A Beautiful Dark

said quickly. “Don’t let us kick you out.”
    “Thank you, but I really do have to go. It was a pleasure to meet you.” He looked down at me, the half smile once again playing on his lips. “It was nice talking to you, Skye. Thank you for the small-talk lesson.”
    “You’re doing great,” I said, again feeling how easy it was to smile at him. With Asher, I’d begun to feel like conversation was a game, a skill, and I couldn’t show my hand. I had to hide my smile, make him work for it. With Devin, things just seemed so easy. “See you at school.”
    He strode away, and Cassie plopped down on the cushion he’d occupied. “Definitely a tormented soul there.”
    “How do you figure that?” Dan asked.
    “You only have to look into his eyes to know.”
    Dan snorted. “I didn’t see anything.” He stretched. “I’m going to see if the pool tables are open.”
    When Dan was out of earshot, Cassie shifted around to face me squarely. “So both mysterious cousins hitting on you in the same night? Please divulge all, immediately. Spare no boring detail.”
    “I don’t know if I would characterize that encounter with Devin as hitting on me.”
    She gave me a sly grin. “But the encounter with Asher . . . ?”
    “I’m not sure if he knows how to talk to a female without hitting on her. I mean, even Ms. Manning went all gaga for him that first day.”
    “True. But it must be nice to have two guys interested in you.”
    “I wouldn’t go that far. We just talked.”
    “Here you go,” Ian said, suddenly standing next to us.
    I looked up, startled, as he removed my empty mug and replaced it with another filled to the brim.
    “ This one’s on me,” he said. Before I could even thank him, he was heading back to the counter.
    “Hmm,” Cassie murmured. “Make that three guys.”
    At the moment, I felt like it was three too many.

Chapter 7

    C assie has always been prone to hyperbole, but the weather reports supported her theory that it was the coldest month on record in River Springs.
    Even at home, our house felt too big and drafty, the cold seeping in through the cracks at the base of the big plate glass windows overlooking our backyard—the mountains looming up dark and aloof in the distance. The house was built into the side of a hill, so the side that faced out was made up of lots of windows. When you looked out, it felt like you were suspended in the sky, with no ground beneath your feet and the mountains stretching out before you. I used to love that feeling of weightlessness. Now, after the floating dream, I found it unsettling. It didn’t help that I was periodically experiencing waves of nausea mixed with images of Asher’s dark eyes and Devin’s blue ones.
    Aunt Jo was home from the backcountry and tried to keep things cozy by baking. I, being kitchen-averse, just stalked around in a hat and scarf and kept turning up the thermostat.
    “Cut it out, Skye; it’s not that cold.” She laughed as she scooted a tray of cinnamon spice cookies into the oven.
    “But I’m fa-fa-fa-reezing.” I shivered dramatically, huddling up on one of the stools that surrounded the cherrywood and marble kitchen island.
    “I think the thermostat can stay at seventy. Put on another sweater.”
    “I’m already wearing, like, five.”
    Aunt Jo exaggerated an eye roll. “You’ll live. Here. Taste.”
    I took the wooden spoon from her and bit off a chunk of raw cookie dough. It was delicious, spicy. I missed Aunt Jo’s cooking when she was gone. She’d been too tired last night after getting in, but today the kitchen was filled with the aroma of vanilla and cinnamon.
    “It would be better fresh out of the oven,” I pointed out hopefully.
    “Well, then you’re just going to have to wait another fifteen minutes.” She turned around and patted down her apron. “Do me a favor and get my Barefoot Contessa off the credenza in the hall, okay? Maybe I’ll make apple turnovers for dessert tomorrow.”
    “’Kay,” I said, hopping off the stool and padding down the hall in my wool socks. I slowed as I passed the thermostat on the wall. I didn’t care what Aunt Jo said—even though it said seventy degrees, it seriously felt like negative fifty.
    I shivered and reached to adjust the thermostat to eighty. But as my hand neared the digital display, my heart began to race. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
    Without my touching the controls, the numbers began rolling upward at a scary-fast rate.