by Jax Garren
“Oh, yeah.”
Carrie wrinkled her nose. “That’s a little gruesome to tell a first grader, don’t you think?”
Brett lifted an eyebrow. “That? You should’ve seen the video game he was playing when I walked in.” He studied TJ for a moment. “I think he can handle a little Brothers Grimm. Fairy tales may be violent, but at least they usually have a moral.”
She shook her head. “What, like Cinderella? Work hard and your prince will come rescue you? I’m not sure that’s a moral worth learning.”
His expression turned bemused, but there was an undercurrent of sorrow in his voice. “Blasphemous animation companies that don’t show how it really went down.” He picked up a toy car off the floor to drive it around the couch arm with TJ. The kid made “vrooming” noises for his own miniature truck as they chased down the side of the blue upholstery.
“You know,” Brett continued to her, “in the Grimm version of the story, she and the prince met multiple times, but she kept running away. Finally he spread pitch on the staircase so she’d get stuck, hoping it would let him catch her. Cinderella was smart enough to take her shoe off and escape, but that left him the clue he needed to find her.”
“And what moral do you get from that?”
His slow smile warned her that a serious answer was not forthcoming. “When courting a skittish woman, keep a barrel of tar handy.”
That made her giggle. She popped him on the shoulder. “I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”
“No? How about know your true love’s shoe size? Speaking of, I like your silver heels. Can I see one?” One hand continued the car chase as the other reached down toward her feet.
“No! Get away from my feet. That’s not the moral.”
“Hm... Getting a woman’s shoes off is the key to winning her? Now I want both your shoes. Hand them over.” He snapped twice then twitched his fingers in an impatient “gimme” gesture.
When she mouthed, “No,” he reached for her foot again.
She squirmed away, laughing. “I’m pretty sure shoes are not the typical thing a prince tries to divest his heroine of.” She shot TJ a guilty glance, but the joke had gone way over his head.
It was a good thing there was a kid in the room. Nothing could happen with TJ watching. They had to behave like responsible, intelligent adults.
Who chased each other across the couch over a pair of discount-rack pumps.
Brett caught her gaze and an undeniable desire shone from his eyes. “Maybe, but this is clearly not your typical prince.”
Her breath caught and heart picked up speed. She wanted to shield the need from her own eyes, to stop him from seeing how he affected her.
She couldn’t. The edge of his mouth curled up. “But I do like the way you think.”
Tension filled the room so thick and warm Carrie wanted to fan herself. Where to go from here? Other than the obvious.
Lora hustled in, dish towel still in hand. Brett relaxed, his sunny grin back in place as if the world hadn’t just spun off its axis. Had Lora been listening? She probably had, the little rat.
Her rodent friend scooped the child up. “TJ, it’s time for bed. Let’s go.” To Brett and Carrie she mouthed, “Sorry.”
“Noooooo!” he said.
“Yeeeesssss!” Lora answered as they disappeared upstairs.
When the child’s voice ceased, the silence expanded for several uncomfortable seconds as Carrie’s brain blanked for anything talk about. Brett just studied her from across the couch, seeming content with silence.
The quiet was dangerous. Finally she managed, “You’re good with kids. Bet you plan on having a truckload.” One way or another, the topic of children drove every man away. If she sent him packing with it now, she could miss the blissful interim that led to deeper disappointment.
Brett smiled a little sadly. “I love children. But I probably won’t have any.”
“Why not?”
He considered her for a moment with a wrinkled brow and puckered mouth, all of his previous joviality gone. His knees knocked together in an agitated rhythm that made her consider withdrawing the question. It was too personal a topic, considering how short a time they’d known each other. On the other hand, she’d given him her entire sob story ten minutes after meeting him. Instead of protesting her invasiveness, he gave a shrug that was too casual. “I can’t.”
She scooted toward him, just a little. “What does that mean?” Surprise sent the words from her before she thought about it. She didn’t need to ask. His resigned posture told her exactly what he meant.
