"One thing," he said. "When your demo is over and the story is done, don't call whatever this is between us done, too. Give us a chance to get to know each other."
She wanted that. So badly. Enough that the smart move was to slow all this down.
"I'd like to see where this goes," she admitted, "but I can't make any promises."
"I'm not asking for any." He patted her fingers on his arm.
"Then we're good," Caro decided.
This might be only a hot flirtation. She didn't have to let it become any more than that. Shouldn't let it, not with a man she'd known for such a short time. So they would see what happened. If she could actually trust him...Too soon for that, too.
Besides, she had a demonstration to plan. If it didn't go well, the life she was trying to make for herself might be over before she had it truly launched.
Chapter Six
Come on, Sunshine. You can do this.
Two days after walking with Caro in the woods, Rick stood by the back wall of the gallery where her work hung. He clenched his fists in his pockets and watched her hands move the threads into the pattern. Over, under, over, under, just like you explained to me.
She'd started well, with a clear, strong explanation of what she meant to do. But she was becoming more and more nervous, fumbling more, having to backtrack.
He'd been late, held up by a call from Max Grant's editor about next month's release. Had anyone besides Belinda been here to offer moral support before she started? Caro had convinced her parents not to come, to let her stand on her own, but she was expecting a couple of friends.
Seated in the front row, five ahead of Rick and to his left, Burton McCree looked grim. Caro must know he was here, but did she know Rick was?
He glanced back at Jason. He'd set up his camcorder and now merely monitored it via the folding screen. He looked at Rick and gave a slight shake of his head.
Rick's cell vibrated. Frowning, he pulled it out of his pocket. Stan wanted to talk to him. Hell, Rick had to take this.
He stepped out of the gallery and tapped Accept. "I'm in the middle of something, Stan. Can I call you back?"
"This won't take long. I got you that embed, you and Jason. You're going with the shire reeves to destroy a ghoul nest tomorrow at dawn. You'll need to be at the Collegium by 3:00 a.m., sharp, to sign the paperwork, get your gear, and so on."
Well, shit. There went Rick's plan for a late evening with Caro. The Collegium was just over three hours away from Macon, near Brunswick.
"Why so early?" Rick asked.
"Like I said, paperwork. Then they have to get to this nest, which is somewhere near the Alabama line. They always attack at sunrise–around seven this time of year–because ghouls are weaker in daylight."
"I know, Stan. Ex-reporter, remember?" Mentally cursing the ruin of his evening, Rick added, "I'll be there, and thanks for setting this up."
"I know what reopening your dad's case means to you, Rick. I'll help you if I can, but I gotta have some reason to give the higher-ups."
"I know." Stan had always been in Rick's corner. He'd dispensed editorial advice, freelance gigs when money was tight, and steady faith in Rick's ability.
"How's the story going?" Stan asked.
"I'm working on it."
That little twinge of guilt should just sit down and shut up. If Caroline and her parents were hiding her brother, Rick had a duty to uncover the truth. If they weren't, she needn't ever know anything about this.
But that would mean he had no way to clear his father's name. Damn it. Best not to focus on that.
"Work faster," Stan advised. "You have eight days to file, or the story won't help us any."
"I know," Rick responded. He needed to return to Caro, to offer her whatever encouragement his presence could give. "I'm on it, Stan."
"You better be. Even if you don't get anything on Dare from this raid, if you get a solid story out of it, that's a decent fallback. And by the way, they want to restrict you and Greene to the staging area. You know that won't cut it, right?"
"Right. We'll keep our heads down and ourselves screened and shielded." And, if possible, their butts out of the slings they'd be in if the deputy reeves caught him and Jason breaking the rules.
Stan continued, "But the Dare story is better. They slid by with barely a glance from the reeves after Griffin went rogue. You and I sure as hell wouldn't have. People have a right to the info they're hiding."
"We've covered this." Rick let his irritation show.
People filed out of the gallery. Was Caro finished? Had she quit–no, he couldn't imagine her giving up.
