Lucky Stars (Page 82)
Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(82)
Author: Kristen Ashley
But dark sky was just dark.
Did they have lights on planes?
And, if they didn’t (and even if they did!), how would he know his way? How would he see if something was flying at him, a bird, another plane?
Belle knew there were instruments and all that kind of stuff, still her heart skipped a beat.
“Lots of times, my love,” he continued to try and reassure her.
“Okay,” she lied.
“I’ll be fine.”
Belle could take no more and therefore, as ridiculous as it sounded and as crazy as she knew he’d think she was, to protect her fragile sanity she started chanting, “La la la, I’m not involved in this conversation, la la la.”
She heard him chuckle before he changed the subject and prompted, “Baron and Gretl?”
Happy to be on a much safer topic, she replied, “Of course I’ll walk them.”
“If it rains, ask Lila to do it,” he ordered.
Belle walked from her drafting board to the window and looked out, unseeing.
“Oh, so it’s okay if Gram slips on the wet, treacherous cliff path but not me?” Belle tried to tease, slightly embarrassed about her chanting and wondering vaguely how long it would take for him to grow tired of her neuroses. It took Calvin, if memory served (and it did), two weeks and three days after their honeymoon to grow tired of it.
“She’s lived a full life,” Jack teased back audaciously, pulling her from her thoughts and startling a giggle from Belle but she stopped laughing when she heard him murmur in his low and rumbly voice, “Jesus, I love that sound.”
“What sound?” Belle whispered, caught up in his voice.
“The sound of you,” he replied and finished, “happy.”
That trill went up her spine straight into her scalp and she felt her belly dip and he wasn’t even looking at her. He wasn’t even in the same town as her.
“Jack –” she replied softly, warmth in her voice.
He cut her off but there was warmth in his voice too, “Don’t wait up for me, love. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“Good-bye, poppet.”
“’Bye, Jack.”
Then he rang off.
And she stared out the window, smiling to herself before her eyes caught on something and focussed.
It was that man she’d seen days earlier, the ruggedly handsome one with the dark brown hair. He was standing in the same spot as he was before, his head tipped back and he was looking at her through the window.
She took three hasty steps back and just stopped herself from falling into a crouch.
“Holy heck,” she breathed, thinking that was not a matter of coincidental eye contact. He was there for a reason and he was watching her.
Her heart was beating a mile a minute and she retreated three more steps and considered calling Jack back. Then she considered screaming for Dirk.
Then, with effort, she pulled herself together.
He was standing outside looking in her window. The first time she saw him, he was gazing at her, a kind and benign expression on his face. This time was just the same.
He wasn’t charging her store and kidnapping her.
He didn’t flash her or even look weird.
Belle took a shaky, calming breath.
She was pregnant. She was hormonal. She was living in a haunted house. She wasn’t making her own bed or her own food. She was falling in love with the criminally attractive James Bennett if she wasn’t already in love with him, head over heels in love which, she had to admit, she pretty much was (who was she kidding, she totally was).
And, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was falling in love with her too.
She didn’t have a weird, kind-looking, handsome stalker.
He was probably a local she hadn’t yet seen. Someone new to town, waiting for his wife to finish in some shop. Maybe her shop.
Men stood outside waiting for their women all the time not wanting to be shopping at all but definitely not wanting to be drawn into a clothing shop where they would invariably be asked, “Does my butt look big in this?”
In fact, Belle had considered putting a bench outside for these gentleman so they could have a rest, it happened so often.
Cautiously, she approached the window and when she did, he was gone.
She took a huge breath and forced herself to relax.
So, she’d taken a big risk, jumped into shark-infested waters and found herself something so rich and rewarding it was impossible to believe her good fortune or the strength of the lucky stars that shown down on her, recently, both day and night.
She wouldn’t allow her mind, which consistently played nasty tricks on her, to create problems that weren’t even real.
So she set it aside and went back to work.
Now she was driving home with her mother and she knew her evening would be full.
Not with Jack, having dinner then walking the dogs then spending the evening with him in his study then going to bed together and making love.
No, with Cassandra McNabb, the clairvoyant, white witch with good references and The McPherson, an unknown entity, both who dispatched ghosts to hell.
“Are you sure about this Cassandra person and The McPherson?” Belle asked her mother as The Point came into view.
“I’ve got a feeling in my bones,” her mother replied calmly.
Belle nodded and smiled.
It might be crazy but that was good enough for her.
Yasmin’s sporty Audi was in the forecourt and Belle parked her not-so-sporty Peugeot next to it.
Rachel eyed the Audi and remarked, “I love Yasmin’s car. She let me drive it the other day.” Belle switched off the ignition and looked at her mother as she continued, “Maybe you should ask Jack to buy you one of those.”
Belle stared at Rachel in disgusted shock then she hissed, “Mom, I can’t believe you just said that.”
Her mother’s eyebrows went up. “What? He’s stinking rich. He lives in a castle, for goodness sakes and you’re carrying his child. The least he could do is buy you a cute car.”
“He’s already housing me, feeding me and you and Gram, by the way. Not to mention, he’s paying for Dirk,” Belle reminded her.
“So?” her Mom replied.
“So, I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“No,” Rachel returned. “Like I said, he’s stinking rich and you’re carrying his child which, by the way,” she mimicked the same tone Belle had used on her, “he seems delighted about.” She turned to her door, muttering, “Tomorrow, I’ll have a word.”