Fearsome (3 page)

“Dylan, Jessica,” Archie introduces, nodding towards me.

Dylan’s smile is overwhelming. Up close, he radiates a sexual aura that enthralls me immediately. I smile and genuinely feel happiness soar through me as he takes my hand in his warm, calloused one.

“Hi there.” I try to be as casual as possible even though he has made my nerves jump to new heights.

“Hi there, yourself,” he says. “I’m glad I finally get to meet the famous Jessica. Ginnie talked about you a lot.”

I can’t believe these people know about me when I can barely remember my aunt. I wasn’t even aware she was alive or that this community still existed less than two hours from my home in Manhattan.

My thoughts must have given me a slightly panicked expression because Lauren jumps in to remedy Dylan’s bluntness. “It’s okay,” she says to me. “We know Ginnie wasn’t in touch with you and that you didn’t know that she was tracking you all these years.”

“She only said good things about you,” Dylan adds as I gently release his hand.

“This is all new to me,” I say. “Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t even remember that Hera existed, and now I’m meeting all of you and hearing about my aunt. It’s like finding out about a parallel existence in a way. I know that sounds dumb.” I also now feel sort of dumb for saying that.

“You’re right, dear. You were a specter in this town. Ginnie talked about you for years so we knew about you, but you had no real memories of Ginnie and our little town here,” Archie says, pushing his plate away.

“My parents should have told me all of this.” It would have been a sad, nostalgic moment for me to ponder about not having Aunt Ginnie in my life, but Dylan leans on the counter between Archie and me, filling up the space with his ruddy masculinity, and all I can do is swoon a little bit.

“I say, we go to the house and jog your memory a little bit,” Dylan says to me.

“That’s the plan,” Archie says.

“I’ll go with you and give you the tour. I know that place better than anyone. Carson and I are still working on Ginnie’s To-Do list,” Dylan says with contagious enthusiasm.

“List?”

“Dylan and Carson, that surly man in my office, have been doing a significant amount of carpentry for Ginnie,” Archie says. “And now Dylan and his brother work for you.”

“That’s right; you’re my client.” Dylan smiles.

“That sounds like fun,” Imogene says, approaching us with an armload of dirty dishes. “But, Lauren, it’s time for you to get back to work.”

Lauren gives Imogene an exaggerated eye roll and pushes herself away from the counter.

“Archie is going to convince you to stay, at least for a while, so Lauren and I will be up to visit you at the house real soon,” Imogene says. “And, Jessica, I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know Ginnie the way we did.”

As Imogene and Lauren leave to attend to customers, sadness and guilt sweep over me at the image of Aunt Virginia. To think I could have had someone besides my parents to lean on through my lonely years as my parents’ only child, their prodigy. It would have helped me tremendously.

Archie pats my hand. “It’s too hard to explain here,” he says. “Dylan, bring that monstrous vehicle of yours around front and we’ll take Jessica and her luggage up to the house.”

“My pleasure,” Dylan responds while looking at me. I have a stupid grin plastered on my face, like the inexperienced geek that I am.

Four

After Dylan fetches my bags from Archie’s office, he comes back to the diner in a red Jeep Wrangler that is caked with so many layers of dried mud that it makes me wonder what this guy does for fun during his down time. The hard top has been removed from the vehicle, which I suppose is to be expected from an athletic guy who looks like he spends most of his time outdoors.

Archie is put off by the general filth of the vehicle and lays a hankie on the front seat before buckling himself in. I climb in the back seat and Dylan gives me another smile accompanied by a wink in the rearview mirror. That winking-smiling business is going to be the end of me. I can see how it can manipulate women like an addictive drug. I put on my sunglasses to block out his power, yet it doesn’t seem to lessen his charm one bit. He keeps glancing at me in the mirror throughout the drive and I’m pretty sure he can tell I’m looking at him even with my sunglasses on.

It’s about a ten minute drive to Aunt Virginia’s home; off the main street and through roughly paved roads that have little to no traffic. I only see a few old homes along the way, most of them far back from the road with long, dirt driveways and acres of wild land. It’s green, lush and absolutely nothing like my city life. As we bounce along a particularly bad road, Archie holds onto the roll bar above and an insect flies into my mouth. I’m horrified and struggle to spit it out while Dylan laughs loudly as he watches my comic antics through the rear view mirror.

