Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2)

by R. T. Wolfe

  "You can leave now or I can kick your ass. I could really use option two right about now." He figured Tyler thought his anger came from the toss with Candi. Andy didn't care what the hell motivation he thought he had as long as Tyler was far away from Rose.

  "Man, she told me—"

  Andy let go of Tyler's hand, pulled and gave him one violent shake. "What's it gonna be? You're not getting laid by either of them."

  Realization crossed Tyler's face regarding the source of Andy's temper. He started to grin, before looking into bulging, red eyes. "All right. All right, man." Tyler lifted his free hand in surrender.

  "I'll take care of the girls. You. Leave. Now." Smart, Andy thought, as he watched him sprint for the front door. His nerves were fried. It felt as if it was three in the morning, and he wanted to leave, but not before he got Rose home.

  Candi played a convincing broken heart and didn't take long to weep into the arms of the closest jock.

  Andy found an empty table far away from the crowd and situated himself where he could keep an eye on his best friend. It wasn't long before Rose made her way to him.

  Sitting in the folding chair next to him, she rested her chin in the palms of her hands. "I'm sorry."

  "No need," he said.

  "I won't say I told you so."

  He tilted his head to her and lifted a corner of his mouth. "You just did. Looks like you're having an all right time."

  "I was. The guys are getting tipsy. I think they have flasks in their pockets." She shrugged. "A little too touchy for me."

  He doubted it was flasks she felt and made himself shake off the visual. Odd, he thought, talking to her as they always did, in such a different setting.

  Rose guessed Andy knew all about the flasks as he didn't offer a response. She was glad she came, but honestly didn't think prom was quite cracked up to be all it was meant to be. Absentmindedly, she took one of Andy's hands in hers. It was thick, lined with veins and warm, very warm. He was twitching ever so slightly. That worried her. It made her think of how the fast-talking, Andy Reed wasn't talking at all. He didn't dance once that night and she hadn't seen him around anyone really.

  She tiled her chin up and looked at him face to face. "So... you're not going to tell me, are you," she stated.

  His eyes matched the color of his caramel hair. They looked at her now with something she didn't recognize. He offered no response to this statement either.

  "You are the nicest person I know," she said.

  He looked at their joined hands, then up to her eyes. "Tell you?"

  "That my date made reservations for us upstairs tonight. Well... until both of our dates were swallowing each other's tongues in the hallway." Why didn't this bother her?

  Andy closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "He should be glad I didn't know about the room."

  "I can take care of myself," she barked more defensively than she meant to. "I'm a frigging black belt." She wondered if part of the reason Tyler's plans didn't bother her was because Andy was here.

  Andy shook his head. "I like you better in your Chucks. Then, I don't have to worry about half the room wanting to bed you."

  Holding onto her stomach, she bent over laughing. "Did you really just say, 'bed me?'" She reared back. "Not screw me or take—"

  "Stop!" He ran his hands over his face, then rested them clasped on top of his head. "I'll give you a ride. I don't mind waiting."

  "I'm done here. It was fun. Really. But I'm not doing that." She thumbed over her shoulder at the group gyrating on the dance floor.

  * * *

  They rode with the top down in Andy's classic Mustang convertible. Rose held her hair around her shoulder. Her bare feet rested on his dash. "Dave will be relieved. Home just after eleven. You should have seen him when Tyler picked me up."

  "I'd rather not talk about it."

  "My dad likes you. What's your deal?"

  "I'm not talking about your dad."

  Interesting, she thought. Looking out into the black, she thought about how she truly did have a great day. Not the best day. She could think of better: catching her first fish big enough to fry with Duncan and Andy, rock climbing with Andy at Catskills, the week in Destin spent with the Reeds. She noticed a pattern and looked over at him.

  He looked so different and yet the same. A five o'clock shadow, sharp planes along his jaw. And yet, he still had the same comfortable mannerisms. He rested a wrist on top of his steering wheel, nodding his head slightly to the beat of the music on the stereo. His neck was too thick for his tux shirt. He'd unbuttoned it at the top and let his tie dangle. She looked back out at the streetlight-lit yards and convinced herself to be content with her almost perfect day.

