His Ordinary Kiss (His Kiss Book 2) Read online

  I moved to stand across the island from her. “Thank you so much for giving me this job. I didn’t even have time to really panic before a better opportunity presented itself.”

  Gladys waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Grab that bowl of cookie dough and start splitting it into two-inch pieces. Cookie sheets and wax paper are behind you.”

  An hour passed as I worked with Gladys in the kitchen. I liked her energy and the way it felt to be in her presence, especially when I engaged her in conversation about what we were baking. She was incredibly knowledgeable about all things baking, and she seemed to light up with boundless enthusiasm when I asked about her recipes. Not to mention it was wonderful to be surrounded by all the sweet scents and to not be queasy.

  At a lull in the conversation, Gladys asked, “Have you spoken to Trevor?”

  I glanced at her. “No.”

  She tutted. “Child, I’m gonna tell you a story. Bernard isn’t my first husband. In 1999, my first husband committed suicide. I found him with a hole through his heart in our bathroom, the gun still in his hand. We’d been married twenty-eight years.”

  My heart ached as I imagined a younger Gladys finding her husband dead. “Oh no. Gladys, I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s not all, baby. Three months later, my daughter went missing. She was twenty-seven years old. I’ve seen not hide nor hair of her since.”

  By this point, I’d stopped hand mixing the oatmeal cookie dough and was openly staring at her. I felt as if a pit had opened in my stomach. I empathized with the pain she must have harbored in her heart.

  Gladys paused, a handful of cherries in her hand. She gazed at the dark red fruits for a moment and then finally looked at me. “I’d lost the love of my life and our baby in the span of a few months. I thought I would never survive those months after MJ disappeared. But I did. And two years later, I met Bernard and he understood my grief. He makes me feel like a teenager.”

  I returned her grin. Bernie was that kind of guy.

  “I promise you nothing is insurmountable,” Gladys went on, putting the cherries on a cutting board. “We’re made to be resilient. No matter what, we fall, we get up, we brush off our hands, and we keep going. It’s all we can do.

  “The way I see it,” she went on, as she began pitting the cherries. “You’re not sick. The man you love didn’t choose to leave you, and you know exactly where your child is, safe and healthy. This baby isn’t a curse; it’s a blessing. And you already loved her daddy before she was conceived. That’s a victory in my book.”

  * * *

  GLADYS’ STORY STAYED WITH ME all day. By the time I left at two, I was heartsick for her and heartsick to make amends with Trevor.

  She was right. Even before Trevor and I had sex for the first time, I loved him. I loved the way he made me laugh. I loved the goofy way he smiled. I loved the way we could talk for hours and never run out of things to say. He was my best friend. That couldn’t be too different from being the love of my life.

  I took a box of chocolate croissants home with me and changed clothes. The skirt and blouse I’d worn to work still smelled like sugar. I picked a pair of linen capris and a casual, loose-fitting tank. I’d miss these warm days in a few months when I was relegated to jeans and sweatshirts for the winter. And maternity clothes.

  Croissants in hand, I went to apologize to Trevor.

  The door was locked when I got there, which was unusual. I hadn’t brought my key because it hadn’t occurred to me he might not have the door open. His car was parked out front, so I knew he was home. I hit the doorbell and waited.

  A moment later, he opened the door and stared at me. “Hey, Ves.”

  “I brought croissants. Chocolate.” I offered the pink-and-white checked box.

  “My favorite,” he said, accepting the pastries.

  “I know.” I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to keep my heart from bursting out in his presence. “I owe you an apology.”

  “Do you?”

  I really despised the half-stoic, half-amused look on his face. “Yeah. I do. I’m sorry I ran out on you yesterday.”

  “Yesterday? You mean when I offered to spend the rest of my life with you and you flew out the door like the devil was on your heels?”

  I laughed. “I don’t think I left that fast.”

  Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You want me to pull the recording?”

  “It’s so wrong that you have a surveillance system.”

