

  “Chenoa, I’m–”

  “Look, Liam–”

  They both began to speak, and then stopped again. Another moment passed in silence.

  “Why don’t we go and sit down for a minute?” Chenoa suggested, grateful for the fact that she had no customers yet. “I think we should talk.”

  “Good idea,” Liam said, looking and sounding more unhappy with each minute that passed. Briefly, Chenoa scanned his aura. He might not be happy, but at least his chakras were mostly in
balance; and that was something else to be grateful for.

  Aho! The morning was turning out to be a regular Thanksgiving.

  “So, about last night,” she prompted, when she was seated across from him with her own coffee. A plate of pastries sat untouched on the table between them.

  Liam sighed. “You were wonderful. You’re always wonderful. You’re a miracle worker, you know that? An angel.”

  An angel, huh? Chenoa picked up her coffee cup and smiled tightly. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  Liam shook his head, impatiently. “No, I mean it. I was a mess when I got here. I don’t know what I would have done without your help. And, last night... last night was fantastic. Better than anything I could have expected.”

  “Yeah, it was good.” But it wasn’t all that. And, if the way Liam was trying so hard to convince himself was anything to go by, apparently, that was true for both of them. Chenoa took a last sip of coffee, and put her cup down. “You know Liam, if it was all so great, how come it sounds like there’s an awfully big but coming?”

  His shoulders sagged. “It’s not a but, exactly. There’s just something you gotta understand.”

  Understand? Chenoa nodded. She did understand. She understood perfectly. “You didn’t come here last night to get laid. That’s it, isn’t it, Liam? Isn’t that what you want me to understand? And now you’re sorry it happened?”

  He stared at her pleadingly. “Chenoa, no, I didn’t say that.”

  But he didn’t have to, did he? “Tell me something, Liam, and be honest, okay? All that stuff you said last night about how much you’ve thought about me, and about how attracted you’ve been, how much you wanted me... did you ever really think about us, you know, having sex – I mean, really think about it – before last night, I mean?”

  Liam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. Of course, I did. I thought about it. I- I thought about it a lot.”

  “Oh, really?”

  A fleeting smile touched his lips. “I’m a guy. What do you think?”

  “Right.” Chenoa rolled her eyes. Okay, so he thought about it. “But, you didn’t really plan to follow up on any of those thoughts, did you? It’s not like this was fate, or anything; something beyond our control, something that was bound to happen sooner or later. Was it?”

  “I don’t know.” Liam stared at the table. “Fate? I– No. Probably not.”

  “So, who is she, anyway?”

  He glanced up at her, puzzled. “She?”

  “Yeah, she. The chick you really wanted to get with last night.”

  “I don’t know what you– No.” He shook his head. “You got that wrong. There’s no chick. It’s just– No one. No one, at all.”

  Yeah, right. So much for honesty. “Well, someone’s been getting you lathered up on a regular basis, Liam, and if it’s not me–”

  “It’s no one,” he repeated, still shaking his head. “I’m not gonna go there, Chenoa. Please. I–I can’t.”

  Chenoa shrugged. “Oh, it’s someone, all right. Whether you want to admit to it, is another story. And, since you’re not gay, I figure it must–” She’d picked up her coffee again, now she paused with the cup midway to her mouth. Doubt assailed her. Given all the mistakes in judgement she’d been making lately, what made her think she knew anything about... anything? Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not, are you?”

  “Not what? Gay?” He stared at her, exasperated, amused. “No. I’m not gay. And, you know, after last night, I would have hoped we were at least clear on that point?”

  “I dunno. You could be bi?”

  “I’m not.”

  Chenoa sighed. “Well, whatever.” She was overwhelmed by her own stupidity, her own blindness. And, for once, she was too tired to argue. “It doesn’t much matter, I guess. Either way, I don’t think I can see you anymore.”

  Liam nodded, and if she had to guess at what he was feeling, she’d guess relieved. “That might be best. Why don’t we just go back to how things were before, and–”

  “No.” She shook her head as she pushed her chair away from the table and got to her feet. “You don’t get it, Liam. We’re not going back to anything. That’s what I’m saying. I can’t see you—not for any reason. In fact, I don’t think I should see anyone after this.”

  “Chenoa.” He stared at her in dismay. “What are you talking about? You can’t mean that?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I do. If there’s one thing this has shown me, it’s that I can’t trust my own instincts. And, without them... what good can I do?” And then, just so there’d be no more mistakes, she added, “So, no more healings, no massage, no energy work, no smudging, no nothing. At least, not for a while.”

