by Susan Stoker
“Oh, but…well. Okay. Can’t you work the rest of the shift? We just got a huge delivery in the back.”
Bryn so wanted to ask the woman why, if there was a huge delivery, she was standing there shooting the shit with another employee, but bit her lip and refrained, barely. “No. I’m going. Thank you for the opportunity to work here, but I…I’m leaving now.”
She didn’t look at the man again. She’d done what she’d needed to do. He was now free to continue his grocery shopping in Rathdrum. He belonged there. She didn’t. She didn’t really belong anywhere.
Freak. The word echoed in Bryn’s mind.
Monica took the apron from her outstretched hand, and Bryn turned to the doors. She walked across the parking lot and dug the key to her nineteen-ninety Toyota Corolla out of her pocket. She never carried a purse, because as smart as she was, she always forgot where she set it down. Bryn held her breath as she turned the key, praying it’d start. It did, thank God, and she pulled out of the lot toward her small apartment, the man’s scathing tone slicing through her once more.
Freak. She was. It was all she’d ever be. Her shoulders slumped as she drove home.
* * *
Dane handed his credit card to the teenager, but kept his eyes on the strange woman who’d just walked out. He half figured she’d wait and confront him when he left the store, but he watched as she crossed the dark parking lot to a piece-of-shit white car and drove off. His mind was whirling as the middle-aged manager came up to talk to the boy who was bagging his groceries, now that he’d run his card.
“I can’t believe she just quit like that.”
The boy merely shrugged.
“I mean, she’s been a good worker. A bit strange, but she was always on time and didn’t mess around. Other than insisting people not go down certain aisles sometimes, that is.”
Dane didn’t even hide that he was eavesdropping.
The manager caught his eye and, happy she had someone’s attention, since the teenager was ignoring her, continued, “I mean, seriously, she wasn’t ever impolite about it, but she’d tell a customer that he or she had to wait because she’d just mopped an aisle, or she’d ask them what was on their list and steer them to a different aisle as she helped them shop. Damn weird if you ask me. But I had no idea she’d just up and quit. It’s impossible to find good help these days.”
The teenager cleared his throat as he held out the plastic bags to Dane.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean you, Willy,” the woman tried to backpedal.
“Have a nice night,” the teenager told Dane in a bored tone.
“Thanks.” Dane clenched his hand around the bags and headed toward the same door the strange woman had gone out of. He stopped just outside and looked around. Nothing. She wasn’t there, her car was gone. She really had just quit and driven away.
For the first time, Dane started to feel guilty. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath. She’d quit because of him. And not because he’d threatened to call the cops. Somehow he knew that wasn’t it. She’d done it so he wouldn’t have to shop anywhere else. She obviously knew as well as he did that this was the only large grocery store in Rathdrum. He’d told her he wouldn’t be back, and she’d quit so he could shop there without worrying about her being around.
He hadn’t really understood exactly what she’d been doing for him until the manager had spoken. She truly had kept people away from him while he’d shopped. He hadn’t noticed. And if he hadn’t confronted her, she probably would’ve kept on doing it.
Bryn. Even her name was unusual.
Dane clicked the locks on his pickup and put the two grocery sacks in the back, then climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door. He rubbed his palm over his face. Why he felt guilty was beyond him. She was the one who was stalking him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. So why did he feel so bad?
Maybe it was because Bryn had seen him. Truly seen him. She’d seen his prosthetic arm and the difficulties he sometimes had grasping the items on the higher and lower shelves. He thought for a moment, and realized that a lot of the food he bought had been moved to more accessible shelves. It wasn’t necessary, but she’d done it because she’d thought she was helping him.
And he couldn’t deny that keeping others away from him while he was shopping had reduced the stress he’d felt. He never liked when his back was to people. The fact that it’d taken him four weeks to notice her meant she’d been good at what she’d done.
Dane turned the key in the ignition, happy that it started so easily. It was the first thing he’d done after moving to Idaho, bought a new, reliable truck. As he pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the opposite direction Bryn had, he remembered her lecturing him about eating too many carbs…and smiled.
The second his lips quirked up, he froze. When was the last time he’d smiled? Truly smiled? He couldn’t remember. Fuck.
Chapter Two
Bryn tried to concentrate on the crossword puzzle in front of her. She was trying to use it as a distraction. Something was bothering her. It was right there at the back of her brain, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She thought that maybe if she did one of her beloved crosswords it would magically come to her.
The distraction wasn’t working very well though, because it wasn’t as if the words on the puzzle were all that hard to come up with. Everyone knew that silver was argentum, and when the clue was “done in a careless manner,” the answer was perfunctory.
She thought about her life and wondered what the hell she was doing. She was twenty-seven and could probably work for any company or corporation she wanted, but instead was in nowhere Idaho, working at a library, restocking books. Bryn wasn’t being conceited, only factual. She was smart. Beyond smart. Had been her entire life. But she found that she’d gotten bored working with some of the greatest minds in the world. She wanted to live. To get out into the world and experience it. Not sit behind a microscope or computer and talk shop with other geniuses her entire life.
