by C. C. Hunter
She couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t done that on purpose. But she couldn’t get mad at him. It felt wonderful to be that close.
He reached down and pulled one of her hands from his waist to wrap around his middle. “You need to hold tight.”
Her forearm pressed against his stomach. She felt his hard abs, and then she felt him breath. Hesitantly, she moved her other arm around him as well.
She stared at Brandon’s back, covered in the worn material, and his scent along with the smell of leather flavored the air.
“Just hold on,” he said. The roar of the motor filled her ears. She automatically tightened her arms around him. Then he took off.
The wind caught the long strands of her hair, whipping it around her. The roar of the bike stirred her senses.
When he turned, the bike leaned closer to the ground. She clung to him a little tighter; the bike carried their weight as if they were one. Oddly, she realized how Brandon’s body temperature was almost equal to her own. And weres ran higher than humans. Was it possible that he was … part were?
He turned his head to the side. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said, and realized she was smiling. “This is fun.”
“I know.” The vibrations of the engine filled her entire body and reminded her of the purr of a male were when close to a potential mate. No matter how hard she fought it, she felt her own body tighten with awareness.
* * *
They rode for a good fifteen minutes. And it wasn’t just to a store. He drove past town on some scenic drive, where the trees clung to the fall color. He maneuvered the bike around winding roads and he didn’t stop until he came to a lake where the red and orange leaves reflected on the still water.
When he cut off the engine, he dropped his legs down to hold up the bike. He didn’t talk, just stared out at the view. She stayed completely still, her arms still around his waist.
“It’s beautiful,” she finally said. She wasn’t just talking about the scenery. But the moment. The sense of freedom from the ride. The warmth of his back against her chest. The sensation of having someone to cling to.
“I know. Peaceful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She recalled the falls, and how this natural beauty was reminiscent of that, yet it lacked the odd sense of power. Still, somehow, being here with him made this place just as impressive.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I hope you didn’t mind the ride.”
“No. I enjoyed it.”
“Good.” He paused. Only the sounds of nature could be heard. A duck called out. A fish splashed, sending a few ripples in the water, and he looked back at the lake. “Where are you from, Ricka?”
She flinched when he called her by her nickname, but she answered, “A real Texan. Lived mostly in the Dallas area. You?” she asked.
“Born in Houston, but lived most of my life in Los Angeles.”
It felt a little odd having a conversation with someone when you couldn’t see their face. A sad thought hit. Because of his scars he was more comfortable this way.
“What brought you to Fallen?” she asked.
“My sister,” he said and she felt him tighten as if for some reason the thought had caused him stress. After a few more beats of silence he asked, “How long have you made jewelry?”
“About two years. I went to a Renaissance festival, saw someone doing it, and I practically stayed there all day just watching.” She paused and then asked, “How many awards have you won with your work?”
“How do you know I’ve won awards?” he asked, sounding humble. When she didn’t answer right away he asked, “You didn’t Google me, did you?”
“No, I saw your horse sculpture, remember? It’s amazing. You had to have won awards. But … now that you mention it, I’ll probably Google you when I leave here.”
He laughed. “I’ve won about twelve. And I did Google you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah.” He paused again. “Didn’t find a thing. I find that a little strange,” he said. “Why is that?”
Chapter Six
“Is it strange?” Fredericka asked.
“Yeah. No Twitter accounts or Facebook friends?”
No friends. “I’m not into it,” she lied.
There was another pause and she wanted to redirect the conversation. “What made you get into wood sculpture?”
“Kind of the same as you. I saw another artist do it. I’d always liked art, but when I saw his work, I knew that was the medium I wanted to work in.” Another fish splashed and some birds called as they flew about them. “I guess we should go shopping now,” he said.
“Probably,” she answered.
The drive back was just as impressive as the one there. As they retraced their path, she realized that unlike Cary, Brandon was curious about her. A few minutes later, he parked the bike at the hardware store. She let go of him for the first time since they’d left the gallery, and she kind of didn’t want to.
He climbed off, and she did the same. As she unstrapped her helmet, she waited to see him do his. Would she finally be able to see his pattern?
But as he pulled the helmet off, the bandana stayed in place. And once again he was back to giving her only the right side of his face.
They started in. As odd as it sounded, she missed his touch. And when he put his hand on the middle of her back, she wondered if he hadn’t felt the same way. Especially when his soft touch sent warm shivers up her spine.
The closest entrance was the gardening area.
“Why don’t you go look for the type of flowers you think would work? I want to go talk to the manager to make sure they can deliver by tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She took a few steps then she turned around to watch him walk away. He took a few more steps then he glanced back at her. Their eyes met and they both smiled. Warmth and something wonderful filled Fredericka’s chest.
Then embarrassed, she went to look for the right flowers. She’d just turned down an aisle when she heard someone, a female someone call out, “Brandon, is that you?”
