Haven

by Mary Lindsey

  Sixteen

  Freddie was already there when Rain arrived at the northwest corner of the Haven Winery property. He parked the bike in the grass next to the whitewashed wooden fence and climbed over to join her on a boulder at the end of one of the rows of grapevines.

  She didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. He knew why: Based on the photos and the description in the file, her father’s body was recovered a couple of yards from where they sat.

  Even though she’d repeatedly warned him off, he leaned close until their shoulders touched.

  She closed her eyes. “I still hear his voice sometimes.”

  A breeze rustled the leathery grapevine leaves, and she sighed. “I wake up every day thinking it was all a bad dream, and he’ll be at the table when I go in for breakfast.” She opened her eyes. “But he’s not. I’m totally alone.”

  The pain in her voice cut through his chest like a blade. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her until her pain went away—until his pain went away—which was impossible of course. But this girl made him believe in impossibilities. For the first time, he felt like a true connection with someone else was possible. Not just possible. Necessary.

  She stood and walked between the rows, stopping at a stretch of exposed wire. “He died here, I’m told.” Tracing her fingers over the wire, a tear ran down her cheek. Again, Rain was overcome by an uncustomary urge to hold her. “The grapevines won’t grow here. It’s like the earth is mourning right along with me.” She made a choked sound and turned her back to him.

  He pushed his hands in his pockets and stood still, giving her time to recover. What would it be like to have a connection like that? A bond so profound, it impacted everything.

  “Where’s your mom?”

  She didn’t turn around. “Left to go live with…family in Germany soon after I was born. I never met her. I’ve never missed her.”

  Her dad had been everything to this girl. And now she was adrift. Like him.

  Her long hair blew toward the south, in the direction of a cluster of buildings he assumed made up the winery compound. “What did you find out about my dad’s death?”

  “Gerald gave me a file.”

  She spun to face him. “Gerald?”

  “Yeah, middle-aged balding dude at the police station.”

  “I know who he is. How did you meet him?”

  “My aunt…”

  “Oh, right.” Her expression relaxed. “He gave you a file?”

  He didn’t want to get the guy busted, so he backpedaled. “Well, it was on his desk, so I borrowed it.”

  She took a few steps toward him. “And?”

  “The file says it was an accident, but too many things are missing—like an actual report. I think you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  So did he, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her why. Not yet.

  She turned her head sharply, like she’d heard something. “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “The boys. Let’s get out of here.”

  He looked in the direction she’d turned her head and heard a faint call of her name. Damn, she had good hearing.

  They climbed the fence, and she got on the dirt bike behind him without hesitation.

  “Ready?” he asked. She answered by tightening her grip around his waist, and they took off. Sticking to back roads, he made his way toward Enchanted Rock.

  Her thighs tight against his and her arms wound around his waist made him forget everything but the moment. She leaned her head against his shoulder, pressing her breasts into his back, and his whole body heated. When she slid one of her hands inside his shirt and ran her warm fingers over his abdomen, he slowed and fought for focus.

  “Turn left here,” she said, pointing with her free hand to a trail off the side road. It was barely wide enough for the bike, but in a short distance, it opened onto a wider path that ended at a locked gate. She trailed her hand across the top of his waistband, making him one step short of crazy and hard as a rock as she slid off the bike. “What else did you find out?” She climbed the gate and struck out on the footpath, not even checking to see if he followed.

  God. She wanted to talk again. He wasn’t sure he could form words, much less walk after she touched him like that. He climbed the fence, trying to get it together before he answered. “Well, Gerald acted weird.”

  “He always does.” She moved up the trail as if she knew it by heart, easily stepping over clumps of cacti and ducking under low, scruffy tree limbs with unusual agility.

  “You know him?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stopped, hoping she’d elaborate.

  “We hung out a couple of times,” she said over her shoulder.

  Well, that seemed strange. “He told me to say no.”

  It was her turn to stop now. “To what?”

  “I was hoping you’d know.”

  She shrugged, but the motion was jerky and awkward. She was hiding something.

  “He said I should get out of here.”

  “Wise words. I wonder where you’ve heard that before?” She ducked under a tree limb covered in thorns. As he followed her up the trail, he remembered she’d said she walked home that night from Mrs. Goff’s. No way in hell she could have walked through this stuff without shoes.

  “He said things about normal people not being able to handle the power of it.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Any idea what ‘it’ is?”

  “Nope.” She picked up her pace.

  “He said it was like crack and would kill me.”

  “He’s kinda nuts,” she shot over her shoulder, ducking under another low, thorny limb.

  “He also said your dad’s death wasn’t an accident.”

  That got her attention, and she stopped. “What else did he say?”

  This would’ve been the perfect time to tell her about the photos, but he couldn’t. For a moment, that haunted, vulnerable look he’d seen before flickered across her face. She did a good job keeping up a tough facade, but like him, it was only a mask. “He said to follow the body, which, according to the file, went to Reinhardt Funeral Home.”

  She shrugged. “That’s a logical suggestion.”

