Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(17)
Sam was doubtful that she could see much through the rising fog, but a wind kept it to wispy drifts. She waited until she saw the light blink down the hill, then reached inside and flicked the front door light switch.
“Come along, Emma. Did you eat everything I left you? Do you need more? I wish this Cass person had left care instructions.”
The studio seemed like a quiet, sensible safe haven as Sam entered, flipping on normal lights. She pushed boxes up against the wall to clear floor space. Had she left those books out? Scooping them up, she deposited them in a partially empty box.
It wasn’t until she entered the bed area behind the blanket and saw her interview suit crumpled on the floor that she realized someone had violated her space.
The last time Walker had taken time off had been for the hospital and funeral. That had been over a year ago. But officially, today was his day off, and this time, he was taking it. He showered and shaved at the lodge. He kept his very own Superman stash in an employee locker so he had jeans and a flannel shirt. He actually grinned when he took out his wrinkled clothes, remembering the newcomer’s sardonic comment from the night before.
He hadn’t felt like smiling in a very long time. He would never smile again if he allowed another flaky female under his skin. So he needed to steer clear of Sam if she was a Lucy. The jury was still out on that.
He’d diverted the crazies from the crime scene by warning them that he’d seen a cougar and her cubs prowling the grave site. So he’d managed a decent night’s sleep and was now prepared to be entertained hearing about the séance.
The people who knew him waved as he entered the café. The tourists didn’t look up from devouring Dinah’s scrumptious breakfast. The food almost made up for not having cell service. If he’d wanted a setting out of time and place to recover, this was a good one.
Samantha glanced up from filling a coffee cup and smiled, but dark shadows still circled her sad eyes. The therapist had told him he had a strong need to protect derived from his teen years of being his abandoned mother’s crutch. He was trying hard not to go looking for the helpless and needy anymore, but damned if he could avoid those big blue eyes sparkling like sapphire crystals when she glanced at him.
He took a stool at the counter and nodded at the coffee pot she lifted in his direction. This morning she’d tied her hair back and covered it with a ridiculous ball cap with Dinah’s written above the bill. The orange didn’t clash with her blue denim shirt, but it stood out.
“Did the spirits talk?” he asked after inhaling the first half of his caffeine.
“I think the consensus was that we should burn evil or maybe just the serpents. Does this mean we should burn the person who ransacked the studio last night?” She kept her voice low enough that only he could hear.
He froze in mid-sip, then lowered the cup. “Anything taken?”
“I don’t have anything worth taking. Someone just wanted to know who I was.” Her whisper was almost accusatory.
“Not me. I can look you up in a database anytime I need to. Do you want me to take a look around? Help change the locks?”
“I’m a guest. I can’t change locks. But thanks for asking.” She plastered on a big smile and spoke more loudly. “Pie or do you want something more healthy?” Her voice wasn’t precisely sultry, but the practical question held a pleasant musical note that was better than her earlier fear.
He played along. There wasn’t much he could do about a B&E with no damage. It cost money to run fingerprints and the county didn’t have much. “I’m off duty. I have time for healthy. I trust the Lucys don’t mean to burn down the lodge to stomp out evil?”
She refilled cups up and down the counter while she talked. “They consider the lodge evil?”
“Vile interloper polluting the environment,” he answered solemnly.
“Money is the root of all evil,” Harvey added, sliding onto the empty stool beside him. “Greed corrupts.”
“Tourists put food on the table,” Dinah said, emerging from the kitchen to slap an enormous omelet in front of Walker. “Don’t condemn what you ain’t got. Poached for you?” She glanced at Harvey.
“As always, dear, with a bottle of your devil sauce,” he shouted after her as she strode back to the kitchen.
“Evil.” Walker pointed at Harvey.
“Go f. . .” Harvey grimaced and watched Sam smiling, chatting, and pouring juice for a child. “Where the hell did she come from? Do you know?”
“Utah.” Walker bit into his heavenly omelet and ignored Harvey’s frustration. Swearing did seem inappropriate around the ethereal Miss Moon.
“Salt Lake City is about the only excuse for that air of angelic innocence. Botticelli would have loved her. Hey, Sam, could I have some of that juice?”
Sam picked up an empty glass and set it in front of Harvey. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Did I see you playing a guitar last night?”
“He’s a wandering minstrel,” Walker told her. “Sam, meet Harvey the Loafer. Harvey, this is Samantha the Moon Goddess.”
“Someone got up feeling perky this morning.” She filled Harvey’s glass, then refilled Walker’s cup with the coffee carafe in her other hand.
“I get to go into Baskerville today, restock my kitchen, and do the laundry,” Walker explained. “Fun day ahead. Can I get you anything while I’m down there?”