Okay, bugs-in-mouth, that’s one check against Hera. Hot gorgeous guy in Archie’s office and cute guy who drives a rough and tumble Jeep with a sexy laugh to boot, that’s worth at least ten checks
for
Hera.

“There it is,” Archie yells over Dylan’s grinding gears as he down shifts to climb up the dirt road to a large Victorian house.

“Wow.”

The home is painted a hunter green with brown shutters. Since I have only lived in small New York and Cambridge apartments my whole life, any house seems large to me; however, Aunt Virginia’s house—well, my new house—is outright huge. It has an incredible, wraparound porch and at least three stories with actual turrets and alcoves. It’s beautiful, like a walk back in time to the 1800’s, and I fully expect to see a woman with her hair piled on her head, dressed in a vintage white linen dress, gliding out onto the porch or veranda with an iced tea.

My imagination gets away from me as I analyze this enormous house that looks much too big for someone as small as me. Seriously, this is a house for a big family or a bunch of ghosts who are into some serious haunting.

“Wait until you see the inside, Jess,” Dylan says. “It’s a masterpiece.” I’m still stuck on him calling me
Jess
, as though we already know each other so well.

As I push myself out of the Jeep, Dylan is instantly at my side, holding my arm to assist with the jump to the ground, but right as I’m about to step out, he grabs my waist with both of his hands and lifts me out.

“Oh,” I say, startled and feeling incredibly brilliant with words because a handsome guy has surprised me.

“Thought I’d save you a step or two,” he says, still keeping a firm grip on my waist.

I raise my sunglasses and prop them on my head, but can think of nothing to say to him.

“Come on, let’s go!” Archie shouts with his back to us, already halfway up the stone path to the front door.

“Ah.” Dylan puts his hands down and studies my face. “It’s nice to finally have you here.”

“Thank you,” I say awkwardly. “Despite the circumstances, I think I’m happy to be here, too. At least, I’m intrigued.”

I head up the walkway after Archie, and Dylan follows close enough behind me that I can hear his soft breaths. I’ve only just met him, however, this feels good and it seems right. I look up at the magnificent house and then at the blue sky as I wonder why my aunt orchestrated all of this for me.

“The first step creaks and sounds loose, but it’s okay,” Dylan says as we take the wide, wooden staircase up to the porch where Archie is waiting for us. “It’s on our list.”

“What list, again?”

“Carson and I have been working for Ginnie for the last three months. Redoing floors and cabinetry. Right now, we’re working on the bookshelves.”

“Ginnie decided that she wanted to fix up the whole house and add some new things,” Archie adds.

“Why? I mean, she was ill; why did she want to work on the house? Oh, God. I’m sorry. That was a callous thing to say.”

“No worries. She did this for you, dear,” Archie answers.

“It’s a great house,” Dylan says. “Great bones. Ginnie wanted to preserve it even if she couldn’t be here to enjoy it. She talked about making it a special place for you.”

He pulls a set of keys out of his jean pocket and unlocks the heavy front door that looks as though it has been stripped and re-stained with a stunning vintage doorknocker added for those who don’t know how to work a doorbell. I then realize there is no doorbell.

Dylan pushes the door open and lets Archie go through first. As I proceed to follow, Dylan jumps in front of me and I slam my nose into his hard chest.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, before you go in there, I want you to know that the whole place is a work in progress. Some rooms are pretty dirty and we have equipment everywhere.”

I rub my nose and look up at him.
Hera sure produces tall dudes
. I judge Dylan to be about six-two, shorter than Carson, but almost a foot taller than me. “It’s fine. If you saw my apartment, you wouldn’t even be worried about such things.”

“Well, you’re going to be staying here and I want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he says softly, so Archie can’t hear I presume. “Don’t worry; your room hasn’t been touched. Yet.”

