Stranded With Ella Read online

  “No offense meant. Why don’t you take the rest of the week off? Return to work on Monday. That will give you five days to recuperate.”

  Ella sank onto the chair that sat in front of Marie’s desk. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, of course. You look as if you might collapse.”

  Ella nodded and grimaced. Marie wasn’t wrong. “Okay, thanks.” She stood. “I’ll be here on Monday.”

  The cycle ride back to her cottage held a slight incline, and by the time, she turned into her driveway, every muscle in her body protested. Her head thumped in tandem, and she almost fell flat on her face while trying to dismount her cycle.

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  The whispers started the instant she unlocked her front door and staggered inside. Ella ignored them although this proved difficult with cold prickling at her nape. After a hot shower to ease her muscles, she changed into casual clothes and her favorite lilac jersey for a mood boost.

  With a heavy sigh, she walked to the kitchen and collected her broom and dustpan. Not only had the ghost not cleared the pieces, but the saucer had joined her cup on the floor. Crockery rattled and clinked as she directed it with her broom. Finally, Ella straightened with a groan.

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  A car sounded in the driveway. She peeked out the kitchen window and spotted Dillon’s mother.

  “Oh, you’re here,” Mrs. Williams said when Ella stepped outside. “Oh, dear. You look dreadful.”

  Ella attempted to straighten her posture. Her teeth clenched as she fought a groan. “So everyone has been telling me. Marie gave me a few days off.”

  Mr. Williams parked behind his wife’s vehicle.

  “The tank is half full.” Mrs. Williams handed over the keys.

  “Thank you. I rang my insurance company yesterday afternoon. They want a police report and photos.” Which meant returning to the scene of the crime. She wished she’d taken a photo earlier.

  “Rather you than me,” Mr. William said. “I hate dealing with insurance companies.”

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  “Did you hear something?” Mrs. Williams asked.

  “No,” Ella lied, her hands clenching at her sides. If she could get her hands on that ghost…

  “But I’m sure…” Mrs. Williams’s cell phone peeled out a tuneful military march. “Oh, that’s my daughter’s ringtone.” She pulled her phone from her handbag and stabbed a button. “Summer. I wasn’t expecting a call.” She listened for an instant. “Oh, that’s wonderful news. Tomorrow? What? When? Your father and I will come and get you. Oh. Okay. We’ll expect you early afternoon. I can’t wait to cuddle our grandson. I bet he’s grown.”

  She returned her phone to her purse and beamed.

  “I take it Summer is coming home,” Mr. Williams said.

  “Yes, Nikolai has a few days off work, and they decided they’d visit. We’d better go. I’ll need to run to the supermarket and give the spare room a spring clean.”

  “Thank you for dropping off the car,” Ella said.

  Mr. Williams patted her on the shoulder. “You keep the car for as long as you need it.”

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  Mr. Williams frowned while Ella kept her face impassive, pretending innocence.

  “Steven, we’d better go. I need to hustle before Summer and Nikolai arrive,” Mrs. Williams said.

  “Thanks again.” Ella waved good bye. “Well, that was fun. Both Mr. and Mrs. Williams overheard your whispering. If I’d known I was getting a ghost with the cottage, I might have picked the farm house on the other side of town.”

  Ella limped back inside, wondering how to fill the hours. If she slept now, she’d spend most of the night awake again.

  Maybe she’d get out her camera and drive to the landslide. She’d take her photos to add to her insurance claim then head off to the police station. No, she’d curl up and watch the taped episodes of the Brokenwood Mysteries. In her opinion, the small-town New Zealand show was on a par with Midsomer Murders.

  Later that night, Ella stared into her pantry with disinterest. Soup. Simple and quick. She reached for a can of chicken soup as someone knocked at the door.

  One of her friends, no doubt, to check on her. She yanked open the door.

  “Don’t you have a security chain?” Dillon scowled. “I could be anyone.”

  “If you’re going to be snarly, go away. I’m not in the mood to deal with cantankerous men.”

  The man stared at her, then chuckled.

