The Yin to His Yang Read online

  Nodding, she blew out a breath. “Fine, you?”

  He lifted the door to let them out. “Actually, I’m starting to wonder if someone’s trying to hurt one of us.”

  There was definitely some supernatural energy in the vicinity, but in Nocturne Falls, that could be coming from nearly any home or business. “A lot of these weird things are happening in or around your house, right?”

  “Mm-hmm. You have an idea what it is?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “You said before that you thought you saw a ghost inside. What did it look like?”

  “Well, I can’t say for sure. It was more shadow than form. In fact, at the time I figured that was all it was—a strange shadow.”

  “I doubt that. Would it be okay if I shore up the magical protection around the house?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea what that entails, but as long as there’s no tail of puppy dog, I’m okay with it.”

  With a chuckle, she nodded. “I promise there’ll be no puppies involved. However, I will need sea salt and white sage, both of which I’ve got at my house.”

  A little while later, she’d saged the perimeter of both houses, and ringed each one with salt and then with water.

  Griffin met her on her front porch. “I’ve checked the locks on all the doors and windows on both houses.”

  “Can’t hurt,” she told him. Noticing the backpack slung over his left shoulder, she tipped her chin at it. “What’s that for?”

  “Hear me out before answering.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “All right.”

  “Even though we’ve both made sure we’re as safe as possible, we have no idea if it’s enough. True?”

  “Okay, that’s true.”

  “You’re all by yourself here. As a former Eagle Scout, I can’t possibly allow you to stay alone tonight. It might not be safe.”

  Those silly butterflies flitted around in her stomach. “I appreciate the gesture, but—”

  “But nothing. If that notion offends your feminist soul, then just think of it as mutual protection. Safety in numbers, right?”

  Much as the idea of having a sleepover with Griffin spoke to her libido, he’d already rejected her once. Why subject herself to another round of letdown? “I have a phone, and by the way, I have some pretty awesome magical powers.”

  He shook his head. “All I’m suggesting is that you let me spend the night on your sofa. Scout’s honor. My motives are pure.”

  Her heart sank a little. “Of course the sofa. Where else?”

  “So you’re good with that?”

  “Just for tonight. We’ll have to come up with a better plan tomorrow. Grandma’s cousin Etta’s granddaughter is a medium down in Florida. I doubt that Bree would come up here, but she could have some advice for us. Or maybe some of my friends from the coven can help figure out what’s going on.”

  “The coven?” He shook his head. “Of course there’s a coven. There are witches here.”

  She smiled. “Glad you’re finally coming around to that truth.” Turning to go inside, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “We’re everywhere, you know. Even in Brooklyn.”

  Griffin leaned back in the deck chair behind Stevie’s cottage and rubbed his belly. “That was a great dinner.”

  Stevie grinned. “Even if you do say so yourself.”

  He zipped up his hoodie. “I had no idea that it would be so easy to change my world famous quesadilla recipe into a vegetarian dish.”

  Stevie stoked the logs in the firepit, and the flames grew. “So much of being a vegetarian is just reimagining your favorite foods. By replacing the beef with mushrooms and broccoli, we upped the fiber and nutrients while lowering the overall calories.”

  Skimming his gaze over her trim figure, he smirked. “You don’t look like someone who needs to count your calories.” He couldn’t imagine how she could be in better shape.

  Or any sexier.

  He forced his thoughts off that dangerous path and got up to move closer to the fire. “Should we make s’mores and tell ghost stories?”

  She gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “Um, considering that we might be living in our very own ghost story, do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I guess not.”

  Standing, she shut her eyes and stretched, giving him another opportunity to admire her long neck, sleek, muscular torso, and those fantastic legs. He’d never been particularly fond of yoga wear, but on Stevie, even drawstring pants, a simple T-shirt, and a zippered jersey jacket looked great. She picked up her empty wine glass and headed for the back door. “Coming inside?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He followed her into the kitchen, and together they cleaned up the dinner dishes. Hanging the kitchen towel over the oven handle, he realized how relaxed he felt, more comfortable than he’d been since he’d arrived in Georgia. But he couldn’t get too cozy here. Soon enough he’d be heading back home to New York.

  The reminder that sooner or later, he’d have to leave, hit him like a slap of icy morning air. How had he grown so fond of Stevie in only a week? Didn’t matter, though. His whole life was back in New York—his job, his soon-to-be house, his friends.

  Stevie lit several candles in the living room. “I don’t know about you, but I need a meditation. I’ve gone two days without it, and that’s not good for my state of mind.”

  He went into the room after her. “Should I leave while you do?”

  Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You could join me.”

  Backing up, he shook his head. “I’ve never done that. Sounds kind of new agey.”

  “Meditation is hardly new. It’s been around for a very long time, and the reason for that is all the benefits. Like increasing self-awareness, reducing stress, and improving concentration.” She set two oversized pillows on the floor, sat on one, and patted the other. “We can do a guided meditation. Just listen and do what the woman says, okay?”

  Although he doubted that any of those things would happen for him, he played along and sat akimbo on the pillow.

  “Back straight.” She monkeyed with her phone. “And you can close your eyes if you want.”

