“Never mind that. Get your tail down here. Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne just rolled in from Austin. They came as soon as they heard about Seamus and the diary.”
Ryan’s eyes found Nicole’s. She was watching him, her hand resting on the edge of a dusty crate. The way she nibbled on her lower lip made him wonder if she was as thrown as he was.
“Earth to Ryan,” Quinn barked into the phone.
“Sorry. We need a little help.” Ryan stepped toward the door, his hand finding the unyielding iron ring. “We found an old door that leads to a small storage room. Part of the original house, I think. Anyhow, the door slammed shut behind us and locked. We can’t get out.”
The line went silent for three full heartbeats. Then, a roar of laughter exploded through the phone. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re locked in a newfound room with the new carpenter—a girl? Valerie is going to kill herself for not having a camera up there.”
“Just get up here and open the door,” Ryan growled, the heat returning to his neck.
“On my way.” The line clicked dead.
Ryan shoved the phone into his pocket and looked at the door. “They’re coming.”
“I heard.” Nicole leaned back against the sea chest. “Uncle Brian and Aunt Anne. I’m guessing these are Ian, Jamison, and Hannah’s parents?”
“Yeah.” Ryan moved back into her space, his hands finding her waist again, though the touch was lighter now, more tentative. “I can’t imagine my mother setting foot in this house.”
The sound of heavy, stomping boots thundered on the stairs. The noise grew louder as it crossed the modern plywood of the main attic, finally reaching the original oak planks. “Ryan? Nicole?” Quinn’s voice was muffled but close. “You still in there, or has Seamus’s ghost carried you off?”
“Open the door, Quinn!” Ryan shouted.
The rusted metal latch gave a sharp, mechanical clack as it was lifted from the outside. The heavy timber door swung open, and the sudden influx of light and air felt like a physical weight being lifted.
Quinn stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a grin so wide it looked painful. Behind him, Gray pushed his way into the room, his tail wagging so hard it hit the side of a crate with a rhythmic thump. The dog made a beeline for Nicole, nudging her hand for a scratch as if confirming she was still in one piece.
“Holy Moly.” Quinn’s gaze took in the surroundings. “Did you find anything helpful?”
“The oldest looking thing in the room is that sea chest over there, but we can’t get it open. We didn’t have enough time tosearch the belongings because the door slammed shut, leaving us in near total darkness.”
The way Quinn’s gaze darted from Nicole to him and back a few times, he was challenged to maintain a neutral expression under the quiet scrutiny. The last thing he needed was for his older brother to discover they’d been caught up in a liplock while waiting to be rescued.
“Well, I suppose we can haul this thing downstairs. Seamus is here as well. The kitchen is buzzing with people and I’m willing to bet my life’s savings that they’re going to be as eager as you are to find what’s in that trunk.”
His brother maneuvered around them and walked straight to the trunk in question. When neither Ryan nor Nicole moved, Quinn raised his hands in a short quick gesture. “Well? What are you two waiting for? I’m not expecting Superman to blow in and help move this sucker.”
Immediately they both hurried to Quinn’s side, grabbing hold of the old rope handles and hefting it off the floor and across the attic. Pausing at the top of the stairs, Ryan’s gaze drifted to the now open door that led to the small room, to the place he’d been thoroughly and perfectly kissed. As much as he dreaded being locked in again, he wasn’t so sure that being set free was a good thing.
“Look what we found.” Releasing the rope handles of the old chest onto the kitchen floor with one resounding thud, Ryan and Quinn straightened.
Nicole moved to the side, her gaze tracking a fine cloud of gray dust that billowed into the air. The two men had made it clear at the top of the stairs that they didn’t need her help withthe heavy lifting, a brand of Texas chivalry that was growing on her.
“What have we here?” an unfamiliar man about Uncle Sean’s age, with the same chiseled features all the Farraday men seemed to share, called out from the counter. Beside him, a woman with a calm, observant expression nodded a greeting.
“Turns out these two locked themselves in the attic.” Quinn didn’t even try to hide his amusement with the situation.
“How the heck did y’all do that?” Aunt Eileen’s gaze narrowed and her head tipped as she studied her nephews. “There’s no lock on that door.”
“There is on the one we found.” Ryan rinsed his hands in the kitchen sink. “Over the original cabin footprint. Did you know there was a door behind all those boxes stacked on the far wall?”
Uncle Sean and his wife shook their heads before their gazes dropped to the trunk.
“This was inside?” Aunt Eileen pointed.
“And a whole lot more,” Nicole added, pleased by the curiosity dancing in everyone’s eyes.
Slapping her hands together, Aunt Eileen rubbed them enthusiastically. “Let’s check it out.”
