“Why? Riley’s not even gay.”
“True. But you’re attracted to her, right? And we all know you have a talent for turning straight women. You might have a chance.”
“Not that again. I wish everyone would just forget about the Rebecca situation.”
“It’s not just Rebecca. There was the tourist who rented one of the river houses a few years ago, and that rich lady who moors her boat here every summer,” Lindsey said in a teasing tone. “Come on. Just admit it. You’re into straight women and you’ve got the hots for the fancy New Yorker.”
“I do not. I was just being nice and thought she could do with a friend,” Quinn shot back at her. “She seems lonely.”
“Riley seems fine to me. She was really social at the town meeting. I’m sure she’ll make friends in no time.”
“Hmm…” Quinn let it slide because even though Riley did seem lonely to her, Lindsey was right with her teasing comments. Deep down, she wasn’t after friendship. She felt attracted to Riley, and that could only lead to trouble.
15
RILEY
The house was creaking and howling, and Riley had trouble sleeping again. It wasn’t just the noise keeping her awake; she’d replayed her last exchange with Quinn over and over, and she couldn’t work out why she’d gotten so upset, especially after such a fun night. It wasn’t like Riley was going to bulldozer the place—she didn’t even plan on changing the layout—and anyone could see the property was dated and needed modernizing.
She regretted not asking Quinn to stay and talk about it. Quinn was one of the few people who had made Riley feel a little more comfortable in Mystic, and she’d hoped they could become friends. Would anyone else in Mystic have a problem with her renovations? Would she now become the most hated person in this little town?
A bang made her shoot up in bed, and she slammed a hand in front of her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She suspected it was one of the doors slamming, caused by the draft from a window she’d left open. That was likely, as she’d been airing the house since she moved in, but she was still shaking on her legs as she quietly snuck out of her room. Standing frozen on the landing, she held her breath as she waited for the banging to continue. It was dark and chilly, but she was too scared to turn on the lights. What if it was a burglar? Could they see her? Was she being watched?
One of the bedroom doors blew open and loudly slammed shut, and Riley’s heart was beating wildly as she walked in and turned on the light. Relieved to see her suspicions confirmed, she rushed over to the open window and closed it before it caused her another fright, then let out a long breath as she steadied herself against the wall.There’s no one here, and there’s no such thing as ghosts.Needing distraction and time to recompose, she focused on the room.
It was one of the smaller bedrooms that she’d barely taken a good look at, having decided to concentrate on one space at the time to make the renovation project more manageable. Small wasn’t the right way to describe it, though; it was still bigger than her old bedroom in New York. She grimaced as she took in the dark, floral wallpaper for the second time since she’d moved in. It had faded over time, and she could see darker pattern where the bed had been. There was no furniture here, and instead of the ugly carpet she planned on removing from all the other rooms, this one had a wooden floor that creaked under her feet. Perhaps the previous owners hadn’t used this space. Riley certainly had no idea what to do with it. A gym? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to start working out, now that she had the time, but she preferred the idea of running outside, along the river. A walk-in closet? She didn’t have enough clothes and shoes to fill half of it. No. Maybe it was best to keep it as a bedroom; otherwise, the en-suite bathroom would be a wasted space.
Riley wondered if Aster House had ever been used as a guesthouse, as it was perfect for that purpose. All rooms had private bathrooms, the living room had a big dining area, and the yard was huge with plenty of space for parking. The fact that it was on the river was another bonus; people could arrive by boat as well as by car, and the river might even be suitable for swimming. She contemplated that idea and tried to imagine the room done up to hotel standards, with a comfortable king-size bed, hanging closets, and a seating nook by the window. It would look great with heavy drapes, a beautiful rug, and some art on the walls.
That idea distracted her from her fear, so she focused on it. Mystic was popular with tourists, and there was only one hotel in town. She could always rent out rooms in summer; it would be nice to have other people in the house, especially at night. Riley couldn’t picture herself working in hospitality, but perhaps it was worth a try. It would give her the focus she so desperately needed, as well as an income. Her savings wouldn’t last forever, and at some point, she had to think about her future and come up with a way to generate income. It had to be something that didn’t require too much of her time and energy and, most importantly, wouldn’t cause her stress. One thing was clear: her current situation wasn’t healthy because her fear and anxiety that rose after sunset reached alarming levels, and that was bad for her heart.
Her mind consumed with ideas, she inspected the door that failed to fall into the lock. She’d have to fix that tomorrow or there would undoubtedly be more banging. As she ran a hand down the doorframe, she felt ridges and leaned in to see what they were. Someone had carved into the frame at different heights, and although layers of paint had filled them in over time, she could still make out some of the dates next to them. This had been a children’s room, she realized, and the ridges and dates indicated their height at certain dates that she couldn’t read through the paint.
Even though it was completely plausible that many children had lived in Aster House, it still caused a chill to run down her spine. Riley had no problem with children; in fact, she took great pleasure in being in their presence, and she loved their energy and spontaneity. However, now living in a big, old house, she was half expecting to hear a child giggle or see a small figure in a white nightgown appear in one of the many dark corners.
There was a strange creaking noise nearby that caused the hairs on her arms to rise, and she rushed back to her bedroom, closed the door behind her and turned on all lights. Slipping under the covers, she pulled them up to her chin and lay still. Her eyes were wide open, darting around the room while clammy sweat seeped from her pores. Tormented by irrational thoughts, she’d never missed New York as much as she did tonight, and she’d do anything for the sound of sirens or club music. The creaking noise continued steadily as if Aster house was deliberately punishing her for stripping it. It was not her friend, and it never would be.
Minutes passed, and knowing she wouldn’t sleep, Riley turned on the TV on the console at the end of her bed, then went over to her door to check if she’d locked it properly. Scrolling through the channels, she found an old comedy from the nineties and tried her best to concentrate on the mediocre storyline. She had to find a way to get through the nights or there was no way she could stay here.
16
QUINN
“Hi.” Quinn lingered on the doorstep, wishing she’d prepared her speech as she didn’t know what to say. Riley looked surprised to see her and had opened the door with a screwdriver in her hand. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, and her bare legs were terribly distracting; Quinn fought to keep her eyes fixed above her shoulders. “Are you going to stab me with that?” she joked, gesturing to the screwdriver. “Because I deserve that.”
Riley chuckled and lowered it. “No. I was just trying to fix one of the doors upstairs. It won’t fall into the lock properly.” She pointed to the flowers Quinn was holding. “Are those for me? Because I deserve them,” she shot back at her.
“Yeah, you do. I came to apologize for last night.” Quinn winced. “I’m so, so sorry. I never get angry, and it wasn’t personal. Well, it was personal,” she corrected herself. “Personal to me. Will you please let me explain?”
Riley hesitated for a moment, then nodded and opened the door farther. “Would you like a coffee?”
“I’d love a coffee if I’m not interrupting. I could repair the door for you?”
At that, Riley smiled. “Why don’t you teach me about locks? I need to get better at this stuff, and so far, YouTube has been of no use.” She swapped the screwdriver for the flowers and took them into the kitchen. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” At the lack of another vase, she used a jug and put them next to the other two bunches on the dining table. “Coffee first?”
“Let’s get that door out of the way. I’m sure it won’t take long.” Quinn was relieved Riley didn’t seem angry. “Which one?”
“Upstairs.” Riley walked ahead of her up the stairs and Quinn stared at her behind. It was impossible not to look; Riley had a fantastic figure. Feminine, with modest curves in all the right places. Quinn was a sucker for a nice ass and could have happily walked up ten flights of stairs behind her. “It’s this one.”
