Page 21 of Organized Chaos

She was too tired to think, much less remember what she’d seen. Those few minutes of exploring before falling through the floor felt like a dream. She scrubbed her palms over her gritty eyes and tried to think through the fog. “There was this great hutch.”

She caught a flash of a grin from Roger. “My grandfather bought that for my grandmother as a wedding present. It’s been in that house since.”

“Oh.” Sarah pinched her eyes closed and yawned again. “I guess you probably want to keep it then.”

“Not exactly.” Phillip rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head side to side. “Dad has been complaining about that piece for as long as I can remember.”

They rolled to a stop in front of the house. Phillip scooted sideways and opened the door. Cool night air rushed in, and she shivered.

Phillip’s hand caught hers and pulled her along behind him, all the way up the steps and into the house.

She stumbled over the threshold and banged into Phillip’s back. He stopped long enough for her to regain her balance then forged ahead. They walked through an open living room decorated in shades of russet and gold, then into a state-of-the-art kitchen. Sarah sank onto a stool and propped her head in her hands. “You’re sure it’s okay for me to come back tomorrow?”

Feminine laughter reached her ears. “Honey, I think you’ll still be right there in the morning if we don’t get you settled in somewhere else.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sarah let her eyes sink closed. She was safe. No more dirt. No more spiders. She’d sleep a little while then get back to work. She’d forget all about Phillip, and this night would become nothing but a passing dream.

Phillip sat beside her and shook her awake. “No sleeping in the kitchen.”

“Too tired to move.” She snuggled in deeper.

He tugged on her braid. “And you’ll fall and bust your head if I let you stay here.” He nudged her until she opened her eyes. “Eat first or sleep?”

“Sleep.” She grunted and lifted her head as a tantalizing aroma threaded through the kitchen. “Then again.” She sniffed and blinked her vision clear. “I’m awake.”

“Good.” Rose set two bowls on the counter. “You’re both going to eat. And then you’ll sleep. Tomorrow morning is soon enough to sort out the details.”

Rose stepped back and Sarah heard her and Phillip talking quietly in the corner.

Phillip must have given them a few details because they didn’t pry.

Minutes later, the bowls were empty, and Sarah was tucked into a spare room upstairs. She considered arguing one last time but let it go. She was too tired to drive home. And she’d avoid the drive back first thing in the morning.

Not to mention the opportunity to see Phillip again. Not that she cared.

Except that her dreams were filled with images of him. Of them and a future she didn’t dare pursue.

CHAPTER EIGHT

He should finish his podcast. Phillip ran his hands through his hair, standing it on end. Not that it mattered since the podcasts never showed his face, but he liked feeling put together when he recorded. That’s why he’d been wearing his dress clothes when he met Sarah yesterday. Just like he was wearing them now.

A frustrated sigh escaped him when he looked out the window—for the tenth time—in hopes of seeing Sarah. He’d left the house this morning and come home as the sun rose. Sarah had no doubt stayed for breakfast since his mom had already begun preparations when he left.

The hours between then and now had stretched long and tedious. He had plenty of work to do, but every time he turned on the recording equipment, he thought of Sarah and ended up holding the microphone while saying nothing at all.

Movement at the old house grabbed his attention. Sarah stepped out onto the porch pulling a hand truck while walking backward.

Phillip frowned.

She looked over her shoulder, then gave the wheeled device a yank that popped it over the doorway and onto the porch.

A large dresser teetered dangerously. Sarah lunged forward, tilting the hand truck and sending the dresser rocking back the other way.

Phillip stood and squinted. She’d not even bothered to strap the dresser down. One wrong move and the whole thing would fall off. He snorted and shook his head. Leave it to Sarah.

He eyed the desk where his equipment waited. He should sit back down and get the recording done. His schedule said the podcast would go up tomorrow morning. That meant he had today to record, edit, and upload.

The clock over the desk ticked down the time.

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