But she didn’t want to crush the guy. Amish people were known to be God fearing. “I guess I believe in some of it.”
“Do you believe in signs?”
She shrugged. “I’m not superstitious, but I also wouldn’t purposely break a mirror or walk under a ladder.” Maybe she was a little superstitious. The thought of shoes on a table made her twitchy.
“You know me from your dreams. That’s why I’m familiar and that’s how I knew The Red Album was your favorite. You sang that song to me.”
She stilled. “Shut the front door.”
He glanced at the entrance of the café and frowned. “I know, if you clear your mind of distraction, you’ll remember the dream.”
She didn’t have to clear her mind. She could see it as if they were there, on the field, his fingers twirling in her hair. “What the fuck is happening?”
“Such an ugly word from such a beautiful mouth.”
She scowled at him. “Tell me where we were then. If you know my dreams tell me what we were doing.”
“Lazing on a quilt.”
“Where?”
“In a field. The quilt had a blue hex symbol on it. Your head filled my lap and my fingers combed through your hair. You played with a red string and a gray barn cat chased it. And when you laughed, my soul caught fire and I knew I needed to find you. You see, Annalise, my heart’s been burning ever sense.”
“That’s impossible.” When she pushed her coffee away her hand shook so violently, she nearly knocked it over. Adam steadied the half empty cup and reached for her hand.
She pulled her hands into her lap and he said, “It only seems impossible because of what you know. Think of all the things you still don’t know.”
Her gaze dropped to her trembling fingers. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure with school and finals.”
“Why did you choose to study medicine?”
Her body pressed back in her chair. “How do you know that?”
“Because you’ve told me.”
“When? She remembered singing in the field, but never any conversation about her schooling.” Her frown deepened. He screwed up. She knew she didn’t tell him what she went to school for—in person or in a dream. “You’re lying.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Annalise. I’ve seen your dreams. Sometimes you’re listening to heartbeats or examining patients.”
She had a dream the other night like that. It didn’t have the feel of her other dreams. Just a regular old, boring dream. How could he possibly know about those things? People couldn’t share dreams. And if they could and he was eavesdropping on all of hers...
“Are you causing the nightmares?”
“Nightmares?”
“Wooded forests crawling with screaming bugs, dark ponds full of bloodsucking fish, and then there were the butterflies that tried to eat me alive. Were you there for them?”
His brow creased. “I’ve had no such dreams.”
“But I felt ... someone else present.”
His frown deepened. “It wasn’t me. How long ago did you have this nightmare?”
“Nightmares. And I have one or two a night. It’s why I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I don’t understand. If you had a dream I’d know.”
“And why is that?” There was normal crazy and then a whole new level of bat shit crazy where people actually believed they were magic.
His gaze cut to hers, his eyes sharp and shrewd as he studied her. “Do not fear me.”
She glanced at the barista who had her nose buried in her phone. She was going to have to go back to the bar and ask someone to drive her home, because she wasn’t chancing this guy following her.
“I’m done my coffee,” she announced.
“But we’re not finished our conversation.”
“Aren’t we? It feels finished.” She pushed her chair back from the table, and he caught her hand.
“Tell me about the nightmares.”
“Let go of my hand.”
“Tell me.”
He wasn’t hurting her, but if she pulled away, she sensed he could. “It doesn’t matter. They’re just dreams.”
“It matters.”
She rolled her eyes. This was exactly why girls shouldn’t grab coffee with men they meet in dark parking lots. “There’s nothing to tell. They just had a feeling. And they were scary. Someone was there, but I never saw him.”
“You’re certain it was a male?”
For the love of God. “Yes. I heard him.”
“He spoke to you?”
“Only once. I was trying to wake up and struggling. He said, I like watching you grex and rootsh, whatever that means.”
“The voice spoke Deutsch?”
“I guess. It sounded just like...” The blood rushed from her face. “You.”
His nostrils flared. “I would never say such a thing.”
But five minutes ago he claimed to know all sorts of things about her dreams. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t believe any of this. Maybe I ate some bad shrimp. Or maybe I’m dehydrated. It could be a bunch of things waking me up at night. But I’m pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with you.” It couldn’t, because anything else would be crazy.