  Enough. Ella let out a snarl of her own and shoved the door. He stopped her by putting his boot in the doorway.

  “Aren’t you going to let me inside? Crap, your face looks bad.”

  “So everyone keeps telling me.” Ella folded her arms and tried to hide her wince. Even blinking hurt today. “What do you want? I’d decided on a quiet evening. I’m not even going to the book club meeting.”

  He shut the door with a solid click and turned the key.

  Ella’s eyes widened. “You’ve locked yourself inside with me, why?”

  “We’re doing the friends with benefits thing tonight.”

  Ella sniffed. “I’m tired. Every part of my body aches. Go away.”

  “Fair enough. I can deal with that. What are we having for dinner?” Dillon lifted his head and sniffed. “Not one delicious aroma.”

  “I was having soup. I suppose I can make pasta too.” The words emerged grudging with that side of temper still simmering. Not helped by his arrogance.

  “Works for me,” Dillon said. “Give me my orders.”

  Ella sighed. “If you won’t leave, you can chop an onion.”

  “I’m a champion onion chopper.”

  Ella’s mouth stretched until her jaw pulled. “Someone thinks highly of himself.”

  “Confidence is key in most things. I’ll need to wash my hands. Point me toward the bathroom.”

  “Through there.” She pointed. “It’s the first door on the left.”

  Dillon disappeared, his footsteps silent. A soldier thing. Obviously. Ella pulled the ingredients they’d need out of the cupboard and found her lips curving just a little. Her apathy had lifted with his arrival. She’d told Suzie she wanted to be alone when her friend had checked on her, but Dillon’s presence was welcome.

  “Ella. Ella. Dillon.”

  “That’s a new one,” she muttered as she placed an onion and two segments of garlic on the counter. She pulled out a knife and a chopping board for Dillon’s use.

  “How was work today?” Dillon asked on his return.

  “Some idiot driver tried to run me off the road during the bike ride there. And once I got to work, everyone said my appearance scared them, and my boss sent me home. I’m allowed to go back to work on Monday. What did you do?”

  “I went bird-watching early this morning.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I think my neighbor is illegally trapping native birds. I suspect he’s selling them on the black market.”

  Ella gaped at Dillon. “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not certain. My plan is to confirm my suspicions, then I’ll report him to the cops and the Department of Conservation.”

  “There are kiwi, kokako and other rare birds living in the area,” Ella said, her mind racing. Shock. Horror that anyone would consider this theft. The birds were a national treasure.

  “Yes, I imagine that’s why they’ve started the business here.” Dillon peeled and chopped the onion with military precision while Ella dealt with the portobello mushrooms.

  She heated oil in a frying pan and added the onion and garlic, shunting it around the sizzling surface with a bright blue spoon. “I understand your sister is coming home for a visit. Your mother is excited.”

  “You saw my parents?”

  “They delivered the car for me. Thanks, by the way.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. Nikolai and Summer decided I needed help to investigate, and Summer figured she’d keep Mum b
usy while Nikolai and I poked around.”

  “Excellent strategy.” Ella’s lips quirked in a half-grin.

  “Summer is acting smug after thinking of it,” Dillon said with a big-brother eye roll.

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “I need to get into the shed where they’re keeping the captured birds. Or rather, where I suspect they’re holding them. I came across several traps yesterday. I released the birds.”

  “That must’ve irked the people involved.”

  “Yeah. They almost caught me.”

  Ella stared. “Are they dangerous?”

  “They didn’t appear to carry weapons, but they might have concealed them.”

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  “Did you hear that?” Dillon’s voice was sharp.

  “I try to ignore her, although that didn’t work last night. I didn’t get much sleep.”

  His brows rose halfway to his hairline. “Hana?”

  “Dillon.”

  Dillon’s gaze shot to Ella. His head jerked in a tiny shake of denial while his focus hinted at a soldier mind working at warp-speed.

  “What?”

  “That wasn’t you.”

  Ella crossed her arms. “Did you see my mouth moving?”

  “No, but I doubted you.”