  “You’re not here to besmirch the good name of my surveillance system.”

  I sighed. “No. I’m here to tell you I don’t want to marry you.”

  Trevor’s face fell. Suddenly, all amusement was gone. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I reached through the door and punched him on the shoulder. “Just because I don’t want to marry you right now doesn’t mean I won’t want to someday.”

  He grabbed my wrist before I could pull away and yanked me closer, snaking an arm around my waist. “Does this mean you’re mine?”

  I gazed up at him. “If you’re lucky.”

  “Would a more appropriate question be ‘Vespers Malone, will you be my girlfriend?’ ”

  I tiptoed to kiss him, slowly but firmly. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

  “I was about to go down for a nap to get ready for going back out to the new development tonight. You wanna… nap with me?” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I nodded. “I do. I want to nap with you.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke up to dusk and Trevor’s warmth wrapped around me. I reveled in the softness of his skin, surreptitiously sliding a palm over his chest.

  His arms tightened around me. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  I smiled, kissing his collarbone. “What do you want me to do to you?”

  “I want you to go with me to the reunion this weekend.”

  I jerked back to look up at him. His eyes were heavy and his face sleepy. He looked hot enough to eat. “Your family reunion?”

  He squeezed me back into the hollow of his arms. “Call it a test of our relationship.”

  I shuddered at that word. Relationship. Doubts crept back in, but I shoved them away. Gladys was right. I had to try this, not just for me, but for the baby. Even though I was predisposed to expect the worst, I desperately hoped for the best.

  “I don’t know. That seems… too much too fast.”

  “You like my mom and dad.”

  Mr. and Mrs. LaBarre had visited Trevor when he was stationed in Germany and fell in love with the country. They bought a house and never returned, even when Trevor left the Marines and came back to Tory. They were a stunning couple—Mr. LaBarre with his milk chocolate skin and amber eyes, and his wife with her creamy complexion and wild red hair.

  “Will they be there?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “No. But it’s my mom’s family. They’re all just like her.”

  “Trevor—”

  “Vespers,” he said sternly. He massaged his fingers into my lower back, awakening my body as if he were tuning a stringed instrument. “I’m not going to push you into anything. We can take this relationship as slow as you’d like. But you need to give up your comfort zone.”

  I buried my face in his chest. “I know.”

  He rolled me, his hips rocking against mine as I opened my legs to accommodate him. I gasped at the heavy feel of him sitting just beyond the pleasure threshold.

  “Say you’ll come,” he murmured, moving sumptuously against me. He grinned with his double entendre.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll come. Twice.” And laughed as he entered me.

  * * *

  WE DIDN’T HAVE A HOUSE lined up for the night, but Boston wasn’t ready to give up on Sunlight Vistas.

  “I know it’s a burial site,” Boston said as she threw the car into park. “Grab a shovel. We’re going to find proof.”

  Trevor and I exchanged glances. I spoke up. “Boss, I’m not sure digging on private
property is technically legal.”

  Boston stepped out of the Jeep and extracted a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her black jeans. She handed it over as I came to stand beside her.

  “Permission from the developer to dig on any property not currently owned.”

  “There’s no way the developer gave you permission to do this. They’re against the investigation entirely,” I said, astonished as I glanced over the form with Grommel & Wade’s business logo at the top.

  Boston beamed. “I made a call. To Councilwoman Downard.”

  I rolled my eyes. Kaye Downard was the kind older lady that was one hundred percent in Boston’s court because her grandparents were Creek. If Boston was right and Sunlight Vistas was built on native burial grounds, chances were, those natives were the Creek. Downard was popular among the rest of our local council, so they seemed to follow her lead, which made our investigation a breeze.

  “How do we know if a house is owned or not?” Trevor asked, peeking over my shoulder. I didn’t miss the way his face turned towards me and he took a deep breath., his nose brushing my skin.

  “The ‘For Sale’ signs,” I pointed out.

