The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

Edith had looked down, too.

Abby’s pulse started hammering again as she knelt on the floor, feeling along the wide planking. The piece of flooring was shorter here, maybe only three feet long. There was give along its length; it bowed slightly when Abby pressed her hands upon it and she considered trying to take the board up herself.

Tom would kill her, wouldn’t he? She couldn’t start ripping at original flooring. If she wrecked it, it could never be replaced. And yet there had to be a reason why Edith had stood just here, in this very spot.

She got up from her knees and sighed. This was insane. Besides, it was eleven o’clock at night. Whatever Edith wanted her to find would have to wait. She shook her head and went back down the hall to her room, put on her nightgown and brushed her teeth. No more odd sounds, no more Edith. It was like nothing had ever happened as she crawled beneath the covers.

But she left the downstairs lights on. Just in case. And lay awake for a long time while her imagination ran wild.

* * *

Abby woke up with sweat beaded on her brow. The sun was already up, streaming through the window, and she checked her watch—seven-thirty.

Her dream was already slipping away to the fringes of her mind and her brain scrambled to gather the pieces and keep them whole. It felt important somehow. Edith had been there, and a tall, blond man who had made her laugh. But then Edith had been crying and there’d been another man, a darker man, holding a baby in his arms. Edith was screaming and the man had held the baby out from his body, as if he couldn’t stand to hold it closer.

That was when Abby woke up, her limbs stiff with fear. Exasperated, she tried to reach into her mind for more detail. What had happened next? What had she missed? What did it all mean?

The slamming of a truck door jolted her out of remembering. Tom was here already. The dark, oppressive feeling of the dream mingled with the shocking memory of him kissing her last night. She sat up in the bed, the sheets pooling around her hips. Heard him turn the key she’d given him in the lock. Heard the front door shut behind him.

Abby sank back into the pillows, torn between jumping out of bed and still trying desperately to hang on to the tattered bits of the dream. There was something important she needed to remember. She wanted to cling to those last few moments, the last dregs of memory before getting up and facing the day.

Before coming face-to-face with him. Her dream finally evaporated from her mind, pushed away by the memory of last night. It was bound to be awkward between them. She could still feel Tom’s body against hers, the way he kissed her like she was water and he was a man dying of thirst. It wasn’t a big leap to fantasize about what might have come next. The big surprise was knowing she probably wouldn’t have stopped him. All she’d been able to think about was getting closer to the hard, hot length of his body.

His boots echoed in the downstairs hall and she was thrown out of that delicious bit of fantasy as his footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Up the stairs! And she was in her a nightgown!

“Abby?” he called. “You okay?”

Dammit. She was always up before he arrived. Always, ever since the first time he’d seen her sweaty and gross after her run. She made sure she was dressed and had her hair tidied and her teeth brushed. Now her hair was a tangled mess and she had morning breath and …

She opened her mouth to call out that she’d be right down, but before she could get out the first word, he appeared in her doorway.

“Um … hi.” She pulled the sheet up to her chest.

“Hi.”

The man wore work boots constantly. Abby realized she was getting quite attached to them. He hadn’t shaved this morning and dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow. It would be much easier to not think about him if he’d stop looking so damned appealing.

“You feeling okay? You’re always up before I get here. I was worried when you didn’t answer.”

Curse him for actually looking concerned. “I’m not hungover, if that’s what you’re asking.” She cringed as she heard her sharpish tone. It was the interrupted dream putting her on edge, not a headache or any such symptom.

He grinned, lighting up the room. “You didn’t have that much to drink. You were practically sober when I left last night.”

Yes, she had been. Which meant that neither could place the blame of what had happened between them on the alcohol.

“I had trouble falling asleep last night, that’s all.” She’d lain beneath the blankets for a long time, thinking about the floorboard. And the more she thought about it the more she was sure there was something hidden beneath it. Why else would Edith have led her there if there wasn’t something important to find?

The awkwardness multiplied in the room and she realized he’d quite understandably misinterpreted what she said. Naturally he’d think it was their kiss that had kept her up. She wondered if she would ever stop sounding like a complete idiot when he was around.

“I’m sorry.” He backed out of the doorway and without thinking she leaped from the bed.

“No, it’s not what you think.” She felt her cheeks heat and pushed on, trying to explain. “It wasn’t you, Tom. I mean … it doesn’t need to be awkward between us, okay?”

And yet here she stood in a cotton nightie that ended several inches above her knees. Awkward was an understatement. She hurried to elaborate. “I found something last night after you left.” Ignoring the fact that she was barely half-dressed, she brushed by him. “Come here, and tell me what you think.”

She led him into the empty bedroom and went straight to the floorboard. “This is loose, here.”