  "That's your sad face," Andy commented.

  "Not really." Discomfort filled her thoughts. Heat started at her neck and traveled over her cheeks. She looked out the window, wishing he'd put the top down and trying to conceal the blush erupting on her face.

  At that Andy remembered what she had said about her mission for the night. Well, shit. "How is Charcoal doing with heeling?" Distraction.

  The red faded. Rose blew out a breath before answering. "Great. As long as there's not a rabbit nearby. Or a blowing leaf. Or as long as his tail doesn't come into view." They spoke of lost puppy teeth and chewed shoes.

  Charcoal must have been sleeping. The porch light was off and the house was quiet as they strolled up the walk. He loved the way her lips twitched when she was nervous and thought about why they were at that moment. Reaching the door, he turned to face her, watching her mouth as she spoke. Without thinking it through, he moved toward her in one, small step and inhaled. He smelled peaches.

  Lifting her sandwich-sized purse close to her face, Rose fumbled for her keys in the dark. "Thanks for watching out for me tonight, although I didn't need it. And for the ride, because I did need it." With keys in hand and shoes in the other, she looked up. Her blue eyes opened wide and blinked.

  He set his hands on her shoulders. Soft and smooth. The twitching from her lips seemed to travel through her, making the firm muscles in her shoulders flex beneath his hands. "When did cute turn into beautiful?" he asked.

  With lips pressed firmly together, the twitching changed to trembling.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Rose all but squeaked.

  His eyes traveled back down to her full lips. Decisions. "You're eighteen." He stepped forward again, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. "You're not going in without being kissed on your damned prom night, on your damned porch."

  "Oh." She tightened her lips a bit more, then confessed, "I'm nervous."

  "Yes," he answered in basic acknowledgement.

  Grinding her teeth, her breath quaked before she threatened, "If you laugh, I swear—"

  "You'll kick my ass; I know." When he was close enough to feel the cool breeze from her breath, he whispered, "Chicken." She closed her eyes and tilted her head. Inviting.

  Accepting the invitation, he brushed his lips to hers. Testing. An odd mixture of curiosity and longing twined together as he waited for a discomfort that didn't come. Andy sunk into those familiar lips that felt as soft and full as they looked. Waves of heat flowed from where their mouths mingled and from where his hands rested gently on her shoulders. It encompassed him. He wondered what the hell he was doing and why oddly he didn't care.

  She was just the right amount of firm, the right amount of moist. The feeling of her shoulders quaking beneath his hands reminded him not to take her in too quickly.

  Moving together as if they'd done this always, he carefully parted her lips with his and gently dove in. She tasted like Rose. Wild, sassy... fire. She tasted like home. Easy... familiar. Dizzying. He breathed in her scent as their lips and tongues moved together. Something warm, yet sharp woke in his heart.

  Careful not to startle her, he kept his hands on her shoulders as their heads tilted and their mouths melted into one another. The bare skin of her arms was
as soft and as firm as her lips. Resisting the urge to run his hands down her bare back, he felt hers move to rest on his sides. He pulled closer. Her small, toned body fit along the length of his.

  It was like a well-rehearsed dance. Noses and teeth weren't bumped unless they were meant to. He lost some resolve and ran his hands slowly over her shoulders, gliding them along her neck. He wasn't sure how long they stood there moving together on her damned porch. Or when they should come up for air.

  First kiss. He forced himself to keep it simple. So many thoughts swirled in his head. Feelings, needs. So much made sense to him now.

  Damn it. Now was definitely the time to pull back.

  He opened his eyes with her face in his hands, then kissed her once more gently. She kept hers closed for a few more staggering moments before looking up at him.

  Her face was different. Serious? Scared?

  She blinked twice and shook her head.

  The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she raised her shoes and jingled the keys. Still breathing fast, she rolled her shoulders before looking back up at him. "Nicest person I know. Thanks, Andy." She turned the lock and stepped inside, before giving a small wave and shutting the door.

