Mack (King #4)(22)

“Your green eyes are lovely, Theodora. And the haircut is especially fetching,” he said.

Fetching. It was the sort of word nobody used these days, but its charm had my stomach turning into flutters.

I made a little shrug, sweeping my hand over the top of my head, petting my brown bob. “I thought it would make me look more mature.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You, of all people, shouldn’t worry about that. You’re just as old as I am.”

Oh, yes. They all think I’m this óolal woman. I decided now was not the time to start chipping away at his false reality. If I was going to save this man, I’d have to tread carefully and let him see the truth for himself. He was living in a make-believe world.

“I was wondering why my knees always ache when it rains. Must be arthritis.” I smiled and followed it with a long breath. “I’m all better now. Should we continue to our destination?”

Mack reached out and stroked my cheek with his rough hands. “I’ll drive.”

I couldn’t move. It felt too good to be touched by him. “O-o-okay.”

The slope of his bare arms, with ripped, tattoo-covered biceps, caught the corner of my eye. Mack reminded me of one of those tall, lean, hard Navy SEAL kinds of guys, muscled in all the right places.

“You never told me about those dates and names on your arms,” I said.

He dropped his hand and stepped around me, getting into the front seat of my black BMW.

Guess he’s not going to answer that.

I watched in awe as he slid the seat all the way back to accommodate his long, muscular legs.

“You getting in, Doctor?” He sat there with a smirk, gripping the steering wheel.

I was staring at him, wasn’t I?

“Yep.” I nonchalantly made my way around the front of the car, feeling his gaze pinned on me the entire time.

Once inside, he threw it into first and tore down the road.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


TEDDI





“What is this place?” I asked as Mack dug a key from the dirt just beside an old dilapidated cabin out in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t help staring at his large frame as he bent over. Flat stomach—not even a hint of a pooch as he folded himself over; lightly tanned skin—like he’d been somewhere warm and sunny recently; broad shoulders—the kind that told me he wasn’t afraid of hard work.

And that ass. Round and hard looking. No man should have such a nice ass. It was unfair to us ladies.

Not wanting him to catch me ogling again, I peeled my eyes away and went back to inspecting the small wooden cabin with the dusty wraparound porch; the entire mess looked like the retired set of an old gunslinger movie. Add to that how this part of the desert wasn’t one of those long flat hunks of dirt with cute fork-shaped cactus, but hilly with lots of rocks. Dried-out vegetation and the occasional scraggly tree dotted the hillside, giving the secluded valley the feeling of desolation.

Funny, but I wasn’t scared—not even a little—though somewhere in the back of my mind—the one that used to be completely logical but now felt hardwired into my emotions—I realized I was taking a big risk. I should be afraid. I shouldn’t have agreed to come to an isolated cabin out in the middle of the desert.

I shouldn’t feel what I felt about this man either. But I did.

“Looks like someone detonated an A-bomb here. Everything’s dead.”

Mack chuckled as he rose to his feet and wiped the dust from his hands on his dark jeans.

“What?” I said.

“We’re standing on top of an old Native American burial ground. And they prefer to be called spirits since they’re not really dead.”

Okay… “Oh. Well, I was referring to the plants. Not the supernatural wildlife—but are you telling me you see ghosts here?”

I hoped he’d say no because I already had my work cut out for me.

He shoved a key into a padlock that was attached to a chain running through a hole in the wood plank door.

“No. I can’t see the ghosts. Can you?” He flashed a curious look my way as he fiddled with the rusty lock.

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He turned his head and stared at me for moment as if I were the crazy one. “You will.” He went back to his task and the lock made a pop sound.

Was he trying to frighten me? It wouldn’t work.

“How do you know about this place?” I asked.

“I used to be acquaintances with the caretaker in a past life.”

I wondered if he meant “past life” figuratively or literally. “So your friend used to take care of an unmarked burial ground. Interesting.”

Mack unthreaded the rusted chain through the hole and pushed open the door, giving me a view into the gloomy, dirty interior.

“The dead don’t need taking care of,” he said. “His job was to keep the living away. But he eventually went insane out here all by himself. Right before he died, he had my brother ward the entire property. It’s why you got sick when we stepped onto this land.”

I raised a brow. Ward. Now there’s a word you don’t hear every day. It implied that they’d used some sort of voodoo to protect the land.

“I see you don’t believe me.” He jerked his head, gesturing for me to go inside, which I didn’t do. I wasn’t afraid, but I also didn’t see why we’d want to go in there.