Death by Chocolate (The Davenports 2)

“Is this your thing, running hot and cold?”

“What are you talking about?” He struggled to follow her reasoning.

“It’s my fault for looking to a stranger for support.”

Rushing forward, he knelt in front of her. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“Yesterday you were icy to me. It was like I ceased to exist. I didn’t recognize the man you became. Even once we came home, you were distant and dismissive. It was unlike you. Then I realized, maybe it wasn’t. I fooled myself into thinking we had this incredible connection, but I know so little about you.”

He cringed mentally. “No, you weren’t wrong.”

She uncrossed her arms. “Make me understand what happened then.”

“My experience in the between was different than yours.”

“What?” She scooted to the edge of the couch.

“The people attacked me. They were going to throw me in the hole when my parents showed up.”

“Oh, my God.”

“It screwed with my head. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I wasn’t sure if it was my subconscious at work, reality, or the ghost preying on my weakness. I thought I was faking it pretty good. I’m sorry I left you out there on your own.”

“Yeah, well I get it now. Communication. It’s an important part of a relationship.”

“Relationship?” He grinned.

“I never said it was romantic,” Daize countered.

He chuckled. “Can we shelve all this paranormal stuff, and just have a day for us?”

“Can we?” she challenged.

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while and make up for my mishap last night.”

“That’s a tall order,” she said, not giving him an inch.

“I can deliver it,” he vowed.

“We’ll see.” She refused to give an inch. He respected that. The things worth having were ones you had to work hard for.

“Go get dressed, while I cook breakfast, and once we’ve eaten, we’ll head out for the day.”

“Hmmm. I think I like this already.”

“I could be a horrible cook,” he yelled to her retreating back.

“I’ve yet to discover one thing you don’t do well.”

He grinned.

“Except communicate.”

She took the wind out of his sails with the precision of a surgeon. “Ouch.” His smile never faded.

“DID YOU BRING ME TO the zoo?” Daize set up in her seat, pressing her face against the glass as they pulled into the parking lot across from the zoo.

“I did. Maybe we’ll see the ghost lion.”