  “Listen, Freddie. Nothing about the guy was logical. He seemed totally strung out. He said it would kill me—whatever it is.”

  She shoved her hair out of her face, gaze flitting back the way they came. “We shouldn’t have come here. I’ve made another mistake. I’ve put you in danger.”

  “Now you’re acting like Gerald.”

  “Gerald was right.”

  He rolled his eyes in frustration. The way everyone in this town talked in circles was on his last nerve.

  She put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth. Has there ever been a moment when you felt fear around me? Fear of me?”

  He thought back to when he’d sat next to her in class. “Yeah. But it was silly. Made no sense, especially now that I know you.”

  “You don’t know me.” She advanced on him, and he took a step back, surprised by her intensity. “And it’s not silly. There are things that defy logic—things that speak to the instinctual fear we cloak with reason to explain them away. Listen to that fear, Rain. Follow it.” She made an exasperated huff. “Get on your bike and go home.”

  No way. This girl was in trouble, and he was determined to keep her safe and get to the bottom of it. No way was he running away scared. He moved closer. Very close. So close he could feel the heat rolling off her body. “Is that what you really want?”

  “Yes.” Her voice trembled, making it come out almost like a question.

  He leaned down so that his lips were a breath away from hers. “Liar.”

  She pulled back. “What’s right and what I want aren’t the same. I’m trying to do what’s right.”

  Moonlight glinted off the gold chain peeking out from the neckline of her T-shirt, and his stomach knotted with someth
ing dark and unfamiliar. “Does this have to do with Grant?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Grant?”

  “I saw him give you that necklace.” As he said the words, he realized the uncomfortable sensation in his gut was jealousy.

  “It’s a replacement. They make them at Ericksen Hardware. He just delivered it.” Then she barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, you thought Grant and I…” She shook her head again. “No. Absolutely not.”

  He took a breath and let it out slowly. Well, that was a relief at least. “So, you want me to listen to my instincts.”

  “Yes.”

  He reached out and pulled her to him by a belt loop on her jeans. Her eyes widened as she crashed into him. The contact with her long, muscular body made the blood roar in his ears and other places. “My instincts aren’t telling me to go home. They’re telling me to do this.” He took her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his.

  Seventeen

  Freddie’s lips were soft and warm—reserved at first, but soon she met Rain’s tongue stroke for stroke, setting his entire body on fire. She grabbed the back of his shirt as his hands roamed up and down her spine. He’d never get enough of this girl. Her wild, sensual heat and her feral noises deep in her throat drove him wild. Too soon, she pulled away from the kiss, leaving him achy and breathless.

  “Not here,” she said, moving soundlessly up the trail ahead of him.

  “Not here” implied “somewhere else,” which sounded promising. Hopefully somewhere close. He felt awkward and overly noisy following her, branches crunching and bushes rustling as he passed.

  Soon, they broke into a clearing that gave them a view of the granite dome in the bright moonlight. Nighttime campers and hikers milled across it, their flashlights sweeping back and forth like drunk fireflies.

  “Enchanted Rock,” she said, brushing the hair out of her face. “The Apache and Tonkawa tribes believed it held magic.”

  “Ruby told me the German settlers here did, too.”

  She resumed her climb. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah,” he said, finding it odd she hadn’t heard the legend. “Something about the power of the earth turning men into beasts or some such nonsense.”

  “Huh…” was all she said as she took a trail to the right. They climbed silently for what felt like forever, until they came into a clearing on top of a smaller dome, similar in form to the large one in the distance. The surface was the same pink granite. Facets in the stone twinkled like glitter in the moonlight. Every here and there, a hole in the otherwise flat surface held water and plants—like one of those biome projects from biology his sophomore year. He turned a full three-sixty, marveling at the beauty of the terrain. Strips of wild brush and trees cut groomed, mowed pastures and fields of crops into straight-edge wedges. A lake reflected the low-lying clouds and moon. Were it not for the people on the dome in the distance, so small they looked like ants from here, he could easily imagine what it was like before this area was settled. Harsh, terrible, and beautiful at the same time.

  When he turned back to Freddie, he bit down a gasp of surprise. She’d stripped off her shirt and tipped her face to the moon, eyes closed, like one would do to the sun at the beach. And here he’d thought the landscape was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  The air was still. Eerily still, and her smooth skin appeared to glow from inside in the moonlight—her black lace bra sheer enough to make him a little dizzy.

  Without opening her eyes, she said, “Take off your shirt.”

  No way in hell was he going to argue with that. He yanked off his shirt, clutching it in his fist, waiting for his next instruction.

  He forgot how to breathe when she opened her pale eyes and moved toward him. Her gaze wasn’t focused on his face, though. It was on his chest. Stopping in front of him, she traced her fingers over the ink.

  “Raindrops?” she asked, finger outlining one of the shapes.

  “Tears,” he replied, again light-headed as she ran her fingertips over his pec.

  “For your mom?”

  “No. For all of us.”

  She stepped back and, for a long time, stared at the tattoo comprised of dozens of drops in a random pattern over his chest, spilling down his ribs.