But instead of the depressed glower that would bring from her, his eyes widened in panic and his posture shot straight up. “Oh, no, I can still—Everything works. At least enough to—I mean, we could totally—” A blush turned his pale features scarlet as words burbled from his mouth, breaking the seriousness of her mood. “I’m going to quit talking now.” With a visible effort he shut his lips. “Smooth, Vertanen.”
She should reassure him. Instead, she found herself full of inappropriate laughter. “I’m sorry...” What a typically male response. I’m not a eunuch! She tried to stop, but it spilled out louder until she was holding her side.
Instead of getting angry, he shot her a sly grin. “Let’s just say that elves can’t father human children. But we can do everything else.” That set her off again, and he smiled at her continued laughter as she tried to get it under control.
But she finally settled down as she realized that they had something damn huge in common. She reached over to pat his knee and realized he, too, had scooted closer until they were right next to each other. “It’s okay. I get you.” She said it lightly, like she just meant that she understood his meaning, not like she knew on a deep level exactly how that felt. But he knew her story. It was weirdly nice that he already knew.
He slid his knuckles between hers and squeezed, warming her fingers against his smooth palm. “I’d love to adopt, but it’s hard to meet somebody else who’s interested in that, you know?”
Given her situation, the question seemed a statement of solidarity. Fear and pain squeezed inside her so hard she took her hand back and changed the conversation. “What really happened to your ears?”
He took her conversational left turn in stride. “You mean other than an elven clan lopping them off before I left to live among humans?”
“Uh, yeah. Seeing as I’m getting to know your deep dark secrets, I was hoping for the real story.” Was she chattering? “If you don’t mind my asking.” Really, this wasn’t a great topic, either. When did she become so nosy?
Brett frowned and scratched at his collarbone, once again thoughtful.
She closed her eyes, frustrated with her mouth. She’d gotten too good at tanking any shot at a relationship. She was starting to think she might want to give this one a try, and yet all she did was shoot torpedoes at it. Like... like she expected it to end up like Lincoln.
Lincoln had been her dream for so many years. There had been a time when she’d have said marrying him was worth any risk. She knew better now. No relationship was good enough to chance that she’d go through even a fraction of that ragged hell again.
Even so, it wasn’t fair to ask Brett about his ears—that couldn’t be a happy story. He didn’t deserve her baggage heaped onto him like that.
But before she could let him off the hook, he said, “I grew up on Baffin Island, in Canada. I mentioned that at dinner.”
Carrie nodded, now more curious than ever. “Yeah, with the story about the tonttu.” She smiled to try to lighten his mood. “It’s up near the North Pole, right? Appropriate for an elf.”
He nodded, the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Closer than most people ever get. I’m from a small town there.” He shook his head, the smile turning self-conscious. “And when people in Texas say small town, they seem to mean around five thousand inhabitants. But when someone in northern Canada says small town? We mean more like fifty.”
“Fifty people total?
That’s it?”
His expression grew to something resembling the normal teasing grin, though the light didn’t reach his eyes. “Total anything warm-blooded. I’m pretty sure my neighbor included his six huskies in the population count.”
Carrie chuckled at the idea of dogs included in the census.
“It’s beautiful. Mountains and fjords, snow and sea, polar bears and harp seals. White wolves and arctic foxes and snowy owls. I saw the Northern Lights all the time. When I was a kid, I thought they were the holiday decorations of the gods. But it’s really lonely up there, too. And with the weather and the lack of sun in winter, spotty education, and almost nobody new moving in, nobody old moving out... it can make things a little crazy.” He shook his head. “It can make the residents a little crazy.”
His tone stayed so somber that Carrie reached for him, and he readily took her hand, enfolding it in his own. It felt nice, and that, in and of itself, was strange. The contemplative look came back, as if once again he was debating how much to say. She didn’t make a noise for fear he’d decide not to speak. When he started talking again, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d held. “When I was seventeen, I fell in love with a girl one town over.”
