Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“What is it, then? What does Darth mean?”
“It’s not a word in the English dictionary,” Ava says. “It was the first thing I checked.”
“And Morgen? With an e?”
“I found a couple of things. Spelled with an e, it means morning in German, but Darth isn’t a German word. It can refer to Morgan with an a, the sorceress in King Arthur lore, and it’s a unit of land measure equal to about two acres or about two thirds of an acre, depending on the country it’s used in.”
“Land measure…” Dad scratches his head.
“Well, you Steels have a lot of land,” I say.
“Yeah. True.” Ava rubs at her jawline. “So we have two possibilities for Morgen.”
“One,” I say. “I doubt this has anything to do with King Arthur.”
Ava smiles. “Don’t be so sure. Legends have a lot they can teach us.”
Dad shakes his head. “No offense, Ava, but I’m betting that if this means anything, it has something to do with the land.”
“What about Darth?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head again. “I don’t know, son. I just don’t know.”
The takeout bag weighs heavy in my hand. “Our dinners are getting cold, so we’d better go eat.”
“All right. I’ll go back and tell Hardy you’re leaving. I’m not sure what any of this means, but it is odd that the sheriff got the message. If he was told to ask the Murphys, why didn’t the message just come to one of us?”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Dad. But I have a feeling we’ve got another mystery to solve.”
CHAPTER NINE
AVA
We arrive back at my place, and I pull out some plates and silverware, setting my small table quickly.
Brendan eyes my red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and smiles. “We could be sitting in Lorenzo’s.”
“I found it at a yard sale and fell in love with it,” I tell him. “As you can probably tell, I like eclectic things.”
Brendan looks around my apartment, and I follow his gaze as he rests it on the burnt-sienna steamer trunk I use for a coffee table, my lamp made of conch shells, the carved wooden box where I keep my tarot deck, and the black-and-white photo of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz hanging above my television.
“Frankly? I like your taste. I like that you’re just so…uniquely you, Ava.”
My cheeks warm. “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.”
He trails his finger over my cheek.
I burn at his touch.
And honestly? It’s the first time I’ve ever burned when a man touched me.
As if in slow motion, he brings his lips closer. Brushes them lightly over mine.
And there it is.
The spark.
That damned spark.
Take a chance, Ava. Take a chance on this man.
No. Can’t get swept away. Listen to the cards.
“The food…” I say. “It’ll get cold.”
“You got a microwave?”
“Of course.”
“Then who cares?”
His mouth comes down on mine again, harder this time.
The soft point of his tongue probes my mouth open…
And I’m lost.
Lost in this kiss. Lost in his soft tongue swirling around mine.
Lost in…
No more thoughts.
Only feelings.
Only Brendan. Only me. Only this kiss.
He wraps his arms around me, and it’s a good thing, too, because I’m not very steady on my feet.
He pulls me into his body, and I melt against him, and then—
I pull back, breaking the kiss with a loud smack.
I felt it.
It.
His hardness. His erection.
“Ava?”
I bite my mouth. “I’m…sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just…” He shakes his head. “I’m very attracted to you, Ava. I guess that’s pretty obvious.”
I can’t help myself. I drop my gaze to his crotch.
Brendan is tall. As tall as my father, at least. With a lean build and a butt that looks delicious in the jeans he’s wearing.
“Maybe we should have our dinner,” he says.
I nod. “That’s a great idea.”
But I don’t move.
I’ve already set the table, so Brendan takes charge. He pulls the containers out of the takeout bag and plates our dinner.
“You have any olive oil?” he asks, holding up the bread.
“Yeah. In the cupboard above the sink.”
Brendan grabs the olive oil and pours some onto a plate from my shelf. Then he finds the salt and pepper above the stove and brings them to the table.
“I should’ve brought a bottle of wine from the bar.”
“Yeah, I don’t have any wine. I’m sorry. I’m a poor winemaker’s daughter, to my father’s chagrin.”
“It’s okay. We’ll just have water.” He smiles, and then he goes to the sink, pours two glasses of water, adds ice from the freezer, and brings them back, setting one in front of me.
I grab it and drain half of it in one gulp.
My God, I’m on fire.
It must be so obvious too. I’m not a virgin, but I may as well be for the way I’m feeling right now.
Brendan takes up the room. It’s like he owns the place, even though it’s mine, not his.