Skin Walkers: Baymac

by Susan Bliler

  “Amen,” he murmured and released her hand.

  Kris waggled his brows. “A beautiful woman is a distraction, isn’t she?”

  He wasn’t sure if Kris was asking if he thought Grace was a distraction or if he thought she was beautiful so he asked by way of cover up. “You need me to chop some wood after dinner?”

  Kris leaned back and folded his hands over his rounded belly. “Could always use more firewood I s’pose.”

  Baymac dipped his head, “If there’s anything else I can help with while I’m here?”

  “I’ll let you know,” Kris grinned.

  Mary stood and made a show of pulling lids off several dishes.

  Grace gasped beside him and drew everyone’s attention. “I’m…I’m sorry it’s just so beautiful.” She folded her hands together and stared at Mary. “You’re home is so lovely and cozy and it just feels…warm, and this meal! Thank you so much for taking us in.”

  Mary grinned and lifted a tray, holding it out to Grace. “Thank you, m’dear.”

  Grace’s eyes dipped to the tray and Baymac grinned as she spooned black olives onto her plate and snatched up several selections of cheeses and crackers. Mary’s eyes shifted to him and he grabbed a few slices of cheese too, but stopped picking when Mary’s eyes turned serious. “She’s too thin you know. You’ll need to work on feeding her better.”

  Grace ignored the words, too enthralled with making little sandwiches with her cheese and crackers and scarfing them down. That had Baymac wondering. When was the last time Grace had eaten a proper meal? Since he’d picked her up, she’d devoured everything in front of her and that had his gut wrenching. Had she been starving this whole time? He lifted his eyes to Mary’s with a promised, “I’ll do better.” And he would, at least until he got her to StoneCrow safely, then she’d be someone else’s problem. StoneCrow was their final destination now because he knew he couldn’t spend much more time with Grace without getting attached, and he didn’t want to be attached to anyone.

  Several more dishes were passed around and before long, Baymac’s plate was piled high with juicy prime rib, savory herbed mashed potatoes, steaming corn, buttery dinner rolls, and a crisp green salad topped with creamy ranch. Glancing over, he saw Grace’s plate piled just as high and he smiled. Something inside of him felt proud for getting her fed so well and he had to tamp it down to focus on his own meal, which passed with easy conversation and many refills of a light pink wine that he decided didn’t taste too bad.

  Grace ate voraciously and twice, Baymac caught Mary eyeing her sadly. It had him feeling like grit for not paying better attention to her needs, so when she finished a roll, he snagged another from the bowl in the middle of the table and replaced it. He kept on doing that as she finished her foods until she finally held up her hand with a sated, “I can’t.” Leaning back, she sighed contentedly, “I just can’t. Everything was so good, Mary. Thank you.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Dinner was delicious.”

  Kris chuckled and topped off all their glasses with a third bottle of wine. “Mama’s a good cook.”

  Mary grinned. “He calls me Mama. Always has. Isn’t that right, Papa?”

  Kris nodded with a grin then motioned toward Grace, but looked at Baymac. “What pet name do you have for Gracie here?”

  Baymac choked on his wine before wiping his napkin over his lips and flicking a glance at Grace whose eyes and mouth had gone round.

  “I call her lots of things.”

  “No,” Kris prodded with a smile as he elbowed Baymac’s forearm good naturedly. “What’s the name you always use for her? Her pet name, just for her?”

  Grace. Her name is Grace you old geezer! But he knew what Kris meant. She’s my…” Baymac’s mind was racing. King called Lilly his queen, but that made sense. Monroe’s Eden was the Domina and that sounded fifty shades of wrong. RedKnife called Cindy His One. Shit! “She’s my,” his eyes scanned the room with the intent on blurting out the first feminine thing they landed on. Tree, table, chair, window…Christ! His eyes locked on movement outside and they narrowed on the muley buck that was dipping his head out in the field. “She’s my buck. Er, my doe! My big buck doe!”

  The silence was deafening and when his eyes slid to Grace, her face was frozen in horrified disgust. He cleared his throat and pointed out the window. “Sorry, saw the deer out there and got tongue tied.”

