Read Online Restless Spirit by Sommer Marsden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sommer Marsden
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place. I did give you my number on your tip. Remember?’
I opened my eyes and smiled. ‘Mr Green.’
‘Ms … well, Tuesday is all I know.’
He stepped into the road and put his hand out. It only took a second for me to assess him. Expensive navy blue sweater, black jeans, worn brown work boots that probably cost what I used to make in a month. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears and his lean face was clean shaven. I grabbed the offered hand and he hauled me up. Where I promptly stated to lose my balance again.
‘Whoa. Hold up.’ Reed laughed and slung my arm easily around his neck.
I tried to pull away, flustered.
‘Do I smell?’ he asked, putting his arm around my waist. We took one tentative step together. There was a flare of pain in my ankle but nothing extreme.
‘No,’ I snickered. ‘But I’m afraid I do.’
He grinned and I noticed how plump his lips were. I wondered about kissing them which made me bristle. I was turning into a horn dog. Must be the lake air.
‘You do not smell, Tuesday.’
‘Cane,’ I said.
‘Pardon?’
We were slowly making our way to his home. It was gorgeous. A wood shingled two-storey home that had three decks I could count from here – top floor, main floor and a floating deck that swept off from the side of the house toward the lake shore.
‘My name is Tuesday Cane,’ I said. ‘My grandmother was Virginia Cane.’
‘Ah, sadly, I’m new. I don’t know the locals very well – new or otherwise. I knew of her passing, and vaguely of you, but not the details.’
We’d made our way to the porch and he turned to me, sliding his hands along my waist. ‘Ready?’
‘For what?’
‘To go up the steps. I want to ice that ankle. It’s swelling a little. See?’
I glanced down and damn if it wasn’t slightly puffy. Sighing mightily, I turned back into a walking stance, held on to former TV star Reed Green and followed his lead. ‘Of course it is,’ I growled.
His house was simple but expensive. I’m not money hungry but I do recognise real paintings and fancy googahs (as my Nan called them) when I saw them. The side table in his foyer held a bowl big enough to hold me. An antique mirror presented me with my own dishevelled reflection and I cringed.
Reed caught me, his eyes fixing on mine in the mirror. ‘You look gorgeous, ‘he said.
I laughed out loud then. A loud, bawdy laugh that shook me in his arms. ‘Yeah. I am fierce.’
He winked, nodded and propelled me toward the kitchen which I could see at the end of the narrow hallway. ‘You look like some wild thing. A huntress maybe.’
‘Are all TV actors full of shit?’
‘Yes,’ he said. In the kitchen he helped me sit before getting ice from the stainless steel freezer fridge combo. ‘But you do look great. I’m not bullshitting you.’
He waved a homemade ice pack at me. ‘May I?’
‘Go for it.’
Reed plucked a cloth napkin off the table and set it over my bare ankle. Then he nestled the bundle of ice on top. ‘Never on bare skin. You can burn yourself.’
‘With ice?’
‘Yes, with ice.’
I watched his long fingers slide along the ribbon of exposed skin between my anklet sock and my legging. ‘You’re cold. Would you like tea?’
‘Sure.’ It came out breathy. He really was a stunning man up close. No doubt why the camera loved him. Delicate cheekbones and fine features threatened to make him pretty, but the startling eyes and intense brow served to remind you he was a man.
‘Lemon herb or chamomile?’
‘Lemon herb. The other might put me to sleep.’
‘Sleep indicates comfort,’ he said. ‘I’d have to take it as a compliment.’ The copper kettle went on and he pulled two mugs from the shelves. They were black with red insides and made me think of vampires.
Reed Green’s house was comfortably neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.
‘How did your night go last night?’ he asked.
‘Fine. I had a nice time.’
‘Anyone I
I opened my eyes and smiled. ‘Mr Green.’
‘Ms … well, Tuesday is all I know.’
He stepped into the road and put his hand out. It only took a second for me to assess him. Expensive navy blue sweater, black jeans, worn brown work boots that probably cost what I used to make in a month. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears and his lean face was clean shaven. I grabbed the offered hand and he hauled me up. Where I promptly stated to lose my balance again.
‘Whoa. Hold up.’ Reed laughed and slung my arm easily around his neck.
I tried to pull away, flustered.
‘Do I smell?’ he asked, putting his arm around my waist. We took one tentative step together. There was a flare of pain in my ankle but nothing extreme.
‘No,’ I snickered. ‘But I’m afraid I do.’
He grinned and I noticed how plump his lips were. I wondered about kissing them which made me bristle. I was turning into a horn dog. Must be the lake air.
‘You do not smell, Tuesday.’
‘Cane,’ I said.
‘Pardon?’
We were slowly making our way to his home. It was gorgeous. A wood shingled two-storey home that had three decks I could count from here – top floor, main floor and a floating deck that swept off from the side of the house toward the lake shore.
‘My name is Tuesday Cane,’ I said. ‘My grandmother was Virginia Cane.’
‘Ah, sadly, I’m new. I don’t know the locals very well – new or otherwise. I knew of her passing, and vaguely of you, but not the details.’
We’d made our way to the porch and he turned to me, sliding his hands along my waist. ‘Ready?’
‘For what?’
‘To go up the steps. I want to ice that ankle. It’s swelling a little. See?’
I glanced down and damn if it wasn’t slightly puffy. Sighing mightily, I turned back into a walking stance, held on to former TV star Reed Green and followed his lead. ‘Of course it is,’ I growled.
His house was simple but expensive. I’m not money hungry but I do recognise real paintings and fancy googahs (as my Nan called them) when I saw them. The side table in his foyer held a bowl big enough to hold me. An antique mirror presented me with my own dishevelled reflection and I cringed.
Reed caught me, his eyes fixing on mine in the mirror. ‘You look gorgeous, ‘he said.
I laughed out loud then. A loud, bawdy laugh that shook me in his arms. ‘Yeah. I am fierce.’
He winked, nodded and propelled me toward the kitchen which I could see at the end of the narrow hallway. ‘You look like some wild thing. A huntress maybe.’
‘Are all TV actors full of shit?’
‘Yes,’ he said. In the kitchen he helped me sit before getting ice from the stainless steel freezer fridge combo. ‘But you do look great. I’m not bullshitting you.’
He waved a homemade ice pack at me. ‘May I?’
‘Go for it.’
Reed plucked a cloth napkin off the table and set it over my bare ankle. Then he nestled the bundle of ice on top. ‘Never on bare skin. You can burn yourself.’
‘With ice?’
‘Yes, with ice.’
I watched his long fingers slide along the ribbon of exposed skin between my anklet sock and my legging. ‘You’re cold. Would you like tea?’
‘Sure.’ It came out breathy. He really was a stunning man up close. No doubt why the camera loved him. Delicate cheekbones and fine features threatened to make him pretty, but the startling eyes and intense brow served to remind you he was a man.
‘Lemon herb or chamomile?’
‘Lemon herb. The other might put me to sleep.’
‘Sleep indicates comfort,’ he said. ‘I’d have to take it as a compliment.’ The copper kettle went on and he pulled two mugs from the shelves. They were black with red insides and made me think of vampires.
Reed Green’s house was comfortably neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.
‘How did your night go last night?’ he asked.
‘Fine. I had a nice time.’
‘Anyone I
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