Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(160)

“You’re being a total jerk! I have a lot of happy memories of this room, and I want to see it again.”

“I’m so touched I’m getting tears in my eyes,” he drawled. “Come on. You can help me get dressed.” He shut the door before she could see inside and began steering her toward his bedroom.


“Don’t bother. I’ll walk home.”

“Now who’s being a jerk?”

It pained her to admit he was right, but it was frustrating to get so close and not be able to see the rest of the house. He closed the bedroom door after they were inside and headed into the walk-in closet.

She spotted the key lying on the bedside table where he’d left it, quickly slipped it into her pocket, then leaned against the bedpost. “Can I at least take a peek in my old room?”

He reappeared buttoning a denim shirt.”No. My sister-in-law uses it for her office when she stays here, and I don’t think she’d appreciate you mucking around there.”

“Who said anything about mucking around? I just want a peek.”

“You can’t have it.” He picked up a pair of sweat socks from the floor and pushed his feet into them. As he put on his shoes, she glanced toward the far side of the room where the bathroom lay that linked this room with her old one.

“How often do your brother and sister-in-law show up here?”

He stood. “Not too often. Neither of them like the house very much.”

“Why’d they buy it?”

“Privacy. They lived here for three months right after they were married, but they haven’t spent much time here since. Cal was finishing out his contract with the Chicago Stars.”

“What are they doing now?”

“He’s started med school at UNC, and she’s teaching there. One of these days, they’ll renovate.” He stood. “So why didn’t you and G. Dwayne sleep in the same room?”

“He snored.”

“Cut the bullshit, Rachel. Do you think you could do that? Do you think you could cut through the bullshit long enough for us to have an honest conversation, or have you been lying so long you’ve forgotten how to tell the truth?”

“I happen to be a very honest person!”

“Bull.”

“We didn’t sleep in the same room because he didn’t want to be tempted.”

“Tempted to do what?”

“What do you think?”

“You were his wife.”

“His virgin bride.”

“You’ve got a kid, Rachel.”

“It’s a miracle, considering . . .”

“I thought G. Dwayne was supposed to be a hound. Are you telling me he didn’t like sex?”

“He loved sex. With hookers. His wife was supposed to stay pure.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Yeah, well, so was Dwayne.”

He chuckled just when she could have used a little sympathy.

“Come on, Bonner. I can’t believe you’re so mean you won’t let me see Edward’s nursery.”

“Life’s a bitch.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

It was useless to argue, especially since she had the key back and could return when she was certain the house was empty. She followed him into the garage, which held a long, dark-blue Mercedes and Gabe’s dusty old black pickup.

She nodded toward the Mercedes. “Your brother’s?”

“Mine.”

“Jeez, you really are rich, aren’t you?”

He grunted and climbed into the pickup. Moments later, they were heading down the drive through the praying-hands gates.

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, the highway was deserted, and she was exhausted. She leaned her head against the seat and gave into a few precious moments of self-pity. She was no farther along now than she’d been when she’d first seen the magazine photo. She still had no idea if the chest was in the house, but at least she had her key back. How long would it be before Gabe realized she’d taken it?

“Damn!”

She lunged forward as he slammed on the brakes.

Blocking the narrow road that wound up Heartache Mountain to Annie’s cottage, a glowing, geometric shape loomed nearly six feet tall. The sight was so unexpected and so obscene that her mind wouldn’t immediately accept what it was. But the numbness didn’t last forever, and her mind was finally forced to identify what it saw.

The smoldering remains of a wooden cross.





An icy prickle slid down Rachel’s spine. She whispered, “They’ve burned a cross to scare me away.”

Gabe threw open the door of the truck and leaped out. In the glare of the headlights, Rachel watched him kick the cross down in a shower of sparks. Weak-kneed, she got out. Her hands felt clammy as she watched him take a shovel from the back of the truck and break apart the smoldering remains.

“I like it better when they welcome you to the neighborhood with a chocolate cake,” she said faintly.

“This isn’t anything to joke about.” He began scooping up the charred pieces and moving them to the side of the road.


She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’ve got to joke, Bonner. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.”