  Boston didn’t miss his little gesture either. Amused, she reached into her other pocket and emerged with an even more dilapidated sheet of paper. “No. They gave me a map.”

  “It’s not like you to do your research and seek permission,” I said warily, eyeing my best friend. “What’s up with you?”

  “Councilwoman Downard has been extremely accommodating,” Boston argued. “Why shouldn’t I be law-abiding when I have her on my side?”

  I tilted my head and looked at her blankly.

  She blushed. “Ian pointed out that I shouldn’t break laws.”

  Ian. He had barreled into Boston’s life and shaped her into the woman she was meant to be. She even seemed to enjoy the way he challenged her to be a better version of herself.

  I glanced at Trevor as he extracted three shovels from the back of the Jeep. Maybe he was going to barrel through my life, and it wouldn’t be all that bad. He could shape me into a better version of myself and that could be a good thing. I was starting to think that us together could definitely shape our daughter into a perfect tiny human, despite my own shortcomings.

  Trevor and I followed Boston around, using our shovels as walking sticks as she searched with her senses. I assumed she was using her powers as an Earthbound to seek out the source of the hauntings; the specific core through which the Shades were traveling between the worlds.

  “Anything?” I asked after fifteen minutes of wandering the half-built neighborhood.

  Boston stopped walking and sighed. “No. I mean, general senses of entities here and there. But nothing huge like a source.”

  “Maybe there is no source,” Trevor suggested.

  Boston scoffed. “There’s always a source.”

  “Could their separate graves be separate sources for each?” I asked, following Trevor’s train of thought. “Maybe that’s why you feel them everywhere. A bunch of sources separate from one another might feel a lot weaker.”

  Boston considered this. “Yeah. You could be right, actually.”

  “Just because you’re the ghost girl doesn’t mean we don’t contribute,” I joked.

  She punched my arm. “Shut up. Let’s go back this way.”

  Boston eventually settled on a hilly plain that was as yet undeveloped. For the second time in two months, I found myself digging dirt alongside my best pals.

  “Remember when we dug up your sister’s fireplace and found Ian’s remains?” Trevor asked, as if he’d been reading my mind.

  Boston laughed. “Of course I remember. It was only like two months ago, dork. And don’t call Ian’s human body his ‘remains.’ It’s… strange.”

  “His skinless, meatless skeleton?” Trevor offered.

  Boston picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at him.

  “Ow!” he yelped, rubbing his shoulder and looking down at the clod. “That hurt.”

  “Oh, whatever. You baby.” Boston shoved her blade back into the ground.

  But I watched Trevor as he studied the clod of dirt. “No, really.” He squatted and picked up the heavy chunk. “It has a sharp edge.”

  “Really sharp,” I added, dropping my shovel to go to his side. Bright red blood was seeping through his white shirt.

  He glanced at it and shrugged. “It’s fine.” He worked his fingers into the dirt, brushing bits away as they crumbled off. After a moment, he held it out to Boston with a grin. “Pottery.”

  She gasped, taking the fragile shard from him. We all leaned in and stared at it. Flaky remnants of paint flecked the sharp-edged piece. The shard itself was the faded rust color of Georgia clay.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, a little bit of awe in my voice. “How old do you think it is?”

  Boston shook her head. “I don’t know. We have to keep digging.”

  “Is this not enough?” I asked.

  “No. Not at all. We need to find bones.”

  “Human remains?” Trevor teased.

  “I’ll throw another sharp piece of pottery at you,” Boston warned.

  I bent down and retrieved a pack of Kleenex from my bag, going back to Trevor’s side as he and Boston kept digging.

  “Let me clean that cut,” I told him, reaching for his shirt sleeve. “There’s no telling what germs are on that pottery.”

  “I’m fine, Ves. I promise.” Trevor gently pulled from my grasp.

  “Don’t be a baby. I just want to wipe it out.” I grabbed his bloody sleeve and pulled it up.

