Baby, it's Cold in Space: Eight Science Fiction Romances

by Margo Bond Collins

  Jace winked at her and turned back to the bar. He reached for the menu, feeling a helluva lot better than when he’d first come in. When he ordered the food, he just ordered another beer for himself, and skipped the shot.

  ***

  Sara pushed herself to take care of all her tables before her break. If nobody was sitting with an empty glass, maybe she could enjoy her few minutes with Jace McCoy without Pigface being on her ass. Even now, her boss was watching her from his usual table in the corner, that look on his round, red face full of equal parts lust and meanness.

  She circled back to the bar with a few more orders, but this time she had to come up on the side away from Jace. At least she could look at him from here, admiring the

  coal-black hair that hung just a little over his forehead, the square jaw and the blue, blue eyes. Sara had had an open crush on that boy since they were kids in school, not that they’d ever gotten any closer back then than a chat near the lockers. Then he’d joined the Army. She was surprised he’d come back to West Virginia. So many of them didn’t—even when they survived. But his family had needed him after the matriarch of the family—Ida Mickens—had passed away. And the two of them had somehow found each other again.

  “Who you making mooney eyes at?” Rick teased her as he brought her the drinks she’d ordered, his grin flashing through his graying beard. “As if I didn’t know.”

  She flushed to the roots of her sun-blonde hair. “Who would I be looking at in this place? It’s not like we attract a bunch of millionaires down from New York every weekend.”

  “Ha! I think you’d settle for one not-so-rich deputy sheriff if he asked you.”

  “That’s how much you know, you old coot.” She turned with a sniff and took her tray of drinks back to her customers. She couldn’t suppress a grin, though. She sure wouldn’t say no if Jace asked her just about anything. Hell, she wanted him so much she was more than ready to ask him.

  “Hey, sweetcheeks! How ’bout a beer?”

  Oh, Lord, it was John Lee Davis. She scanned the room for one of the other servers, but both Debbie and Sue were slammed in their sections. Looked like her break was delayed again—and for this little pipsqueak.

  “Sure. What can I get you?”

  John Lee leered up at her from under the brim of a grimy John Deere cap. “I’ll take a Lite, and a side of you. You sure look sweet tonight.”

  She gave him The Look, the one that was guaranteed to quell any such foolishness. “A Lite. Coming right up.”

  ***

  John Lee smirked as he watched Sara Pressley weave her way through the tables to the bar with his order. She sure was a fine piece of ass. He wouldn’t mind having him some of that! And why not? He had that new truck and money in his pocket. He was the equal of any man in here—better than most of them, losers waiting on a government handout, or scraping the bottom of some strip mine for a living.

  That look she had given him? He shrugged it off. Women liked to play hard to get. It was just part of the game.

  While he waited for his beer (and another chance at Sara), he resumed his systematic hunt for potential prey in the bar. John Lee had grown up in Devils Holler. He knew most of the men in here tonight; they all had families, friends, connections in the community that went back generations—some of them back to the man the town was named for, “Devil” Anse Hatfield. This was a Saturday night, the night before the Christmas holiday, so money was flowing freely. Some of the men even had their wives with them. The good-time girls were keeping a low profile—for now. Later on, maybe, things would get a little raunchier. The more attached guys would go home. The loners would be left, and he would be able to cull someone from the herd. Someone, as his contact had said, who no one would miss.

  Then his sweet thang was back. “One Miller Lite. You want me to run a tab?”

  He flipped out the Visa, like it was no big deal. “I might be here a while. How ’bout you? Maybe we could share a beer later?”

  “John Lee, we’ve been over this before. No means no, okay?” She put her pretty little nose in the air and stomped off.

  Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll just see about that, you bitch.

  ***

  The burger and fries were getting cold in front of him while Jace waited for Sara to slow down her mad pace. It had looked like she was heading back when that slimeball John Lee Davis called her over. She got him a beer, but she wasn’t happy about it, Jace could tell, and now she was leaving John Lee’s table in a huff. If that bastard had said something to her, he’d take the blame fool’s head off.