  “Take a deep breath to the count of four,” a smooth female voice instructed from a Bluetooth speaker a few yards away from them. “Hold it to the count of four then let it out slowly.”

  Griffin removed his glasses and did his best to get into the moment. To his surprise, he soon found himself completely relaxed as he walked along a forest path. He couldn’t even feel his body, as if he was no longer inhabiting the space, but rather floating above it.

  The voice guided him into the most deeply relaxing state he’d ever experienced. Even after the meditation was over, he felt all tingly, yet incredibly serene. He was vaguely aware of Stevie getting up to leave the room.

  Setting a pile of bedding on the sofa, she asked, “What’d you think?”

  He helped her make up his temporary bed. “It was better than I thought it’d be. Not hokey at all.”

  Stevie tucked a blanket over the sheets. “I’m so glad you don’t find my chosen career to be all about nonsense.”

  Whoops. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me. What I should have said was that I was pleasantly surprised by how powerful I found the experience.”

  “Better.” She handed him the TV remote. “If you’re like my grandmother, who apparently can’t get through the night without television, go for it.”

  Everything in him yearned to take her in his arms, and give her a passionate kiss, one she’d never forget. But he couldn’t give in to those urges, so he merely waved and said goodnight as she disappeared down the hallway.

  A few minutes after he’d stretched out on the sofa, something sharp jabbed his thigh. He threw back the covers and discovered that the top of a coil had poked through the cushion. That definitely hadn’t been there when they’d made up the couch a little while ago. He relocated to a wingback chair a
nd pushed an ottoman to it for his feet. Then he turned on the television and found a western series on cable. Just as he was getting comfortable, his aunt’s old cat climbed up onto his lap. Didn’t take but a minute for his nose to start running.

  Cursing under his brath, he shut off the TV and went down the hall to the bathroom. He wasn’t actually tired at all. Well, maybe a little. Only he didn’t want to fall asleep and find himself in the throes of another passionate dream starring none other than his beautiful hostess.

  On his way back to the living room, he noticed light spilling out from under Stevie’s ajar door. He stopped and listened. Only silence greeted him. Leaning his head against the jamb, he wondered if she was still awake.

  He thought about his dream the night before, about Stevie in a skimpy purple negligee. He closed his eyes and he was kissing her, touching and tasting every gorgeous inch of her. Her skin felt smooth as the finest silk. She hooked her ankle around his calf, rubbing it up and down.

  Suddenly her door inched open. Frozen in shame, he held his breath. Until one of the cats walked out and meowed an admonishment at him before it disappeared down the hall.

  From inside the room, he heard Stevie’s soft purr and the creak of her bedsprings. Unable to stop himself, he peeked through the door. There she was, sheets wrapped around one leg, clutching her pillow. And wearing that very same purple nightgown from his dream. How was that possible?

  She stirred, let out a quiet moan. Feeling a lot like a voyeur, Griffin eased away from the gap and started back to the living room. Seconds after he’d walked away, her door opened.

  “Oh, hey.” Standing in the shadows, hair slightly messy, with that slinky gown clinging to her curves, she took his breath away.

  Afraid his voice would fail him, he coughed. “I hope I didn’t wake you on my way to the bathroom.”

  “Nope, my dream did.” She tucked a stray braid behind her ear.

  “I thought that maybe you were awake.”

  Her brow knotted in confusion.

  “Your light was on,” he clarified.

  Her shoulders sank, and her expression grew sad. “I got in the habit of leaving it on after my brother went missing. Something inside me still hopes that he’ll come back, which is crazy since he never lived anywhere but Charleston.”

  His chest constricted.

  She hugged her arms around her body. “Actually, I was sleeping with a lamp on before Simon left. I’m…afraid of the dark.” Shaking her head, she leaned against the wall. “Want some tea?”

  Not particularly, but he sensed she needed to talk. “Sure.”

  In the kitchen, she filled an old-fashioned kettle and set it to boil on the stove.

  Griffin sat at the table. “Isn’t midnight the official witching hour?”

  His attempt at levity earned him a shortlived smile.

  “For some spells it is.” She took out two mugs and put what looked like homemade tea bags in each one. “But the reason for my fear has nothing to do with magic.”

  He waited for her to go on, dreading whatever it was she’d say.

  After several moments, she continued. “When we lived with my mom after our father had left, she had this man who’d come to the house. He might have been her boyfriend or just her dealer. I was never sure. Simon and I were scared to death of him because he yelled at Mama a lot. He shoved us around and threatened to take us to the Battery—the waterfront park in Charleston—and toss us into the harbor.”

  Griffin’s stomach turned at the thought of a grown man bullying innocent kids that way.

  The kettle whistled, and Stevie filled their mugs then handed one to him. “Mama finally worked up the nerve to tell him to get lost. But that just made him angrier. Next time he came around she told us to hide in the crawlspace under the stairs. She locked us in there and told us to be quiet no matter what we heard.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “We hid in there for hours. Even after all the shouting stopped after Mama’s screams finally ended.”

  He wished he could hold her, comfort her, but something about the way she was sitting—so stiff and unyielding—convinced him that wasn’t what she wanted.