  “Fine. You’re sorry for treating me like an imbecile. All I wanted was for it to stop. If you can make her stop, you’ll be my hero. I hardly slept last night, and it wasn’t just my bumps and bruises.”

  “How am I going to stop her haunting you?”

  “If I knew, I would’ve done it already,” Ella snapped and applied her frustration to swishing the onion and garlic around her pan. “It’s not as if there’s a guide book for this kind of thing. She has been extra chatty since I returned. Between the dreams and the chatter… Let’s just say Hana doesn’t seem to think sleep is a priority for me.”

  “No.” Dillon’s lips twitched.

  “It’s not funny. You try going without sleep for days. That’s why I finally gave in and visited you.”

  “And I thought you were after my body.” Dillon’s grin widened, and it echoed in the shine of his eyes. “Hana, what do you want?”

  Ella held her breath and listened. Nothing happened. Of course.

  Dillon shrugged. “Guess I’m not having any better luck than you. What should I do next?”

  “Open the can of soup for me, please. There’s a small pot in the bottom cupboard.” She gestured. “Can opener in the drawer there.”

  Ella added the mushrooms to the pan, then grabbed the jar of penne pasta from the pantry. “Do you eat seafood? Prawns?”

  “I eat most things.”

  “Great.” That made things easy. She filled a saucepan with hot water and put it on to boil, happier now that Dillon was here. Her mind wanted to analyze this fact, but she forced herself to divert to other things. “I have a question. Why don’t you go to the cops, tell them what you suspect and leave the entire mess to them?”

  Dillon heaved out a sigh. “That’s what a sensible man would do. I don’t know. It burns me that a neighbor, hell, a fellow New Zealander, might do this. Hana loved her new country. The green of our land after the barrenness of the desert where she lived and worked. The birds fascinated her, the alpacas. The freedom. Part of me wants to investigate and do this for Hana. I couldn’t be here for her before, but perhaps this can be my shout out for her. Something she’d approve of.”

  The water in the pot came to a rolling boil, and Ella dumped in the pasta. “In a weird way that makes sense. Hana was lucky to have you.”

  Ella paused, wondering if her frustrating ghost might have a comment. But no. Silence reigned.

  “Hana lived in this cottage for a while before we got married.” He frowned and appeared to drift into the past.

  Ella left him to his thoughts and poured the soup into two bowls.

  “I’ll get those,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Ella checked the timer for the pasta then walked into the pantry to search out a container of home-made garlic croutons she’d made the previous week. Ah! She seized them and joined Dillon in her dining room. “Croutons?”

  “Sure.”

  Ella ate alone several nights a week and never minded her own company since she balanced this out with social weekends. In her mind, this dinner with Dillon felt like a date, and the acknowledgement brought a frown.

  “This is slipping into date territory,” she blurted.

  “Excellent.” Dillon applied himself to his soup.

  Ella scowled at her bowl, tension creeping into her hand until she strangled her spoon. In the kitchen, the timer summoned her with a pesky beep-beep-beep.

  “Saved by the bell,” Dillon quipped.

  “Did Hana find you irritating?”

  “Of course. We were friends and had good and bad days.” Dillon never hesitated. “None of us is perfect.”

  “Hmmm.” Ella stood to sort out her pasta.

  After dinner, they sat on the couch and watched an action movie. The hero amused Dillon, who criticized his actions and use of weapons during the tension-filled scenes. And he scoffed at the romantic scenes, which took place while the villains were hot on their trail.

  Conscious of both the ghost and Dillon’s arm thrown around her shoulder, Ella had difficulty concentrating, although her non-committal murmurs satisfied Dillon. When the closing credits rolled across the screen, she voiced her questions.

  “What exactly are you going to do next?”

  “My brother-in-law is a trainer for the Army. He will help me formulate a decent plan.”

  “You’ll be careful?”

  He eyed her more closely then. “Are you worried?”

  “It occurred to me that if your neighbor is smuggling birds and probably eggs out of the country, he’ll be asking top dollar. He won’t want to lose his lucrative income. Are you sure the men weren’t carrying weapons?”