  Her smile was as bright as ever when she reached him, though. “Finally!” She pulled up a stool and nodded at the food. “Why aren’t you eating that?”

  “I got it for you. You might want to send it back to the kitchen and have them warm it up, though.”

  She popped a French fry in her mouth. “Not worth the wait.” She attacked the burger next. Made him hungry just to watch her.

  “John Lee giving you trouble tonight?”

  She hunched her shoulders. “Every night he comes in here. Don’t know why, but he creeps me out.”

  “I could have a word with him.” Jace had more than a word in mind.

  She looked at him, really looked at him, like she’d never seen him before. Then a smile slid across her face like daylight over the mountain.

  “No, honey. That would only make it worse. I’ll take care of it.”

  But that was just the point. Jace didn’t want her to have to take care of it. He had this need to do something for her, to wrap her up and hold her close, to protect her. And God knew what he wanted didn’t end there. He couldn’t get near her without bursting into flames. He stifled a sigh.

  Maybe a change of subject. “So how’s class, college girl?” She was studying at the same small community college down in Williamson where he’d gotten his criminal justice degree. It gave them something to talk about. “Still getting straight A’s like back in high school?”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she lost her grin. “The work’s easy, you know that. It’s the money I’m having trouble with. It took me years to save up enough just to get started. January will be my last semester, and if I can’t get a scholarship, I won’t be going on to Bluefield in September.”

  Bluefield? She wanted a four-year degree? Or was it that she just wanted out of Devils Holler? Jace couldn’t blame her, but he’d hoped . . . To hell with that, you moron. Tell her something she wants to hear.

  “Tough to make it working and going to school,” he said. “I remember.”

  “Yeah, especially with a job like this.” Then as he watched she shook off the dark mood that threatened to take her. “But, hey, we do the best we can, right? It’ll work out. Now tell me. What’s got you drinking shots tonight?”

  Jace picked up his mug of beer. “I stopped at two shots. I’m only drinking Bud now.”

  “Good to know.” She grinned at him. “You aren’t exactly known as a heavy hitter around here. What’s wrong?”

  He wanted to tell her everything—about the stack of files on his desk, some of them a couple of years old; about the missing persons in those files, their abandoned cars and rooms, their unpaid bills. He especially wanted to tell her about the sheriff who couldn’t be bothered to care about the people in those files, because they were mostly hookers or drifters or drunks. He opened his mouth to begin, but he didn’t get the chance.

  “You! What do you think you’re doing, girl?” The man who managed the 52 Bar and Grill for its owners up in Beckley had the appearance and demeanor of a bulldog—an overfed, angry bulldog. Jace had never liked the man, and liked him even less now that he was barking at Sara.

  Sara took her time turning to face him. “I’m on break.” She glanced at the clock behind the bar. “I’m allowed another two minutes by law.”

  “You take your breaks in the kitchen or outside, not here flirting with the customers.” He scowled at Jace, then back at Sara. “And did you pay
for that food? I’m not running a soup kitchen here.”

  Jace stood up, towering over the shorter man. “I paid for that food, as if it’s any concern of yours. Just like I asked my friend Sara to speak with me a moment. Is there a problem?”

  The man ignored him and spoke again to Sara. “Break’s over. Get back to work.” He stood with his feet planted and his hands on his broad hips, waiting.

  Sara slipped off the stool and looked up at Jace, her anger masked except for the fire that burned in her eyes. “Sorry.” She grabbed her tray from the bar and took off into the crowd without a backward glance.

  Jace glared at the little man until he turned and stalked off. Had the manager so much as lifted his double chin, Jace would have clocked him one. The only reason he didn’t was that it might have cost Sara her job, an outcome he knew she couldn’t afford right now. He didn’t much care that it might have cost him his deputy sheriff’s job, too. Between his boss, who was crooked as a dog’s hind leg, and that stack of unsolvable cases, Jace was just about done with the job anyway.

