Mouse.
"Sydney!" Her name split the air, and suddenly Tristan was diving upward through the space. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"Mouse! Mouse!" A whimper broke through her lips. "Get it!"
"You gave me a heart attack for a mouse? Woman, I thought you were in real trouble!"
She hissed through gritted teeth, "I am! Get the damn mouse or I'm going to lose it."
Muttering under his breath, he turned toward the frantic creature and grabbed a wooden stick. "Come on, buddy, out this way."
"You're not going to kill it?"
"Do you want me to hurt an innocent creature of God?"
She shot him a withering look. "Fine, just get it. I have to get out of here!"
He took the stick, urging the mouse toward the open hole of the exit, and she watched in horror as the creature dove out of the attic, falling through the empty space, and disappeared.
She jumped up and down, rubbing her hands over her arms to rid herself of the chills. "Oh, my God, that was so gross. Now he's in the house!"
Tristan shook his head. "I cannot believe you're afraid of a mouse. I swear, Syd, don't do that to me again." He walked over to the attic door and turned, and the stick knocked out the flimsy support, swinging the hatch closed.
The loud crash made her jump, and she glared at him. "Nice work," she gibed. "This place is creepy. I want out of here now."
He glared with pure disgust. "Fine. I told you to wait for me in the first place, but no, not you. Miss Independent has to climb into the attic all by herself and disturb the poor mouse."
Irritated and still jumpy, she pushed him aside and leaned over to pull open the door. "I'll be sure not to call you if I ever need saving," she shot out, yanking at the flimsy handle.
The door didn't budge.
"It's stuck."
"I'll get it." He pulled. Nothing. Frowning, he knelt down and jerked the handle hard.
The metal ripped off the rotted wood.
Blinking in confusion, he stared at the handle in his hands. Then down at the door. "It broke."
"Yeah, so just bust through it or something."
He gave her a withering look. "I can't just bust through it like in the movies. The damn handle came off. That's how we get out."
She stared at him, her heart beginning to pound. "What do you mean? Just get us out!"
"Give me a minute, okay?" He took his time trying to jiggle the door open, then examined the handle. When there seemed to be no movement, he took the stick and began crashing it against the wood.
The door held tight.
He rose to his knees. "I think we're locked in."
"No. We can't be locked in here. It's impossible."
"Well, since the door isn't opening and we're stuck in the attic, I guess it is possible."
She took the stick and began smashing it against the door, like a crazed person on a mission to break open a birthday piñata. "Whoa-slow down, slugger," he said, grabbing her arms. Out of breath, she glared at him, then the door. "Are you afraid of small spaces or something? You never had those fears before."
"No, but I think something bad happened in this attic. There are bars on the window. And that lock on the outside is just plain weird. What if there are ghosts in here?"
His lips twitched. "I don't believe in ghosts. Just relax. We'll call someone. Where's your cell?"
"In my purse."
"Where's your purse?"
She glowered. "Downstairs."
"Fuck." The amusement faded to frustration. "Why would you leave your purse downstairs? You take it everywhere."
She blew out a breath. "Not in an attic! Let's just use your cell to call someone. Have them come spring us."
A strange expression flickered over his face. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I dropped my cell phone in a race to save your life when you started screaming."
It took a few moments to realize they were trapped together in a haunted attic with no idea who would eventually come looking for them-or when.
Then she really did want to scream.
Tristan had an urge to pull her against his chest, wrap his arms tight, and whisper in her ear that everything would be okay. She infused a raw need in him to either fuck her senseless or shower her with tenderness. It was like a pendulum-he never knew which need would hit him first, but it always came with a degree of intensity that surprised him.
Like it did right now.
Instead, he kept his hands firmly tucked away from temptation and spoke with authority. "I mentioned our trip to Cal, so I'm sure he'll know where to look when we don't answer our cell phones. Is your daughter okay?"