by H. E. Trent
That ship was Alex Hauge’s, and given the apparent spider web of connections in Little Gitano, of course she should have expected to see him again at some point. His friend was leaning against the railing at the opposite end. What she certainly did not expect was Luke being the first out of the door.
Where’s his ship?
He raised a hand in greeting. “Hey. Hitched a ride since he was heading this way anyway.”
“I see.”
She also saw that he’d found himself a razor, or at least a better one than he’d been using. She didn’t know if she liked him so clean cut. A too-close shave was a hallmark of the pretentious idiots she worked with at her father’s company. The closer the shave, the better their spray tans adhered, apparently.
There was nothing pretentious and white-collar about Luke, though. He oozed with a particular sort of magnetism she couldn’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it was that wildness she’d noticed before, or…
She didn’t know.
There was just something compelling about him that didn’t immediately announce itself. He may have simply been one of those people that drew others to him without trying. Her mother had always been one of those, and Autumn had never envied her for it. She was always so weary from having to interact with people who didn’t understand that she was already too used up. That was her culture, though—to give and to give until she had nothing left for herself. Autumn wanted like hell to get her out of New York and out of the gossip papers. Her parents had gotten divorced when she was four, and her mother still couldn’t escape his dirt.
Alex stepped out a moment later and gave the scene a quick look, sizing them all up.
Another clean-cut one, but in a different way from Luke. Even in cargo pants and a plain black shirt, with sleeves pushed up his muscular forearms, he managed to exude a natural elegance.
Her father would be beside himself with greed if he ever found out she was rubbing elbows with a Hauge. She had no intentions of ever telling him.
Alex’s associate Oreva strolled from his seat over to the gap in the porch railing with his hands in his pockets. “I must tell you about the pastries I had for breakfast,” he said.
“I suspect they were made by Headron Beshni,” Alex said with a smug smile.
She noticed that Luke wore a smug smile, too.
“How did you know?”
“Stay here long enough, Oreva, and you’ll find that the items traded on the black market here aren’t drugs and alcohol, but pastries and high-end coffee. I happen to know the dealers.”
“How can I get more of them? I had barely one.” Oreva huffed and threw up his hands. “One! I set it down to pick up my tablet from my bag, and a fucking bird swooped in and carried it off.”
“Even the birds know the score,” Luke said.
“Well, they’re uncivilized. How dare they?”
Cree giggled.
Oreva put his hands on his hips and turned to her, making a tutting noise with his tongue. “Now, that isn’t polite. I’m certain you had an entire pastry.”
“Well…” Cree demurred. “Maybe. But if I did, it was because I didn’t make the mistake of letting go of mine.”
The truth was that Cree had had two. Autumn didn’t understand Jekhani at all, but she could guess that the keeper thought that Cree was just adorable and perhaps a hair on the too-skinny side, and she’d given her the last of them.
Cree, being Cree, certainly didn’t refuse. She and sugar had a co-dependent relationship.
“Probably a renta bird,” Luke said. “They’re huge pests around here. Mostly, they just peck at the roots of crops, but they’re getting smarter. Think of them like pigeons.” He grimaced. “Really ugly pigeons.”
Alex made a moue. “Their eyes are exceedingly close together, are they not?”
“Super close. They’re the most lovable sort of cockroach-rat I’ve ever had the displeasure of gazing upon.”
“Ew,” Cree said.
Oreva snapped his fingers and pointed at Luke. “That is exactly what they look like. Foul, pestilent beasts.” He shuddered.
Luke laughed and raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Hold on to your food next time, man. Or eat indoors.”
“But if I eat indoors, I can’t be seen.” Oreva smoothed a manicured hand down the buttons of his pale gray Oxford shirt and grinned. “I should be seen.”
Even Autumn laughed at that, and she almost didn’t care that everyone turned to look.
Almost.
She sounded like a braying jackass when she laughed, so she tried not to. Her public laugh was much more restrained. Artificial, actually. She’d been practicing it since thirteen, after the fourth time her father told her no one would ever want her if she sounded like that.
Damn it.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Luke, do you think there are more pastries at the coffee shop?” Cree asked.
The child always knew how to defuse an awkward situation far better than her sister did. When Autumn opened her eyes, everyone was looking at Cree, not her.
Thank God.
“You said folks at the farm own it, right?”
“That’s right,” Luke responded. “My sister’s girlfriend manages the place. Depending on her mood today, she may cut us some slack and bring out the good stuff.”
“How does one get on her good side?” Cree grinned and batted her eyelashes playfully.
“You make my sister like you, but good luck with that. I’m not sure Precious has a good side. Honestly, you’d be better off going straight to the source. Headron and Caler would set a little something-something aside for you if you ask nicely.”
Cree rubbed her hands together with glee.
“It’s a good thing you aren’t sensitive to gluten,” Autumn muttered.
“Wouldn’t matter if she was,” Luke said. “Jekhan grains don’t produce gluten. The race is, on a whole, intolerant of gluten, though many try to eat our breads, anyway. I guess they can’t resist the smell.”