"Be sure you have your press pass," Stan reminded him. "If the ghouls should catch you, we'll need it to find you. It's–"
"Bespelled to defeat magical screening, like ghouls use to hide their nests. I know. I always carry it. It's a habit. Now I have to go. I'll call you later." Rick disconnected and hurried back into the gallery.
The loom lay on the table, a quarter inch of brown filled in along the bottom of the warp, the white, vertical threads that supported the colored ones forming the design.
"She took a break." Jason offered him a cup of coffee. "Smart of her. The mistakes were piling up."
"She'll be fine," Rick insisted, giving Jason a nod of thanks for the coffee. Maybe some moral support would help. "I'll be back in a minute."
She was probably in the gallery office. Rick strolled into the central atrium and, on a guess, picked the hall that should lead behind the room where she was demonstrating. His visits to the gallery had never included the back hallways.
The narrow corridor was deserted. No prints hung on its stark, white walls. With nothing to draw visitors, he had to be on track for the staff-only areas. Voices came from the cross hall ahead.
He rounded a corner to see Caro gulping water from a glass. With her stood Belinda Parkhurst and a short, red-haired woman whose freckled face and tip-tilted nose might've looked genial if not for her worried expression.
A tall, scruffy-looking guy with streaky brown-and-blond hair hovered at Caro's side. He and the redhead both resonated in Rick's magical senses. They were mageborn.
"It's okay," the guy said. He tugged Caro into a one-armed hug.
Rick's gut clenched, and an outraged, irrational Mine roared through his veins.
What the hell? Where, exactly, had that come from? He wasn't involved with her. Not seriously. Didn't plan to be.
The guy kissed her hair and added, "You were smart to take a break."
Rick's fists clenched again, but Caro was leaning into the scruffy guy. Shit. Talk about being seriously not needed. Rick took a backward step.
Belinda Parkhurst's head turned. Her brown eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, Rick, but no media allowed back here today."
"My mistake." He kept his voice level despite the insane jealousy gnawing at him. "I came to see if Ms. Dare needed any–"
"Rick?" Caro turned toward him, away from Scruffy.
The joy washing over her face killed Rick's jealousy. Mostly.
"I thought you were going to be late," she said, holding out a hand to him.
He hurried to take it. "I came in while you were explaining. You had a great start, Sunshine."
At the nickname, Scruffy's pale blue eyes widened, but he said nothing. He damned well better keep his mouth shut.
"The Titanic had a great start, too," Caro said, still holding Rick's hand. Hers felt cold and clammy. "I kept getting worse and worse."
He tightened his grip, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. "You'll regroup. Do you need coffee? Maybe more water?"
"Thanks, no. Let me introduce you."
The petite redhead was an old friend named Mindy Page. A flash of interest lit her blue eyes when Caro presented him, and Mindy gave him a friendly smile with her handshake.
Scruffy Guy was Will Davis, who had a very firm handshake. Pointedly firm, actually. "Caro and I grew up together," Davis said easily.
Despite his genial tone, his hard eyes warned Rick to watch himself. Did Davis have romantic ideas about Caro? His name was familiar, but Rick couldn't place it.
Caro bumped the guy with her elbow. "Our families go way back."
That ought to squash any romantic ideas Davis might harbor. The family friend label was fatal for seduction.
Not that Rick planned to seduce her. Doing that for a story would be a bridge too far.
Caro said, "Belinda, could y'all go out and see what people are saying? Kind of take the crowd's temperature? I'll be fine with Rick."
What people said after mattered more than anything they came up with now. But maybe Caro just wanted to be alone with him. The thought wrapped itself around his heart.
"Of course," Belinda said, gesturing to Mindy and Davis. They followed her, Davis with a last, warning look at Rick.
Instead of acknowledging the look, Rick ran his hand down Caro's arm in a gentle caress. "What can I do, Sunshine? Give me a job."
"Just be there." She blew out a shaky breath and rubbed her hands over her face.
His heart soared, and he gently brushed her hair back from her temple. "I'm not going anywhere. Except home later to write the story of your triumph."