Was it really living? Maybe. Maybe not.
She kept her mind busy with the crosswords she loved.
She occasionally called one of the scientists she used to work with to see what he was working on and to exchange ideas.
And she downloaded the newest dissertations from Yale and Harvard, for fun.
She might be keeping her mind busy, but she was lonely.
Bryn knew she simply wasn’t good with people. She tended to say what she was thinking, no matter if it was appropriate or not. And she knew way too many useless facts, which she spouted off whenever she was reminded of them.
Moving from one small town to the next had been fun at first, seeing the world and all that, but each move just pointed out once again how much she didn’t fit in with everyone around her.
She sighed and put her chin in her hand. Maybe I should move to Seattle or LA. Somewhere big. There have to be loners like me in a big city. Maybe I wouldn’t stand out so much if there were more people around.
She immediately dismissed the thought. She didn’t like cities. Too many people, too many buildings, and too many dangerous criminals looking for their next mark. And she knew she was an extremely easy mark. She took people at face value and had a hard time figuring out when someone was lying to her.
And besides, Bryn hated how many homeless people there were in the city. They were her weakness. It just didn’t seem right for her to have a safe, warm place to live when there were men, women, children, and pets who had to sleep on the streets. She always gave them money. Every time. When she’d lived in Chicago, she’d begun to think they were gossiping about her and letting each other know what a softie she was, because every day it seemed as if there were more and more homeless on her route to and from the corner grocery store where she worked.
It finally got so ridiculous that she was taking the bus the four blocks to work, so she didn’t pass so many and didn’t have to give out as much money as she had been.
>
Bryn wished, not for the first time, that she had a brother or sister to talk to. To have her back. But she didn’t. She had no one. She shook off the depressing thought. It was useless to wish for something that wasn’t possible.
Blinking, she looked over at the clock. One forty-five in the morning.
Her thoughts went to the man she’d been helping in the grocery store. How he’d looked as if he wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of him, how tall and strong he was, and she wondered if he had anyone watching after him. Probably not, since he’d reacted like she’d stabbed him in the chest when she’d done it. Thinking about how he’d confronted her about her assistance the week before made her wonder if he was grocery shopping right now. She worried people would be bothering him. That he’d get that trapped look in his eyes, as he had before she’d started running interference for him.
Bryn closed her eyes and gave herself a pep talk.
He didn’t appreciate anything you did for him, stupid. He’s a grown man and can deal with his issues on his own. You’re a freak. You know it, he knows it, and he doesn’t want to see you again. He said he’d call the cops. Remember?
Bryn’s eyes popped open as she finally realized what was bothering her. The storm.
Earlier that evening there had been a doozy of a spring thunderstorm. They usually didn’t bother her, but tonight she’d been restless and had flinched every time there was a loud boom and the lightning lit up her little apartment.
What if the thunder reminds him of being at war? What if he had a flashback and he’s worse than before?
She had no idea where he lived, but she suddenly had an intense urge to see him. To make sure he was all right.
Before she’d even thought about what she was doing, she was on the move.
Even knowing the man would be pissed if he saw her, Bryn didn’t slow down. Ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that said if he was having issues dealing with the storm, he wouldn’t be shopping, but would be holed up wherever he lived, trying to drown out the sound of the thunder, she quietly shut her door behind her, careful not to wake the mean older man who lived in the apartment across the hall.
The air smelled like pine and wet leaves…a smell that usually made Bryn smile, but tonight she barely noticed it as she climbed into her little car. She’d bought it used for a steal a couple years ago, but the Corolla was on its last leg. It took three tries, but finally started. Bryn checked the gas gauge…a quarter tank. Good. She sometimes forgot to fill it, but luckily was good to go for tonight at least.
As she drove toward the grocery store, she argued with herself.
I’m not going to go inside. I’ll just see if his truck is in the lot. If it is, I’ll turn around and head home.
He’s not going to want to see you.
I know, that’s why he’ll never know I’m there.
What if he’s not there?
I’ll just drive around a bit to see if I can find his truck.
No, that isn’t stalkerish at all.
Bryn wrinkled her nose and sighed. She’d gotten good at having conversations with herself, especially since she really didn’t have too many other people to talk to. She knew she wasn’t being rational, but something wouldn’t allow her to stay home and let it drop.
Pulling into the grocery store lot, Bryn saw immediately that he wasn’t there. There were only a few vehicles in the lot, and none were a truck. Keeping her car running, not wanting to take a chance that it wouldn’t start again, Bryn tapped her fingers on the wheel. Making up her mind, she turned left out of the lot.
The night was quiet. There weren’t many cars on the street and Bryn scanned around her for any sign of the man’s vehicle. At the other end of town, opposite from where she lived, she finally saw it. She knew the vehicle was his. Brand new. Dark green. Army sticker on the back window. She almost couldn’t believe she’d been so lucky. Pulling into the gravel lot in front of a rundown bar called Smokey’s, she parked as far away from the truck as she could so he wouldn’t spot her.
