~ * ~
Some protector he made. When Jen lit out, Mitch had an overwhelming urge to drag her back. He shook his head, trying to justify his bad mood. In the loft, he’d felt a similar strong emotion, wanting to throw her down on his bed and make full use of the amenities for romance. Sprawled on the mattress, they could have picked out the constellations he stared at each night. Then with artistic design fit for any Casanova, he would’ve made love to her. The trouble was, she wasn’t like the women he’d entertained in the bar--the ones who’d laughed at his jokes when they weren’t funny or who thought his leering gestures were flattering. And probably guessing he associated with steamy women who brandished their sexuality, turned her off.
In spite of his jabbering about a harem, liaisons with women were few and nary a one had been here. Respectable females didn’t frequent the places he hung out. He’d lost sight of how to treat them, anyway. The road he’d traveled the past year didn’t lend itself to provoking more complications. He’d managed to create a fictional virile sex life for the benefit of the other gang members based on simple innuendoes and a few hugs and pecks. Jen had fallen neatly into being factual evidence at the bar. And she’d played her part well. Yet, when he’d toyed with her, her self-control had stood her in good stead here and on the canoe journey, too. He hadn’t expected the admiration her restraint drew from him now.
Mitch grabbed another beer and sank to the doorstep. This was the time of day he liked best, but tonight the lake’s mirrored stillness accented his loneliness. He’d looked forward to sharing quality time with the skittish nymph from next door. He gulped another swig. A whiff of smoking brush swept in from across the water bringing images of sitting before his fireplace, soft music in the background, soft curves at his fingertips. She’s polarized me with her damn suppositions.
A rustle in the woods distracted him. Two pointy ears peeked through the undergrowth.
"Come here, Spooky boy. You’re in deep trouble if you’re venturing over here on your own."
The pup slowly advanced, then made a quick run and leaped into his open arms. The wet doggy tongue lapped at the malty taste of his mouth. "You know, you aren’t half-bad for a companion, but you sure could do with more meat on you. I’ll give you her steak when it’s cooked, but don’t tell your owner--wouldn’t want to ruin her notion that I’m a scumbum, would we? By the way, what’s she doing?"
Mitch glanced toward Jen’s cabin expecting to see her hoofing after her pet, but she didn’t appear. "Want to come in and join me while I see if your mistress is hitting her computer keys?"
Another sloppy lick, this time on Mitch’s forehead, showed this free spirit was more than willing to accompany him inside.
Mitch pulled the table and its accompanying computer paraphernalia from his closet. After hooking it up, he hauled over a chair and connected. His fingers drummed impatiently against the wooden surface. Spooky settled on the floor, draping his front half over Mitch’s feet. Mitch soaked in the comforting heat from the pup’s heartbeat.
"Ah... here she is, Spooky. Now, how will I approach this? Your mistress is not a trusting soul. Maybe sweet talk will help, if she’ll answer my message." Exhaling a forceful breath, while he flexed his fingers, Mitch gathered his nerve. He typed:
Good evening, Pixie. I hope I didn’t upset you the last time we chatted--I was too forward.
His eyes glued onto the dialogue box--nothing came through. "Dammit. Aren’t you going to answer?" he asked aloud. After a brief pause his fingers pounded the keys.
How was your day?
He waited, shoulders tense, breath suspended.
The dialogue box responded:
It was a great morning, but a bummer of an evening so far.
"Hmm. To the point. Sounds like she’s in no mood for flights of fancy, Spooky."
He relaxed, his fingers paused, then typed:
Why?
I’ve made someone angry and I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
Was the person a male?
Yes.
Maybe I can help.
I’ve learned I have to help myself.
Try me, Pixie. What’s the problem?
He scraped the chair legs against the floor in an attempt to move his chair closer to his computer.
The problem is that I have a neighbor whom I need badly at the moment, but understanding him is beyond me.
Beyond you in what way?
He travels another world far different from mine.
Mitch sat up straight.
