The North Star

by Wendy Cole

  I walked away without a backwards glance and pulled the front door open.

  Boe grinned up at me with his foot on the second step and his body leaned forward as he gripped the rail.

  “There she is.” He stretched as he straightened. “I told you I was looking forward to this. How dare you keep a man waiting.”

  I tilted my head at him. “I hear if you hold your breath, it makes the wait end much faster.”

  In one swift move―too fast for me to react―he scooped me over his shoulder. “I prefer more hands-on tactics.”

  He smelled like a man who’d had one too many beers, and judging by the glassy look he’d shot me at the door, I could imagine he was.

  I’d just opened my mouth to give him hell when he turned to carry me towards the others, and I was given a perfect view of the camper behind us. While I couldn’t see the tall, dark, and mysterious stranger, I could feel those intelligent eyes as they cut a hole right through me.

  An idea struck.

  This could be the buffer I needed.

  If I showed an interest, it could prompt him to back off a bit; view me as taken.

  Maybe, if he did, we could even be friends.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Boe dropped me to my feet and handed me a beer. “I see you’ve survived the RV.”

  So far…

  “Jessie,” Charlene stepped up to my side and cupped my elbow, “this is my daughter, Lexy.”

  I turned to find the blonde girl from the grocery store, or at least, I thought it was her. She looked completely different from the last time I’d seen her or maybe it was the fact that I could see so damn much more of her.

  Crop top, low jeans, and enough makeup to keep an animal testing sight busy for a decade. “Nice to meet you again.”

  She nodded, quick and polite, then turned to her mother. “Can I go now?”

  “Lexy!” Charlene blew out a breath and offered me an apologetic smile. “You could at least say hi.”

  Lexy rolled her eyes. “Hi.”

  I grinned, mainly at the look of absolute annoyance on Charlene’s usually sweet face.

  “Can I go now?”

  “Just go.” Charlene waved her off, and no sooner did she lift her hand, Lexy turned and bounded around the house.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do with her anymore.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I want you to meet my son, but I wanted to talk to you first.” She pulled me a little further out into the yard. “My son doesn’t speak. It’s not that he can’t, he just doesn’t. I just wanted to give you a heads up. People tend to get a little thrown off when they don’t expect it.”

  “Hell, he sounds like my kind of person. More people should be like him.” I jerked my head towards Boe and gave a tight smile.

  Charlene grinned. “You’re a special girl, hon. I wish everyone was as accepting as you are.”

  I furrowed my brow and stood stunned for a full minute. Like me? I wasn’t nice. I wasn’t anything anyone should strive to be. Hell, if anything, I should be used as a warning for what not to do with your life. But Charlene continued to smile warmly, genuinely, like she meant it. I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat.

  “That’s him,” Charlene said, saving me from awkwardly staring at her. She pulled me over as a pickup pulled into the yard, and when the man got out, she released my arm to engulf him in a hug.

  “There’s my boy.” She smiled up at him.

  He had the same coppery-colored hair as his mother, and the same kind emerald eyes. The two could have been twins if it wasn’t for his towering height and strong jaw. He wasn’t rough like the other men I’d met since finding this place. He had a baby face, smooth and clean-shaven, and his muscles lacked the bulk. He was long and lean and golden.

  “Parker, this is Jessie.” Charlene motioned over to me, and I offered him a warm smile.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Parker smiled, then reached down inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a notepad and a pen. He scribbled for a moment, peeking up a couple of times to look at me with light eyes. Once he’d finished, he handed the pad to me.

  I’d say your beauty has rendered me speechless, but my mother most likely warned you. She warns everyone. It’s her life’s ambition to save me from any situation that could be considered uncomfortable. If I did speak, however, I’d be standing here just as silent.

  I looked up at him and lifted a brow. Did I just get a pick up note?

  “He’s smooth, huh?” Charlene smacked his arm. “What did you write to her?”

  Parker shrugged then grinned over at me.

  “Jessie?” Charlene reached for the paper, but Parker snatched it away and held it up too high for her to reach.

  She huffed another breath.

  Zeke suddenly barreled forward, threw an arm around Parker’s shoulders, and pulled him into a headlock.

  “Look at you, boy! You’re too skinny! Get you some of this food over here.”

  Parker didn’t make a sound, but the smile etched across his face was wide and open, and I couldn’t help but match his expression when the two of them began to wrestle along the way towards the grill.

  Just like that, a whirlwind started. I ate steak and potato salad and deviled eggs I swore were laced with crack. Then I drank and drank some more.

  My heart raced. My chest loosened. My most recent run in with my dreams faded into the background of my mind, and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to breathe.

  I flopped down at the picnic table, breathing heavy as I cracked open the new bottle in my hand.

  Zeke took the seat across from me. “I’m glad to see you getting along with everyone.”

  I nodded and took a drink. “They’re great. Everyone here is great.”

  “Even my nephew?”

  I swallowed hard and almost choked. “He’s alright.”

  I thought about it. He was right about one thing; he’d never done anything to me. He’d been the perfect bar angel. I held my hand up. “He’s the one that sewed my hand up, so I can’t complain.”

