Read Online The Artisans by Julie Reece - Free Book Online

chandelier above us bounces, crystals jingling as they settle back into place. “Oh, well my goodness.” Jenny’s words are breathy, as though she’s been running. “Old houses are so drafty. What a nuisance. Shall we go back to your room now, Miss Weathersby?”
    She’s clearly bothered. My friends and I exchange tentative glances at the housekeeper’s thin explanation. The air is as still and heavy as the calm before a storm.
    There is no wind in the hallway. No wind at all.

Chapter Seven

     
     
    Creepy old houses, ghosts, and cranky-ass butlers are all great reasons not to go traipsing around at night in my jammies, yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. Earlier, I couldn’t shut my mind off from worrying about Ben and design ideas for Maddox. I skipped dinner, and now all I can think about are Jenny’s peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies. Maybe if I raid the fridge and fill my stomach, I’ll sleep.
    I tiptoe across the creaky floorboards in my black and white tennis shoes, laces dragging behind. From the hall into the kitchen, Edgar follows close at my heels. Nothing gives a body courage like the company of another beating heart, even if it’s small and feline.
    As I slink across the smooth floor, my eyes scan the countertops. Refusing to turn on the light, I smile, thinking how dumb it is I’m acting like a criminal when all I’m sneaking is dessert. Jenny’s queen of her domain. She scolds me whenever I enter this room, but I actually love it in here. Though the lovable housekeeper seems to live for serving others, I hate the idea she has to wait on me. I’m used to doing for myself.
    I grab a handful of cookies and peek in the cabinet under the sink for a paper towel.
    “Those are a lot better with milk, you know.”
    My heart ricochets through my chest ending in my throat. Cookies fly from my hand as I jolt upright, stumbling on my shoelaces.
    “Gideon?”
    “None other.” He flips a switch on the wall, flooding the room with light.
    “Oh, let’s not do that.” I let my hair fall across my face. Wearing a clingy black tank and thin, drawstring pants, I’m grossly underdressed compared to Gideon. The last thing I need is more visibility. He leans his cane against the counter and steps forward. His acid-washed jeans are perfect with the gray thermal shirt hugging his form in all the right places. To avoid him, I kneel and gather my broken cookies.
    “Crap, sorry.”
    He crouches near me, gaze fixed on my eyes. Edgar rubs his thigh, and Gideon runs his fingers over my cat’s dark fur. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says.
    “Don’t worry about it.” I glance down, scooping up the last of the crumbs before standing. “I shouldn’t be in here. We were just leaving anyway … ”
    “There’s no reason you shouldn’t be in here, Raven. It’s not my intention you starve.”
    I jump when he presses his fingers on the toe of my shoe. “Hey, what are you—”
    “Wait.” He holds a hand up, giving me that infuriating look of his—the smug one that hints he finds something I’ve done funny. “Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” Gideon leans on one knee before me like he’s going to pop the question. The only thing I want to pop is his inflated ego. As I peer down, he tugs my shoelaces tight and begins tying neat bows. “There, isn’t that better?”
    “I can tie my own shoelaces, thanks.”
    “Yes. I’m sure it’s just one of your many amazing talents, Raven.”
    My face heats as I bend to retrieve my cat. I can’t believe the guy just tied my shoelaces. And I let him. Cookie-less, I brush past my captor and return to my room, flustered, and embarrassed, and worst of all, surprised.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    The next morning, three peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies decorate a tiny, china plate on my nightstand. Very funny, Gideon.
    Jenny had better be the one who left them.
    I get up, dress, and head for my workroom. After my friends’ visit (and my