Shifting to where she could peer through the pansies, and not be seen spying, she saw a woman walk up to Brandon. She looked around thirty and wore her light blond hair in a ponytail.
“Katie,” Brandon said.
The first thing Fredericka noted was that he didn’t turn his scarred side of his face away from the woman. The second thing she noticed was how Brandon glanced back to see if she was still there.
“Yeah,” Brandon said, and again looked to where she’d been standing a few seconds earlier.
“I got your call.” She gave him a quick hug.
A crazy thought hit. Was this woman his girlfriend? She looked a little old for him, but maybe he liked older women.
“Sorry, I was out of town Thursday and Friday. Did you need anything?” She frowned. “Oh, my. Do we know anything else?”
Anything else about what?
“No. Still nothing. The sheriff came by, but had nothing new.”
Curiosity piqued and she tilted her head to make sure not to miss anything.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said.
Sorry about what?
“Yeah.” Brandon gave the aisle another glance. “The reason I called is that I … hired one of your students and I just … well, I kind of wanted a character witness.”
Student? Was he talking about her? Fredericka felt her shoulders tighten when she realized she hadn’t told Brandon what school she attended, but her address had listed the school. He must have assumed she went to Fallen High School.
“A Ricka Lakota,” Brandon said.
Air hitched in Fredericka’s throat. She shouldn’t blame him for wanting to check her out before hiring her, but oddly it felt like an insult. Hadn’t she been judged enough in life?
“I don’t have a student by that name,” the woman said.
“She’s a senior,” Brandon replied.
“Sorry.” Katie shook he
r head.
“Is there another school around here?” he asked.
“Parker High, but it’s about twenty-five miles away. Oh, wait.” The woman made a face. “There that’s school for troubled kids. Shadow something? You don’t think she’s from there, do you? I mean, I’ve seen a few of those kids around town, and let’s just say they make me nervous.”
Trepidation filled Fredericka’s stomach.
“I’m sure I just misunderstood,” Brandon said, but something in his voice told her he knew he hadn’t.
And what was he planning on doing about it? Dread started unraveling the newfound happiness she’d found these last few hours.
* * *
“Did you find the right flowers?” Brandon asked as he came and stood beside her.
“Yeah, I think these yellow ones and those red ones. They’ll die if we get a freeze, but how often does it freeze here?”
“Not that often,” he said. “You want to go check out the paint?”
“Yeah.” She looked at him, still giving her the unscarred side of his face, when he hadn’t felt compelled to hide from Katie. And she heard it in his tone, that slight difference as if he no longer trusted her.
That hurt.
But it shouldn’t, she told herself. She’d been judged all her life. Just not from the human world. Why would they be any different?
They selected the paint, bought some tools to get ready to paint, paid for everything, and set up the delivery for the next day. Brandon hardly spoke to her. And she noted that he never hid his scars from the salesclerk.
With the small bag containing the wire brush and scraper in his hands, and obviously with Katie’s warning in his head, Brandon led the way out of the store.
While unstrapping the helmets, he asked, “Do you take art in school?”
Fredericka tensed. “Why don’t you just ask the question, instead of dancing around it?”
He looked up, forgetting for one second about his scars, and then shifted. “Ask what question?”
She stiffened her shoulders and decided to just put it out there. “I heard what that woman, Katie, said to you.”
He blinked, looking a little confused, but not at all embarrassed. “How could you have heard, you weren’t around.”
“I don’t know, maybe your voices carried, the point is that I heard it.”
He stood there for several seconds just staring. “Okay.” After a few more long seconds he asked, “What school do you go to?”
She lifted her chin, refusing to appear ashamed. “Shadow Falls Camp. And for the record I never kept that from you. On the contract, it’s listed along with my address. It’s not my fault that you assumed incorrectly. And it’s not my fault that some people like to judge others before knowing the facts.”
His eyes tightened. “I’m assuming you are talking about the comment Katie made about the school.”
“You assume correctly,” she said.
He stood there, a beat of silence too long. “Okay. What are the facts? What kind of school is it?”
Fredericka remembered hearing Holiday set one of the local residents straight about the school and she repeated almost verbatim what she’d said. “It’s a camp and school for the gifted. Teens who are a bit different, but need a place to grow. Since the camp started over four years ago, there hasn’t been one arrest of a student. I doubt that Fallen High School can claim the same.”
He continued to just stand there. “Have you ever been arrested?”
His question stung. “Have you?”
He tensed. “I’m hiring you.”
“Yeah, and I’m working for you, and I even saw the cops show up at your place. But I guess I’m not so fast to judge people.” She tilted her head back. “But to answer your question, no, I have never been arrested.” Her sins had never been reported to local police. And even if they had, she wasn’t sure the courts would have held her as responsible as she herself did.
He inhaled. “The cops weren’t there about me.” His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry. I think.” He frowned.
