Whispering Hearts (11 page)

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 and 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.

It had been the most abrupt dodge she had ever done. She'd felt his breath ruffling her hair as she stepped away. The awkwardness of the following moments had been brutal—she still hated herself for letting it happen and putting him through that.

“Lyra is filled with double stars.” She started to talk just to hear something other than her own thoughts. “It's really a fascinating constellation. If I'm remembering correctly, Vega is the third brightest star visible from the Northern Hemisphere.”

He stood up straight, but didn't move away from the telescope. And he still didn't say anything back.

“But you didn't want an astronomy lesson. Right.” She fished around for anything to say instead. “Have you ever heard of Tanabata?”

“Can't say I have.”

“It's a celebration in Japan that involves Lyra. There are a bunch of myths about the stars Vega and Altair being lovers separated by the Milky Way. My favorite version portrays Vega as a Celestial Maiden who fell in love with a human. When her father found out, he forbade them from being together and put the Milky Way between them to keep them apart.”

Even in the near-darkness, she could feel the tension build in him. A warning sounded in the back of her mind, but her momentum carried her forward. It was a beautiful, sad story.

“On the seventh day of the seventh lunar month, the Sky Gods take pity on them and create a bridge of magpies so that they can be together. I guess technically that would make it take place in August, but if you go by the Gregorian calendar and wanted to celebrate it here, Tanabata would have been yesterday.”

“It sounds like a sad thing to be celebrating.”

“They're focusing on the time the lovers can be together. You can look at the bitter or look at the sweet.”

“Take what you can get, huh?” He snorted and shook his head, then walked back to the table. He picked up his beer and held it for a while before taking a drink.

The idea of a star-party for two had been impulsive, like almost everything Rachel did. Instead of making Garrett feel better and easing any embarrassment or tension between them, she had only made it worse.

“I'm guessing you aren't interested in lessons on Japanese culture and religious festivals either,” she said.

“I was actually thinking we could just enjoy the view.”

“Sure.”

Like she had enjoyed the view earlier—especially watching him walk to the canal. She doubted she would find any dust on his exercise equipment, either. Judging by his backside, he must do a few dozen squats every day.

The assessment of her plan to ease the awkwardness between them with some stargazing shifted from failure to dismal failure. It wasn't even keeping her mind off his body. And the more she thought about his body, the harder it was to resist him.

The last thing Garrett needed was to get involved with her. It would condemn him to a life filled with the dead. He deserved better.

Rachel was skirting the issue, trying to avoid or deny what had happened and hope it would go away on its own. It was how she dealt with everything in her life—her powers, her family issues, even her feelings for him. For once, she wanted to face something head on and just deal with it.

“Listen,” she said. “We should probably talk about what happened earlier.”

“It's been a full day. You'll have to be a bit more specific.”

“The thing with the scorpion. How I behaved.” She wasn't surprised when he stayed silent. “I'm sorry I kept staring. I didn't mean to. It's been a really long time since I've seen a naked man and well, you're just…”

She lifted her hands toward him and waved them up and down like she was showcasing his physique. “It was difficult to look away. But I should have. And I'm sorry.”

She forced herself to pause so that he could respond. Silent moments dragged on, time seeming to dilate as she shifted from one foot to another. Finally, she couldn't take it.

“Aren't you going to say something?”

“That's a lot to process. How could you have not seen a guy naked when—” He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't go there.”

“When what?”

“Well, you were pretty serious with…”

The hair on her arms stood on end. Her stomach cramped, the pasta from dinner feeling like a lead weight.

“Michael.”

She didn't blame Garrett for not wanting to say the name. She didn't want to say it, either. But she refused to let Michael have power over her anymore.

Garrett let out a huge breath of air and ran his fingers through his hair, holding it back from his face. “I don't want to bring up bad memories.”

“No, it's all right. Talking about it is supposed to be healing.”

He shrugged and let his hand drop to his side. “But you don't have to push yourself. You can take your time. As long as you need.”

“I don't
want
to take my time. I don't want to still be talking about this a year or even a month from now. I want to move on with my life.”

He nodded and simply said, “Okay.”

Rachel walked over to him and sat in one of the patio chairs. He sat next to her. She picked up her beer and took a long drink before she began.

“Michael told me he wanted to take things slow. That was fine with me. I didn't want… Well, I haven't done more than kiss a guy for a couple of years now.”

Garrett sat back, his eyes wide and glittering in the light from the candle on the table. He let out another huge breath that he must have been holding, and shook his head.

“I'm glad you didn't…” He shook his head. “I'm glad you don't have that to work through on top of everything else.”

“Me too.”

Her chest felt tight, but the dread in the pit of her stomach was lessening. Talking to Garrett was lightening the burden she carried. And it seemed to be doing the same for him.

“I know I've been dating a lot, but none of those relationships were serious at all. I was trying to distract myself more than anything.”

“From the ghosts?”

She felt her eyebrows rise, the warm citronella-laced air tickled her tongue as her mouth dropped open. The candlelight couldn't be covering her reaction. He had to see it too.

“Among other things.”

He had asked for her honesty, but telling him how she felt about him would ruin their friendship. Worse, it would make him even more impossible to resist because he would want to take action based on that knowledge.

Then he'd be stuck with a weirdo who could see spirits and constantly spouted awkward factoids. When she wasn't pretending to be a socialite at the beck and call of her somewhat—totally—evil mother.

“I'm dealing with a lot,” she said. “I understand that. But it isn't as much as you think. I had already broken up with him.”

“What?”

She shivered at the memory. Michael had been calm when she told him. He said he understood and wished her the best. He only had one request—that she sit for him so he could make a portrait to remember her by.