He let out a low growl of frustration.
“All right…for now,” he said reluctantly. “But I don’t know how much longer I can wait to publicly claim you. I’m on fire when you’re not with me. My wolf claws at me from the inside.”
“I know,” she groaned, and reached for his hand. He pulled it away, clenching it into a fist. “If you touch me and I know I can’t have you…” His voice were harsh and his eyes dark and gleaming.
She nodded, and swallowed hard. “Soon. A few more days. Let’s give it a few more days. Maybe Portia will calm down and get over it.” Somehow, she doubted it, but she didn’t think it was a good idea for her and the sheriff to rub their relationship in Portia’s face right after Portia had basically been booted out of the sheriff’s office.
She climbed out of the car and headed back to the house.
Marigold and the students were all in the sitting room, and they looked up anxiously when Ginger walked in. Ginger shook her head. “I’m sorry, guys. There’s no news.”
The students faces fell, and they went back to muttering among themselves.
“You missed dinner, but we can reheat something for you in the kitchen,” Marigold said. “And by the way, you’re going to tell me absolutely everything.”
“You first. What about you and loverboy?” Ginger said, following.
Marigold shrugged, looking unhappy. “We went out. He was very nice to me. He’s funny. He kissed me good night and he’s a great kisser.”#p#分页标题#e#
“So?” Ginger grabbed a plate from the refrigerator and carried it over to the microwave.
“So, I already told you what I saw as our future.”
“But-“
“No buts,” Marigold grumbled. “My mother’s been divorced six times. She’s getting ready to marry number seven. I’m an expert in how relationships end. That’s why I try to avoid them.”
“So you’re not going to see him again?”
“Well, after he kissed me I found myself agreeing to let him cook me dinner at his place tomorrow night. I guess after dinner, I’ll tell him it’s over.”
Ginger shook her head, sighing. “You’re being ridiculous, but I can’t live your life for you.”
Under much prodding from Marigold, she gave her a g-rated description of her afternoon with the sheriff, including the fact that the niece of the local Council member had it in for her.
“What a bitch,” Marigold shook her head.
“You don’t know the half of it. I don’t know, I’m still…I’m so confused about everything. He says I’m his fated mate. He’s so completely different from me, this town is so different than everything I’ve grown up with, but it feels so right.”
“If it came right down to it, you could teach here just as well as you could teach in New York. I’d come visit you here.”
“Do you think that the whole fated mate concept is really a thing?”
“It’s a thing,” Marigold nodded solemnly. “A thing that I’ll probably never have. If he says that he’s your fated mate, then you are. The sheriff may be many things, but he’s not a liar. I can tell. Why fight it?”
Ginger fell asleep that night with a deliciously satisfied ache between her thighs, and was woken up early the next morning by a pounding on her door.
With a groan, she made her way across the room and yanked the door open.
The archeology students were standing in the hall.
“Is it true that you can communicate with the dead?” Brenda demanded.
“The professor.” Ginger smacked her forehead with her hand. Of course. She should have tried to communicate with him as soon as it was established that he was missing. She’d been so distracted by Loch that it hadn’t even occurred to her.
“Have you heard from him? From the other side?” Tallulah’s voice came out in a high pitched wail.
“No, it doesn’t work like that. I have to be at the scene of their death, or in their home, or somewhere that they spent a lot of time. Sometimes it works if I just touch something of theirs, a physical object that they’ve touched. Somewhere their psychic energy would be lingering, so it opens up a pathway for me to communicate with them. And over the years, I’ve built up my mental defenses to the point where I actually screen out the other side most of the time; I need to be concentrating, and focused, to communicate with the dead.”