Hourglass (Hourglass 1)

I blinked, and he was gone.

Chapter 9

I woke up the next morning feeling raw, like my usual armor was missing. My comfortable layer of protective sarcasm had slipped. I needed it back to be able to deal with everything I’d learned. More sparring with Thomas was just the ticket. He always brought out my A game. Between a good argument with him and my Chucks, I should be able to get my life back on track.

He sat at the table in the kitchen with his silk tie thrown over his shoulder, comfortably eating the same breakfast he’d eaten every morning since I could remember: Fruity Pebbles. The smell of sugar and fruit flavoring permeated the air around him, food coloring and preservatives beginning the embalming process where he sat. That seemed like a good enough place to start.

“It’s so encouraging to see an entrepreneur such as yourself starting the day with a healthy breakfast.” I walked behind him, intending to flip his tie into his bowl. “The economic future of our little town hinges on whether or not your blood sugar drops before your morning snack of Ho Hos and a Yoo-hoo.”

Thomas snaked a hand up and grabbed my wrist before I could get to his tie. “Good morning, little sister. I hope we aren’t grumpy because we didn’t get a good-night kiss?”

I ran my free hand through his perfectly groomed blond hair just to piss him off. “How do you know whether or not I got a good-night kiss?”

“Excellent security in these buildings. Security guards, security systems, security cameras.” He pulled me around to face him. “That way I won’t have to worry about anything inappropriate happening. Since it is strictly a professional relationship.”

“You were spying on us? Are you trying to start a fight?” I asked, jerking my arm away. The bowl of Fruity Pebbles hovered dangerously close to becoming an accessory. “What does it matter if we run off to Vegas and get married—all you want him to do is help me be ‘normal,’ right?”

o;You want to get out of here, go to your place?”

Chapter 8

It took a few seconds before I remembered to blink.

He didn’t bother hiding his grin. “So you can show me the lofts?”

“Oh, right, yes, lofts. Good. Lofts. You ready to go?” I stood, knowing my cheeks sported a ridiculous shade of red.

We walked through the restaurant to the bar area, and his hand accidentally brushed the small of my back, the heat so focused where he touched me that the rest of my body felt chilled. I looked up at him from the corner of my eye. He put his hand in his pocket.

Behind the bar, Dru counted bottles of red wine while the bartender loaded them into a teakwood rack. “Dru? Michael wants to see the lofts. Can I use the master?”

“Sure.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and removed one from the ring, giving it to me. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two of us as her face registered surprise, or maybe concern.

I was sure she noticed her flawless makeup application was smudged.

We walked through the town square in silence. My emotions were ridiculously close to the surface, as if my insides were flipped to the outside, but the feeling of vulnerability didn’t scare me. As I showed him the two lofts, the energy still hummed between us, keeping all my senses on overdrive. Even though the mood was intense, I was experiencing an unknown. For the first time in a long time, I felt … safe.

We stepped into the hall, and I locked the door to the last loft before turning to face him.

“I like both spaces. Thomas and Dru can put me wherever they want.” Michael rocked back on his heels. He stared into my eyes for a few seconds, those seconds stretching into what felt like hours as he reached out until his fingertips were an inch from mine.

“Are you sure?” I asked in a low whisper.

“It’s not going to go away,” he whispered back. “Might as well get used to it.”

Bracing myself for the jolt of energy, I gave him my hand.

It was better than I remembered.

I was grateful that the hallway lights were more ambient than bright. I didn’t know where to look when they flickered.

Michael seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle, his face full of indecision. I started to tremble. The jolt settled into a low hum; even so, with all the sparks we were throwing off, we could possibly light the Southern Hemisphere.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, full of regret. His hand felt warm and solid in mine.

“For what? It’s definitely different, but I’m fine.” Basically. Getting a full-body buzz with a guy I’d just met was as weird as seeing dead people. But much more enjoyable.

“Not the … touching thing. The ripple thing. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all of it by yourself.”