“Patrick?” To have him call this soon caught me off guard.
“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you got home all right.”
A little ball of warmth shot through me. “I did, thank you.”
“Sleep well then.”
“You too. Goodnight.” My bones light as feathers, I clicked off.
“Why were you talking into that gadget? You did that the first time I appeared.” Liam stared at my cell phone suspiciously.
“It’s a way of talking to someone by using radio waves.”
“I don’t understand.” He shook his head.
“I’ll show you how to use the Internet, and you can look all this stuff up.”
“Internet?”
“I’ll explain later.” My lids were heavy. My eyes wanted to close.
“So who were you talking to?”
“Patrick.”
“Oh.” He turned and stared out the window.
A huge yawn escaped my lips. “Sorry. I’m dead tired. No pun intended.” I fell back against the pillows. The scent of lavender from the linens vied with limes and cinnamon. “You smell so good,” I mumbled, my eyes closed. The luscious scent of him grew stronger. I pried open my eyes.
He stood next to the bed, his head tilted, a small smile on his lips. “Sleep well, sweet Caitlin.”
“Will you be here in the morning?” I closed my eyes again.
“If it’s up to me.”
I was fading fast. “Who else would it be up to?”
“Darn good question. Maybe we can figure that out, too.”
The throw at the end of the bed slid over me. I snuggled into softness and warmth. Too? “Liam, about your twin…” Before I could formulate the question, I dozed off.
* * * *
A ghastly scream and the sounds of sirens brought me straight up in bed. The sky had lightened to a muted gray, but for all intents and purposes it was dark. I threw back the covers and stumbled down the hall to the living room.
Liam stared at the television as if he were witnessing the second coming and was afraid of his destination. The volume continued to escalate. “Stop pressing the button,” I screamed.
“What’s wrong? Why are sirens going off?” Marcy staggered out wearing a “Shop Till you Drop” neon-pink sleep-shirt with a shoe motif ringed around the hem. She squinted at the remote that floated in the air. I grabbed it from Liam and pressed down the sound.
When the reverberation had reached manageable proportions, I turned to Marcy who stood in the doorway blinking like an owl in bright sunlight. “Go back to bed.”
“But the remote…” Befuddled, she continued to stare at my hand.
“Go to bed, Marcy. You were having a bad dream.”
“Bad dream,” she repeated, swaying in place. I started to throw the remote on the couch, thought better of it, and with a hand on her arm, led my cousin back to her room where she promptly burrowed under the covers. The sounds of her genteel snores faded as I left the room.
I walked to the great room. My ghost—I refused to consider him Marcy’s if she couldn’t even see him—stared in awed fascination at the television. “What in thunderation is that?”
“Television.” I plopped on the couch and leaned my head back against the large soft cushions. “They had one at Jimmy’s.”
“I saw a box at the bar that resembled this, only smaller, and no magic came out of it.”
“Oh, right. Band was playing. It was shut off.”
“What is a television?” He reached out and touched it.
“A television is an electronic system that transmits pictures and sound. That particular model is high-definition.”
“Television,” he breathed. “Can I see the thick stick?”
“Thick stick?” I asked, my eyes drifting shut. “Oh, the remote. No, I’ll just hold on to that for now. If you wake Marcy back up, I don’t think she’ll buy the bad dream twice.”
“Remote,” he repeated. “Show me. I promise not to hit the sound.” He held out a hand I could see through.
I motioned him toward me, gave him a brief rundown, and dropped it in his palm. With a look of pure male satisfaction, Liam channel surfed.
“It’s got to be imbedded somewhere in the DNA.” I stretched out on the couch, pulled up my knees, and pressed my feet into the couch cushion. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds. Might as well make some coffee. But I made no move to get up.
“Hmm?” He never glanced away from the screen, his eyes shining.
“Guys and remotes. Never mind.” He sat at my feet. A low-level buzz of electricity from his nearness, as well as his signature scent of limes and cinnamon, gave me a strange sense of peace. I yawned and let myself drift back to sleep while Liam played with the wireless control.
The next thing I knew it wasn’t cinnamon and lime but the strong aroma of coffee that tickled my senses. Marcy bent over me and waved a cup back and forth as she fanned the swirl of steam under my nose. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
“What time is it? Am I late for class?” I asked, groggy.
“You graduated over a week ago.” She giggled, then looked at the television. “I wonder what’s wrong with the TV.” Channels flashed in rapid succession.
“Oh, my foot must be on the remote.” My jaw tight, extremities twitchy, I sat up and swiped it out of Liam’s hand. He grinned at me, stood up, and stretched, then slouched back down in typical male fashion. My irritation disappeared, replaced by warmth in the pit of my stomach as the fabric of his shirt hugged his chest.
At some point, he’d taken off his jacket. It lay carelessly across the back of the couch. The black, stark against the wheat and white tweed, shimmered like a glow stick. But Marcy didn’t seem to notice.
“Here ya go.” She shoved the coffee at me.
I sipped it gratefully. “Thanks. What time is it?” Liam stared at the screen with the sound down, entranced.
“Ten-thirty.”
“Ten-thirty? What are you doing up? You hate mornings almost as much as mythical vampires do.” Mythical till last night. Now…?
“It’s Sunday.”
“Oh, yeah, brunch with the parents
