Healing the Alien’s Heart

by Anna Lewis

  Russ didn’t pay any attention to Lara’s rudeness, he just set both elbows onto the scratched wooden surface of the table and leaned toward them, looming into Lara and Killian’s space. “You’re new here, Lara, so I’m going to lay things out for you: this is my town and I do what I want. If I want to have dinner with our newest guest and one of my oldest, dearest friends, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  Lara looked confused. “Friends?”

  Killian’s miserable expression seemed to signify that they were anything but friends.

  “Killian and I are like brothers, aren’t we, Killian?” Russ asked.

  Killian smiled sourly. “I guess that’s a good way to put it. You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family.”

  This puzzled Lara. The two men were not related, they looked far too different for that. But there were some faint similarities: the sharp, toothy smiles; their enormous size; the graceful, prowling way that they both moved. They weren’t related, but maybe there was something in the water up there in Winter’s Lake that made for big, homegrown boys.

  Russ wasn’t done. “Killian,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I was thinking that I’d like to get to know Lara here a little better. Why do you give us some time to ourselves?”

  Lara laughed, expecting Killian to follow suit. But he just dropped his eyes to the table, nodded, and pushed past Lara to get out of their booth.

  Right before he walked away, he turned back around and managed a low farewell to Lara. “Bye,” he muttered gruffly. “Sorry I wasn’t a better dinner companion. Have fun with Russ.”

  It only took him a few long strides to cross the bar and reach the door, letting it slam behind him.

  Russ watched Killian slink away, ice blue eyes gleaming in the low light of the bar. He leaned back, satisfied, against the wall of the booth and tucked his hands up behind his head. “Well,” he said. “Why don’t we have some fun?”

  Lara snatched up her purse and bolted out of the booth, nearly spitting with rage. “I have a better idea, Russell,” she snarled. “How about you go fuck yourself?”

  With that, she sprinted out of the bar after Killian.

  * * *

  The parking lot of the little restaurant was poorly lit and Lara wasn’t able to spot Killian’s rusty Jeep until he revved the engine to life and turned on his lights.

  She waved her arms, shouting his name as she raced toward his car. “Killian!” Lara shouted. “Killian, wait!”

  The Jeep screeched to a halt and Killian rolled down the passenger side window, peering out at her with disbelief.

  “Lara?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I told Russ to go fuck himself,” she snapped, wrenching the passenger door of the Jeep open and hopping inside.

  “You did what?” Killian’s mouth was a silent ‘O’ of shock. “You told Russ to—”

  “Go fuck himself,” she finished, fastening her seatbelt and setting her purse primly on her lap.

  “Oh my god, Lara,” Killian’s shock had faded into laughter and he was nearly shaking with delight. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to Russ. At least not to his face.”

  That couldn’t be true. Russ was such an aggressive, presumptive asshole. There is no way that he hadn’t been told to fuck off dozens, if not hundreds of times. Lara said as much, but Killian just shook his head as he steered the jeep out of the parking lot.

  “Russ pretty much just does what he wants around here,” Killian explained.

  “And why does everyone let him?” Lara complained. “He’s not the king of the world. This is a small town, not a damn monarchy.”

  “It might as well maybe,” Killian said. “It’s just the way Winter’s Lake works: some people are in charge and some people… aren’t.”

  This made no sense to Lara. “Why don’t you stand up to him and be one of those people who are in charge?”

  Killian just shook his head sadly, eyes intent on the road. Lara recognized this section of dirt highway. They were on the way back to her cabin.

  “That’s not the way things work, Lara,” he said. “You can’t change who you are, you just can’t. I’m not a leader. Russ is. It’s just how things are.”

  “But—” Lara began.

  Killian cut her off. “No. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Things between me and Russ are… complicated. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”

  The last thing Lara wanted was to leave the conversation on that note, but Killian’s battered old Jeep had reached the driveway of her cabin. He slowed to a stop, yanked the parking brake, and turned toward her.