  He smelled warm chocolate.

  Chapter 8

  "Did I hear the Mustang?" Nathan asked.

  He meandered into their kitchen and opened the fridge. The solid cherry wood had darkened with the years. It covered the common vinyl door to blend with the look of the cabinets he'd made with his own hands. Brie's heart gave a little jump as he twisted the cap of a beer, then leaned against the wall. Gray had invaded his jet black hair and lines formed around his eyes. She thought he looked sexier. His bold, blue eyes were presently locked on her. Standing in bare feet, she wore a tank and cotton shorts with a short house coat while wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  "Yes," he said.

  She turned and thought about his statement. "He didn't look right."

  Nathan meandered over to her and pressed his thumb between her brows, rubbing circles over the creases. "Candi?"

  "He wasn't sad. Not mad." She shrugged. "Different. Well, it's awfully early for him to be home anyway. Something must have happened."

  "Andy's a problem solver. He'll figure it out." Nathan craned his head to look at her backside in her shorts. "Counter looks comfortable."

  "Nathan." She put her palm in the middle of his chest. "The kids could come down."

  "Sleeping." He set his beer and her on the counter and pulled her legs around him.

  "Not Andy. Put me down." But she locked the tops of her feet behind him and trailed her hands up his arms.

  "Shower?"

  She bit her bottom lip. "We should conserve water and share." They kissed long and hard before chasing each other up the long, arched staircase.

  Andy paced his room, hands resting on his head. He heard the shower turn on, looked at the time and rolled his eyes.

  What the hell was that? He kept asking himself the same questions. How did this happen? What had he been thinking? He could still taste her. Feel her skin under his fingers. And what was that look in her eyes? He couldn't read the expression. He had an entire conversation with himself trying to justify going over there right then and throwing rocks at her window. Would she answer? Nicest person I know and then shut the door in his face?

  He plopped down on top of his bed in his boxers, moving his linked fingers behind his head. He would have to study for finals and catch his afternoon plane on little rest, he realized, because sleep tonight was going to come very slow.

  This was Rose, he reminded himself. But, he couldn't quit thinking of her hair, her eyes. He would just go over there in the morning and straighten everything out. He rolled over and eventually sleep found him. His dreams were of red silk and painted toes resting on his dash.

  * * *

  With coffee in hand, Andy thoughtfully paced the kitchen floor. After looking up at the clock for the ninth time, his aunt walked in.

  She stopped and stared, then mumbled, "Hmm," while walking in front of him and pulling down a mug. "So, how was it?"

  "Stupid." He looked back out the window. The sun was up and the lake looked like glass from the windless night. Every few seconds a bubble erupted from the depths and caused a ripple in the calm. That was all this was, he told himself. A ripple. He looked up at the clock again.

  "Stupid?" Brie repeated. "Now you sound like your brother. What was stupid about it?"

  "Huh? Oh, high school, I guess. Don't miss it. Candi took up with... with someone else." He let the mug warm his hands as he lifted it to his mouth.

  Brie quickly placed hers on the counter. "That's awful. I'm so sorry."

  He stopped mid-sip and looked over the rim at her. "You sure about that, Ma?"

  "Well." Brie nodded crookedly in concession. "I've never really cared for her, but that doesn't mean I want to see you hurt."

  "Relieved. Not hurt." He took another sip while looking up at the clock. Was it moving?

  Brie walked over and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Overtly with purpose, she looked up at it with him. "Going somewhere?"

  "Hmm? Yeah. Gonna help Rose with the mutt."

  "This early? On a Sunday morning?"

  "Pup gets up early, sure." He set his mug down on the granite counter with more force than he'd intended and strode to get his jacket from the coatrack. Distracted, he left without saying good-bye.

  He could hear them in there. So, what was the big deal? It was not too early. He'd come over a hundred times this early. Much earlier two nights ago.