"Hah." Rolling her shoulders, Caro said, "I might come out of this with my reputation intact, but it won't be a triumph, not after these screw-ups. I just hate having people stare at me."
"Hey, a win is a win. McCree will have to eat his words, and that's a triumph."
Her hesitation and doubt were engraved on her face. Rick kissed her forehead. "I'm the writer here. I know definitions. You're just a damned talented weaver, so leave the word choices to me."
She chuckled at that, though the sound was a bit watery. "Thank you for coming."
"Wouldn't have missed it." That was absolute truth, only partly due to his ultimate goal.
"Just remember," he said, capturing her hand, "all you're here to prove is that you're capable. Being fast isn't necessary."
"Right." Caro laced her fingers through his. "I've got a nickname for you. Dudley. As in Do-Right."
"Who?"
"It's an old cartoon my dad loves. Dudley Do-Right is a Mountie who's always doing the noble thing. Your feelings about injustice would fit him."
"I could be a Mountie," he agreed, strangely touched, "except I've never been on a horse."
The click, click of stiletto heels in the hallway heralded Belinda's approach. She walked around the corner, her level, brown glance assessing.
When her gaze met his, she gave him an approving nod.
"Okay, Sunshine?" he asked.
She took a very deep, very slow breath and blew it out. "I have to be. So yeah. Thanks. Belinda, let's get this done."
Rick kissed her quickly. "I'll be there."
For the first time, Caro smiled. "I'm counting on it."
#
"That's two inches of the six on the design, using all four colors."
Rick watched Caroline straighten in her chair. Her voice rang firmly in the gallery, the tone calm, but her chin had a defiant angle. "Would someone care to check this? Mr. McCree?"
She lifted the loom for inspection.
McCree rose from his front row seat. "I was wrong," he said, "and I'm happy to have been. My column this week will say so. Please accept my apology."
A smile broke across Caro's face, then widened. As McCree led the room in applause, Rick and Jason exchanged a satisfied glance. Rick was so proud of her that his chest hurt. She'd dug down, gotten past her fear, and shown everyone what she could do. In the end, she and her little loom had kicked ass.
He hung back while the guests congratulated Caroline. He couldn't wait to show her how happy he was for her.
Smiling, Mindy Page broke away from Caro's side and walked to Rick. "I'm heading out," she said, offering her hand. "I hope I see you again."
"I hope so, too," he said as they shook.
Will Davis still stood by Caro like a guard dog. Rick joined them and waited for her to notice his magical vibe. She was chatting with Belinda and a thin, gray-haired woman who was gushing about Caro's talent.
Damned straight, she was talented.
"So how did you and Caro meet?" Davis asked. Despite his friendly tone, his alert, balanced posture implied Rick was still on his threat index.
"I came to her opening." Going for disarming, Rick smiled. "I'm doing a freelance piece for Georgia Arts Monthly. I didn't expect to be blown away."
Davis raised one eyebrow. "You're a reporter, then."
"Novelist, actually, but still building my reader base. I do some freelance and odd jobs to supplement my income." After a childhood of constantly tight money, he liked always having a fallback.
"She's brilliant," Davis commented, glancing at the hangings on the nearest wall. "We're all glad to see her letting the world in on that."
"I feel lucky to have discovered her," Rick replied. He didn't mean only the work.
Davis's eyes narrowed. He must've caught the implication. "Just be sure you appreciate all that she is."
The or else subtext wasn't even thinly veiled.
"She hasn't expressed any complaints," Rick responded, staring directly back at him.
The look held for a long moment before Davis nodded. The gray-haired woman hugged Caroline and walked away.
"I'll be in my office, Caro," Belinda said. "Stop by before you leave."
"I will. Thanks, Belinda."
The gallery owner grinned. "No need to thank me. I stand to make a boatload of money off of you."
As Belinda walked away, Davis touched Caro's arm. "I have to go, Shrimp. Duty calls. But I'm proud of you."
