Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(8)

That thought makes me smile. Some people might find it creepy, but for me, it’s comforting.

I unlock the door and step inside, closing my eyes. I know he’s not here, but I swear I feel him.

My first instinct is to open the door on the right, into his study, but I decide to wait. I don’t need to see the room empty.

The big leather chair behind the massive oak desk, vacant, will make his absence too real. Right now, I’d like to pretend, if only for a few minutes, that he’s in there.

Go ahead.

Call it ridiculous.

I’ve had enough school to know the psychology, how people like to tell themselves lies or outright hallucinate after they’ve lost someone they love. I’m aware how I’m acting, maybe a little crazy, but I’m so past caring because it helps.

It helps me take on this inheritance, this burden I never imagined in a bazillion years.

Sighing, I walk through the foyer and glance up the wide staircase. My room will look exactly as I left it. I take a quick look at the front room, and then glance toward the kitchen.

Wow.

No, seriously. Wowza.

There’s been some updates, and...it’s enough to make my jaw drop.

New countertops and sparkly appliances. A kitchen totally changed from lovingly weathered wood to sleek marble and stainless steel and fancy old world tile.

“Dang,” I whisper. Even Mom would be impressed.

It looks fantastic. The updates don’t interfere with its seasoned charm either; the best of both worlds brought together by Gramps’ brilliant craftsmanship, I’m sure.

Weirdly, I can’t imagine him using it to cook much. He was a steak and potatoes kinda guy, even if he whipped up some amazing stuff whenever anyone would visit. So I wonder why he’d bother going through all this trouble just to –

Thunk!

A noise echoes through the house.

It stops me dead in my tracks. My spine tucks in, and I hold my breath, listening, eyes tracing toward the ceiling. But it isn’t up there, exactly.

Relief oozes out of me as I see the curtains fluttering and notice the furnace vent below them. It’s a warm day, but still chilly enough for the sensors, so the furnace switched on.

Lucky me. No need to turn up the thermostat in Gramps’ study.

I nod, deciding I should finish exploring the house so the next perfectly normal noise doesn’t send me leaping out of my skin.

I might as well carry my bags up before investigating the kitchen more. An inventory of the fridge and cupboards could take some time, and I’ll need a little while to really get a handle on where things are in the new configuration.

At the top of the stairs, I turn left. That’s where my room is, down the hall, along with two other bedrooms and a bathroom. The exact same number of rooms is mirrored on the other side if I’d turned right.

I never get the chance.

Another noise, this time an unmistakable thud! shoots a harsher chill up my neck.

I stop. Listen. Ears so hot they burn.

Jesus, I’m not alone in here.

There’s someone else in the house.

I’m about to step forward – or is it back? I should put distance between me and the intruder, maybe head to one of the three fireplaces for a blunt, heavy object before I –

Nope. Too late.

The bathroom door flies open, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Then a man, a beast as tall as Edison steps into the hallway, all furious muscle and ink. Labyrinths of tattoos criss-cross his bare chest, his cannon-barrel arms. Naked, except for a white towel covering his hips.

I’m nothing but instinct when I do what any sane person would.

Scream.





2





Sign Here (Drake)





What the fuck?

An ear-piercing scream rips through my temples like I’m flush up against a tornado siren. Dammit, Jonah, you never said your granddaughter has a set of lungs that could break every window in this house!

Pressing a finger to the side of my head, I barely remember to hold the towel around my waist with my other hand. Last thing I need is to trade her an eyeful for an earful.

The savage pain is a gift from my military days. An improvised explosive blast damaged some acoustic nerves, leaving me unable to hear some pitches, while others give me an instant fucking headache.

“Get out, get out, get out, you creep!” At least she’s yelling now.

Progress.

“Calm down, lady! It’s just me, Drake Larkin. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Her reaction tells me it’s a big fat 'no.'

She stumbles backward, up against the wall. “I don’t know any Drake Larkin! This is my grandfather’s house and...get out!” Her eyes go wide as she hurls the last syllable like a spear.

Fuck.

Here comes more pain. Flinching at the high pitch her voice can reach, I growl right back, “For Christ’s sake, stop screaming. I know it’s Jonah’s place. Newsflash: I worked for him!”

I swear she’s about to put her butt through the wall itself. But at least she pipes down, batting her confused eyes at me. “Worked for him? What?”

Thankful she’s lowered the pitch, I ease the hand off my temple. Luckily, the pain dissipates as fast as it hits.

Okay.

Jonah told her about me, right? He sure as hell told me enough about her. But if that’s true, then my presence here shouldn’t be such a shock she wants to shriek me six feet under.