  “No! Are you serious?” he demanded, coming to his feet, as well. “Think about what you’d be doing. There are people out there who rely on you. What about them? What about me? I need you. You gotta help me. You have to–”

  “Liam, stop it.” She raised a hand to forestall him. “I’ll have customers in here any minute now, and I’m not going to have them come in and find me in the middle of a screaming match. Besides, it’s my decision. I don’t have to justify it to you, or anyone else.”

  Liam nodded sadly. “This is my fault. I’m sorry. I should have... should have... ” His voice trailed off and he stared at her helplessly.

  Should have what, Chenoa wondered. Should have pushed her off his lap? Should have told her to get a clue? Yeah, and that would have been wonderful, too, wouldn’t it? She shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Liam, it’s mine. But I’d like you to leave now, just the same. I’ve got a bakery to run. I think that’s really where I need to focus my attention right now.”

  “Don’t do this. Please.”

  “Like you said, it’s for the best,” she said, forcing a smile. “Safer for everyone. After all, how delusional can you get about a cake? And, even if you are, who’s it gonna hurt?”

  * * *

  Liam’s thoughts were in a state of confusion as he drove away from the bakery. Even so, he could not help but notice what a beautiful day it had turned out to be. The sky was clear, the usual morning fog was absent, and the air downtown was sweetly perfumed by the last of the cherry blossoms still in bloom on the trees that lined Main Street. Last night, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate such details or the lift they gave to his spirits. He’d been too agitated, too worked up, too immersed in his own pain. He had Chenoa to thank for the fact that his emotions were back on a more even keel today.

  Unfortunately, he also had Chenoa to thank for most of the guilt and unhappiness he was feeling right now, too. Her reaction this morning had taken him by surprise. She was so competent usually, so completely self assured. She was the last person he’d ever have expected to overreact like she had and, on the surface, it was hard to see just what the hell she was so upset about. They were both adults, both unattached, both clearly attracted to each other. So, where was the harm in what they’d done?

  It’s not like he’d tricked her. He hadn’t gone there with that in mind, and he wasn’t going to pretend that he had. He hadn’t lied to her, or misled her in any way. Or, if he had, it wasn’t intentional.

  He supposed, if he’d been thinking at all clearly last night, it might have occurred to him that having sex with Chenoa while his mind was still stuck on Cara, was not a great idea, and likely to lead to trouble if Chenoa ever discovered his secret. Which, obviously, she had. On the other hand, if he’d been able to think that clearly, he wouldn’t have gone there in the first place, would he?

  He should have stayed where he was, damn it. He should have locked himself in his room for the night. And then? Ah, hell. He knew what then. Though he’d like to believe he could have resisted, given how desperately out of control he’d been, in all likelihood, he’d have ended up pacing the floor all night and then jumping Cara’s bones the first time he got her alone.

  And that was such a completely bad idea that it made spending the night with Chenoa the
lesser of two evils by a very, very wide margin. It was just too bad he’d never get either of the women to appreciate that particular viewpoint. But, shit, why was he worried about what Cara thought? She was with Gregg! How could he possibly be feeling guilty about her?

  He did, though. Despite everything he knew about her, everything he’d watched her do last night, he felt as wretched this morning as if they’d had a claim on each other; as guilty as if he’d been unfaithful to her. He felt as though he’d somehow done both women wrong. As though they’d both been hurt last night, and through his fault.

  In a way, he supposed it was true. Chenoa was clearly upset. He’d seen it in her eyes, he’d heard it in her voice. And her decision to give up her work… well, that was ridiculous. Surely she’d come to her senses in a few days, and change her mind? If not, he’d have to find some way to change it for her. That’s all there was to that.

  As for Cara, she’d been hurt, too. She’d been embarrassed and humiliated, just as Gregg intended she be. Liam had looked the bastard in the eye and he’d seen the truth. Gregg meant for it to happen. He’d done it that way on purpose. And Liam had done nothing to stop him.

  Why Gregg would choose to hurt Cara like that was something Liam could not understand. If she were his, he wouldn’t hurt her for any reason. He’d do all that he could to protect her. He’d sacrifice everything else – his hopes, his dreams, his search for his family. Which was precisely why getting involved with her was not gonna happen.

  She wasn’t his, and, like it or not, she wasn’t going to be, either. The sooner he got that idea through to his dick, the happier they’d all be.