  Rose stirred generic brownie mix with eggs and water. "Holy crap, I'm my mother," she said out loud as she nervously mixed the ingredients with a fork. "And what are you looking at?"

  Charcoal sat up straight and tilted his head back and forth watching her.

  "It was just a nice minute between friends. He was being thoughtful, like best friends do." She shook her head. Best friends don't kiss. Not like that. She ran her hands over her face. What had she done? He started it, she reminded herself, then sighed as her shoulders dropped. It didn't matter who started it. She couldn't bear to lose him.

  She gave up on the brownie mix and slid along a base cabinet down to the floor next to the dog. Charcoal turned a few circles of excitement that she'd come down to his level, and then flipped on his back for a belly rub. She scratched as she tried to breathe. "I'm not his type," she spoke to the dog, closed her eyes and rested her head back against the cabinet. "I just need some time to get my composure back. We'll be back to normal soon enough."

  The knock on the door was quiet, but Charcoal wasn't. A direct contrast stood between his fierce bark and his clumsy run to the door. She followed him, thinking he was so funny she almost felt better. When she looked through the peephole, her legs nearly gave out. Plunking her forehead on the door, she groaned. "This isn't time enough." More time, she needed more time. Hanging onto the knob, she took a deep breath and opened it before turning back for the kitchen.

  She heard Andy greet the puppy. That was a good sign, she decided. Normal.

  He came into the kitchen but stopped at the entrance, leaning along the farthest wall. Not a good sign. Goose bumps formed on her arms and neck. It was always so easy to read him before. Now, she had nothing.

  "Didn't your mom make brownies last night?"

  Pausing for a moment, she continued to spray the pan. "How did you know about...?" She shook her head. "They went out for breakfast. Charcoal woke everyone up early."

  "Okay," he said slowly and stood looking at her. She heard him actually grunt but was too scared to make eye contact. Instead, she sprayed the stuff for the third time.

  "What was that last night?"

  "What was what?" She answered his question with a question in a fast, knee-jerk reaction.

  "You know what."

  Reaching for the bowl, she saw her hands were shaking as she dumped in the batter.

  "There was prom.
There was dancing. There was you being very kind to step in for Tyler on my porch. Thanks by the way." Clumsily, she placed the pan in the oven that was set for five-fifty.

  "Why won't you look at me?"

  She shut the oven door and set both hands on the counter, elbows locked. Standing for a long moment, her hair fell over her shoulders, safely concealing her face. It was at that moment she realized if she answered him truthfully, they would never come back from this. And by this time, she didn't have the resolve to make the safer decision.

  "Because my legs will give out if I do." She closed her eyes as they began to fill, never remembering feeling so scared. She willed back the tears from falling.

  She felt his presence as Andy stepped to her. He tucked her hair behind an ear, leaving her face exposed and a trail of electrically charged warmth along her cheek, over her ear and to the tender skin at the side of her neck. His fingers traced her jawline. She wasn't sure if she was breathing.

  He took her arm from the counter by her wrist. She could feel her pulse beat beneath his thumb. Turning her to face him, he wrapped the fingers from his other hand around the back of her neck, under her hair.

  "I see," he said. It sounded like more of a discovery than a statement. Now, she could read him. Yes, the look in his familiar caramel eyes was easy to read. Her pulse bolted; her breath quickened. But every piece of fear left her and was replaced with a solid punch of anticipation.

  "You've held me up enough times; let me take a turn," he whispered.

  This wasn't the cautious or gentle Andy from the night before. He was urgent, eager. Grabbing the sides of her face with his rough hands, he fused their mouths together. But he kept his word. When her legs staggered, he held her up using his weight without as much as a hitch in the kiss.

  A beehive erupted in her heart and shot outward to every inch of her body. His tongue, his lips... his hands. It was more than anything she could have imagined and more than she was ready for. Her reaction to him, this time, surprised both of them. Weak legs or not, she wrapped one arm around his neck and the other up the back of his shirt, grasping at muscled flesh, pulling their bodies closer together. Feelings that were new to her sprang to life as the weight of him pressed against her.