When he found Remy on his front porch, dark satisfaction rose in a rush. He was so, so glad she’d come. She’d never shown up here without him nagging her to do so. And yesterday she’d refused to see him at all because they’d finished their failed search for his notes.
The only people he’d interacted with yesterday were the strangers at the grocery store. Several had recognized him and introduced themselves. Two had wanted to take selfies with him. Another asked if he’d sign the back of a grocery store receipt to his grandson.
They’d been nice people, but the conversations had underscored the strangeness of his situation. He didn’t remember being well-known. Worse, he didn’t remember doing the things he was well-known for. He’d come home from the store feeling hollow. Like an imposter. Not like a person who’d earned the right to take selfies and sign autographs on the back of receipts.
“Are you wearing overalls again because you know I can’t resist them?” he asked as she walked inside.
Remy made overalls sexy. Today she wore a tank top under them, which gave him glimpses of the curvy body beneath.
“I’m wearing overalls again because I didn't bring many outfits to the mainland. Are you exercising just to make me mad? You aren’t strong enough for exercise.”
“Remy, I’m healing fast now. My cough's gone and my rib pain is a two out of ten—”
“Look here.” She lifted the wooden box she carried. “This is a clue. I think. I hope.” She set the box on the entry table. “Watch.” She pulled up an interior section, turned it, and pushed it back down, which popped open a hidden drawer. “Well?” Expectation rolled off her in waves. She'd piled all her hair on top of her head today.
He wanted, with an almost overpowering urge, to plunge his hands into that hair, pull her against him, and kiss her. Wanted that more than he could remember wanting anything. Words fled and he stood there, struggling to get a hold of himself and control his sudden hunger. He noted the shade of her pink lips. The flutter of her pulse at the hinge of her jaw, the sage scent of her—
“Well?” she demanded again.
“Did you,” he said slowly, racking his brain, “come to tell me that you spun a story around this wooden box the way you did around your wooden Emiline statue? Is this box . . . a wizard or a mage or something?”
She made a sound of frustration and raised her hands high. “My plane of thinking is up here. And yours”—she plunged her hands low—“is down here.”
“And now I’m jumping on your last nerve.” He poked at the nearest hand.
She jerked it away and leveled him with point-blank exasperation. “This box has a secret compartment. It’s over a hundred years old. Appleton is over a hundred years old. This box makes me wonder if Appleton has a secret compartment, too.”
“A secret compartment one inch deep isn’t large enough to store my research on Alexis,” he said, to needle her.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.” She went to his office and rifled through files. Soon, she’d extracted the house’s blueprints. She smoothed them across the surface of his desk. “I’ll start looking on the third floor. You start looking on the first floor. We’ll meet in the middle. We’re on the hunt for a small room or closet that we didn’t search this past week because its access point is hidden.”
He leaned over the drawing. She leaned over it, too, causing a lock of her hair to trail against the palm he’d placed on the desk’s surface.
His instincts surged again. He swallowed and briefly closed his eyes.
She lived on Islehaven. He lived here. She’d never agree to date him, which was for the best because he shouldn’t date anyone until he had his memories back and was his whole self again.
“See anything?” she asked.
“Not yet.” He scanned the drawing as seconds ticked by. Then he pointed to a spot. “Here.” There was a closed-off room around the size of a walk-in closet near the kitchen, behind the butler’s pantry.
Like a bird, her head cocked to assess what he’d found. Then she let out a whoop. “I’m brilliant! My plane of thought, Jeremiah, is way up here.” She gestured.
“This secret space might be filled with canned green beans.”
“No. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Or it could be empty. What if 1.0 didn’t even know about it? I’m not sure I pay enough attention to detail to spot that on the drawings if I wasn’t looking for it.”
“A secret space is noteworthy. Surely someone pointed it out to you when you bought this house.”
Was it noteworthy, though? Maybe only to creative people like her. Remy hurried out of the office.
He followed. “Not sure where you’re headed, brilliant one, but the butler’s pantry is this way.”
She turned on her heel, and he led her to the butler’s pantry. One wall held a counter and sink with storage above and below. The opposite wall held shelves stocked with liquor bottles.
“According to the plans”—Jeremiah pointed to the liquor—“this is the wall that becomes a door.”