  Zeke eyes lingered on the gauze and tape keeping my stitches clean, his expression thoughtful. “Is that so?”

  “Yep.” I took another drink.

  He placed both of his massive hands on top of the table and leaned forward with a laugh. “I’m sorry, girl. You’re probably wondering why I’m asking. It’s just…Bard hasn’t been himself for a long time, and, well, I don’t ever see him talk to anyone except for me. Hell, most of those times he’s too drunk to be coherent.” He shook his head. “Today, when he saw you in the RV, for a second there, he looked…awake.”

  I snorted to cover the absolute dread his words brought me. “What can I say? I have a way with men.”

  He laughed. “I’ll say.” His expression sobered as his eyes shifted over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  I looked over just as Bard descended the small set of steps. He didn’t pause or seem uncomfortable despite the absolute hush that fell over the group at his arrival.

  He walked straight past the stares to the cooler, grabbed a beer from within, and turned with purpose towards where Zeke and I sat.

  “Motherfucker,” I hissed beneath my breath.

  Zeke heard, and a low rumbling laugh shook his chest. It simmered out as Bard drew closer, but his expression didn’t change.

  He grinned at his nephew. “Look who found the backyard.”

  Bard snorted. “I knew where it was.”

  His deep voice hit me the way it always did, and I took a long drink to prepare myself for the onslaught of more of it. He’d cleaned up. He had taken a shower. His hair hung loose and wet across his shoulders and down his back, and while he wore a shirt, the new flannel looked soft and clean and hugged him entirely too well.

  He slid into the spot beside me without an ounce of shame, and Zeke looked ready to explode. His eyes were glassy but not from the beer. His u
sually infectious smile seemed brighter. Overall, Zeke appeared to be full of joy, ecstatic even. Happy.

  He was happy.

  Because his nephew obviously wanted to bang me.

  How nice.

  Zeke hummed. “I always assumed you didn’t. You’ve never come out before.”

  I felt that intense gaze warm my profile, and for a brief moment, I couldn’t breathe.

  “Can you calm yourself?” Bard asked. “You’re making Jessie blush.”

  “I’m not blushing.” But I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at his uncle either because my face was hot―my face and every damn thing else. He set me on fire the minute he sat down. I was already too drunk to think logically. My hormones seemed in control, and if I wanted to keep myself straight, waving a big, beautiful, bearded red flag at them was the worst idea.

  “She’s not blushing,” Bard said to Zeke as if it were his uncle who’d pointed it out.

  Zeke reached across the table, and I looked up to watch him cup Bard’s shoulder and squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here, boy. Maybe next, I can get you to come out in the daylight.”

  Bard patted Zeke’s hand, but he didn’t respond, and his expression remained guarded.

  When Zeke stepped away, his eyes met mine.

  Shit! I was looking at him, and now I was alone…looking at him, and he was looking at me, and everyone was way over on the other side of the yard, and…Jesus! Why did he have to be so pretty?

  “I should have known this was where you were working.”

  My mind calmed a fraction. Something about the way he’d spoken…it was just like at the bar. “Why is that?”

  “Zeke likes finding people.” His lip twitched, but I couldn’t tell if it was the hint of a smile or a grimace.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve noticed that.” I took a drink and tried to think of something to say. “This place is a miracle.”

  He studied me once again, hairline to temple then across my face, before focusing his attention on his bottle.

  “To me it’s always been a sanctuary.” He took a drink and looked back at me. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He spoke the words so softly, so genuinely. It hit me right in the chest, and that unwanted warmth spread once again. “Don’t do that.”

  He tilted his head in a lazy sort of way, and as if on purpose, his expression softened to match his tone. It made him even more attractive. It called to some deep neglected womanly part of me. It made me want to be held for a while. It made me want to believe the lie that was a man and love and sweet words.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t come out here and feed me lines. I don’t want them.”

  But I did want them. I wanted them with a desperation I hadn’t even known until he spoke them. It was stupid. He was just a man like any other man.

  “It wasn’t a line.” His tone hardened a fraction. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’ve been losing my mind thinking about you under that bridge at night.” He scanned my face. “You’re obviously in some sort of trouble. You’re malnourished. You look terrified of me and anyone else that so much as looks at you, and you were all alone, out in the open, living like some kind of stray.” He took a long drink and sat the bottle down. “I don’t know what kind of people you’ve dealt with in the past, but where I come from, a man can’t see something like that and not care.”

  “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

  His eyes snapped back to mine, harder, sharper. “You keep asking me that as if it’s the only way I could want to help you. Tell me, Tequila. Have I ever asked you for a thing? Ever touched you? Hurt you?”

  “No, but they never do. Not in the beginning.”

  “Who’s they?”

  My mouth clamped shut, and I turned back to the table, to the bottle, to the much-needed drink.

  “Men.” I tilted the bottle back. “I’ve sworn off men, Bard. You might like to know that. You can promise any kind of fairytale you want, but I’m not biting. I don’t want it. I don’t want your sweet words and sincere concern.” I met his eyes, my resolve strengthened by the truth behind my words. “I want a life, a real one, and I’ll die before I let anyone fuck that up.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “It’s funny.” He twirled his bottle in front of him, his expression thoughtful.