  “Oh!” Kris chuckled, but he didn’t sound convinced even when his eyes tracked to the buck and back.

  Sitting straighter, Baymac tried again. “What I meant to say was that,” he reached out and made a show of taking Grace’s hand. “My dear Grace is just that. Her name already means elegance and beauty and I am blessed to have been gifted her. I don’t call her anything but what she is. Simply, my Grace.” Turning, he saw that Grace’s eyes had gone all soft and he knew he’d done well when Mary sighed contentedly and patted Kris’s arm before standing to clear the dishes. Grace pulled her eyes from his and also stood to lend a hand, so Baymac made to assist.

  “No,” Kris patted his arm and filled Baymac’s wine glass. “Let the women folk do their work.”

  His lips twisted into the ghost of a grin when he saw Grace’s spin stiffen at the comment. She shot a murderous glare over her shoulder and Baymac damn near laughed.

  Chapter 7

  Baymac lay awake staring at the ceiling in the darkened room, his arms folded behind his head. The night had been…nice. His belly was full, the company had been great, his body was warm, and he was lying beside a beautiful woman. He and Grace, much to her red-cheeked wishes, had foregone showering and agreed to share the bed to avoid one of them sleeping on the floor. But sleep wasn’t coming, and as content as Baymac should be, he wasn’t.

  On the other side of the pillows lined between their bodies, Grace mumbled more words and made another anguished sound that had his gut clenching with the need to kill something…or someone. She’d been having fitful sleep since she’d drifted off, and he wondered if this was a common nightly ritual for her. If so, it’d explain the dark circles under her eyes that he’d assumed were the result of stressful travel.

  Suddenly she moaned, “Nooo!” followed by another pitiful sound. Baymac was clenching his jaw and his fists to keep from waking her. Should he wake her? Hell, he didn’t know! He’d never been around anyone who had nightmares. He just knew that he fucking hated when he was woken too early from sleep. So here he was, being gutted by whatever demons Grace was exorcising behind her closed lids.

  Suddenly, she gasped and jerked upright causing him to do the same. In the dark he reached for her so she didn’t hurt herself or fall off the bed, but she recoiled from him. Grace lurched off the side of the bed. Lunging for her, Baymac and Grace both went over. He barely caught her and turned himself in time to absorb the brunt of the impact as they hit the floor.

  “No, no, no!” she was chanting, and he tried to quiet her with a, “Shhhhhh!” He didn’t want her waking Kris or Mary. When Grace still didn’t quiet, he gripped her upper arms and shook her once hard with a growled, “Grace! It’s just me. It’s just Baymac.”

  Thankfully she quieted and he watched as she blinked up at him. The room was dark except for the warm glow from slowly dying embers still struggling for life in the hearth.

  “Baymac,” she breathed, and when she blinked again it was like all the remnants of her dream were wiped away and recognition flared. She plastered herself against his chest and hugged him hard. “I’m not there,” she cried.

  Her words sounded so relieved that they had him swallowing hard against the emotion that was trying to force its way up his throat. “Not where, Grace?” His voice came out rough though, too much animal and he was worried he’d scare her right out of his arms.

  She shocked him to his core though when she laughed a watery little sound. “I’m not with him.” She hugged him even tighter and he could feel her arms trembling with the effort. “You’re not him.”

  No. He wasn’
t, and when he found out who this ‘him’ was he was going to fucking end him. “You were having a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.” He’d never held a woman before and unsure what to do exactly. He went on instinct and stroked a hand down her back while the other cupped her head and pressed it more firmly to his chest. Feeling compelled to soothe her, he crooned. “I’ve got you. No one’s gonna hurt you, not while I’m here. Just nightmares, Grace. That’s all.”

  “Not a nightmare.”

  He was confused until she whispered a nearly inaudible, “Memories.” Okay, this fucking dream guy was definitely dying. He couldn’t have kept the rage from tainting his voice if he tried. “Who is he, Grace?”

  She shook her head against his chest, little spots of wetness soaking his shirt where her face brushed against him. “No one. Not anymore. He’s no one to me now.”

