Whispering Hearts (10 page)

“I don't know about that. But I appreciate the compliment.”

“It wasn't a compliment. It was a statement of fact. And you're doing it right now.” Jazz let out a long sigh. “I wish you would stop.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Forget it. I'm just glad you're away from your mother. I've been trying to get you out of that pit since we met. Garrett's going to get a deep discount on his next piece for accomplishing that.”

“A pit? I've been living in a mansion.”

“That's putting lipstick on a pig. Your mom could suck the joy out of a sold-out opening show. I've seen her do it. Belittle your accomplishments and demean you in front of a room full of people.”

It wasn't the worst thing her mother had ever done. Rachel forced a laugh again, but it was an uneasy sound, even to her ears.

“You're the one who makes the sales.”

“Stop. Now you're doing it to yourself.”

“You sound like Garrett.”

“Good. If we all remind you to disregard the crap she's told you over the years, it might help you to stop telling yourself the same lies she taught you.”

Rachel felt herself tear up. She always tried not to think about the things her mother said, pulling a comfortable numbness over her heart during the worst of it. That shield was cracking, along with all of Rachel's boundaries.

She shoved thoughts of her mother into a tiny box in the back of her mind. There were other things she needed to address. Friends to protect and spirits to help.

“Thanks,” Rachel said.

Jazz nodded. “Will it disrupt the energy if I touch the necklace?”

“It's best if others handle it as little as possible.” Rachel slid the necklace into the velvet bag that had held the silver chain, then handed the pouch to Jazz.

“I'll see that she gets it tonight,” Jazz said. “But what about you? How do we get all these ghosts to leave you alone?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Jazz reached across the table and grabbed Rachel's hand. She squeezed it hard.

“We take care of each other. Now more than ever.”

Rachel couldn't speak. A few choking sounds came out of her throat, her eyes burning as she held back tears—tears she saw mirrored in Jazz's eyes.

Jazz dropped to her knees next to Rachel and hugged her again. Rachel buried her face in Jazz's hair and squeezed her just as hard.

When Jazz pulled back, her eyes were red. She actually sniffed. Rachel's stomach felt weightless, like she was on a rollercoaster just before a drop-off.

“You need me—you need
anything
—you call. Understand?”

Rachel nodded.

“Okay.” Jazz put her hands on Rachel's cheeks and kissed her forehead as she rose. “Give Garrett my regards. And be sure to lock the door after me.”

Rachel nodded again. She couldn't do anything else in that moment, couldn't even will herself to move.

She was stunned. She stayed where she was on the floor as she watched Jazz leave.

Chapter Nine

Living in the subtropics, steaming up a bathroom wasn't hard. Water condensed on the cooler glass of the windows that lined the top of Garrett's open shower area. The whole room looked like it was part of a fog bank.

Garrett let the hot water pound on his shoulders for a while, trying to get rid of some of his tension. When he'd worked the ER, he was used to long stints of light sleep and heavy activity. Too much time had passed since he left—he was out of practice. The last few weeks had drained him.

Heck, the last few
hours
had drained him. He couldn't believe so much had happened in such a short amount of time. He'd thought he was already emotionally exhausted, but facing off against Mrs. Montgomery, that talk with Elsa, Rachel's ghost issue, and having her living with him again… It was a lot.

At least he knew Rachel wasn't as bad off as he thought. What she was dealing with sounded pretty terrible, but she was being open about it. Garrett would make sure that she had the help and support she needed.

Dante and Elsa were doing well and Michael was gone. Garrett let out a sigh. Things were finally looking up.

Then he heard the scream.

He bolted out of the shower space, barely aware of opening the bathroom door before running through his bedroom and down the short hall that led to the kitchen.

Rachel had her back to him as she grabbed a glass from the cabinet. She was holding a spatula in her other hand.

“What the hell happened?” All the fine hairs on his body were standing on end, the cold air on his wet skin mixing with an adrenaline rush strong enough to make him lightheaded.

Rachel laughed, but it turned into a choking sound when she turned toward him. It took him a moment to realize why.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed scarlet. That plus her gaze locking on to his privates helped to clue him in. He grabbed the hand towel from the handle on the oven door and used it to cover as much of himself as he could.

“Why'd you scream?”