Perhaps you need to take time to understand him.
There isn’t time. It’s a matter of life and death.
Mitch nearly fell off his chair. His concentration jolted into high gear.
Whose life and death?
Mine.
Whoa, now. You better slow down and explain.
He hated to think of her over there alone and under so much emotional pressure. His eye muscles strained waiting for her reply.
No one can help but him.
What do you want him to do?
His breathing notched up its pace.
I can’t tell you.
Mitch took a deep breath and leaned back. His hand rubbed across his mouth as he tried to decide what tack to take.
Are you there?
I’m here, but I’m gravely wounded that you won’t confide in me with our relationship being so deep.
We don’t have a deep relationship... we hardly have one at all.
Our spirits have crossed paths.
They merely brushed against each other. I have to go, bye.
"Wait!" Mitch yelped.
Spooky leaped up. "Yip-Yip!"
"Quiet, hound."
Her ID picture left the screen. "Dammit." She left him hanging. Now he was more disgusted with her unfavorable assumptions than he’d been earlier. But a new emotion gathered in his craw. One he liked even less. The minute her persona disappeared from the screen, her aversion to speaking in confidence with him stabbed the pit of his stomach. Whether brought about by his failure to communicate in a meaningful way or by his worry over the state of her mind, the jab was cutting and left a gap.
Evidently she’d made a strong impression on him. Maybe the past year had changed him more than he’d thought, but surely not enough to make him care just because she was the first decent female he’d met in that time. Mitch sighed. He couldn’t protect her if they were at loggerheads. And he didn’t want to think how he’d feel if she got hurt through her lack of trust of him. "I damn well don’t know how to handle your mistress, Spooky. Got any ideas? You must have figured her out by now. Yeah, right! You just pull a sad face and I bet it works... Hey! I just thought of a couple of ways. I’m taking you home. You act mad at me, y’hear?"
"Yip!"
All of the lights were on in Jen’s cabin. As Mitch sprinted up the steps, he took note of the screen door hanging lopsided. "Jen. Jen?"
"Over here. I’m looking for Spooky. He’s disappeared."
In the light cast from the windows, Mitch observed her worried expression as she came from the edge of the water. His heart melted. "I have him. He wandered over for a visit."
"Oh." Her brows curled to a frown and he was glad she aimed it at the dog.
He noticed she sucked in her breath then blew it out, relieved that her pet was brought back, even if it was through his efforts. She inhaled sharply again when he passed Spooky to her and one hand accidentally brushed her arm. She twisted away quickly burying a blush in Spooky’s curls.
"That little guy means a lot to you, doesn’t he?" Mitch needed to break the embarrassed silence and at the same time distract himself from how soft her skin felt.
"He’s all I have."
"No close family around these parts?" She’d left him an opening to walk into the personal side of her life. He’d make the most of it.
"I have family, but we aren’t close. I told you I came from an abusive home. I don’t need them, and they sure never ne
eded me."
"Everyone needs someone, Jen. Family is best, but friends count, too. Don’t shove people away who mean you well."
"Like you?"
"Like me. Let’s go sit on the dock."
She hesitated, and he knew she wanted to get him out of her sight. But having returned her most prized possession, she couldn’t say no.
They wandered to the small wharf and sat down on the deck beside one another. Slipping off her shoes, she dangled her feet in the water.
"I wouldn’t do that, if I were you."
She yanked her feet out and curled them off to the side. "Do leeches like bony feet?"
"I don’t know, but that great nail polish job might lure them straight to your toes."
They both laughed. The ice had broken.
Shimmering with an amber reflection from the sun drifting low, the lake’s brightness cast a warm glow onto her skin. Her eyes, shrouded in worry, gentled, and he couldn’t help thinking how he liked the prickly nature that could blast fire one minute, then exude calm the next. Whether she knew it or not, she needed someone to smooth the wrinkles that messed up her life.