  I watched him through narrowed eyes. It wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. “I wasn’t joking.”

  He looked at me. “I know you weren’t. It’s just the things you say to try and put me off only make me want to know more about you.” His eyes held mine for a long, drawn-out moment. “I want to know your story.”

  My god. He won’t quit. “Are you sure?”

  I turned to face him.

  His eyes trailed a path along my frame then landed back on my face. “Yes.”

  I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t have drank so much. If I’d known I would be alone with him, I wouldn’t… Wait. I was lying. I’d still be drunk. I just would have planned better.

  “I don’t think you can handle my story, Bard. It’s a sad fucking tale, and honestly, you seem sad enough already.”

  His lip twitched, and his eyes once again scanned my face. I’d gotten closer, purposely leaned forward in an attempt to prove how unaffected I was by him. The trouble was he did affect me. Even now, I could feel the heat radiating from him. It wrapped around and enveloped me in promises I didn’t want him to keep.

  “You make me want to rewrite it,” he said, his voice low and smooth as silk.

  My breath caught, and heat seared its way through my chest, pooling into my stomach where it lingered. An itch. He was an itch begging to be scratched.

  “You can’t rewrite it. People don’t get to do that. Scars don’t heal.”

  His eyes sharpened to daggers, and I realized my mistake too late. I’d said too much. It was something about him; him and the alcohol and…the need.

  “Scars?” He watched me close, too intent.

  I sat back and unconsciously touched a hand to my back; to the evidence of what my heart led me to the last time I’d followed it.

  Bard noticed.

  “Someone hurt you.” He spoke the words as if he’d read them off a treasure map and was already looking for the next clue. “An ex. That’s why you’re scared. You’re running from him.”

  “You’re hogging the best one here,” Boe, my guardian angel, swooped in to save the day.

  I turned with much more enthusiasm than Boe normally warranted. Thank god.

  Bard’s jaw ticked.

  Boe grinned. “It’s real funny watching everyone cower by the grill like you’ll eat them. Good thing I don’t scare easy, huh, Jessie’?” He took my hand and lifted me from the bench. “You ditched me awful damn quick, but I’ll forgive you. I set up a game for us to play tonight. Been saving all these drunks’ bottle caps for ages. Wanna learn how to flick em’?”

  I grinned at him. “Learn? How about I teach you how to do it better?”

  One didn’t spend their youth around bikers and not learn every drinking game there was. Flicking bottle caps was a rite of passage. Fred taught me when I was fifteen, and I’d been damn good at it. I always won, at least until Drake stopped letting me play.

  Boe laughed as he pulled me away, and I had to force myself not to look back over my shoulder. I felt them. Those sharp eyes. They dug into my back, searching, seeing.

  I walked faster.

  Zeke’s eyes danced as they shifted between us, and the man we’d left behind. “You better watch yourself, Boe. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  “No danger.” He grinned. “Not unless she aims for my face.” He threw an arm across my shoulders. “Apparently, my little Jessie here thinks she can beat me. She’s just full of surprises. Hell, she even got old Bard to come out of his cave.”

  He spoke as if he didn’t know what Zeke meant; like he couldn’t feel the daggers being shot at him.

  I had a
feeling he knew perfectly well.

  Zeke’s rumbling laugh let me know he had the same suspicion.

  Boe left me standing by the grill and walked to his truck. When he started back towards me, he held an old paint bucket in his hand.

  “I’ve got to warn you.” He held it up. “I practice this shit every time I come out to smoke and every night after the shop closes. Don’t get upset when you don’t win.”

  I held up my bottle. “I promise I won’t.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  He sat the bucket down between us and pointed across the yard. “You see that barrel over there?”

  I nodded.

  He reached down, grabbed two bottle caps, then handed one to me. “You sure you know how to do this? You got to make it sail into the bucket. We’ll each take five turns. Whoever gets the most in wins unless you want to keep going.” He leaned forward and tilted his head close to mine. “All you got to do is ask, Jessie.” His tone deepened and smoothened like a jungle cat’s just before it ripped your face off. “I can go a long time.”

  I shoved him back and aimed, snapping my fingers as if it hadn’t been years, then smiled when it sailed across the space, pretty as can be, and landed in the can.

  Zeke bellowed out a laugh, and the others joined in.

  “That’s what you get for running your mouth, asshole,” Scarlet called. Red lit up her face as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

  Boe bobbed his head, a wry grin on his face. “That was pretty good.”

  He positioned his own and took aim, and it sailed just as nicely to land amongst mine. He turned to me. “Now that we know we’re both equally as skilled, what do you say we put a little wager on it?”

  My eyes narrowed. “What kind of wager?”

  “If you win, I’ll give you a tattoo gun.”

  My breath caught. Equipment. An actual gun. “That’s an awful expensive wager for a girl with no money.”

  His smile widened. “If I win, I want a kiss.”