He grins and the heat rises in my face. What does
yet
mean?
Yet, he’s going to actually repair things in my bedroom? Or, yet, meaning he’s going to touch something in my designated bedroom? And why does my brain go on and on with these sexual thoughts?
While I have these thoughts he grabs my hand and leads me into the grand entryway.

“It’s a mansion,” I state, taking in the polished wood banister and staircase that winds up three more flights.

“No, but it’s very large and requires quite a bit of upkeep.” Archie appears from another room, glancing at our hands with his eyebrows arched. Dylan is still clenching my hand so I wriggle mine out and begin to walk around the front hall with a nonchalant air to shake off the Dylan effects.

“This young man is a little tuckered out, and yes, I’m referring to me, so I’m going to perch myself in one of those comfy wingbacks.” Archie walks back into the living room towards the only chair not covered by a plastic tarp. The rest of the furniture has been pushed to one side and covered so a table saw and equipment can utilize most of the space.

Archie leans and falls into the chair as any stiff octogenarian might and the image of him makes me think of Aunt Virginia sitting there reading her paper as she drinks her morning cup of coffee while Dylan and Carson work around her sawing away at something. In my vision, they make a racket, yet Aunt Virginia welcomes the noise and the company of two energetic, handsome men. Then, when it is time, she will make them a lunch that they’ll enjoy on the porch’s wicker dining set. Maybe it’s the town, or the home from another era, but somehow I think my aunt had a wonderful life with her makeshift family and it was much more interesting than the one I lead.

“Dylan, give this lovely girl a tour of her home. You know these walls better than anyone,” Archie instructs.

“Absolutely.” Dylan turns to me. “Come this way, lovely girl.”

I follow him up the winding staircase and, while I admire the rich buttery tones of the wood paneling and the modern touches of contemporary paintings to make the home brighter, I’m really focused on Dylan’s cute backside. I try to suppress a giggle; I never find myself in these types of situations and it’s highly amusing that I have this hunky guy to myself.

Dylan reaches the first floor and spins around. “What, lovely girl?” he asks. “What’s so funny? You’re bruising my ego with all that giggling behind my back.”

“Nothing, I’m still in shock at being here, I think. And don’t call me ‘lovely girl’. It’s sweet coming from Archie, but it’s a little smarmy coming from you.”

Dylan’s smile fades and that alone makes me waver. I was only teasing him; I don’t really think he’s the smarmy type, so why did I say something that could possibly be hurtful?

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t intended to be creepy.”

“My fault. I’m very defensive. It’s part of being an only child driven by obsessive, demanding parents.” I give him a weak smile and a nervous laugh.

Dylan studies my face intently. For once I don’t blush and look away like I normally would. I take in his baby-face good looks with his big blue eyes and full lips, and I know that he must have been very popular in school while I would have been the shy girl who watched him from a distance. I don’t know how long the moment lasts, but it could go on forever for all I care. For the first time, I don’t have to rush off to a class or work, I don’t have to bury my head in front of a computer to get a job done and I don’t have to dance with a guy who’s attractiveness disappears the minute he opens his mouth or puts his hands on me in a way that gives me the willies. For once, I can breathe and simply stare at this person in front of me.

“Why would you be defensive about a compliment? I’m sure you’ve heard it a thousand times before,” he says, sounding more serious.

“Heard what before?” I ask, distracted by our physical closeness as well as my wandering mind.

“That you’re beautiful,” he answers. I’m still studying his lips that said
beautiful
before I understand what he’s saying.

“Oh, no. I mean, there’s always someone who will say something flattering, but for the most part, my parents only complimented my grades and test scores,” I say, listening to how stupid my explanation sounds.

“Your boyfriends must have told you how pretty you are. You know, attention from guys who aren’t Archie? Guys under one hundred?”

I laugh, but I don’t have an answer for him that doesn’t make me look pathetic.
Yes, I’m twenty, but I’ve never had a real boyfriend because I’m a serial dater. One date per guy and then I dump them in disgust because I’m the smart, pretty girl who only attracts jerks. Please don’t tell me you’re a jerk because I’m having too much fun for this to end.

“Okay, sure. Guys have complimented me before, so thank you for the compliment. Now let’s move on.” I forge ahead and end up in what must be the study.