  “If you need any help around here, I’d be happy to come by at any time,” he offered, soft brown eyes nearly black in the shadowed cab of the Jeep. His hand rested on the parking brake, twitching as if he wanted to reach for Lara, but couldn’t muster the courage.

  She did it for him, setting her small manicured hand on top of his large, calloused one.

  “I’m going to plant some flowers tomorrow,” she said, running her fingers lightly along the back of his hand. “Maybe you could come back by and give me a hand?”

  He nodded, daring to smile. “I’ll be by late morning, I guess. Give you some time to sleep in. How about ten o’clock?”

  “Bring coffee?”

  “Coffee? At ten in the morning?” Killian laughed.

  “Hey, don’t judge. I’m still a city girl, ten is early for me,” Lara replied.

  “All right, all right, no judgment.” His eyes flicked up to her and he smiled, reaching his free hand up to stroke her cheekbone. “You have a… a thing. Stuck to your face.”

  Lara reached up and, sure enough, a wayward strand of highlighted hair was stuck awkwardly to her face. She pushed it back behind her ear, then let her hand hover near Killian’s.

  He was looking at her intently, hungrily. No one had looked at Lara like that for years, since she and Bret had started dating way back in college. Although she wasn’t sure that Bret ever looked at her the way Killian was now, with longing and hunger and a raw, animalistic desire, as if he wanted to devour her in one bite.

  If Killian’s eyes spoke volumes, however, his actions said nothing. He remained frozen, hand lightly resting on her cheek, eyes boring into her and… did nothing.

  Lara was about to say something, try and bridge the impasse at which they’d arrived, but before she could find the words, Killian shuddered violently and snatched his hand away from her face. He glanced out toward the dark woods once, then dropped his gaze to his lap. Lara let her glance follow his. The trees were thick with darkness and she could barely make out the shapes of the trunks and branches in the low moonlight.

  The moon was rising—nearly full, but not quite there yet—but wasn’t high enough in the sky to cast much light.

  She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a dark shape, almost dog-like, crouched menacingly under one of the larger trees where the woods met her dirt yard.

  “Did you see—” she began to ask Killian, but he stopped her.

  “No.”

  How had he known what she was going to ask? It was obviously a lie, a diversion.

  Lara looked back into the woods and the shape was gone.

  “Good night, Lara,” Killian said softly.

  “Will you still come by tomorrow?” she asked, hopeful. His attitude toward her had flipped so quickly, she hoped that she could manage to flip it back.

  “I will,” he nodded, still not looking at her, but the tone of his voice was reassuring. “And I’ll bring coffee.”

  She slid out of the jeep and slammed the door behind her, trotting up the dark path toward her front porch. She was fishing in her purse for keys when Killian’s voice rang out again.

  “Lara?” he shouted across the driveway. “Keep your doors and windows locked for the next few nights, okay? And don’t go out into the woods after dark alone.”

  She looke
d back toward the jeep, hoping to catch his expression to see if he was joking, but the face that peered back at her from the shadows was deadly serious.

  “I will,” she promised, feeling very solemn in the moment.

  Killian waved and backed down the driveway, headlights cutting through the dark woods that lined Lara’s cabin.

  From the depths of the shadowy trees, a park of gold eyes glared out her.

  * * *

  Lara awoke to a loud knocking on the front door of the cabin. She threw one arm over her face and frowned. It was far too early to begin the day. Who would have the gall to be bothering her at this hour?

  She bolted upright at the realization. Killian!

  Lara tossed on a bathrobe and bolted for the door. She wished she had more time to make herself presentable, but she didn’t want Killian to give up and leave. She could show him in, let him hang out in her living room and drink coffee while she quickly showered.

  And if, for some reason, he wanted to join her in the shower, she’d absolutely be okay with that.

  Wait, what? She thought. What was wrong with her? She’d been broken up (well, maybe broken up) with Bret for a few measly days and she was already fantasizing about jumping into a hot shower with her property manager?

