Free Graveyard Shifts: A Pat Wyatt Novel by Laura Del Page A

best thing ever written. Of course he said that. Editors always say things are good when they want your name in their magazines.
    After I had checked my e-mail and shut my computer down, I found myself looking around the study at all the book titles. I searched them carefully and found a first edition Jane Eyre just waiting to be read. It looked, like most of the books, as though it had never been opened, which was good for me but didn’t say much for my husband.
    I sat myself down in the reading chair and found it comfortable enough, so I propped my feet up onto the pile of books in front of me and settled in for a good long read.
    It must have been three hours or so (I had gotten a little more than halfway through) when there was a knock at the door. “Come in, Charlie,” I said, still distracted by the book. But when the door opened, it wasn’t him. It was that Michael person.
    “Am I interruptin’ somethin’?” he asked, smiling from ear to ear.
    I couldn’t help that gut reaction to make a fool out of myself by flirting. My spine straightened, and I placed the book down on the pile where my feet once were. “Did you forget something?” When I asked, my mind screamed at me to get out of the study before it got too personal. So I jumped out of the chair and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me.
    He rubbed the back of his neck. We were so close I swear I could hear his heart skip a beat. “No,” he said. “I just came by to have dinner. I always have dinner here.”
    “Oh. No one said anything to me.” It seemed I would have to get used to him being here a lot.
    “That’s probably because I’m lyin’.” He grimaced. I’d been giving him my mother’s “look.” It worked every time. “Sam sent me a note sayin’ that he would be late and that he wanted me to have dinner with you.”
    Something he said bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe I was just overreacting to what Charlie had told me earlier about Samuel and his women. “Did he say what time he’d be here?” I asked, and he smiled at me.
    He shook his head. “No.”
    We walked together, our elbows brushing, into the sitting room. Then we sat on the sofa, and he stared at me. I couldn’t help staring back. Suddenly the thing that bothered me hit me like a bull’s horns. “Wait.” I blinked away from his green eyes. “I thought he was working with you today. Why would he send you a note if he saw you?”
    He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He leaned forward, hanging his head and taking a deep breath. “You’re awfully quick on the uptake.”
    “He doesn’t work with you, does he?” I know I should’ve been afraid when he shook his head without looking up. “Then what does he do all day?” Again, I should’ve screamed when he shrugged. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?” I asked, and he glanced up shaking his head again. “And I shouldn’t ask Samuel, should I?”
    “No,” he blurted, placing his hand over mine (which was on my lap). Then he sat up, pushing back a piece of hair that fell into my face. My heart skipped a beat when his finger accidentally brushed my bottom lip. Then he leaned in, and I leaned in…
    “What are you doing?” Charlie had walked into the room without either of us noticing, and his eyes widened when he saw us on the sofa together.
    I stood as if someone had electrocuted me, and I pointed down at Mike. “Samuel sent him.”
    “Oh,” Charlie said warily, narrowing his eyes at Mike. “Dinner is served.”
    We all walked into the dining room. Mike and I sat in the same chairs, and after some reassurance from me, Charlie turned, leaving us with a mountain of food. Again.
    We ate in silence for a while, and I began to wonder why Mike was really here. That is, until he ran his fingers through his hair. “Talk to me, please,” he blurted. “The silence is killin’ me.”
    I turned in my chair, so I could get a better look at him.