  She could keep her secrets all she wanted. He didn’t need them. He was one of Monroe’s finest Sentries for a reason, and as soon as he had her delivered safely to Stone Crow, he was going hunting. The thought soothed his inner beasts and had him pulling back from her. He shouldn’t care about her past or her future, she was just an assignment after all. But looking down at her, he studied her face, his eyes dipping to her lips as he wondered if kissing her would help her forget the bad things that plagued her. He knew a kiss would help him forget the rage that was searing through him. Hell, just looking at her, holding her, was soothing to him.

  When Grace blinked up at him and licked her lips he leaned down a fraction…then he froze. Lips just a breath apart, he could feel the soft heat from her mouth on his. She was delicate in his arms and his protective instincts were on high alert, dimmed only by the fierce need to taste her. By the Gods she is beautiful. Warm body, soft skin, shimmering eyes, and still clutching hands had him wanting to keep her. It was too much! Tearing his eyes from her lips, he lifted them to stare into the dark pools of her expectant eyes. He should… He could…

  This! His brows snapped into a frown as realization slammed home. This was the reason he didn’t take on missions involving females. He was not doing this! He’d just met this lady, this…this Grace!

  Snarling, he jerked back, as he got to his feet hauling Grace up with him. Was Monroe trying to get him afflicted? Was this why he’d sent Baymac? Because if so, fuck that! He’d chosen the wrong Walker. He wasn’t falling for Monroe’s little schemes, and he sure as hell wasn’t… His thoughts died off though when he looked down at Grace’s haunted gray eyes as she turned her face from his, pulling away from him with a wounded look that was all hurt and vulnerability before she climbed back into bed.

  “Sorry. I’ll try to sleep more soundly.” Then she gave him her back while he stood there like a dumb ass because he was afraid to get back in bed with her. He! Bay-fucking-Mac Southon was terrified of getting into bed with five feet three of delicate, little, fine-boned, human, Grace. Grace for Christ’s sake! For crying out loud she couldn’t be more dainty and feminine if she tried, and here he was, Skin Walker Sentry, eyeing the floor like it was the most inviting sight in the world.

  As if reading his thoughts, Grace grumbled, “I’m not going to bite you.”

  But that was the problem, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t bite her. He punched the air once, silently seething behind her as he clenched his jaw. Swiping the pad of his thumb against his nose, he huffed quietly. He could do this. He could do this! Climbing back into bed, he mirrored his earlier pose, folding his hands behind his head, but this time it wasn’t to keep from waking Grace. It was to keep from taking Grace. Grinding his teeth, he glared at the ceiling and stewed, Fucking Monroe!

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Grace was irritable. She’d hardly slept and it wasn’t for fear of having more memories. No, she’d been thinking on how close she’d been to kissing Baymac and how quickly he’d shut her down.

  “How’d ya’ll sleep?” Kris asked as Grace and Baymac made their way to the dining room the next morning. With his question, his eyes narrowed on Baymac over the rim of those gold wire-framed glasses and beneath bushy white brows. Grace knew how it must have sounded last night. “Thought I heard…a ruckus.”

  So much for them being heavy sleepers. “Sorry,” Grace drew Kris and Mary’s attention. “I have nightmares.” She opted for as much honesty as she could give. “I should have warned you. They don’t come every night, I just… Well, I was hoping it’d be a good night.”

  Mary leaned forward and patted her hand. “Oh, you poor dear! I’ll make you something delicious, it’ll make you feel better.” She disappeared into the kitchen and Kris motioned them to the chairs they’d sat in the night before.

  Again, Baymac held her chair out and she found the gesture oddly romantic because Otto had never once held her chair out for her. He’s only pretending, she self admonished. She kept having to remind herself that this wasn’t real. Baymac wasn’t her husband, he wasn’t her boyfriend, he wasn’t her anything, and last night she’d been caught vulnerable and had made an ass of herself, but damn the man could act. It was hard to not believe his words that no one would hurt her, not while he was around. It made her want to stay close to him, which was easy now because they were holed up in the house waiting out the storm. But what happened when he got her to their destination? She’d have to tear her heart away from its attachment if she didn’t nip that shit in the bud right now!

