Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Up to that morning, Clelia had kept her worry to herself. She knew Erwan had visited every burnt house, not to show his support for the victims, but because he was eavesdropping on the firemen who investigated the mysterious cause of the fires. He was searching for evidence that the culprit hadn’t been his granddaughter even if he’d never admit it. The dream and sleepwalking had thrown her off kilter, but the fact that Joss was here had sent her into a panic.
What was she to do? She’d fretted all day, contemplating leaving, but her responsibility toward Erwan and her animals quickly made her abandon the idea. She had to come forward and hand herself over to the authorities. Maybe they had scientists who could do tests to see once and for all if her unnatural talent had resurfaced. If it had, she didn’t know what she’d do.
Lost in thought, she jumped when the door opened.
The tour agent who’d brought in the last group leaned in the frame. “We’re back.” His gaze slipped under the table to where her bare legs were crossed.
“I saw you returning through the window from a mile. You don’t have to announce it, Ninian.”
“That would take away my excuse for seeing you.”
Squaring a stack of papers, she sighed. “We’ve been through this last year.”
“I don’t see you dating anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m interested.”
He looked her up and down. “Are you a lesbian or something?”
“You’re here for a season and then you’re gone.”
He lifted a brow. “And?”
“You’re interested in a summer fling, and I’m not.”
Fixing his eyes on her breasts, he said, “It’s just a beer at the brasserie and a bit of dancing.”
She crossed her arms. “I’d like to lock up.”
“Need a ride home?”
“No, thanks.”
He grinned. “You’re going to have to give up your precious virginity sometime or another.”
Her cheeks grew hot. Living in a small town had plenty of disadvantages. One of them was that everyone knew everything about everybody. Gossip was a major pastime. Everyone knew she’d never dated. She couldn’t even claim a holiday fling since she’d never set foot outside the village. But Ninian lived in Paris. To the locals, he was as good as a foreigner. It hurt that her own kind—well, adopted kind—would disclose such personal information to a stranger, someone considered an outsider.
She gave him a narrowed look. “That was rude.”
He laughed. “If you’re waiting for Prince Charming to ride into town on a white horse, you’ll wait forever. Your best bet is a fisherman from one of the passing trawlers.” He straightened. “I could take you to Paris. We’ll make it fun.”
She picked up her backpack and got to her feet. “Good evening, Ninian.”
He smirked. “Careful, honey. You’re turning into a frigid spinster. God knows, you already have enough cats for the resumé.” Turning on his heel, he stalked from the office and made his way to the car park with bouncy strides.
Rigual appeared in the door. “If he’s bothering you, I can give him the wild horse next time. It’ll do him good to come back down to Earth. He needs a good knock on the head.”
She smiled at the man who had a daughter her age. “Thanks, but I can handle myself.”
“We’re done in the stables.”
She nodded. “I’ll close up.”
“Need a lift home?”
“No, thanks. I can do with a walk.”
She needed to clear her head and figure out how to tell Erwan of her intention to hand herself over to the police. It wasn’t a task she looked forward to.
Rigual and Golven got into Rigual’s van. She waved through the window as the van pulled off. The indicator blinked as the vehicle turned right and disappeared in the direction of Carnac.
Stalling for time, she swept the office and cleaned the windows. When only a thumbnail of sun capped the horizon, she couldn’t put it off any longer. She locked the door and left the key under the flowerpot, which defied the purpose of locking it, as that was the first place any burglar would look, not that they’d had any burglaries in all the years she’d lived there, but that was the way Tristan wanted it done. It had been his wife’s habit, and he clung to it as if she were still alive.
She watered the flowers as the final part of her daily tasks. When she was done, the first stars appeared in the dusk. She arranged the hosepipe in a neatly rolled coil and hung it on the wall hook. As she looked up, her eye caught a figure in the distance stumbling down the dirt road. He had to have come straight past her while she had her back turned to the road. She frowned. Had one of the tourists been left behind? It had happened before. If he was hoping to make it to the bus stop, he was going in the wrong direction.