Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(189)

“All right. We can hook up the television.”

“You’ve done enough, Ethan. Thanks anyway.”

She couldn’t have been more clearly dismissing him, but Ethan refused to take the hint and leave. “Come on, Edward. Let’s see what we can do with that sticky bathroom door.”


“The builder’s sending someone to take care of it tomorrow. I don’t really have anything else, Ethan. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

This was too direct to ignore, and as he returned the tools to the toolbox and made his way to the door, Rachel began to feel sorry for the gorgeous Pastor Bonner.



The windows were dark. Ever since the incident with the burning cross, Gabe had known that Rachel couldn’t stay alone on Heartache Mountain. With Kristy gone, he was afraid for her.

He’d planned to get to the cottage earlier, but Ethan had stopped by, and Gabe had been forced to listen to a lengthy monologue about how rude Kristy had been to him, then ignore some none-too-subtle hints that Rachel was after his money. That was definitely true, but not in the way Ethan meant. One thing had led to another, and now it was nearly midnight.

He parked the truck by the garage and sat there in the dark for a moment, his thoughts in turmoil. Talking about Cherry this afternoon with Rachel, even so briefly, had begun to ease something inside him. If only Rachel lived in the cottage by herself, moving in might not be so complicated. But he would also have to deal with her son, and just the thought of being around that pale, silent little boy made the blackness descend all over again.

The child was an innocent, and he’d tried to argue himself out of his feelings dozens of times, but he couldn’t. Whenever he looked at Edward, he thought of Jamie, and how the worthier child had died.

He drew in a sharp breath. The thought was ugly. Unforgivable.

He pushed it away as he took his suitcase from the truck and headed toward the house. Even though the night was cloudy and none of the outside lights were on, he had no trouble making his way. He’d spent hundreds of nights at this cottage when he was a child.

How many times had he and Cal slipped through a back window after Annie had gone to bed so they could explore? Ethan had been too young to go with them, and he still complained about having missed out on some of Gabe and Cal’s best adventures.

An owl hooted in the distance as Gabe came around the side of the house. His shoes made a soft swishing sound in the grass, and his keys jingled in his hand.

“Stay where you are!”

Rachel’s shadow loomed on the front porch, tall and straight. His lips framed a wisecrack, but, as he made out his grandmother’s old shotgun pointed at his chest, he decided being a smart-ass wasn’t a good idea.

“I’ve got a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it!”

“It’s me. Damn, Rachel. You sound like a bad detective movie.”

She dropped the barrel of the shotgun. “Gabe? What are you doing out there? You scared the life out of me!”

“I came up here to defend you,” he said dryly.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I planned to arrive earlier, but I ran into a little trouble with Ethan.”

“Your brother is a moron.”

“He’s crazy about you, too.” He stepped up on the porch and took the shotgun away from her with his free hand.

She reached inside the screen door to flick on the yellow porch light. His mouth went dry as he saw her standing there with bare feet, bare legs, and the same blue workshirt she’d been wearing the morning the house was vandalized. Her rumpled curls looked like ancient gold in the porch light.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“As you can see, it’s a suitcase. I’m moving in for a while.”

“Did Kristy put you up to this?”

“No. Kristy’s worried, but this is my idea. As long as she was living here, I never believed the danger to you would go beyond threats, but with her gone, you’re more vulnerable.”

He walked into the living room where he set down his suitcase and checked the shotgun. It wasn’t loaded, so he gave it back. At the same time, he thought about the .38 he’d locked up before he left the house. Keeping a loaded gun next to his bed had suddenly seemed obscene. “Put that away.”

“You don’t think I can take care of myself, do you? Well, I can, so just hop back in that redneck truck of yours and go away.”

He couldn’t quite hold back a smile. She did that to him. “Save it, Rach. You’ve never been so glad to see anybody in your life, and you know it.”

She made a face. “Are you really moving in?”

“I have enough trouble sleeping as it is without worrying about what’s going on up here.”

“I don’t need a baby-sitter, but I guess I wouldn’t mind a little company.”

That, he knew, was the closest he’d get to an acknowledgment that she was worried. She disappeared to put the shotgun away, and he carried his suitcase down the back hallway to his grandmother’s old bedroom, which was now empty of Kristy’s things. As he gazed around at the old rough-hewn bed and the rocker in the corner, he remembered how scared he’d get at night when he was little. He used to sneak in here and crawl in with Annie. He could have climbed in with Cal, but he hadn’t wanted his older brother to know that he was afraid. One time, though, he’d slipped in with his grandmother only to discover that his big brother was already there.