Almost Midnight (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3.5)(105)

She knocked.

“Coming,” a deep voice said, and she recognized it to be Brandon’s. She took in a breath, a tiny bit of excitement flowing through her, hoping he wasn’t wearing his hat today. And god help her, but kind of hoping he wasn’t wearing his shirt either.

Just friends!

But as he cut the corner from the hall to the office, she saw him. He wore a dark green T-shirt and a baseball hat.

But his frown caught most of her attention. That and the fact that he was already turning so she couldn’t see his scars.

“Good morning,” she said, and while she was three feet from him, she could smell him and his freshly showered aroma. Teasing her senses were the scents of a guy’s spicy soap, shampoo, and minty toothpaste. But he still held his natural scent of wood and outdoors—and the slightest hint of some kind of paranormal. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

As crazy as it sounded, she wanted to bury her face in his neck and that smell. She wanted to taste the mint on his breath. No doubt, the upcoming lunar change was heightening her awareness of the opposite sex. Heck, if she could just make it past the full moon, she might not even find him all that alluring.

She could hope.

Then it hit her that yesterday she hadn’t been the least bit lured by Cary’s scent or even his kiss.

“Is it good?” he asked and Brandon’s frown tightened.

“Not a morning person?” And she did it again. Smiled. What was it about this man that made her want to be happy? It hit then. It wasn’t just about being happy, it was about wanting to see him happy. Was it the scars? Did she just assume he was as haunted as her on the inside? Or was it the sadness in his eyes that reminded her of what she saw when she looked in the mirror?

Was Brandon Hart damaged?

“I’m generally fine with morning, if I’ve slept.”

I didn’t sleep either. “Something keeping you up?” she asked and as crazy as it sounded she wanted him to confide in her.

“Yeah.” He shrugged and looked around, his gaze landing on the chimes still playing soft music.

Her gaze went back to him. She liked the way his hair, appearing still a little damp, curled up on the ends. What she didn’t like was that he purposely kept his left side away from her line of view.

“Worried about the opening?” she asked.

“I need caffeine.”

Okay, so he didn’t want to explain why he hadn’t slept. He was obviously keeping his guard up, didn’t want her getting too close, and that should be a message for her to do the same thing.

Should be. But damn it, here again, she’d never been good with “shoulds.” It seemed her natural instinct was to go against “shoulds”—as if some part of her longed to be a rebel.





Chapter Five


Fredericka followed him into the opposite side of the house that held the office. She ended up in a kitchen, painted bright yellow with red accents. It didn’t look like a guy’s kitchen. She remembered Brandon’s sister. Did she live here?

He stopped at the counter and glanced back at her with the good side of his face. She almost asked about his sister, when he spoke up.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Never acquired a taste for it. But I’ve always loved the smell of it.”

He poured himself a cup. And turned a little more than halfway, still hiding. The fact that he knew exactly how far he could turn his face toward her, allowing her to see both his eyes, but the scar under his cheekbone close to his ear remained out of sight, didn’t get past her.

Their gazes locked and in the bright blue of his eyes she saw a bit of exhaustion there. Oddly, the same feeling echoed inside of her. The silence grew awkward really quickly.

“I was thinking of all that needs to be done out front. Would you like some suggestions?”

“Sure.” He sipped from his cup. The steam rose up and gathered under his cap.

She recounted to him her ideas: the paint, the garden, the sign. He listened and sipped his coffee. “I had plans for all of that except painting. Not sure I have time for that.”

“You would if I help.”

“You paint?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She ignored her phone that dinged with a text.

“You need to get that?” he asked.

“I’ll check it later,” she said, fearing it was from Cary. He’d sent her one text early this morning about wanting to talk to her. But she’d said all she had to say to the guy.

“Come with me, I’ll show you something.” He led her through a door into a garage. The smell of fresh paint hit her.

On a workbench she saw it. The sign. It read, FALLEN GALLERY. It was painted in yellow and black, and had some red accents. Kind of like the kitchen, only a little less bright. It looked both artistic and classy. She looked at him and smiled.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind. Why don’t we paint the porch the same yellow? Then we can plant the gardens with some flowers that have a little yellow and reds. You’ll also need a sign that lists the hours. And maybe put a nice bench on the front porch. You know, for the man’s man who isn’t into art and is just waiting on his wife or girlfriend.”

He stood there staring at her and sipping from his cup. The temperature in the garage seemed at least ten degrees below that in the house and his coffee sent up steam. When he still didn’t speak she got worried.