Stella Cameron - Out of Mind

He held out his hand for the package containing the gun. Pascal grimaced, but handed it over.

“Good luck,” Sykes said with a sympathetic shrug. “I think it’s time for me to get back to work.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, going out into the Court of Angels.

Alone among the lush ferns bobbing over cobblestones, the tough, shiny leaves of gardenias and the stone angels—some not very angelic-looking—Ben collected himself.

This courtyard had intrigued him since he was a boy. The atmosphere was like no other place. Ben had seen and felt things here that he had never felt anywhere else.

Subtle things he had only mentioned to Sykes, whose experiences among the shadowed stone faces and occasional gargoyle poking from a door lintel were different from Ben’s, but no less intense.

Today he did not experience anything remarkable.

He wanted to see Willow on his own. He wanted her to at least give him a little opening into her life again, but if they couldn’t accept every aspect of one another, the incredible emotional and sexual power she wielded over him wouldn’t be enough.

Would it?

The patterns thrown by leaves shivered on red brick walls around all sides of the courtyard.

There it was, gentle laughter, almost giggling, so faint he strained to hear it. Automatically, he stared from stone figure to stone figure. They weren’t laughing.

Green-painted metal staircases zigzagged upward between randomly placed windows, stopping with a landing at each floor. The Millets’ flats faced him on each side, including Sykes’s, which was where Ben would live while he was back in New Orleans…unless Willow kicked him out….

He glanced up at Willow’s flat and barely pulled himself together enough not to jump. She stood at the open front door, leaning on the jamb, arms crossed.

It was definitely giggling he heard, and it saturated his senses.

To smile or not to smile?

Ben fashioned a restrained upward tilt at the corners of his mouth and strode to jog up the steps and meet the woman he wanted.

“Hey, Willow,” he said, arriving in front of her and keeping his demeanor more-or-less solemn. That wasn’t hard. He suddenly felt solemn…and insecure? Ben Fortune didn’t go in for feeling insecure very easily.

“Hey, Ben.”

The giggles faded into gusty titters that slithered away. He had always intended to do more research on the Court of Angels, but never got around to it.

“I brought your helmet up,” he said, feeling lame.

“Thanks.” She reached for the box, but he made no attempt to give it to her.

This was the first time since his return that he had stood so close to Willow. She really was a little woman. All the women in her family were small. He recalled his sister, Poppy, reminding him before he left for Kauai that he should “Look for a woman you won’t crush.” Poppy was tall and almost too beautiful. She had always been his friend, but in the past two years he had come to truly admire her.

“You’ve got my gun, too. How did you manage to get it from Uncle Pascal?”

“By letting him know you’re mature enough to make your own decisions.” Not completely true, but Marley had just about said that and Ben hadn’t disagreed.

“Thanks for that.” She smiled a little, but immediately bowed her face in the way he remembered so well. Willow talked a tough story, but she had a shy streak a mile wide.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

A frown came and went quickly. “Of course. Come in. I don’t suppose Winnie followed you out, did she?” She peered around him and down into the courtyard. “She likes to come up when Marley works late and Gray is gone.”

“Too much going on for her to concentrate today, I think,” Ben said, sensing Willow’s disappointment.

Willow shook her head as if the dog didn’t matter to her. “Gray doesn’t get back early most nights. He’s at his dad’s working. His dad is Gus Fisher—we look after his cottage and make sure everything gets done over there. Gus loves Winnie, too. Winnie likes to ride over to Gus’s in my trailer.”

He was no closer to going inside her flat. “Dogs and trailers match,” he said. “Not as much as dogs and pickups, though. I’ll have to take you to Kauai one day and you’ll see how every pickup has its dog in the back, or several dogs.”

She gave him a quizzical look, but at least she didn’t protest that she’d never be going to Kauai, or not with him.

Yet.

“Gray and Marley live here, then?” he said.

She nodded. “Yes. They like it here. Gray’s all over the place with what he does and it’s convenient for Marley to be close to work.”

“Marley looks happy.”

She smiled broadly. “They both are. They can’t keep their hands off each other.” She laughed at that.

Ben felt a spear of jealousy. “I’ve missed you,” he said. Everyone said he was fearless—this was a time to prove it.

Willow’s white, freckled skin turned pink. She had thick, auburn eyelashes that spread shadows across her shining eyes.

“Is it okay if I say that? Friends are supposed to care about each other.”

“It’s okay,” she said and walked into the flat, leaving him to follow her. “It’s dinnertime. Are you hungry?”

He barely stopped himself from saying he wasn’t. “Getting there,” he said. “I got in late yesterday and slept. Then caught up with Sykes. I think I forgot to eat.”

“Oh.” Her expression suggested she had not expected him to take her up on a vague offer of a meal. “Well, you’re in luck. It’s gumbo here tonight. I cooked a whole mess of it yesterday and it’s always better on the second day.”

He closed his eyes and made sounds of ecstasy. “Gumbo? When you live in the land of pork and poi, good as it is, gumbo sounds exotic. I’d love some, but there’s no hurry.”

That got him another look. He could see her thinking that he sounded as if he was settling in. If he were sneakier, he’d tune in and listen to exactly what she was thinking. That was generally against his principles unless absolutely necessary.

But he wasn’t ruling out running the risk if he had to.

“Let’s go in the living room,” Willow said. “It’s tidy for once.”

“It’s always tidy,” he reminded her.

Her expression flickered as she must have remembered how much time they had spent there together in the past, but she used turning off the television to cover any awkwardness.

“Do you still like background noise if you’re alone?” he asked, and winced.

“Why don’t I take the boxes from you?” she said, facing him again.

He’d as good as asked her if she was lonely. She used to use the television to fill up time when he was away from New Orleans.

She didn’t answer him.

“Can we see what you’ve got here?” He put the packages on the floor and sat on the edge of a well-worn blue armchair. But he stopped in the act of removing the helmet from the box. “Am I being too pushy? Taking too much for granted?”

She took a bit too long to shake her head, no. “Look at it. It’s state-of-the-art and should be really safe.”

Once she had got to the flat she must have immediately changed her clothes. She looked fresh and curvy in a yellow cotton dress that skimmed her body.

It was far too long since he had touched her.

Ben concentrated on the helmet. “Wow. Are you sure it’s not too heavy?”

“Why would it be too heavy?”

Looking straight at her and making no attempt at laughing anything off, he said, “Because although you’re strong, you’re small. I like to think of any equipment you use being the right weight for you.” He looked from her face to her sandaled feet—bare and smooth, just as her legs were. “It wouldn’t help much if I put you in a bulletproof vest that made it impossible for you to run, would it? You’d need one in your own size.”