  “None I saw, but I take your point. Don’t worry. Nikolai and I are professionals. We won’t take stupid risks. We’ll nose around and if we find anything incriminating, we’ll call in the authorities.”

  Ella yawned before she could cover her mouth.

  “You’re tired. Let’s go to bed.”

  “Okay, but try not to hit me this time. My jaw is still sore.”

  Dillon stilled, the color fading from his cheeks. He jerked away from her. “I should head home.”

  “No.” Aw, crap. Her and her big mouth. “Dillon, look at me.” She encouraged him to face her by cupping his jaw. “You didn’t mean to do it. I. Know. This. You had a bad dream and struck out. Please, come to bed.”

  He hesitated then gave a brief nod.

  “I’d like to get the alpaca fleece you promised me because a local lady is giving lessons. I noticed the flyer at a local cafe. Although I don’t know how easy it will be carting it around the landslide. Can I go back with you for a day or two?”

  A frown marched across Dillon’s face.

  “What if I promise to stay around the house? You’ll be there and your brother-in-law.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Okay,” Ella said and stood. “If you want a shower, the towels are in the hall cupboard just opposite. Help yourself. I bought a new toothbrush last week. It’s in the bathroom cabinet still in its packet. Your beard looks distinguished now. It suits you.”

  “Does it make me sexy enough to warrant a goodnight kiss?”

  “As long as you clean your teeth. We both ate garlic tonight.”

  Dillon chuckled. “You go first. I want a glass of water.”

  She nodded and hurried off to get ready for bed. Normally, she wore a long T-shirt but tonight she decided on nothing except a dab of her favorite perfume. Yes, she was tired. Yes, every muscle in her body warbled a song of misery, but she’d need to be a saint to resist this gruff and sometimes bad-tempered military man.

  Besides, didn’t sex—the excellent kind—flood the body with endorphi
ns and aid sleep?

  That was a cure she craved this night.

  9 – Things Start To Make Sense

  Dillon slipped into the bed cautiously, thankful that Ella had a large version rather than a single. He could’ve slept on the couch or in her spare room, but something drove him to seek her comfort. Normally, sharing a bed with a woman meant sex, but with Ella, the need for closeness drove him. Which made no sense, but he was a man who listened to his gut instincts. They’d saved him more than once.

  “Dillon?”

  “If it’s someone else, we’re in trouble.”

  “Cold.”

  She scooched nearer and wound around him like a clinging vine. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest while her limbs entwined with his.

  She yawned. “Thought I could do sex. Later. So tired.”

  The coolness of her flesh did little to calm the burst of desire that grabbed him by the balls when she crooned the word sex. Tension slid through his arms, and in self-defense, he ran through the steps of his upcoming mission. Huh! His mind automatically turned soldier on him. Even though he’d tossed a few ideas around his mind, he still hadn’t decided on the best course of action. He’d discuss it with Nikolai. If his brother-in-law suggested he report this to the police and step away, he’d follow the advice.

  His mother’s adage about borrowing trouble held wisdom.

  With that decision made, he could no longer distract himself from the woman in his arms. She’d fallen asleep and her small, puffing breaths tickled his chest. A smile curved his lips as satisfaction settled over him. He closed his own eyes and relaxed.

  On the edge of dropping into slumber, the whisper of his name dragged him back to wakefulness.

  “Dillon.”

  The hairs on his arms stood to attention.

  “Dillon.”

  Crap. He slipped from the bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. While he waited for something to happen, he poured himself a glass of water. He sipped, his gaze prowling the darkness. Impatience stalked him. He was a practical man who preferred control. He understood the things in front of his face.

  This was beyond his pay grade.

  “I can’t believe this. If that is you, Hana, you need to stop harassing Ella. Why are you hanging around here? Dammit, you’re one of the good ones. A saint, and you sure as hell didn’t deserve to die alone in the house. I’m so sorry. I assumed you’d be safe.” Dillon paused his throat tight. He moistened his mouth with the water. It didn’t help.