“You think?” she asked. She’d never heard anyone apologize and take it back in the same breath.
“Yeah, I think. I mean, I’m hiring you. I have a right to ask questions.”
“And I’m working for you, so do I not have the same rights?” she asked. And before he answered, and before she considered what she was doing, she tossed the question out that bothered her the most. “Why do you hide your scars from me, but you didn’t from Katie, or the salesclerks?”
He frowned and freed the first helmet, then handed it to her. His gaze met hers and he didn’t turn his cheek this time.
“Maybe I care more about how you see me than how they do?”
His words had her frustration evaporating. And she realized instantly what a hypocrite she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.” She heard it in his voice. He hated pity as much as she did.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” She paused. “I meant … I shouldn’t call you out for hiding your scars when … I’m…” She pulled her jacket off and tugged her unbuttoned shirt that she always wore over a tank top off her shoulder and down her arm. “When you’re not the only one hiding.”
His gaze widened when he saw the tightly pulled marks the size of a teaspoon that ran up her forearm. She knew the exact shape and size, because it had been a heated teaspoon that had made the marks.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it. He shook his head, his eyes filled with empathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She repeated his own words and then pulled her shirt up and slipped the warm leather jacket back on. The realization hit then. She’d never willingly shown anyone her scars. Was it because he had them, too? What exactly was the lure she felt for this guy?
A car pulled into the lot and parked right across from them. Brandon glanced at the car and then looked at her. “Can we talk about this…”
“Later.” She finished for him and nodded.
He put on his helmet and she started to do the same when she heard footsteps approaching from behind her. Her next intake of air brought with it a were scent. The air locked in her lungs as she recognized the trace.
“Fredericka, what are you doing?”
Chapter Seven
Fredericka turned and looked at Cary, now standing right behind her. He stared at the motorcycle helmet she held in her hand, then he looked up at Brandon. His gaze shot to his forehead hidden beneath the helmet.
She knew he wanted to see his pattern, and probably considered it rude for him to be hiding it. Then she saw him lift his head slightly to take a big nose full of air, hoping his scent would tell him Brandon’s species.
From the puzzled look in the teacher’s eyes, she knew he found it as puzzling as she did. Tension built so fast that Fredericka’s mind rushed to find a way to put a stop to what could be a huge disaster.
“Mr. Cannon, this is Brandon,” she spoke quickly. “Brandon Hart, he owns the gallery. I’m helping him get the gallery fixed up for the opening.” Fredericka’s gaze went to Brandon, who looked as puzzled at Cary. “This is Cary Cannon, he’s my history teacher.”
Brandon’s expression softened with the introduction. “Nice to meet you, sir.” He extended his hand.
Cary ignored Brandon’s hand, and his gaze shifted back to her. She saw his eyes start to brighten.
“How is driving around on a motorcycle helping with the gallery?” Cary asked.
Fredericka sensed Brandon’s concern as he dropped his hand. Her own shoulders tightened and she felt her hackles start to rise. Trying not to let emotion brighten her eyes, she blinked and took in a deep breath.
“We were picking out paint,” she said. “And we were leaving,” she added. “So if you will excuse us.” She started putting on the helmet.
“Can I speak with you a second?” Cary caught her elbow. His hold was a bit too tight. She felt her eyes grow
warmer, a telltale sign that her eyes were lightening.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Brandon’s gaze go to Cary’s hand grasping her elbow. Not wanting any trouble, she looked at Brandon, praying her eyes were not so bright he’d notice. “Excuse me one second.”
She started walking away, and Cary didn’t remove his hand. She got a few feet away, turned her back toward Brandon, and then seethed. “Let go of me.”
He did, but his frown said he disliked her tone. Thankfully, she didn’t give a frack about what he liked or disliked.
“What is he?” he asked.
“My boss,” she offered, knowing what he really asked, but too pissed to answer.
“You know what I mean.”
She had to take a few gulps of air to calm herself enough to explain. “I got just what you got.” Meaning his scent.
“And yet you are hanging out with him?”
“I work with him at the gallery.” The fact that she wanted a completely different kind of relationship wasn’t any of Cary’s damn business.
“I think Holiday would be very disappointed in you,” he growled.
“Holiday knows where I am!”
“Then dare I say I’m disappointed in you. Since when do you go around flaunting yourself to the likes of him?”
Her mouth dropped open. “First, I’m not flaunting myself. Second, if I was flaunting myself it’s my prerogative. So take your attitude and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“What about us?” he growled.
“How many times do I have to tell you that there isn’t an ‘us.’ There never was an us. Just an idea of us. And I no longer like that idea! And frankly neither did you when you made plans to leave first thing this summer.”
“You are dumping me for him?”
“No, I told you that you and I weren’t going to make it before I ever interviewed at the gallery.”
“But you aren’t denying that you and he are more than employer and employee?”
“I don’t have to deny anything to you.”