“Eli, the Easter Chicken lays the eggs. The bunny hides them.”
“Whatever, they’re doing it at Bluff House this year.”
“They are?” She glanced at her cottage as they passed, but didn’t think she should run in for a quick change of clothes. She might come out and find him curled up asleep in the middle of the road.
“That’s what my mother said. They’re all coming up on Saturday.”
“That’s great. Hester’s able to travel?”
“She’s going to talk to the doctor first, but it looks good for it. The whole bunch of them. There’s stuff I have to do first. I can’t think what it is right now, except I don’t have to bake a ham. But you have to come.”
“I’ll drop in, sure. I’d love to see them, Hester especially.”
“No.” While he felt slightly steadier with the sea breeze blowing, Eli had a sudden, wicked craving for potato chips. Or pretzels. Or just about anything that would sop up some of the excess beer in his belly.
“You have to be there,” he continued, “for the thing. Easter. I thought I should tell my mother we were seeing each other so it wouldn’t be weird. Then it got weird, like I’d won a blue ribbon or something, then she started crying.”
“Oh, Eli.”
“She said happy crying, which I don’t get, but women do.” He glanced down at her for verification.
“Yes, we do.”
“So it’s probably going to be weird, but you have to come anyway. I need to buy stuff. And things.”
“I’ll put stuff and things on the list.”
“Okay.” He weaved again. “It’s not the beer, it’s the bumps. . . . My grandfather used to drive a motorcycle with a sidecar. I didn’t know that. It seems like I should have. I didn’t know there used to be servants’ passages in the house. There’s too much I don’t know. Look at it.”
Bluff House stood silhouetted in starlight, illuminated from within. “I’ve taken it for granted.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Too much of it. I haven’t paid attention, especially in the last few years. Too wrapped up in my own stuff, and couldn’t seem to roll my way out of it. I need to do better.”
“Then you will.”
He stopped a moment, smiled at her. “I’m a little drunk. You look amazing.”
“I look amazing because you’re a little drunk?”
“No. Some of it’s just knowing who you are and being good with it, doing what you do, and, well, being happy doing it. And some of it’s those sea-witch eyes and that sexy mouth with that little mole right there. Lindsay was beautiful. She took your breath away.”
A little drunk, Abra reminded herself. Allowances could be made. “I know.”
“But she, I think, she didn’t really know who she was, and wasn’t good with it. She wasn’t happy. I didn’t make her happy.”
“Everyone has to make themselves happy first.”
“Now you remember.”
“I remember.” He leaned down to kiss her, there in the shadows of the great house under a sky mad with stars. “I need to sober up some because I want to make love with you, and I want to be sure I remember that, too.”
“Then let’s make it unforgettable.”
The minute they were inside and he’d punched in the alarm code, he pulled her against him.
She welcomed his mouth, his hands, but eased away. “First things first,” she said, drawing him through the house. “What you need is a big glass of water and a couple aspirin. Hydration and hangover anticipation. And I’m going to have a glass of wine so you’re not so far ahead of me.”
“Fair enough. I really want to tear your clothes off.” He blocked her, shoved her back against the counter. “Just tear them off because I know what’s under them, and it drives me crazy.”
“Looks like we’re going to get to the kitchen floor this time.” With his teeth at her throat, she dropped her head back. “I think it’s going to live up to the hype.”
“Just let me . . . wait.”
“Oh, sure, now it’s wait after you’ve—”
“Wait.” He set her aside, his face stony now. She followed his gaze to the alarm panel.
“How did you manage to smudge that up? I’ll clean it tomorrow,” she said, reaching for him.
“I didn’t.” He stepped over, examined the door. “I think the door’s been forced. Don’t touch anything,” he snapped when she went to him. “Call the police. Now.”