When he didn’t continue, Carrie knew she should leave him alone, but this serious version of Brett fascinated her. She glanced back at his ear. The top didn’t curl over, showing a flat scar as if someone really had lopped the top off. “How does that get your ears sliced up?”
“Her brother did it. He didn’t think I was good enough for his sister.”
A chill ran through her. “Oh my God, he cut you on purpose?” Who did that? And why his ears?
He shifted uncomfortably. “My family wasn’t exactly the most well-respected.”
“So? Who cares about your family? You’re awesome.” Oh, crap, had she just said that? He lifted a dark eyebrow, warmth back in his eyes. She blushed and busied herself by examining the scar again. It did seem far too precise for anything but a purposeful cut. “What a violent nutball. That’s scary.”
“Nyall was a scary guy.”
“I guess that broke you up. But why your ears? That’s strange.”
Brett doodled pictures on the couch with his fingers. “I’d applied for college in Toronto and asked Ryssa to come with me. She decided to stay behind. Didn’t want to be disloyal to her family like that. And I think leaving scared her too much.” He brushed the couch, as if erasing whatever he’d drawn, and captured Carrie’s gaze with his own. His blue eyes were as bright and sad as melting ice. “We were awfully young. And leaving is considered treasonous among my kind.”
His story was crazy, nothing like the staid life she’d had, but those scars were too clean to be an accident. Then his last statement registered. “Your kind?” Treasonous?
Brett blinked, shook off the maudlin with a friendly smile and stretched. “You know, crazy far-northern Canucks.” He shook her hand. “I like it better here, anyway.”
She couldn’t help asking, “Is that all true?”
His expression turned confused, as if the idea of lying hadn’t occurred to him, and he canted his head again in that way that made the bells jingle on his hat when he was wearing it. Without the cap, though, it looked more like he was listening to something, like faint music or unspoken words.
He held a finger up and slid his wallet out of his back pocket. After a moment of digging inside, he produced a folded photograph. “That’s the house I grew up in.” A weathered wooden structure, small and none-too-sturdy but with brightly painted window shutters, took up a third of the frame. “My little sister.” He pointed to a mousy-haired kid of maybe ten making snow angels on the lawn in a threadbare jacket. “And a moose. Because they’re everywhere.” He pointed to the background where, sure enough, an enormous brown animal stared at the camera with angry eyes.
“Wow.” The windswept desolation in the photo made it all real. He’d grown up in a totally different world than she had, with her cheerful middle-class family. Talk about overcoming some odds. Shame pricked at her. How dare she or anyone else judge him for being a little strange when he’d come from frozen poverty and creepy violence to become a friendly guy cheering up children at the mall?
He folded the picture carefully along the same lines and replaced it, then spun the wallet so she could see his driver’s license through the clear plastic. “But I’m a US citizen now.” His voice held pride.
“Brett Vertanen,” she read. Apparently elf-man had a last name, too. It made him more real. “That’s a cool name.”
“Finnish.” He chuckled. “I’m the only one of my known kin to escape the cold.” He slapped the wallet closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. When he faced her again, his cheerful smile had returned. “So you liked my food, eh?”
She nodded. He still had her hand, and he squeezed it.
“Can I cook for you again?”
Here it was, the decision to keep seeing him—to let him in, if only just a little. She couldn’t help hearing, “Give me a chance to hurt you?” But that wasn’t what he meant. She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Even if it scared her, she meant it.
The cheerful smile turned triumphant. What a goober he was. Furtively, he glanced around them.
“What are you—”
She stopped when he cupped her cheek with his free hand. His gaze found hers with the force of a storm. In his eyes again she glimpsed a core that was strong and a little wild, hidden—or maybe held in check—by his laughter and affable smile. The depth of space made bearable by the light of the stars.
It struck her that Lincoln had been the other way around, a wild, rebellious exterior hiding a man who feared he wasn’t special. She’d always wanted to help Lincoln see that he had more inside him than he realized.