  Mary made several trips to and from the kitchen, and when she pulled the lids off the dishes in the center of the table, Grace was back to drooling delightedly. It’s like the woman was reading Grace’s mind and producing her favorite meals. This morning, there were fluffy pancakes, steaming corned beef hash, eggs cooked to perfection, and juicy little darkened sausages. Grace had her choice of milk, orange juice, and coffee, and she opted for the later with lots of cream. Apparently too much cream for Baymac’s liking because he was eyeing her mug like it was filled with spiders rather than her perfectly balanced concoction. “Two thirds coffee, one third creamer,” she mumbled as she took and sip and her eyes drifted closed at the taste.

  “One third diabetes!” he exclaimed incredulously and Grace pried her eyes open to shoot him a dark look.

  Kris barked a laugh and Grace countered, “What can I say? I like things sweet, just like me.”

  When Baymac grinned and lifted a hand to stroke a thumb along her jaw she stilled. A moment passed with her startled eyes on Baymac before she realized Kris was watching. She blinked and smiled, leaning her cheek into Baymac’s caress.

  “You two are good together,” Kris observed around a bite of food. “How’d you meet?”

  “Uhhh,” stalling, Grace’s eyes sought Baymac’s as she filled her mouth with a large gulp of coffee, once again forcing Baymac to answer for them.

  “Well.” He dropped his hand and took up his fork. “Through my work actually.”

  Mary inquired cheerfully, “Oh, and what do you do?”

  “Security.”

  That had the table falling silent and Grace lowered her mug because if this was going to be another big buck doe response, she’d save them both the embarrassment. Problem was though, she was shit at lying so she opted to stick as close to the truth as she could. “I was in a relationship with someone else.” Her cheeks singed when she remembered what Baymac had said about Kris and Mary being strictly religious and their dislike of “hippies”.

  “Engaged,” she amended. “I was engaged to someone else, but he was a bad man. I decided it’d be safest to end the relationship. I was leaving him.”

  Baymac stopped eating and turned to study her and she felt her cheeks burn all the brighter.

  “I wasn’t strong enough to get out on my own. I needed help. A friend of mine hired me a security guard to get me out safely.” She smiled sadly at no one in particular. “It was Baymac. He saved me in more ways than he’ll ever know.”

  But Baymac was looking at her differently now. His eyes had gone all dark and his jaw was working someth
ing fierce.

  Kris slapped him hard on the back, drawing his attention as he pointed his fork at him. “I knew I liked you. You’re a hero’s what you are. Rescuing a damsel in distress and then claiming her as your own and loving her right. That’s what real men are supposed to do. Good for you, son.”

  Something passed over Baymac’s expression and the closest emotion Grace could compare it to was regret. Maybe he hated the dishonesty of it all. She glanced at Kris and Mary and felt bad for duping them. They were really good people and they didn’t deserve she and Baymac’s lies. Setting her utensils down, she turned to Baymac. “We should probably hit the road.”

  “You’re right.” He shoved back from the table, but Kris forked a bite of pancake into his mouth and spoke around it. “Sit, sit, sit,” he flapped a hand wildly. “Finish you’re food. No one’s going anywhere. Storm dumped two feet and it’s still going.” He grinned and eyed the window that was covered with the blinds this morning. “Drive’s gotta be plowed, highway’s gotta be plowed. Sorry. You’re stuck for another day at least, assuming this storm lets up soon.”

  Grace eyed her plate, but her appetite was gone. Not wanting to be rude to Mary though, she took up her fork and shoved food around the plate.

  “Sorry, dear. Did we bring up bad memories?”

  Shaking her head sadly, Grace offered Mary a weak smile. “Just turning into a long trip is all, and I’m not much for the road. Starting to feel icky,” she settled a hand over her stomach.

  “Baymac,” Mary snapped. “Take your woman back to bed and get her settled good. Stoke up a fire. I’ll put her breakfast in the oven. It’ll keep. I’ll bring around tea and when you’re feeling better, you come out. I know when I’m travelling and getting homesick the only thing that makes me feel better is being with Papa.” She grabbed Kris’ hand and squeezed it.