“Um,” she cleared her throat, her gaze stuck to the towel. “There's a scorpion in the dishwasher. It startled me.”

“A what?”

“A scorpion.”

“Did it sting you?” He barely recognized his own voice, high and tight. His heart pounded.

The few scorpion species in Florida weren't considered that dangerous, but they all had venom. Everyone reacted to venom differently.

“Relax. It's just a common striped scorpion.”

He would hyperventilate if he wasn't careful. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. His voice lowered to a register he was more used to.

“Did it sting you?”

“No. I was going to catch it in this glass and use the spatula to keep it trapped, then take it out back and let it go.”

He felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. No way was he letting her near it.

“Give me the glass.”

She laughed, tossing her head so that her hair fell past her shoulder. Such a casual gesture. She really wasn't afraid at all.

He was scared enough for both of them.

“I can catch the little guy and take him outside. I'm not afraid of scorpions.”

Her words sent a chill down his spine. Garrett had heard a similar sentiment plenty of times when he was a kid. Dylan had always been overconfident when it came to wildlife. Reckless.

“Relax, little bro. I've got this.”

Garrett held out his hand, forcing it not to shake. “Give me the glass.”

“It's going to take two hands to get him and you're a little…busy.” She let her gaze return to his towel, then looked back to him and laughed. “I can handle it, really.”

No. Way.

He tossed the towel onto the counter and held out his empty hands. “Hand them over.”

Rachel's gaze shot back to his privates, her eyes seeming ready to pop out of her head. She extended her arms slowly.

As a doctor, he was used to viewing the human body with clinical detachment. He wasn't used to being the one under inspection. And she was examining him thoroughly. He didn't know if he was more flattered or chagrined.

She snapped her gaze back to his at last and did one of her fake laughs. “I guess now we're even after what happened earlier.”

Earlier? Right. When he'd helped her out of the tub.

That was just a day in the office, though. She needed help, he gave it. He had done his best not to look.

This was different. The way she stared with that unfocused look, as if she wasn't just seeing him but was thinking about things she'd like to do with what she saw—that was different.

She was ogling him. No doubt about it. And if he kept thinking about that, there was going to be more to see.

Garrett took the glass and spatula from her, then knelt on one knee next to the dishwasher. The scorpion was near the drain. How had it managed to squeeze through the drain cover?

Its tail was curled over its back and its pincers extended. An aggressive stance.

“Did you poke it?”

“Poke…”

Sweet Lord, have mercy. He cocked his head to the side and gave her a look that said,
really?

Apparently it was enough to get her mind back on task. There was a potentially dangerous animal right next to them. Now wasn't the time for flirting or games.

She cleared her throat and said, “Of course not.”

He reached into the dishwasher—grateful for his long arms—and quickly dropped the glass over the scorpion. It immediately lashed out, its tail and pinchers bouncing off the glass with a
tink-tink-tink
.

“Are these things always this cranky?” he asked.

“It could have come across some soap or something that set it off.”

He lifted the glass just enough to slide the spatula beneath it. Rachel had picked one out that didn't have any slats. There was no chance for it to escape. When the scorpion was secured, he flipped the glass over, keeping the spatula flush with the top.

“Nice form,” she said. “I mean, with the trap. Not that the rest isn't nice as well.” She gestured to him, then looked away, her cheeks reddening further. “I'm going to stop talking now.”

He tried to give her a smile, but what he managed felt more like a grimace. He stood, and this time she kept her face pointing at the ceiling.

“I'm going to take it outside.” He headed through the living room to the sliding glass door that led to his backyard and she followed.

“I'll get the door for you.”

He slipped into the shoes he kept by the back door, feeling absolutely ridiculous. Six-foot seven, dripping wet, and carting around a pissed off scorpion while wearing nothing but a pair of sandals.

Rachel slid open the door and Garrett stepped into the brutal late-afternoon heat. The air was humid enough that the water on his skin didn't even feel like it was going to evaporate.

He crossed his backyard, glad for the privacy provided by living away from the city. The canal was a good thirty yards from his back door, but he didn't want to chance the scorpion finding its way back into the house.

There was a sheer drop-off to the water on both sides of the canal and it wasn't more than six or seven feet across. The occasional gator passed by, so even though they didn't have a slope to get onto Garrett's lawn, he carefully scanned the area for any visitors.