  True, he was an insanely hot, finely toned specimen of a property manager, but still. It seemed a bit fast to be actively fantasizing about other men.

  Maybe her relationship with Bret wasn’t as strong as she always thought.

  Lara padded across the bare wood floor. If something happened between her and Killian, then so be it. She was a single woman (well, probably single) and could do what she wanted. Lara ran one hand through her hair, hoping to calm her messy blonde bedhead and threw open the door, lips pursed in what she hoped was a seductive smile, but it wasn’t Killian knocking on her door.

  Russ stood on her front porch.

  “Oh, shit,” Lara yelped, slamming the door in his surprised face.

  “Lara?” Russ called, hammering on the door with his thick fist. “Lara? Please let me explain…”

  “I’ll be there in a second!” Lara shouted back, frantically racing back to the bedroom to pull on pants and sweatshirt. The flimsy robe was fine for Killian, but was absolutely not okay for Russ.

  When she pulled the door open again, she was demurely covered by sweatpants, a fully zipped hoodie and a pair of Ugg boots. Russ was still frozen on the porch, gaping at the door and clutching a large bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

  Lara cocked one eyebrow and tried to look nonchalant. “Can I help you?” she asked coolly.

  “I want to apologize,” Russ said, thrusting the flowers awkwardly in her direction. Lara crossed her arms across her chest.

  “For?” she asked.

  Russ sighed and scratched the back of his head. He said nothing.

  “Russell,” Lara snapped. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

  “Just take the flowers,” he muttered, glaring at her with those disarming ice blue eyes.

  Lara met his glare. “I will take the flowers and accept your apology when you can tell me exactly what you are apologizing for.”

  Russ sighed, then dropped his gaze to his feet. “I’m sorry for being a dick last night. I was overbearing and I didn’t mean to be. I apologize if I crossed a line and made you feel uncomfortable.”

  That was it?

  “And?” Lara asked.

  “And?!” Russ looked up at her, shocked. “What else is there?”

  “Killian!” Lara continued. “You were terrible to Killian last night.”

  Russ crossed his arms across his massive chest, flowers still clutched in one hand. “I’m not apologizing for hurting Killian’s widdle feelings,” he mocked, looking like the world’s largest, most petulant toddler.

  “Russell, you bullied him, ruined our dinner date and then ran him off. You owe him an apology.”

  Russ sighed, a deep, unhappy groan. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “I’m sorry for my behavior toward Killian, too.”

  “Thank you,” Lara responded, finally accepting the flowers. “Come on in, I need to put these in some water.”

  Russ trailed obediently behind her, like a well-trained mutt.

  “I like your cabin,” he observed, politely. He was clearly trying to be on his best behavior.

  “Thank you, Russell,” Lara replied as she searched through a low cupboard for a vase.

  “You can call me Russ, you know,” he responded.

  “I know, Russell.”

  There were no vases in any of the bottom cupboards, so Lara switched her search to the upper cupboards. There, on the tip top shelf was an old green glass vase. She had the vaguest memories of her mother filling it with sunflowers. Lara tried to get it down— reached, stretched, stood on her tiptoes—but she couldn’t manage to grab the vase.

  A low rumble sounded behind her and she peered over to see Russ stifling a chuckle.

  “Is this entertaining, Russell? Watching a tiny lady desperately trying to reach a top shelf?”

  “Actually, it is,” Russ responded. “But only for so long. Here, let me help.” He strode toward her and Lara expected him to push past her and grab the vase himself. Instead, he plucked her up, as if she weighed nothing, and hoisted her up to the top shelf.

  Lara froze for a moment, dangling off the ground and staring at the highest shelf in the kitchen, before she gathered her wits and grabbed the green vase.

  “Got it,” she told Russ and he lowered her down, not to the ground as she was expecting, but instead setting her so she was sitting on the countertop, knees spread.

  He gently plucked the vase out of her hand and set it down next to her.

  “Say thank you,” he instructed, leaning so close to her that Lara could feel his warm breath ghost across her face.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, too shocked to rely on her usual sass.

