The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

“Then why on earth did she…” There was a long pause in which Abby connected the dots. “Oh. Of course.”

They turned up Blackberry Hill now and Tom’s hands started to sweat. Jess had pushed the two of them together and they both knew it. What was even worse was that his cousin had known that all she had to do was say the words and he’d come running. Was he that transparent?

“Jess was just meddling,” he said tightly. “Don’t pay any attention to her.”

“It’s so embarrassing,” Abby said, sighing.

“Embarrassing to be driving home with me?”

Her head snapped up. “Oh, no, of course not! You’re the catch of the town!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit.”

He chuckled, uncomfortable with the words but enjoying how she seemed to lack the ability to self-edit after a few glasses of wine. It leveled the field somehow. “The catch of the town, huh? Says who?”

“Only everyone.” He could feel her gaze on him as he kept his on the road where it belonged. Who on earth was everyone, anyway?

“All I hear is Tom this and Tom that. If people find out you drove me home,” she continued, “I’ll be the envy of every woman in Jewell Cove. So that makes me wonder. Why are you still single, Tom?”

He swallowed. The wine had definitely loosened her reserve, hadn’t it? “Guess I’m picky who I spend my time with. And here we are.” Thank God.

He put the truck in park but Abby didn’t move. Was she waiting for him to open her door? He was about to say something when he saw the color of her cheeks. They had paled and her eyes looked enormous. She hadn’t seemed that drunk but you never could tell. “You’re not going to be sick, are you?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, I didn’t have that much. I just … I forgot to turn a light on. The house is so dark.”

He stared at the hulking figure of the house, felt that stomach-rippling sense of unease he’d felt in the basement kitchens the day they’d gone exploring. It had kind of freaked him out, actually, and for just a moment he’d wondered if the old stories about the house being haunted held a kernel of truth.

It was all nonsense, of course, and he hadn’t always felt it the past week when he’d been working around. But there were times when he’d felt … well, watched. And then he’d turn around and there’d be nothing.

The house really was intimidating, especially in the dark. It had to be odd, staying all alone in such a place. Everything echoed in the high ceilings and oversized rooms. “You want me to walk you to the door?”

Relief flooded her face. “Would you? I know it sounds silly…”

“Of course I will. Taxi service includes getting you to the door safe and sound.”

He shut off the engine and the sound of their doors slamming echoed through the stillness. Somewhere nearby peepers sent up a quiet song. In the silence their footsteps seemed overly loud as they crunched on the gravel of the driveway. They paused on the newly repaired veranda while Abby struggled to find the key to the front door in the dark. Finally she got it in the lock and the heavy door swung open.

The unsettling feeling struck Tom again, so he stepped inside and flicked on the light switch.

“That’s better,” he said.

“Much better,” she breathed, but he noticed she shivered a little.

Abby stepped forward and hung her purse on an ancient coat rack she had unearthed from somewhere. Tom couldn’t help but think that he should turn around and go right now. Instead he stood still, in the doorway of the great house, wondering what the hell he was doing.

“Can I ask you something?” She turned around and tilted her head as she asked the question.

“Sure.”

“Do you think there’s anything to the stories that this place is haunted?”

He shut the door as insects were starting to slip inside, lured by the glowing halo of the hall light. Interesting that she would ask just when he was thinking the same thing. “Do you?”

She smiled a little. “You answered my question with a question. Maybe you don’t want to reveal that you believe in ghosties? Probably not very manly.”

“Ghosties?” He shook his head. Maybe Abby was drunker than he thought.

“I heard stories when I first

got here, that’s all.”