Murder Mayhem and Mama

“Who’s Dr. Roberts?” He shifted to his side and brought her face back to him. “What doctor?”


“The psychologist with the Hospice organization. The one I spoke to the other day when I went to the office.”

He hadn’t known she’d spoken to a psychologist. “What does she say?”

“She says that the dreams are just my own maternal instincts trying to help me out, to keep me from making mistakes.”

He tried to understand what she was saying. “So it would be a mistake to let our auras get together?” He didn’t like thinking Cali’s maternal instincts wanted to keep them, or their auras, apart.

“No. Mama likes you.” Cali bit down on her lip. He’d noticed her doing that when she felt nervous. “She tells me others things, too.” She sat up again and pulled her knees to her chest. “The night before Stan came to the school, she told me I shouldn’t go to lunch. And the night before last, she told me not to stay at the same hotel.”

Brit digested what she was saying. “You think it’s really her?”

She blinked those big blues. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Brit sat up beside her. “No. I think your dreams are strange. And I think they’re scaring you.”

“Yeah, well, Dr. Roberts believes it’s just my instinct.”

“What do you believe?” Concern threaded through his chest, and not because he thought she was crazy. He didn’t like seeing her doubting herself. He’d done his share of doubting these past few weeks, and he knew that hurt.

“She had to be right. I don’t believe in ghosts. It’s just strange.”

He held her closer. “I think losing someone that we care about can do weird things to our minds. I went almost three weeks without sleep. I’d doze, but any time I really fell asleep, Keith’s image flashed in my mind. I thought I was losing my mind.”

He inhaled. “I was a dickhead to everyone who crossed my path. Or I was until someone pointed it out to me.”

She smiled. “You’re not a dickhead.”

He grinned. “It was the word “little” that you used before dickhead that hurt.”

She giggled. “I knew you weren’t little.”

“Really?” He tossed her back on the mattress and rolled on top of her. “And how did you know?” He pushed his hips against hers, letting her notice it now. But damn, he’d had her twice and was still hard for her.

“You had a condom in your coat.”

“Huh?” He rolled off her, but pulled her to his side.

Cali smiled. “In the zipper pocket; an extra large condom.”

“No.” He shook his head, then remembered. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Shane did that.” He no more said her name when he realized he shouldn’t be talking about old girlfriends. “It ended almost two months ago. It wasn’t serious.”

“What happened?” she asked in a hesitant voice.

“We didn’t mesh.”

“Mesh?” she asked, and then bit down on her lip. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She settled her head on his chest.

But it didn’t feel okay. Not to talk about it and not even to keep quiet. As wonderful as tonight had been, he felt as if a lot of questions hung between them. A lot of things left unsaid.

All in good time, Brit thought.

~

Brit woke up with a tingling pain in his arm. Cali’s head lay pillowed on the crook of his elbow. He wiggled his fingers, but didn’t pull away. A smile spread to his lips as he watched her sleep. Morning light sprayed through the blinds and he welcomed the idea of a new day. Even his concerns about where all this would lead didn’t deter the feeling.

Maybe his mood was spurred from the eight hours of sleep he’d gotten for the first time in weeks, maybe it stemmed from the awesome sex last night—or the anticipation that he’d have more this morning. He didn’t care. He just wanted to enjoy it.

Welcome back to the living, a voice whispered in his head. But it didn’t feel like his life. The feeling that swelled in his chest every time he looked at Cali was brand new. Brand new. And it scared him almost as much as it excited him.

He drew in a breath and got the oddest scent of cigarette smoke.

Cali stirred beside him.

He started to lean down and kiss her when she yelled out, “No!” Then she jerked up and gasped.

“Hey? You okay?”

“Fine.” Trembling, she gripped the sheets to her chest.

“Another dream?” He rubbed his shoulder to get some of the feeling back into his arm.

“Yeah.” Her gaze skidded about the room as if she expected to see someone there.

Concern stirred his gut. He knew how ugly things could appear in one’s mind. He stopped rubbing his own shoulder and touched hers. “You want to talk about it?”

Tears filled her eyes. “No.”

“Was this one worse than the others?” he asked, seeing a haunted look in her eyes.

She blinked. “They’re just dreams.”

christie craig's books