  His bicep was pristine: a mountain range of unmarred muscles. He watched me as I put his sleeve down and stared at the bloody slit in the cotton.

  I caught his gaze. “What—”

  He shook his head. “I’ve told you before. I heal fast.”

  He turned his back on me and continued digging, leaving me standing behind him in shock.

  He healed fast. Nobody healed that fast.

  * * *

  WE HAD A PILE OF tools, pottery shards, and various bits and bobbles by the time we finally reached bones. The three of us dropped to our hands and knees and gently brushed dirt away from a small rib cage. The delicate bones emerged from the dirt, a grim but beautiful reminder of life’s greatest mystery.

  Boston snapped her head up and swiveled on her heels to stare at the darkness. “Hello. Is this you?”

  The breeze picked up. I shivered, scooting closer to Trevor. I’d watched Boston communicate with beings I couldn’t see for most of our lives, but it never got any less creepy.

  She turned back to us with a huge smile and slid her cell phone from her back pocket. “I’m calling Kaye.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  By noon the next day, word of the skeletal remains of a young woman in Sunlight Vistas had spread through Tory like an uncontrollable wildfire. Our first few customers at Hot Cross Delights were absolutely abuzz with the news, and every one of them knew my name was connected to the discovery.

  I took a deep breath scented with coffee as two espresso shots poured into a cup of mocha syrup, while the milk steamed beside it. Despite the odd healing situation with Trevor, I was entirely content today. I’d slept several blissful hours in Trevor’s arms before coming in to bake with Gladys. I loved being behind the bar with the smell of espresso and the screeching of milk in a pitcher. This was my zen.

  “Vespers Malone, you know the museum is gonna have your name all over that exhibit!” My sixth grade teacher, Miss Vanelli, waved her hands maniacally around her head. “I just cannot even believe you girls found an Indian burial ground!”

  “Native American,” I corrected her, remembering how she used to irritate me saying ‘Indian’ in school. I removed the steaming pitcher from the steam wand and cleaned it before pouring the milk into the mocha/espresso mixture.

  “Oh, right. Right. That’s the proper term, now.”

  If I’d wanted to
be an ass, I could have told her it was the proper term twenty years ago, too. Instead, I just smiled and capped her mocha, then slid it across the counter. “Enjoy your day, Miss Vanelli.”

  After she exited the store, Gladys sidled up to me, wiping her hands on her apron. “We’re out of blackberry almond bars already.”

  “I told you they’d be a hit,” I teased. We’d spent twenty minutes that morning arguing over her new recipe and whether or not they’d be good enough.

  “It’s no discovering a native grave site, but it’ll do.” She winked.

  I groaned. “Every other person is grilling me on it.”

  “It’s a big deal, baby.”

  “People act like nothing ever happens in Tory.”

  “Nothing ever happens in Tory.” Gladys laughed.

  “I feel bad for the developer,” I told her, rinsing the steam pitcher in the sink behind me. “They’re going to lose that land now. The historical society is going to grasp onto Sunlight Vistas with every claw they have.”

  Gladys nodded, her eyes on the computer screen as she pulled the morning’s sales report to check the numbers. “It’s true. But there’s plenty more land around for them develop. Boston told me her sister’s husband is talking about selling off some of the Horeland land.”

  “Why?” I gasped. Horeland Estate had stood as it was for what seemed like eons; at least the entire history of Tory.

  Gladys shook her head, her braid swishing on her silk blouse. “I don’t know, baby. She didn’t say. But I tell you what, that husband of mine is fit to be tied. He wants to own a piece of Horeland himself.”

  “He’s a Horeland, isn’t he?”

  “His mama was,” Gladys said.

  The bell dinged, indicating we had a customer. I glanced up and caught my favorite grey eyes.

  “You ready?” Trevor asked, leaning over the counter to kiss me.

  I glanced at Gladys. “Thank you so much for letting me leave early.”

  “God forbid if anyone orders a cappuccino,” Gladys joked, throwing her hands in the air dramatically.