Welcome to the Dream (A Celeste Cross Book, #1) (9 page)

Jack leant down next to her and
took the chainsaw from her. ‘It's fine.’

She stiffened up a little at his
move, or maybe his proximity, but she certainly didn't back off.
‘If you're sure.’

‘
I certainly am,
ma'am.’

‘
Alright then, while you're doing
that, I'll trim the hedges, and clean out the drains, and clean out
the gutters,’ Celeste reeled off the list of chores she had to do.
Then she walked off around the side of the house, toting the hedge
trimmers as she went.

Jack watched her as she
left. She'd changed into some white shorts and a t-shirt, but she
still looked great.

Don't get
distracted, not now.
He
thought to himself as he walked over to the shed, intending to grab
some protective gear so he could start the chainsaw and get to
work.

It was light work taking the
branch down; it wasn't that far off the ground, so he didn't have
to climb a tree or anything. Still, he was damn hot and sweaty by
the end of it.

He'd been right though, or
at least the weather report had been right; today was stifling. His
skin was so hot and sweaty, that he had to force himself not to
take off his shirt. After all, he'd just met Celeste, and she might
get the wrong impression, or maybe the right impression. But,
whatever it was, it was an impression he couldn't afford to give
right now, because he was serious – he couldn't get
distracted.

Plus, honestly, he'd only
just met the girl.

As he was clearing up the large
chunks of wood, chucking them into a pile at the base of the tree,
Celeste popped her head around the corner of the house. ‘Do you
know where your aunt kept the window cleaner? I looked under the
sink, but it wasn't there.’

Jack wiped the sweat off his
brow with the back of his hand. ‘It's on top of the wardrobe in the
lounge room, I think.’

‘
Of course it is, that makes so
much sense.’

‘
My aunt doesn't like to make
sense.’ He stretched his shoulders and grinned at her.

‘
Neither does my mother, that's
probably why they get on so well,’ Celeste said as she disappeared
back around the side of the house.

He finished dealing with the
smaller pieces of wood, stowed the chainsaw in the shed, and walked
into the house. When he did, it was to the sight of Celeste with a
chair pressed up against the wardrobe, leaning as far as she could,
hand scrabbling on top of it as she tried to grab the window
cleaner.

Just as he walked into the
room, a bare foot slipped off the chair, and she teetered
backwards.

Jack rushed up just as she
fell off.

He caught her, arms wrapping
around her middle, pressing up and into her chest.

It was definitely a
distracting feeling.

He straightened up, took a step
back, and noted that her cheeks were flaming red. ‘Well, sorry, I
mean thank you,’ Celeste said quickly, turning to give a mutinous
look at the chair.

‘
They can be pretty slippery.’
Jack grabbed the chair and took it back to the kitchen. ‘You all
right?’

‘
I didn't manage to get the
window cleaner,’ she answered, dodging his question.

He chuckled as he walked
back into the room and over to the wardrobe. He leaned up, fumbled
around, and grabbed it. Then he handed it to her.

‘
You know, it must be so nice to
be tall,’ she noted as she took it from him.

Her cheeks were starting to
calm down again. Her breath wasn't as fast either, and her chest
now rested lightly against her crossed arms.

‘
It has its advantages,’ Jack
agreed as he glanced to the side. There was a box pushed up against
the wardrobe.

Celeste turned to see what he
was looking at. ‘It was on top of the wardrobe, I grabbed it off
first. Pretty much breaking my back while doing it, because it is
so damn heavy.’

Jack leaned down and pulled
off the lid.

It was full of his dad's
things. Documents, photos, postcards, and letters.

He yanked it towards him,
grabbing up the first document on top. Turning it over, he saw his
dad's memorable cursive handwriting.

‘
Is it important? Sorry, I didn't
mean to—’ Celeste began.

Jack straightened up, letting
his arm drop, the letter brushing by his side. He shook his head.
‘No, I just haven't seen these in years. In fact, I thought I’d
chucked them out.’

Celeste didn't say anything;
she simply stood there and watched him awkwardly.

‘
My day used to live here,’ Jack
explained. ‘It was his house. I gave it to Susie when he
died.’

Celeste nodded. She still
looked awkward. He didn't blame her though; she was just
house-sitting, and she didn't need to hear his sob
story.

After a moment, he leant
back down, dropped the letter into the box, and secured the lid on
top.

‘
You gave the house to Susie? Why
don't you live in it?’ As soon as Celeste started speaking, she
looked unsure, as if she regretted her words. ‘Sorry, that sounds
really personal. You don't have to answer that. Ignore
me.’

‘
It's fine. I didn't want to move
in . . . . I still technically own it though.
But it’s Susie's really.’

Celeste nodded slowly. ‘Right.
So does that mean you're my landlord?’

Though he hadn't been in the
mood seconds before, he let a slow smile spread across his lips. It
was something to do with the cute way she'd said it. ‘You're
house-sitting, you're not paying rent.’

‘
True. But does that mean that if
I don't do a good job on all the chores, or heaven forbid break
something, you'll hunt me down?’ Celeste gave a chuckle.

‘
No,’ he answered after a moment,
purposefully stopping himself from flirting any further.

There was silence between
them, and Jack could hear the ticking of the clock filtering in
from the kitchen.

‘
Did you want something to eat? I
know it's a bit early, but—’ Celeste began, her eyes blinking open
a touch wider, interest clear.

Jack paused. Then he gave up
trying to pretend he didn't want to stay. Just as he opened his
mouth to agree, his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and
answered it quickly.

‘
You need to come in for this,’
Gustaf said without bothering to say hello.