  She traced a scar on his side with the tip of her finger. One of many marring his body from fights. “Your life has been sad.”

  And so had hers recently. Maybe that was why he felt so connected to her. Their shared grief, their shared stand against a harsh, unfeeling, screwed-up world. Their shared solitude.

  She turned back to the moon and raised her arms. “Do you feel it?”

  Well, that was a wide-open question. He was feeling lots of things.

  “The moon,” she said. “It’s like aloe when you’re sunburned. Try it.”

  He imitated her posture, head back, arms out, but felt nothing other than the throbbing hardness he always felt around her.

  “So, what do you think about that legend your aunt told you?” she asked.

  He opened his eyes to find her studying him. “That the rock can turn men into beasts?” His mind raced, wondering what would prompt that question and what answer she was looking for. Men were beasts. Horrible monsters at times. He’d seen it firsthand. “I believe we all hide a beast inside. The only difference is what form it takes when freed.”

  There it was again. That strange warm pull in his chest while she studied him. Like she totally got him—something no one else had ever bothered to do. He’d never been understood or accepted. People saw his size and found out his background and immediately wrote him off as dangerous or not worth the trouble. Not Freddie.

  She obviously found his answer acceptable, because she wound her fingers in his hair and hauled him against her for another kiss. Raw, open-mouthed, and hungry. He’d never met anyone like this, who made him burn so hot he thought he might die from need. Recovering from surprise, he placed his hands on either side of her bare rib cage, feeling her body expand and contract with each quick breath. Bones and hard muscle working beneath smooth, soft skin. Skin he wanted to touch all over.

  “I like you, Rain Ryland,” she said, dragging her nails down his back.

  “Like” didn’t even come close. He was on fire for her. Had thought of her night and day since he first saw those eerily pale eyes and badass attitude. She was smart, strong, and terribly, terribly dangerous, which turned him on like crazy. “I like you, too.”

  “How much?”

  Something was going on here. Something other than foreplay. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” Which was true and unexpected. This was more than physical, which was a terrifying thought for him. Maybe this time he could stay. Maybe this time he’d actually found a home and wouldn’t have to leave everything behind.

  He kissed her again, not wanting to think about legends, or leaving, or anything else for that matter. He wanted to just live in this moment as long as it lasted. Running his hands lower, his thumb brushed the unmistakable shape of a condom in her back pocket. He froze, and she smiled against his lips.

  “You scared, Sprinkles?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of me?” It was like she wanted him to fear her.

  “No.” He pulled back, amazed at how her eyes reflected the moon like clear glass. “Of this.” He gestured to the space he’d put between them. “Of whatever this is.” The intensity of it. The urgency. And worse, much worse—the potential loss of it. He’d never feared losing something before because he’d never had anything worth keeping. This girl, though. She was different. And he wanted her.

  Snatching up her discarded shirt and tucking it into her waistband, she took his hand and led him down the side of the hill to a small trickle of a stream gurgling over rocks as it made its way to the foot of the huge dome of Enchanted Rock itself. But instead of climbing the rock, she led him around the base as he followed, mesmerized by her skin glowing in the moonlight, and then ducked inside a small cave.

&nb
sp; “You seem to know the area well,” he said, squinting in the darkness of the cave, still clutching his shirt in his fist.

  “I’ve lived here my whole life. Grew up exploring this area. Close your eyes.”

  “No need. I can’t see a thing.”

  “That’s why I want you to close your eyes.”

  He did, focusing on his other senses. The sound of the stream nearby, the chorus of insects in the still night outside the cave entrance, her raspy breaths and salty smell—natural and perfect.

  “Now open them.”

  He did, and could see her, mere inches away. Closing his eyes had allowed them to adjust to seeing in the dark. Smart girl. Unable to resist it any longer, he ran his fingers over the lace of her bra, fascinated by her sharp intake of breath and her reaction to his touch. This was, without a doubt, the high point of his entire life. And from the way it was going, it might even get better.

  With a flip, she popped his blue jeans button and lowered the zipper.

  Hell yeah. Definitely getting better.

  She pushed on his shoulders and he sat. Crouching over him, she placed her palm on his chest and urged him to his back on the dirt floor. Knees on either side of him, she crawled up his body like an animal. The necklace dangled between them, and he captured it. It was a little glass bubble with leaves inside. Like a cooking spice or weed or something. “What is it?”

  “A good-luck charm.”

  “It works. I’m feeling really lucky right about now.”

  “You’re about to get luckier.”

  He released the necklace and placed his palms on her thighs on either side of him, happy to let her take the lead completely, and she did, kissing her way down his body as he groaned with pleasure. “Freddie,” he said as her cool fingers met his heated flesh.

  He looked up at her pale eyes, staring at him intensely over her straight, slim nose and full lips. Lips he wanted to kiss.

  “I shouldn’t like you,” was all she said. She leaned down, running her lips from his sternum to his chin, her hot breath fanning across his skin causing his hips to buck instinctually. Instinct. The thing she kept telling him to listen to. Well, he was listening. Hard.