Faint strains of a melody drifted across the water. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening. His guilt, at knowing things she didn’t, put an unfamiliar restriction on his tongue. He couldn’t own up and confess. He wished it were possible--for his sake as well as hers. What he could do was try and be her friend. A friend who might only save her if she let him into her thoughts. There was little likelihood of that since she rated him with the dregs of society. Maybe that’s where he deserved to be placed. Maybe he’d become that kind of person: sneaky, lying, letting rambunctious sexual thoughts filter through his mind. Lust in the mind--a guy can go to hell for that.
At last she broke the tranquility. "I suppose you’ll be speeding out again tonight?"
"Yes. But I’ll avoid revving up my engine." He laughed, but it was a nervous one. Why was he so self-conscious now? Why did he care if he disturbed this puritan’s sleep?
"No, don’t do that." Her hand touched his arm, then settled to stay. "I think that now I know you, it’ll put me at ease knowing when you’re back. Sometimes the isolation gets to me." She brightened. "I’m going to start repairing the doorstep tomorrow. Did you notice I fixed the screen door?" She removed her hand. "It doesn’t quite hang straight, though."
"I noticed." The soft pressure of her fingers conjured up images of being beneath the skylight. With her. He wondered if she was hitting the ball to his court. It was worth a shot. "Think you could use some help?"
Her fingers started ruffling Spooky’s neck again. She was nervous, too. Was she weighing the consequences of keeping him near? He hoped so. When her nails dug deep into one spot, the pup yelped.
"Sorry, sweetie." Distracted for a moment while massaging Spooky’s skin, she finally turned back. "I really could use your help, but I don’t want to impose."
"It’s no imposition. I’ll come over first thing in the morning and fix it. Jen...?
"Yes?"
"Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Care for some steak that’s going to waste? The salad would still be fresh." He smiled and his chest felt an unmistakable warmth when he saw the ‘want to’ in her eyes. Then he remembered the computer was set up in plain sight. Damn. He had to think fast. If he could count on having enough time inside alone, perhaps he could push it back in the closet, but the loud squeak the broken wheel on the table leg made might draw her inside. "I promise we won’t go near the loft. In fact, you can stay out of the cottage altogether, then I won’t be tempted to misbehave."
She grinned. "Okay." Jen set the dog on his feet and accompanied Mitch to his lair. Spooky trotted ahead. "Seems there are more interesting smells around your home than at ours."
Mitch was impressed at how relaxed Jen seemed. He figured he was gaining a foothold on her confidence. Still, he had to be careful; it wouldn’t take much to send her on the run. He could learn what he needed if he played it right, but he wanted their relationship to be real. When his duty was over, he’d open up. Until then, he’d ensure no one touched her. Who knows? Perhaps at some point they could share sunsets in honesty.
Mitch turned the barbecue back on and steered her to a chair on his veranda. "Sit."
She sat.
He laughed.
Her eyes enlarged. "What’s so funny?"
"I was thinking how different tonight is from last night. We are different. The circumstances are different."
"I prefer tonight," she replied. "Let me help."
"No. I’m making up for annoying you. Sit tight."
He brought what they needed from the kitchen on a tray, including a single candle. When he lit it, her eyes shone as the small beacon fluttered onto the cottage wall. The conversation was light and carefree until they’d finished eating. As the night darkened, the eerie hoots of an owl breezed through the woods. Mitch poured refills of coffee.
"What kind of life do you really lead, Mitch? I think you aren’t what you seem. Where do you go at night?"
"I told you, I do investigative work."
"You told me what you thought would satisfy me, and I guess it’s none of my business. I just thought that now we are friends, you might want to fill me in on at least a few details."
"Like you’ve filled me in on yours?"
"Oh." She sighed. Her face reflected sadness in the candle’s glow. I guess I haven’t told you much, have I? What say we keep our secrets and not pry? Let’s just be friends, without getting caught up in personal stuff."
