She was not amused, nor did she yearn.
He could feel her animosity from the distance.
Shifting, he humored himself that he held her gaze until he turned the boat away from her. He humored himself further to think she watched him until he could no longer be seen.
Chapter fifty-eight
Cassidy
GHOSTS
Shit, he’d caught her watching—okay, staring. And once seen, she had to stay committed, right? And he had devoured her with his dark eyes, as intense and haunting as the first time she’d seen him, the taunt of inevitability swirling in the air between them.
Cassidy expected him to drop anchor and stalk her, prowl up the hill toward her to…
What? What, exactly? He’d be crazy to try anything.
That didn’t stop her from locking the door behind herself, ignoring her wild pulse.
Walking between the sofas, she stumbled, her brain taking a whirl. Catching herself between the two, she slowly lowered herself to her knees, taking a deep breath as she tried to focus on the ground, to keep it from spinning. She hated the dizziness, the spells that struck from out of nowhere. There was no rhyme or reason; she couldn’t pinpoint when or where or why something would send her falling over.
She’d been told she shouldn’t have any adverse effects; she was expected to make a full recovery. Something about the stress on her brain having been relieved with the drain. Yet, here she was…
One doctor suggested a therapy dog. Cassidy had cried at the thought. Her heart was still breaking for Fred.
“Fred,” she called out to the empty room, “you’d have been an excellent therapy dog. How could I even think of getting another dog to replace you?”
Of course, her faithful companion didn’t answer her.
The spell passed, and she climbed back to her feet.
Elijah, Fred… “I keep talking to ghosts.”
Cassidy stayed inside whenever she saw the boat at the dock. She’d sit most days on the sofa and stare at his damn boat, her gaze occasionally sweeping the property, expecting to see Mac appear.
He never did.
And, oddly, she never saw him go to or from the boat.
She’d wake up in the morning, and it would be gone. Or she’d take a shower, and it would be gone. During the time it took her to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer, he’d returned. Theboatcame and went, but she never saw the man.
She told herself she was happy about that.
At the same time, it was also unsettling.
Of course, she didn’t know where he went. She didn’tcarewhere he went. She assumed to the bar when the boat was out late. Because why changehishabits? Especially now, with the boat, he could get there in less time: more drinking time. And how convenient to have a bed so close at hand. After all, it really was a chick magnet, as she could attest; she’d fallen for it immediately. May as well get his money’s worth out of it.
She should be happy he didn’t smash into her dock upon his drunken return.
It was why she left the dock lights on. At least, that’s what she told herself.
But as she drove around the lake to the Trading Post for groceries, she was resentful of the fact she didn’t haveherboat. This car-driving thing on a beautiful, sunny day irritated her. And it did take so much longer.
She parked behind the coffee shop and walked through the alley toward the Trading Post, slinging her little cross-body purse over her shoulder, letting it dangle and slap her against her upper thigh. She hadn’t put much into her appearance today, not that Marge or Silas would ever be shocked by her: black yoga pants with mesh toward the bottom and a cropped T-shirt.
Inside the store, Lonnie’s face lit up when he saw her. That’s when she realized she hadn’t been in town since the accident.
“Mrs. Teague! Damn, you look good!” he enthused from behind the counter.