He paused by the edge of the water, then removed the spatula and swung the glass so that the scorpion flew across the canal and landed in the grass on the other side. There was his good deed for the day.

Garrett shivered, even though the heat had killed the last of the chill from the AC on his wet skin. Buttonbush and saw palmettos grew thick among the yellow pines and palms on the other side of the water. There were probably hundreds of scorpions out there. Snakes, spiders, all kinds of things that could hurt Rachel.

If he thought about it too much, he'd never sleep again. And those were just the threats he could see. Living in the country gave him privacy from the living, but who knew what wandering ghosts might happen by.

He headed back to the house at a brisk pace, eager to put on some clothes. Rachel was staring at him through the kitchen window.

He slowed, unnerved by the intensity of her stare. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if she was seeing something he couldn't. She didn't look scared though. Maybe she was checking him for tan lines.

When he reached the house, he scraped the bottoms of his sandals against one of the landscaping rocks next to the patio to knock loose the few sandspurs he'd picked up. Cold air hit him as Rachel slid the door open again. He stepped inside and kicked off his shoes.

She was waiting for him with two big towels from her bathroom. She handed one to him as soon as he set the glass and spatula on the counter that ran between the kitchen and living room.

“Thanks,” she said.

“What for?”

“For not killing it. The poor thing was probably lost and confused.”

She handed him the second towel once he had secured the first around his waist. Garrett wiped his chest and arms dry, then started on his hair. He didn't miss the way she kept staring at his chest and arms while he worked—lips slightly open, eyes heavy-lidded.

He was grateful for the towel, but he needed more to keep himself from getting into an even more embarrassing predicament. Diverting her attention would help.

“Only you would call a scorpion
poor thing
. That was a slick containment system you came up with on the fly.”

“I just used what was available.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Well, it worked pretty well. Remind me to call the lawn service later. That grass is too long.”

Rachel peered out the window, then looked back at him, one eyebrow arched. “Your yard has a buzz cut. I can see patches of sand everywhere.”

“I'm more concerned with the things you can't see. Cutting the grass shorter might not help much with scorpions, but it'll give us a better chance at spotting snakes.”

“We could go out with a black light at night some time to see how many scorpions are out there.”

“What, they'll all come out for a rave?”

She laughed, her broad smile soothing his frayed nerves. “Scorpions phosphoresce in black light. They should light up with a pretty blue glow.”

Pretty
wasn't a word he would use to describe a bunch of scorpions. He was certain there'd be plenty if they checked—that was a downside of being out from the city.

“How do you know this stuff?” he asked.

“I read a lot.”

“I'd rather not know how many are out there. I like to spend time on the patio and I don't want to be worrying about how many scorpions are in my yard. Unless those citronella candles and box fans you started me using will take care of them too?”

“Sadly, that's only for repelling mosquitoes. How are they working for you anyway?”

“Haven't been bit for a while, thanks.”

“Do you still take out the telescope?”

“Sometimes.” Every chance he had.

He would crack open a beer and spend hours looking at the stars and planets, thinking about Rachel and her astronomy lessons.

“We should take it out tonight. I can test you on your constellations and see if you remember what I taught you. It'll be just like old times.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

Primarily because she wouldn't be able to see how he was blushing if they were hanging around in the dark. He wasn't sure he'd ever stop with how she kept looking at him.

He'd imagined her seeing him naked many times. His daydreams were a far cry from the reality. For one, they were usually both naked in his fantasies. And he had never dreamed she'd have such a…hungry look to her. It was hard to ignore and even harder not to do something about.

He cleared his throat, then asked, “Do we need to do anything to keep ghosts away while we're out back?”

She shook her head. “It would be a huge undertaking and I doubt it's necessary. I've never detected a ghost out here. That's one of the reasons I loved staying with you during the renovations. It was peaceful.”

His heart sank. Those months with her had been the best of his life. The way she'd opened up to him—the person she had revealed herself to be—had made him feel special.

But what if all her talk of feeling safe with him had more to do with an absence of ghosts rather than his presence? Thinking about it was too depressing.

“Well, I better get dressed. Be careful around that dishwasher and make sure it's shut tight. We don't want any more unexpected guests showing up.”

“Right.”

He felt her gaze on him as he retreated to lick his wounds.