"Suits me." He lied. Mitch bit down hard on his lip. Lying was all he did these days and it didn’t suit him. There’d come a time he’d need more from her, and he didn’t want to extract it under a veil of deceit. He needed her to continue being his girlfriend for a while longer, then she was relatively safe. But it would probably end up that she would turn against him. Taking her into his confidence would be simpler, but would place both of them in danger should she let something slip accidentally. Too many man-hours had gone into this mission to risk the whole setup on someone he didn’t know.
"I’d like more coffee, Mitch, is any left in the pot? Stay seated, I’ll get it."
"No!"
"What?"
"I mean... that is... I drained the pot with our refills. These mugs are large." A sudden tenseness slid into his neck. "I can make more, if you like."
"No, don’t bother. I’ll get a drink of water instead."
"No!" Damn. He wondered if she was doing this on purpose. "You’re my guest. I’ll get it. Be right back."
Her face showed surprise at his quick turndown. Was she suspicious? He needed to get to the kitchen and regroup.
When he returned with a glass of cold water, she phrased an innocent-sounding question. "Would you show me the skylight, now? I behaved stupidly before." Her eyes narrowed as she waited for his reply, but then she continued, "I’m sorry if I insulted you. I would like to see how it works." He was right; her suspicion had peaked.
Although computers are a regular feature in most homes, knowing he had one here might bring up more questions than he wanted to field. He had questioned her use of a computer and she would wonder why he hadn’t mentioned he used one as well. It was a simple thing but could cause more suspicion on her part. If he’d been smart, he’d have owned up to it earlier. He’d made a mistake in not simply disclosing he used one for entertainment. She would’ve accepted its presence then.
He needed to preserve the gains he’d made with her as long as he could. He’d have to take a gamble anyway he cut it. "Another time, Jen, when I’m sure you won’t take offense if I get carried away. I don’t want to say anything that might embarrass you simply because I’m a typical male. Who knows? Sometime you might even want to go up there and experience it yourself." A crimson hue etched her skin again. She crossed her arms and remained silent.
He laughed, but felt no humor. "You’re blushing already. See what I m
ean?"
~ * ~
Yes, she saw what he meant, but she wasn’t buying it. Mitch seemed unnecessarily jumpy when she’d wanted to go inside. Why should he care if she took offense at his words? It hadn’t bothered him when she’d been offended by being dragged to the bar. His reaction is almost like he’s hiding something. If so, what can it be? Hmm. Maybe it would be worth a try just to find out if I’m imagining it.
"Mitch, it’s getting chilly. Tell me where your jacket is and if you don’t mind I’ll borrow it."
"No, no, I’ll get it for you. It’s so pleasant here that I’d like for us to just soak in the night air and enjoy each other’s company. Especially now that things are going smoother between us. I’ll be right back."
So I’m right. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me to go inside. He’s sure changed his tune from when I was here earlier. Could a lady visitor have made quick use of the loft with him? Jen had been gone long enough, but she hadn’t heard another vehicle drive past her cabin. No, that wasn’t it. "How early do you want to offer your services?"
"W-What?" His eyes popped.
"As a carpenter, I mean."
"Oh. Anytime after eight should be okay. I’ll bring what tools I have."
The conversation took an abrupt downswing. Lapses of silence intervened, straining their former easy communication. Mitch seemed guarded. His reticence pricked her nerves. If she didn’t need the information he might furnish so badly, she’d head home right this instant.
A question struck with the burn of lightning. Was he a member of the local motorcycle gang, The Misfits? She stifled a gasp. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She knew why. Though Mitch’s looks epitomized a biker façade, his character didn’t fit the mold the abused women described when they fled to the shelter. He’d not used uncouth language with her, only with Bull. He hadn’t displayed violence when she’d spiked his temper, either. She shook her head. What did she know? Bull had looked like he’d be more than willing to rough up a woman to meet his demands. He definitely could be a gang member, though he wore nothing that identified it. And Mitch was his friend. The hair on her neck bristled.
"It was a delicious meal, Mitch." She snatched his plate and stacked it with hers. "I’ll help clean up, then I must go."
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