  ***

  John Lee was nursing his second Lite beer while the rest of the patrons of the 52 Bar and Grill fell into various forms of drunkenness around him. It was long past midnight now, and, as he’d predicted, the family men and their ladies had gone home, ready for a fight or a snuggle, depending on the state of their marriages. Some of those remaining had paired off for the night and were dancing sloppily to the jukebox. But John Lee had his eye on one lonesome soul slumped over her bourbon and ginger at the bar. Rick was going to cut her off soon. Just as long as the bartender didn’t take her car keys, John Lee would be good to go.

  Sara Pressley zipped up to his table. “Can I get you anything else?”

  He started to tell her what she could get him, but she’d probably get all snooty about it and cause a scene. He didn’t need that right now. He was working.

  “Naw, I’ll take the check, darlin’.”

  Sara slapped the receipt and his credit card down on the table, her jaw set. He signed with a grin, unable to resist teasing her. “Sure you don’t want to go home with me, honey? I could wait around ’til you’re off.”

  “John Lee, you could wait until your puny little . . . arms . . . fall off for all I care,” she said, her voice low and hissy, like a snake. “I won’t be going home with you. Ever.” She took his signed tab and marched herself up to the bar without another look.

  Damn, but that woman was an uppity bitch! If he didn’t already have somebody lined up tonight he would take her to meet his contact, just to get her ball-busting little ass out of his sight. His fists clenched in his lap, imagining her neck in his hands. Yeah, she wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty once that bunch in Cincinnati got hold of her, and just see if Deputy Do-Right could do anything about it!

  John Lee shook his head to clear it. He needed to focus. He had to wait another fifteen minutes or so for the magic moment, but then his mark paid her tab at the bar, apparently sober enough that Rick was going to let her drive home. Ha! Bourbon-and-ginger wouldn’t be going home tonight. He waited some more while she gathered up her purse and jacket, staying in his seat while she crossed the floor from the bar to the door. No one said goodnight. No one watched her go. No one noticed her at all.

  Except John Lee, who got up and followed her as soon as she stepped outside.

  ***

  “What did he say to you?” Jace’s eyes had gone dark and dangerous. He was off his stool, all six-foot-two inches of muscle ready for battle.

  Sara shook her head. “Nothing. Leave it alone, Jace.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.” He studied her face, making her want to look away. “It looked like something he deserves a pounding for.”

  “John Lee is all mouth and no balls.” She managed a smile. “It’ll never amount to anything.”

  “It’s enough for me that he’s upset you. How ’bout John Lee and I have a talk?” Jace started in the direction of the little punk’s table.

  “No, Jace, seriously. He’s paid up, ready to leave.” She laid a hand on his arm. “And besides, I’m due another break. You wanna join me outside?”

  A grin broke out on Jace’s face, and Sara could feel the tension drain out of him. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, his voice low and husky.

  The urgency in that murmur sent a wave of warmth flooding through her, the heat flaming from her cheeks, shining out of her eyes. Not wanting him to see, she fussed with her apron, turning away from him to untie it and leave it behind the bar. She grabbed her jacket and slipped into it as quickly as she could, not wanting to waste time.

  Rick saw where they were headed and nodded, but unfortunately so did Pigface. He glared until they made their way out a side exit. The porch extended around from the front, and there was a bench to accommodate smokers, which no one was using at the moment. It wasn’t the most romantic spot, and it was cold as hell outside, but at least they could be together for a few moments, out of sight of everyone.

  Jace didn’t bother sitting down; he backed her up against the porch railing. “You work too hard.” He lifted a hand to her face, brushing an errant wisp of hair from her cheek.

  She shook her head, frustrated. She wanted something else from him, something more. She could see from the fire in his deep blue eyes that he did, too.

  “It is what it is, Jace. We both have work hard for what we want.”

  “I know.” He moved closer, so close she could feel the warmth coming off his skin. “But I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

  Her heart pounded. She thought she knew what he meant. She hoped she knew. But he’d taken so long to get here. She needed clarity.