Rathdrum was small, but it was two in the morning and this wasn’t the best side of town. She would’ve left, satisfied that he wasn’t holed up wherever he lived having flashbacks, but just then the door opened and a man came out with his arm around a woman. He was wearing dark jeans and a T-shirt covered by a leather vest. He had a long beard, which looked like it badly needed a trim, and the hair on his head was greasy and hung down around his face. The woman had on four-inch heels, a black leather skirt that barely covered her womanly parts, and a white tank top pulled down so low, Bryn could almost see her nipples peeking over it.
The weather was losing its winter chill, but it was in no way warm enough for the woman to be wearing the clothes she was. The man had one arm around her waist and, as Bryn watched, he spun the woman into his chest and lowered his head. Instead of kissing her, he bypassed her lips and buried his face into her ample cleavage.
The woman shrieked with laugher and thrust the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of his head, and Bryn watched in shock as her other hand zeroed in on the man’s crotch.
Bryn blushed and turned her head away from the couple and their erotic clench. She’d had sex before, but it hadn’t been like that. Not even close. The three times she’d been in bed with a man, it had been clinical, and she hadn’t been able to turn her brain off. Asking too many questions about what he was doing and what he wanted her to do, as usual, and with each encounter, as soon as the man she was with had climaxed, he’d rolled off, thanked her, and left. Leaving her confused as to why women actually wanted to have sex in the first place.
But seeing the passion between the two just outside the door, Bryn supposed there had to be more to it. She risked another glance and saw that the man was now on a motorcycle and the woman had climbed on behind him. She was wearing his leather jacket, plastered to his back, her arms around him, caressing his belly, thighs, and crotch, and Bryn could see her rubbing herself against him as they pulled out of the lot and headed back toward town.
Swallowing hard, Bryn decided that she’d just take a quick peek inside the seedy bar to make sure the man she came to find was all right. If this was a biker bar, he had to be out of his element. Not that it was her kind of establishment either—no bar was—but something wouldn’t let her simply drive away.
He was probably with a woman, and while the thought hurt, it didn’t deter her. The man affected her, had from the moment she’d first seen him, and she wanted—no, needed—to make sure the storm hadn’t adversely affected him.
Pocketing her keys, Bryn walked toward the door. Taking one last look up at the blinking sign, which now she could see said Smokey’s Bar, the last word not visible from the road in the dark because the bulbs were burnt out, she pulled the door open and stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was that it was almost deserted. There might have been several cars in the lot, but the only people she saw were a bartender, two waitresses picking up empty bottles and sweeping the floor, and the man she’d set out to find.
He was slumped against his arm at the end of the bar, his back to the wall. The smoke in the hole-in-the-wall place was still thick in the air, and Bryn coughed at the pungent smell of the cigarette smoke and spilled beer.
“We’re closed,” the bartender barked.
Bryn nodded and took a step backwards toward the door. The man was here and obviously fine. It was time to leave before he noticed her and called the cops as he’d threatened.
As if the bartender’s words had woken him, he picked his head up, looked at the other man and slurred, “Another.”
“No. Last call was thirty minutes ago and you’re fucking trashed. Time to go.”
“I need another beer,” he insisted.
“And I said no,” the bartender repeated. “Look around you, man. You’re the last one here. Bar’s closed. Time to pay your tab and get gone.”
“Fuck.” The man swore then reached around with his r
ight hand to try to grab his wallet…which was in his left pocket. It was a feat not a lot of sober men could do, and the fact he was completely shit-faced only made the job that much harder.
Bryn’s feet were moving before her brain could tell them to stop. She reached his side, brushed his hand away from his ass, dug into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. She held it out to the bartender—then froze, realizing what she’d done.
Expecting the man to rail at her and do as he’d threatened if he saw her again, she was surprised when she felt him brush her hair over her shoulder, lean into her, and take a deep breath.
“Fuck, you smell good,” he drawled drunkenly. He picked up a lock of her hair and brought it to his face, once again inhaling deeply. “Coco-cocomut…fuck. Beach. You smell like the beach.”
Bryn brought wide eyes back to the bartender, who was holding out his hand. “Thank fuck you’re here to take him home. We’re already fifteen minutes late in closing and I didn’t think I’d be able to get a fucking cab out here to pick his ass up. Give me his card and I’ll close him out, and you get him the fuck outta my bar.”
“He’s drunk,” Bryn told the bartender.
“No shit, Sherlock,” he responded tartly, turning away once she’d handed him a credit card from the man’s wallet.
“I’m still conscious,” the man slurred, “so I’m not drunk enough.”
“Here, sign.” A credit card slip was thrust into the drunk man’s face and he blinked at the bartender, clearly not understanding.
Bryn took the paper and pen from the irritated employee and flattened it on the bar top. She glanced at the credit card when it was slapped down next to the slip. Dane Munroe. She liked his name. It was strong. Like him.
“Dane? You need to sign this. Here.” She took his right hand into her own and placed the pen between his fingers. “Take this and sign right here.” She placed the tip down above the signature line and waited.