Cree hopped down from the railing and waved Autumn on. “Come. Coffee and sweet stuff.”
Autumn raised her brows and stood. She wasn’t about to tell her sister no. “It’s nearby, isn’t it?” She looked down at her shoes. Flats, but not really made for walking on rough terrain. The streets in Little Gitano were fine for hovering vehicles, but the loose mix of silt and gravel was unforgiving against thin-soled shoes.
“Yep,” Luke said. “Down the block and around the corner. If you try hard, you can probably smell it from here.” He set his jaw and extended his elbow for her to take.
Oh.
Awkward or not, at his side wasn’t the worst place she could be by any stretch of the imagination.
She hauled the strap of her purse up to her shoulder and looped her arm around his.
“I guess you slept all right,” he said. There was nothing to be gleaned from his voice. The banter was benign and conversational.
“Mm-hmm. I did. In fact, I slept like the dead. Never again will I underestimate the importance of sleeping on a bed that’s enclosed in something that’s firmly attached to the ground.”
“You might have something in common with Precious, then.” Luke waved at a boy of around fourteen or fifteen who raced past with a crate tucked under his arm. “Slow it down, Geno.”
“I will, Mr. Cipriani.”
“Kid’s always going a mile a minute,” Luke muttered.
“Is that such a bad thing?” She couldn’t tell if there’d been judgment in his tone or admiration.
He shrugged and guided her around the corner. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. In Geno’s case, though, I think in the back of his mind he knows that it doesn’t matter how reckless he is. His granddad will patch him up.”
“Who’s his grandfather?”
“The village doctor. His name’s Dorro. He’ll probably catch up to you eventually so he can gently scold you about not undergoing quarantine.”<
br />
Autumn froze, terrified that she’d missed some crucial step of the acclimation process. “I…wasn’t aware there was a quarantine. Is there something I should be worried about? Some disease?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably not?” she very nearly shrieked.
He shrugged. Laughed. He had a nice laugh, compared to hers—deep and resonant. Warming. Not at all like her silly bray. Her face went hot at the mere thought of the embarrassing sound. “You’re probably okay,” he said. “You came in through an approved carrier, and they’re good at nuking pathogens before they land the ship. Still, Dorro will probably want to give you an exam to be sure you’re acclimating well.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Yeah, he’s a pretty empathetic guy. He does his best to make sure most folks like him.”
“Most?”
“There’s no winning the unwinnable.”
“Oh.” Autumn didn’t know about that. Some people might have thought that her being on Jekh was evidence that she was born to win and that she wouldn’t let any obstacle deter her. But Luke would see, just like everyone else. She was used to having to prove people wrong.
“Here we are.” In front of a low, tan building with cheerful yellow shutters, Luke let go of her arm. “The very creatively named ‘Coffee Shop.’” He laughed and pulled the door open. “That’s what we get for letting Precious name anything. She’s too pragmatic.”
Meeting Cree’s gaze, Autumn tilted her head toward the inside, and that was hint enough for Cree. She made a beeline for the pastry case and Autumn followed with a sigh. Vaguely, she registered Luke and the others filing in behind her, but the allure of the shop tugged at her focus. The mix of Terran and Jekhan décor intrigued her, as did the exotic music playing in the background, and the sound of grinding coffee beans.
Coffee Shop was like any other coffee shop she’d ever been in, but with one exception—there was no counter service. There was a young Terran woman with an order tablet assisting a group of rough-looking men at the corner table.
As the woman patiently explained the offerings, Autumn settled into a chair at a nearby table so she could listen. Right by the window, she had a good view of the street and the scene behind the counter, and—more importantly—of what she suspected were construction workers that were probably headed to the apartment block as soon as they had their caffeine fix.
“I’ll be with you in a sec,” the server said to her.
Nodding, Autumn clutched her tote bag against her belly.
Cree took the chair beside hers and was nearly bouncing with zeal. “I already see what I want. It’s got glaze.”
“There’s no saving you, is there?”
“We’ve got a long day ahead. I’m going to need some sugar to properly motivate me. You should try it.”
“I’ll stick to protein and quality fiber like most responsible adults.”
Autumn leaned back a bit in her chair to see what was holding up Luke. He, Alex, and Oreva had fallen into an animated conversation near the community bulletin board. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it must not have been anything serious. Luke was smiling and showing teeth.
Her hand drifted to her chest and breath drew in reflexively. If there had been any doubt that he was a handsome man, they were certainly dashed right then. She wondered if he was conscious of the ways his expressions darkened and brightened his face.
Of course, he is.
He’d been in the FBI, and he would have had some training in projecting certain impressions to the people around him. Whether or not they were truly representative of his moods, she didn’t know. What she did know was that there was an unwelcome stirring in her belly. A childish, nervous flutter of seeing someone and deciding they were desirable.
Of seeing someone she actually wanted and wondering how to proceed.
Luke raked his hair out of his eyes and glanced in her direction.
Too slowly, she smiled.
His attention was already back on Alex.
The ever-so-enthralling Alex.