"Thanks." She reached for him, and he swept her into a warm, tight hug.
Rick's gut screamed for him to rip them apart even though there was clearly nothing sexual in the embrace. The guy had called her Shrimp, for crying out loud. But still.
When Caro and Davis separated, he touched her cheek. "See you around."
"You'd better. And drive carefully."
Davis brushed past Rick. Caro said, "He's the assistant loremaster at the Collegium."
"I thought the name was familiar." Now Rick realized which Will Davis this was. Another child of mageborn elites. Davis's parents were famous archaeologists and ran a high profile institute dedicated to artifact recovery and verification.
"Let me take you to dinner," Rick said. "We'll celebrate."
"That's sweet." Caro sighed, reaching for his hand, and he linked his fingers with hers. "I'd love to," she said, "but my parents already scheduled that. I'm so tired, though. It's like I just ran out of gas. I think I'm going to suggest brunch tomorrow instead if my dad doesn't have to be in court."
She hesitated. "You could come with us."
That was a great opportunity...except that he'd be over near the Alabama line with a bunch of deputy reeves. "I'd love to, Sunshine, but I have a meeting I can't miss tomorrow morning."
"Oh." Disappointment dimmed the tentative light in her face.
If she wanted him to meet her parents, she must be coming to trust him. Or else she wanted their take on him. Davis would doubtless be sharing his opinion.
"What about dinner tomorrow?" Rick suggested. "There's a great country rock trio coming to The Rambler's Roadhouse. The food there is pretty good."
"I don't do clubs." She pulled away from him, her face closing into a tight, blank expression.
"This isn't a club." Rick captured her hand again. Was it a good sign that she let him hold it? "It's a roadhouse with a dance floor that's never crowded. I tend bar there when they need a fill-in. I know the place well, and I guarantee you won't have a problem."
"You can't possibly promise that."
"Yeah, I can." Damn it.
He hadn't wanted to admit this, but there was no avoiding it now. "I overheard you and Layton, remember? I know you don't like clubs. If I have to guess why, I'd say they're crowded and loud. You can't use yo
ur cane, maybe. That would disorient anyone."
Caro shrugged.
"If it's like that, which I'm sure it won't be, we won't stay. This group, The Fiddling Farmers, isn't famous at all. It's a Tuesday, too, usually not a busy night out there."
When she shook her head, lips tightening, he rushed to say, "If we get there and you aren't comfortable, we'll walk right out. I'll take you anywhere you want to go."
"Then why go there at all?"
"Because Walt, the main bartender, told me these fiddle players remind him of The Cypress Knees. I thought you'd enjoy them."
She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms.
Crap. Gnawing on her lip probably wasn't a good sign, either.
Caro sighed. "Okay. If you promise we can leave."
"Whenever you say." He'd have a word with Walt before taking her there. As much as Rick was able, he'd smooth the way for her. Helping her get past something she feared would give her another reason to trust him. And hell, he wanted to spend time with her while he could. Once his story broke, there'd be no more walks in the woods. Or anywhere else.
But this was a risk. She was obviously anxious when it came to strange places. If anything upset her, he'd likely lose his last chance to get that story.
But he could worry about that later. First he had to survive tomorrow's raid.
Chapter Seven
The clash of powers lit the predawn gloom of the forest. Rick kept his head down. As Stan had predicted, the real story of this raid was unfolding here. If Rick and Jason had obeyed orders and stayed by the med station, they would've missed it.
Radios were useless with all the magical power flying around the woods. Above the din of battle, Rick shouted to Jason, "This might not be the best idea ever."
"No, it's good," Jason yelled back. "If we live through it."
Rick tightened his grip on the silver-banded, ash cudgel issued to him as a noncombatant. You have got to be fucking kidding me, he thought again. The reeves refused to let him carry his sword, the traditional mage weapon, because they hadn't checked his skill with it. Compared to the sword, this cudgel required very little skill. It also wasn't highly versatile.
Sentinel: A Light Mage Wars Novella (The Light Mage Wars) Page 6