  Russ leaned in closer, and she was too aware of his deep, steady breathing; the way his dark pupils filled his icy eyes; the black spread of stubble that already covered his sculpted chin, even so early in the day.

  Involuntarily, Lara leaned in, surrendering to his intention.

  The front door of the cabin banged open and Killian backed in, hands full with two steaming cardboard cups of coffee. “Lara? Good morning, I brought—”

  Killian froze at the sight of Russ pressing Lara against the kitchen counter. By some small miracle, he managed to set the coffee cups on the arm of a chair before starting to slink uncomfortably out the door.

  “Killian, wait!” Lara pushed Russ away, the spell broken, and rushed toward the front door. By the time she made it out on the porch, Killian was almost at his Jeep—how did he move so quickly?—and Lara had to dash across the dirt driveway to stop him. “Please wait!” she panted, grabbing his thick bicep.

  Killian just shook his head, sandy blond hair flying, and looked at his toes. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that you had company,” he muttered.

  “I don’t—” she began, but Russ’ voice cut her off.

  “And now you do realize it, so back off,” Russ growled. “And get out of here.”

  Killian slunk to the driver’s side of the Jeep and Lara wheeled around on Russ. “Don’t you dare tell him what to do, Russell,” she snapped. “He and I had plans this morning, plans that you rudely interrupted. So if anyone needs to leave, it’s you.”

  There was silence. A bird chirped merrily in the woods. Lara glanced back and forth between Russ and Killian, whose faces wore matching expressions of shock. Neither man moved.

  “Well?” she demanded. Are you going to leave or not?”

  Finally, Russ pulled himself up to his full height and descended down the rickety front steps of the old wooden porch, angrily pushing past Lara and heading straight for the Jeep.

  “All right,” he muttered. “I’ll go.”

  Lara practically sagged with relief.

  “I’ll go,” Russ repeated, “For now.
But I’ll see you”—this was directed squarely at Killian—“tonight.”

  Summoning all his courage, Killian looked right at Russ and stared him in his eyes.

  “All right, Russ.” Killian said lowly, his voice a velvet-covered threat. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  With that, Russ stalked off into the woods, disappearing between the thick trees.

  * * *

  “What do you mean ‘You’ll see him tonight?” Lara asked, leaning back in the old wooden Adirondack chair and gratefully sipping her steaming cup of coffee. She hadn’t had time to properly pick up provisions to stock the cabin and Killian’s visit was a godsend.

  It was actually better than the coffee, or the help with the flowers. Killian’s visit drove Russ away and that was an enormous relief.

  Russ’ presence confused Lara. He was gruff, egotistical and overbearing, with a horrible sense of entitlement. But there was something else there, too, something deep and primal that pulled Lara toward him. She didn’t like that, not one bit.

  The further Russ stayed away from her, the better. That thought covered Killian, too. When he wasn’t near Russ, Killian was sweet and flirtatious. The second Russ showed up, however, Killian retreated back into himself like a kicked dog.

  The more that Russ was away from both of them—Killian and Lara—the better things would be.

  Although that didn’t help, not with Russ tossing that “I’ll see you tonight” at Killian before he stormed off.

  Lara pressed Killian again. “Seriously, what did that mean?”

  Killian just shook his head and sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Lara. Some of the guys around here, we get together every so often for meeting sort of things. That’s all Russ meant.”

  This made no sense. “Russ meant that you guys were just going to, like, have a fraternity meeting? No, no way, Killian. He threatened you, I know he did.”

  “That’s just Russ for you, Lara,” Killian said, sipping his own steaming cup of coffee. “Literally everything the guy says sounds like a threat. It’s just how he is.”

  Killian refused to explain any further. He chatted happily about his life in Winter’s Lake as they worked in Lara’s overgrown garden. He told her all about his time as a student at the University of Colorado as they took a quick hike along the lake front. He shared stories of a backpacking trip across Europe as he helped Lara flip over the musty mattress and get some of her furniture rearranged.