He wasn’t the one speaking—Oreva was doing most of that—but the gazes of both Oreva and Luke were back on him.
She didn’t capture attentions that way. Men rarely did her the courtesy of looking her in the eyes when she was speaking to them.
When Oreva stopped talking, Autumn edged her chair closer to the window to make room for more seats.
Oreva strolled over and, smiling, added a chair to the end of the table.
He said something to her or to Cree, but Autumn didn’t catch it. She was too busy being offended.
Luke didn’t hurry to the table. He didn’t even look her way again. Standing with his arms folded over his chest, he was receiving a whisper from Alex, who continued to command attention in what was apparently his typical domineering way. His hand was pressed between Luke’s shoulder blades, and face so close to Luke’s ear that his body language screamed, “I’m a priority. My words are a priority.”
Arrogant bastard.
She realized that both Oreva and Cree were looking at her with expressions suggestive of a question being asked, so she did what she always did when she’d been caught unawares: she smiled at them. “Thank you for putting up with my evident bout of space-brain. I’m listening to you without actually hearing you.”
Cree heaved a sigh. “I do that every day in school. So hard to stay focused when people just won’t stop yammering on. Anyway, Oreva asked if you read the Jekhan custom book they had copies of on the ship.”
Autumn had tried to, so she made a waffling motion. “I have to admit I was a bit distracted. The ship was so busy for me. Usually, I have an assistant who reads dense text for me and condenses it all into some bullet points, but I’m on my own here.”
“Hey!” Cree balked.
Autumn tried to put on a smile for her, but she suspected it twitched at the corners. “You know what I meant, dear.” To Oreva, who looked at her with some combination of curiosity and lady-you’re-crazy, she said, “I suppose Cree will have to be my cultural ambassador of sorts. I’ll try not to feel too ashamed about having my little sister lead the charge.”
If Cree had been able to grin any harder, her cheeks would have forced her eyeballs out of their sockets. “So, you’re letting me stay?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”
“You started it.”
“Cree, you—” Autumn sucked some air through her teeth and let the words fall off. Luke was finally on approach to the table.
He wasn’t wearing the delicious smile he had been before but did walk straight to Autumn. He leaned onto the back of her chair, and she’d wished she’d put her spine against the back. Wished for once that someone she actually wanted would look at her with the heat of possession, and not just stare back with polite acceptance.
But ladies didn’t throw themselves at men.
She sat primly and properly, dragged her tongue across dry lips, and hoped the waitress didn’t interrupt before he said what he had to say.
Don’t back out.
“If you’re okay with getting your coffee to-go, we’ll take it with us and pick up some boxed lunches from the restaurant across town. You’re going to want something a little more substantial than pastries.”
Autumn straightened up and cleared her throat. “Um. Yes, that’s fine with me.”
“Good.” He put a hand on her shoulder. The weight of it—the realness—of it sent a charge of stupidity through her.
She didn’t know what to say in return. Didn’t know what to do, except clutch her tote harder and try not to blush herself to death.
The man was going to send her into cardiac arrest and they hadn’t even taken their clothes off in front of each other yet.
What the hell is wrong with me?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“So, wh
en were you thinking we’d apply for the marriage license?”
Alex had heard the words clear as day, but they still didn’t make a lick of sense to him. Certainly, the woman couldn’t be that brazen.
But…apparently she was.
Autumn was sitting on her corner of the picnic blanket, prissily holding a triangle of a BLT sandwich, and leveling Luke with a business-like stare.
Luke wasn’t looking back. He was too busy twining a weed stalk around his long fingers and staring toward the cacophony near the lake.
The lake had once been one of Alex’s best-kept secrets, but apparently, it wasn’t such a secret to the people who lived about a hundred kilometers west of the farm. The weather was gorgeous, and apparently, many of the locals had decided to have a water day.
There was some sort of complicated game involving a stuffed projectile and four goals happening near the water, and Cree had made herself a referee. Oreva—a man who could never ignore a challenge—had planted himself on the side opposite of the supposed elites and cocked his chin up at him. He didn’t even know the fucking rules, and he was going to go in for the kill. That was Oreva, though. He was always running at full throttle.
When Luke didn’t respond to Autumn, she cleared her throat.
Luke’s gaze shifted from the game to Autumn. “Sorry. I heard you. I was thinking.”
“Well, what were you thinking?”
Tell her. Alex ran the edge of his thumbnail along the crease in his empty sandwich wrapper. Tell her you know the game she’s playing.
“I’m thinking I’ve got some questions,” he said.
Here we go.
“About what?”
Luke shrugged and pushed himself upright.
Alex was glad he did. When Luke reclined so indulgently like that, Alex wanted to be right alongside him, sharing lazy kisses and running his hands along his body. Getting his touch quota filled. He certainly wouldn’t have been the only one. Already, he’d counted at least five couples engaged in sensual acts of affection. He wanted to be free to be himself with Luke.
Instead, he was free only to fix encouraging stares on his lover to remind him of the circumstances at hand.
Autumn was a problem because Luke was his.