  “It was so dark in there. Spiders and other bugs crawled on me. I might have imagined that part, but it felt pretty real at the time.” She shuddered. “I could never handle being in the dark since, and confined spaces make my skin crawl.”

  “When did your mother let you out?”

  Wrapping her fingers around her mug, she exhaled deeply. “She didn’t. A social worker did. When a neighbor called the cops because of the noise, they arrested Mama for child endangerment. She overdosed shortly after she got out of jail. Simon and I ended up in foster care until our grandparents were able to get custody of us a few months later.”

  A chill rolled over his skin. “What about your father?”

  Her brow furrowed. “He was never in the picture much. Even when Grandma told him that Mama had lost custody of us, he refused to step up. According to my grandmother, he was the one who first introduced our mother to drugs. Runs in the family I guess.”

  Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “I’m sorry, Stevie. Sounds as if your childhood was a lot worse than mine. My mother wasn’t in my life, either. Dad wasn’t easy to live with, and all the moving around got really old, but at least he was there for me.”

  She eased her hand out from under his. “Too bad you didn’t get to know your great aunt. She was quite a lady. I miss her.”

  A thought occurred to him. “I can’t believe I’m thinking this, let alone giving it voice, but I wonder if Aunt Dorothea’s spirit is still in her house. Maybe she wants me to leave.”

  Stevie immediately shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense. Why would she have left the property to you if she didn’t want you there?”

  He couldn’t answer that, but he knew one thing for sure. Whatever was going on didn’t have one of those rational explanations that his father was so fond of. Until they knew the cause, neither he nor Stevie was safe.

  Chapter Eight

  Stevie yawned as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Another super-steamy and very vivid dream had kept her awake until the wee hours. For the second night in a row she’d dreamed that she’d made love with Griffin, and in the morning her body felt stretched and just a little sore in all the right places. Strange.

  The ring of her doorbell jarred her out of her thoughts. Could Griffin be back already from the DIY Depot? He’d only left twenty minutes ago.

  She headed to the living room and opened the door to a short, balding, middle-aged man.

  “Bud Weller.” He shook hands with her. “I hope it’s all right that I came unannounced. I’ve been dealing with Griffin Dunlap, hoping to purchase this house. Mind if I come inside?”

  “Well—”

  Before she could answer, he barged in and started examining the place as if he already owned it. “I promise I won’t take much of your time. Please forgive the intrusion, but time is of the essence.”

  Really? Would he throw her out as soon as he bought the place? Her temples pounded. She couldn’t kick the guy out, though. What if he got angry and decided not to buy the houses? She couldn’t rob Griffin of his dream, especially knowing how important it was to him to have the stability of his own home.

  Namaste ran in front of the man, nearly tripping him.

  “Uh oh.” He chuckled. “A black cat just crossed my path. Sure hope that doesn’t mean bad luck for me.” No sooner had the words left his lips when he tripped, falling into the wingback chair.

  Stevie rushed over. “Are you all right?”

  Standing, he waved off her concern. “Sure, yeah.” He stopped at the altar and frowned.

  Stevie held her breath, waiting for him to make a derogatory comment about witchcraft, but instead, he touched the mirror hanging on the wall.

  “There’s a spot here.” He scratched at it, and suddenly the mirror fell off the wall,
shattering into a hundred shards. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry.” Bending to pick up some of the fragments, he shrieked. “Ouch. Damn thing cut me.”

  “Leave it, please. I’ll get it.” She hurried from the room to fetch a broom and dustpan. The sound of another crash and more glass breaking made her cringe. What now? Racing toward Mr. Weller’s groans, she found him in the hallway, leaning against her bedroom door. The ceiling light fixture lay in pieces on the floor.

  “What is wrong with these properties?” he asked. “No wonder Dunlap wants to unload them.”

  “No, it’s not like that. Griffin’s an honest guy.” Wait, what was she doing? She shouldn’t encourage Mr. Weller to buy her cottage. She was so torn between her own needs and Griffin’s.

  “Hello? Stevie?”

  At the familiar sound of Griffin’s voice, she went to her door.

  “It was open,” he said as he came toward her. “Everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah. I guess so.” She glanced over her shoulder as Bud Weller approached.

  “I think I’ve seen enough,” the older man said as he passed her and strode to the door.

  “Mr. Weller.” Griffin’s glasses slid halfway down his nose. He gave Stevie an apologetic shrug.

  “I wanted to at least see this house before I made my final decision.” Weller shrugged. “We discussed it after we left here yesterday. I talked Charity into giving it another chance. But after seeing this one, well, there’s just too much going on here, paranormally speaking.”

  “Would you at least think about it?” Griffin asked.

  Brushing past Griffin and out the door, he mumbled something Stevie didn’t catch. Seconds later, she heard him drive off.

  “I’m sorry,” she told Griffin.

  “What happened?”

  After explaining about the freaky mishaps, she shrugged. “It was so weird. Maybe a spirit is trying to sabotage the sale. My second cousin is a medium. Remember I told you about her? I can call her and see what she thinks.”

  His shoulders sank. “I guess. Whatever you think. Need some help cleaning up?”