Jack's fingers tightened around
his phone. ‘What?’

‘
It looks as if the
archaeologists did find something and they did remove it from the
dig,’ Gustaf explained, his accent thick, his voice almost
growling.

Jack could have sworn. ‘Be there
as soon as I can.’

Celeste had politely moved
several steps away, and was running her hand over the back of the
couch. ‘Is there a problem?’

He shook his head. Though it was
a lie. Because there was a problem, potentially a very big problem.
‘Look, I have to go—’

‘
Sure, thanks for all your help
though.’

‘
You said you had to clean out
the gutters,’ he remembered, glancing towards the wardrobe. If
she'd managed to trip whilst standing on a chair, he didn't like
the prospect of her climbing on top of a three-story
house.

‘
Yes, but I'll be—’ she
began.

‘
This is my house, and
technically those are my gutters. So how about I clean them out?’
he dropped his phone into his pocket.

‘
Okay then.’ Her cheeks fattened
with a smile.

‘
How about tomorrow sometime?’ He
shook his head. He'd forgotten he was busy all day tomorrow.
‘Actually, scrap that, day after tomorrow?’

Celeste shrugged. ‘I'll be here.
So whenever, I don't mind. Thank you though,’ she added
quickly.

‘
That's okay, ma'am,’ he dipped
his head as he spoke, noticing that on the word ma'am, she squarely
bit her lip. There was something about that word, or maybe it was
just the way he said it, that always got a woman's
attention.

‘
Good luck doing whatever you're
doing,’ she said as she followed him to the door.

I'm going to
need luck.
He thought as
walked to his car. ‘Don't get too hot and stay out of the sun.
Susie's chores can wait.’

Jack walked back to the car,
pulled himself into the driver's seat, and glanced back at the
house. She was still in the doorway, and she waved quickly. He
waved back.

He started up the engine,
turned the wheel, and pulled out. His bare forearms were still hot
and tingly from where he'd caught Celeste and had brushed up
against the underside of her breasts.

No
Jack.
He thought to
himself once more.

Chapter 7

Jack West

He had his arms crossed, and
he knew his expression was an unhappy one.

‘
It's probably nothing,’ Gustaf
said again.

Jack shook his head, his neck
muscles tight. ‘We don't know that.’

‘
Look, the archaeologist in
charge said that it was a replica, just a copy, it wasn't real, it
wasn't an actual artefact,’ Gustaf explained, hands gesticulating
fast and furiously in front of his face.

Jack knew he should loosen
up a bit and that he should listen to Gustaf, but still, he
couldn't shake this niggling feeling in his gut. Though he’d heard
Ami's story first-hand, something didn't seem right
here.

Maybe he was kicking himself
over the fact that for three years he'd never noticed there was a
Solomon's Seal in the church, even though the building was pretty
much under his nose.

Jack winced, running a hand
along his temple, trying to extract the tension with his
fingers.

‘
I checked their credentials –
these archaeologists are good. One comes from Cambridge. The other
cut his teeth on numerous digs throughout the Middle East and Asia.
They know what they're talking about. If they think the amulet was
just a fake, then I'm sure it was just a fake,’ Gustaf tried
again.

It makes
perfect sense, stop being difficult.
Jack thought to himself.

‘
What's it a replica of?’ Jack
asked, letting his hands drop and rest in his lap. Though the base
had air con, it was still stinking hot. However, he couldn't drop
all his work and just head to the beach behind his dad's house. A)
It would probably surprise Celeste if he appeared at her door in
nothing but a pair of budgie smugglers, that rather endearing
Australian term for swimming togs. And b) he really didn't have the
time.

‘
Do you remember that old amulet
we picked up in Istanbul? You know the one that had all those
Hebrew letters etched into it? And that little diagram?’

Jack waited, trying to sift
through his memory, but finally he nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember the
priest gave us a hell of a time when we stole it from his
church.’

Gustaf smiled and nodded.
‘That's the one. Well this amulet is just a replica of that
one.’

‘
You mean that trashy little
trinket they used to sell at the church?’ Jack straightened
up.

‘
That's the one,’ Gustaf gave a
harsh laugh. ‘The archaeologists think that someone must have
dropped it during one of the tours. So, like I said – nothing to
worry about.’

Jack nodded, even though he
wasn't entirely convinced. ‘What did they do with it?’

Gustaf shrugged. ‘Gave it to one
of the junior archaeologists.’

‘
Well find out their name, and
find out where the amulet is.’ Jack stood quickly.

‘
Ever the consummate soldier,
sir,’ Gustaf said through a crackling chuckle.

‘
Something like that.’ Jack
walked out of the room.

It wouldn't look good if he
faced a Yaoguai threat on his home turf, especially a threat he'd
apparently ignored for three years. Jack was one of the world's
foremost experts on the Yaoguais, so he was going to make sure that
this situation was sorted and now.

Not for the first time and
not for the last time, he found himself wondering how Celeste had
noticed that burnt Solomon's Seal in the church and he hadn't. She
obviously had a good eye.

She was probably sitting at
the kitchen table right now, working, or fluffing about the house
doing Susie's list of chores. Celeste Cross was a nice woman, she
had a sense of humor, and even though Jack had spent a lifetime
fighting against the stereotypical, macho, degrading attitude
towards women you got a lot in the army, he had to admit she had a
great body. More than that, she seemed light and fun, something
that wasn't in his life that much at the moment. Deadly and serious
was all he dealt with these days.

Chapter 8

Celeste Cross

She was sitting at the
kitchen table, it was probably going on 8 o'clock, and the sun was
starting to dip below the horizon.