And then, when it had mattered most, he’d gone and proved her wrong.
Brett’s thumb stroked her cheek, bringing her back to the present and the man she was with. “I’m checking for eyes before I do this.” His kiss was warmth and sweetness, and the desire it inspired went straight to her core. Since the divorce she’d told herself she didn’t need to be touched, but it was a lie—such a lie.
Her breath caught as the fingers of her free hand clenched at the air, longing for Brett. He started to pull back. Without thinking, she reached for his shoulder and wrapped questing fingers in the crisp fabric of his shirt front. He felt so good.
A noise of surprise shook from him. Instead of pulling away, he deepened the kiss. The pressure of his fingers on her jaw increased, making her gasp as his tongue grazed her lips. She parted them, and the tip of his tongue circled hers. Her shuddering fingers splayed against his chest, no longer clutching but feeling him and the firmness of his chest muscles beneath her palm.
He pulled away, decisively this time. His breath quivered as his temple rested against hers. “I’m going to back up before I forget I’m on someone else’s couch.”
She laughed self-consciously, leaned back and pushed her hair behind her ear.
“Are you...” His voice trailed off. She looked up to see emotions running across his face with no attempt to hide any of them. Eagerness, doubt, restraint. Desire.
She’d made him feel those. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have that power, but it was strange to be with someone who didn’t hide anything. “Am I what?”
“Are you staying here after I leave? Is that your plan?” The teasing grin was back, but the lightness was forced this time, like that story of the wolf wearing sheepskin. “So you can talk about me with your friends?”
Of course she had been, and of course he knew that. But the look in his eyes said he wanted to take her to a different couch where they didn’t have to worry about privacy. No pressure, just an opening she could take if she wanted.
She was tempted. Tempted and terrified. She made up a story in her head of what would happen. They’d go someplace, he’d get her out of his system, and then she’d be rid of
him. No complications. No risks. And it would be nice to be touched again. If his kisses were any indication, it would no doubt be very nice to be touched by him.
And yet the thought of a relationship with Brett that was so cheap and held so little substance was a letdown when he felt so pure and good.
Pure. What a silly word to describe a full-grown man, and she doubted he’d appreciate it. “I was planning to stay here for a while, yes.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Help them clean up.” Not that that was necessary after their bet.
His knuckles brushed her chin, turning her face up to his. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you think so hard.” His smile turned self-deprecating. “I see what I want, and I go marching that way. Tunnel vision.”
She smirked. There he went again, laying it all out on the table. As someone who hid, well, practically everything from the world, it was unsettling. And yet beautiful. “And what is it you want, Brett?”
The question seemed to confuse him. “Well, you. I haven’t made that obvious yet?”
She chuckled. Brett wasn’t innocent; he was a human being with regular human desires.
He threw one hand in the air, and it dawned on her he was still holding the other. “No, no. Don’t take that the wrong way.” He huffed in irritation. “I swear I’m normally good with words, then I get around you and turn into an ass.” He took her other hand and held them both in his lap. His eyes widened slightly, and he slid them down to his knee, as if to illustrate his point. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. Or not in the way you’re thinking. It’s not like I’d tell you no if you wanted to… That is outside of my point. My point is...” He looked down, lips pursed into a thin line as if he was trying to keep them shut long enough to think before speaking. “My point is, yes, of course I want you like that. You’re beautiful, and any man with eyes would be happy to take you to bed.
“But that’s not my end goal. You’re honest, you take care of your family—I saw all those presents at the mall, despite you hating the holidays.” He grinned. “You have great taste in food.” He looked back down at their hands. “And despite me ruining your sweater, drunkenly babbling at you, dragging you all over Santaland like a crazy man, and nearly making you cry—and I’m sorry about that. That was not my intention at all—despite all that, you’ve not only not called the cops on me, but I’ve managed to get you to kiss me.” He flashed a grin again. “Twice. So either you’re incredibly forgiving or somewhere near as crazy as I am. Either way, I like you.”