Hourglass by Myra McEntire Read Free Book Online

than play the live-in lottery.”
    I was really glad I didn’t have anything in my mouth, because I’m certain I would have choked on it. Iced tea streaming out of my nose—not pretty.
    “A loft? In my building? Wow, really? Wow.” I cleared my throat. “So you’re planning on sticking around for a while.”
    “As long as it takes.” Michael’s eyes searched my face, lingering on my mouth a fraction of a second too long. Again, I fought the urge to bite my lip.
    Tried really hard not to think about biting one of his.
    “So,” he asked, leaning closer to me from across the table, “did you come up with some more questions for me?”
    Time to get down to business. My list was in the front pocket of my purse, but I doubted I’d have to refer to it. Feeling fidgety, I reached out to play with a tiny pink rosebud in a vase on the table. “Well, I was thinking about what happened last night. What I see is getting stronger. I mean—a jazz trio? Fully equipped with a grand piano? Did it gradually get worse for you?”
    He was silent for a moment before answering. “I can’t explain what you saw yesterday. Rips that come with scenery are new to me, too. I wouldn’t worry. My guess is that it has something to do with our ability growing stronger as we age.”
    “Your guess? That’s comforting.” I laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious? I’m not supposed to worry when you can’t even give me a decent answer to my first question?”
    Michael focused somewhere over my left shoulder. His voice was firm when he spoke. “I’ll get the answer. Don’t worry.”
    “Okay,” I said, doubt almost crowding out curiosity in my mind. “Have any of the rips ever known anything about you?”
    “What do you mean?” His gaze returned to my face.
    “Like your name, or …” I trailed off. Maybe I should keep that specific incident to myself. I pictured the list of questions in my mind. “Um, when you know you’re seeing a rip—how do you approach it?”
    “Very slowly.” Michael grinned, breaking the tension.
    I was still fiddling with the rosebud in the vase. Sidetracked by his smile, I stopped paying attention and tipped it over, spilling water onto the table.
    Good thing I wasn’t on a date. I might’ve been embarrassed.
    We reached to pick up the vase at the same time, and our fingertips touched. A current of energy pulsed through his hand to mine. My skin felt too small, stretched too tight, as if searching out more exposure to his. I heard several pings, and the table went dark.
    Something was very, very off.
    I slowly raised my eyes to meet Michael’s. The muscles in his face tensed; his expression was completely unreadable. Confused, maybe scared, I pulled away. I could still feel the way electricity had flowed through his fingers to mine, all the way to the roots of my hair. The remaining lights returned to normal.
    I could’ve sworn I was twitching. Michael tucked his hand under the table and stared down at his menu.
    “Um … what was that?” I asked, my voice wispy air again as I watched the water from the vase soak into the white tablecloth.
    “It’s kind of complicated.”
    So it really happened. “Did we cause it?”
    He nodded, his face poker straight.
    “Have you ever experienced that before?”
    “Not exactly.”
    The waitress arrived to take our orders. The interruption did nothing to resolve the tension. I just wanted her to go away so I could touch him again. Instead, I held my menu up in front of my flaming face, willing my body back to normalcy. Michael ordered the special, and without even looking to see what it was, I did the same.
    “I’ll have that right out,” the waitress said, taking our menus. She eyed the sconces above the table, her hot pink lips pursed. “And I’ll bring y’all a candle … it’s dark over here, isn’t it?”
    Neither of us answered, and she walked away. I felt exposed without my menu to hide behind.
    “Are we going to talk about what just