Free Heaven and Earth by Nora Roberts Page B

gray cat, was curled on one of the kitchen chairs, watching her. Lucy, the big black Lab, sprawled in a corner, watching Diego. They had come to terms—Diego’s terms—and lived together in an acceptable state of distrust and suspicion.
    While her cookies baked, Nell kept the radio on low and waited.
    When Ripley entered, bleary-eyed, wearing the sweatpants and football jersey she’d slept in, Nell simply held out a mug of coffee.
    Ripley grunted, as close to a thank-you as she could manage before caffeine, and plopped into a chair.
    “Too much snow for your morning run.”
    Ripley grunted again. She never felt completely herselfwithout her three miles. But the coffee was helping. She sipped, idly patted Lucy’s head when the Lab came over to greet her.
    She’d have to use the damn treadmill. Hated that. But she couldn’t go two days without a run. Zack was taking the first shift—where the hell was Zack?—so she could wait until midmorning before popping into the gym.
    She didn’t want to run into Mac.
    Not that he worried her or anything. She’d already reasoned out a number of very plausible excuses for her reaction to that good-night kiss.
    She just didn’t want to deal with him, that was all there was to it.
    Nell set a bowl in front of her. Ripley blinked at it. “What?”
    “Oatmeal.”
    Suspicious and far from enthusiastic, Ripley leaned over and sniffed. “What’s in it?”
    “Nutrition.” Nell took a batch of cookies from the oven, slid in another tray. “Try it before you make icky faces.”
    “Okay, okay.” She had been making icky faces behind Nell’s back. It was sort of lowering to be caught at it. She sampled, pursed her lips, took another spoonful. There didn’t seem to be anything Nell put together that didn’t go down well. “It’s good. My mother used to cook oatmeal in the winter, but it looked like gray glue. Tasted worse.”
    “Your mother has other talents.” Nell poured herself a cup of coffee. She’d all but shoved Zack out of the house early so she could grab this time with Ripley. She didn’t intend to waste it. She sat. “So, how did it go?”
    “What?”
    “Your evening with Mac Booke.”
    “It wasn’t an evening. It was an hour.”
    Defensive, Nell thought. Cranky. Well, well. “How did your hour go?”
    “It came and it went, which wraps up my obligation.”
    “I was glad he drove you home.” At Ripley’s lifted brows, Nell blinked her baby blues innocently. “I heard the car.”
    And had looked out the window. Had seen Mac walk Ripley to the door. There’d been quite the little time lag before he’d walked back to the car.
    “Yeah, he was all ‘It’s too cold out. You’ll get frostbite and die before you get home.’ ” She shoved oatmeal into her mouth, then wagged her spoon. “Like I don’t know how to take care of myself. Guys like that burn me. He can’t even find his keys half the time, but I’m going to wander off and turn into a Popsicle. Please.”
    “I’m glad he drove you home,” Nell repeated.
    “Yeah, well.” Ripley sighed, toyed with her oatmeal by putting little crescent-shaped dents on it with the tip of her spoon. She decided it looked sort of like a moonscape.
    If he hadn’t driven her home, she’d have been fine, but she’d have missed one whale of a kiss. Not that she was obsessing about it or anything.
    “You wouldn’t recognize the cottage,” she went on. “It looks like the den of some mad scientist. All this electronic and computer junk shoved in there. No place to sit down except the kitchen. The guy’s totally wrapped up in his spook show. He’s even got some voodoo charm in his glove compartment. He knows about me,” she finished in a rush, and lifted her gaze to Nell’s.
    “Oh.” Nell drew in a quiet breath. “Did you tell him?”
    Ripley shook her head. Her insides jittered, infuriating her. “He just knew. Like I had a sign on my forehead, saying ‘Local Witch.’ It’s all real academic