  “Waiting for what?”

  His gaze darkened. “To be alone with you.” He stroked her cheek. “To touch you.” He paused, searching for the words. “Somehow, seeing you have to fight off your boss tonight—and that punk John Lee—was like a kick in the gut to me. I know you can handle yourself, honey, but every instinct in me wanted to go in swinging like some kind of caveman. No one else makes me want to do that.”

  She leaned into him. “In that case, then, caveman, I reckon we’ve both been waiting way yonder too long.”

  He grinned and let out a little exhale. And at last he bent his head to kiss her, just a touch of his lips at first, then a deeper exploration as she responded. He tasted clean and sweet, a little like beer, and a whole lot like Jace. Sweet Jesus, kissing him like this just made her want more.

  He groaned into her mouth, and didn’t that light a fire in her blood? She wound her arms around his neck and pressed close. He lifted her off her feet and set her on the cold railing, nudging her knees apart to stand between her thighs. And still that amazing kiss went on, while the proof of his arousal hit her in just the right spot. She could feel the heat even through his jeans and hers. She wanted the clothes gone and the two of them alone, anywhere but here outside this honky-tonk in the frigid air where anyone could interrupt them.

  He ended it at last, breaking off to trail hot kisses down her throat. “I take it back. I haven’t been waiting for this just tonight. I’ve wanted this since the day I met you.”

  “What the hell took you so long?” She hooked her hands around his broad shoulders and pulled his warmth closer.

  “Damned if I know.” He kissed her again, his taste like desire on her tongue. He rocked against her, his hand at her back to press her closer, and flames shot through her core. She shuddered, barely able to breathe. If this went on, she was going to lose it right here and now.

  She pulled back, shaking her head. “We have to stop.” Just for now.

  “Shit, sorry.” He took a deep breath, backed up a little. “Not sure what I was thinking.”

  “Well, I hope you were thinking you wanted to be with me, ’cuz that’s sure what I was thinking.” She smiled. “Still thinking it.” Home. Let’s go home.

  He traced her collarbone with rough fingers. “Oh, hell, yes, I want
to be with you, honey. And not just for one night.”

  Her heart thumped so hard she could feel it in her bones. She’d watched him and wanted him for so long. This was really happening. That sexy old song ran through her head—At last . . .

  “Sara?” His brow wrinkled. “Did I say something wrong?”

  She threw her arms around him. “No. God, no! You said just the right thing, Jace. Just the perfect thing.”

  His lips found hers, and they would have started up all over again, but somebody burst out the side door like the place was on fire. “Jace, come quick, coupla fellas got into it and Rick needs your help.”

  The man—it was Brady Gillespie, the foreman at the Logan cement plant—took in what was happening between Sara and Jace and smothered a grin, but he didn’t go back in the bar. The fight was serious, then.

  Jace put her on her feet, regret clear in his expression. “Sorry, hon. Duty calls. You stay out here for a minute ’til I get things settled.” He squeezed her hand, then followed Gillespie through the door.

  Sara started to ignore Jace’s advice and go on back to work, but she needed a minute to get herself under control. Her body was aching, her mind was spinning, and her heart—Lord, she didn’t even want to think about what was happening to her heart. After all these years of keeping his distance, Jace McCoy had finally made a move and swept her clean off her feet. Damn.

  She leaned on the porch railing and stared out at the nearly empty parking lot, trying to make sense of her new world. She felt like a teenager, high on first love. There were some good things about that feeling, but from what she remembered it usually led two places—danger and heartbreak. She wondered which direction she was headed now.

  A square of light expanded and contracted in the dark parking lot as the front entrance opened and closed, someone heading out to her car. The woman was alone. Sara had seen the brassy redhead at the bar that night waiting for a pick-up. A little past her prime, a little too fond of her bourbon and ginger. Now she was just asking for trouble, going out to her car by herself. And, wait, wasn’t that John Lee Davis coming up behind her?