He flexed his fingers against her waist. “Don’t go.” The words fell from his lips like a prayer, but he’d no sooner said them than she was suddenly by the rocking chair again. She set the daffodils on the table, then turned toward the ocean. Lucas followed her gaze out to the dark beach, but saw nothing. When he looked back to Jenny, she was gone.
Lucas opened his eyes to find he was alone in the dark. But unlike the countless other times he’d woken from a dream where Jenny had visited him in his sleep, he didn’t feel the overwhelming sense of loss. In fact, as he stared at the plaster ceiling, he felt unusually calm.
He’d once told Sophie about the dreams he’d had of Jenny. According to her, dreams were an important part of the grieving process. She’d even brought him a book on the subject. He’d balked at the idea, claiming he had too much to do to read about wacky dream theories, but one night a few months ago, he’d finally cracked it open. He’d never admit as much to his sister, but some of it made sense.
According to the book, there were two types of dreams. The most common were memory dreams. Those were scenes from the lives of the deceased, or memories that came to life, bringing the lost loved one with them. The second type was called a visitation dream. That was when the deceased loved one supposedly crossed over to visit someone left behind. These were meant to provide reassurance and peace.
Lucas wasn’t sure what he’d just experienced, but before he could give it too much thought, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, he felt more rested than he had in years. When he checked his watch, Lucas’s eyes grew wide. Ten o’clock? He hadn’t slept that late since college.
He rolled off the mattress and pulled on his jeans. He picked up the T-shirt he’d worn the night before and gave it a sniff. Nope. After tossing it into the overflowing hamper, he settled on the black V-neck sweater Sophie had given him for his birthday. Seemed a bit dressy for a day around the house, but it was soft and it was clean, so it worked.
The electricity must have come back on at some point, because when he got to the kitchen, there was a carafe of coffee waiting on the counter. He touched the glass. Still hot. Excellent. There was a lot he needed to say to his guest, but words came easier after caffeine. So instead of heading straight to the living room, Lucas reached for a mug so he could pour himself a cup of courage. There were usually at least one or two on the counter, but for some reason none were in sight. Weird. But then he opened the cabinet, and it all made sense. Inside were rows of mugs, organized from left to right in descending size. Occupational hazard? He’d certainly bring that up later, but for now he was more concerned about apologizing to Paige than he was with questioning her compulsive need to organize his cabinets.
“Morning,” she said from behind him.
Lucas turned to find her standing in the doorway, an empty coffee mug in one hand and a sleeping puppy held against her chest with the other.
“I needed a refill,” she said. “But this guy was so content, I didn’t have the heart to put him down.” She made her way closer to the French press, then paused.
“Here, let me,” Lucas offered, refilling her mug. He took a large swig of coffee, followed by a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the way I acted last night.” He meant the apology in more ways than one, but Paige only seemed aware of the most obvious.
“I swear I wasn’t spying on you. I just came down for a glass of water, and then I heard a noise so I went to see what it was, and then I saw you sitting by the fireplace and—” She was talking so quickly, even the pup opened one eye.
“It’s okay,” he said, cutting her off so she could take a breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I totally overreacted.”
She exhaled in relief, then smiled. “I honestly didn’t intend to lurk in the shadows. I would have come in and probably annoyed you by asking a bunch of questions.” The smile slipped from her face. “But I thought it best to leave you alone.” She hesitated, like she wanted to say more but wasn’t sure if she should. Clearly she’d chosen the latter because when she spoke again, it was on an entirely different subject.
“The power is back on.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Which I guess you already know.”
Lucas’s gaze shifted to the unlit router on top of the refrigerator. “No internet though.”
“I’ll survive.” From the look on Paige’s face, Lucas wasn’t the only one surprised by her statement.
“Listen,” he began, “I know that not much about this place is as advertised. And I’ve been possibly the worst host ever…” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, there’s this small hotel down by the harbor. I’m sure they have rooms. If you want, I can move your stuff over there until the ferry opens.”
Paige smiled. “Thanks, but I’m just fine here.”
“Really?” Lucas cleared his throat. “I mean, that’s great.” Talk about the understatement of the century. The money from the booking had already been applied to the balance of the tax bill. Moving Paige to the hotel would have had to go on his credit card, which was already busting at the seams. Still, the relief he felt had less to do with his budget and more to do with the woman currently nuzzling a puppy in his kitchen. He couldn’t explain it, but he wasn’t ready for Paige Parker to walk out of his life just yet.
“What do you say we start over?”
A tiny furrow formed between her brows. “Didn’t we already do that?”
“And what, you’ve never heard of a double do-over?” Lucas knew his reference was a bit immature, the side effect of spending the majority of his time with a four-year-old. With any luck, Paige would see it as less dork and more charm.
Her mouth curved into an amused grin that could have gone either way, but then she bit her lip ever so subtly, which definitely tipped the scales in charm’s favor. “Um, no, can’t say I have,” she said. “Does it require some supersecret handshake?”
Lucas wanted to say that it was customary to seal such deals with a kiss, but instead he merely stuck out his hand. She placed her free hand in his just as she had the first time they’d started over, only this time she didn’t grasp his hand like she’d just negotiated the deal of a lifetime. This time her touch was gentle and soft, and all at once Lucas wanted to feel those fingers strumming leisurely down his back. Preferably in bed with their naked bodies entwined in a postorgasmic embrace. Whoa. Way to be oddly specific, Croft.
“Shall I whip us up some eggs?”
“Actually,” she said, lifting the tiny puppy so she and the dog were nose to nose, “Leonardo and I already ate. He had some milk from his momma, and I found a granola bar in a cabinet.” Her eyes darted to his. “Hope it’s okay that I scrounged around.”