by H. E. Trent
“Ah.” Autumn backed up so she could record the niche they’d explored as they walked away from it. Then she turned off the camera so she could concentrate on walking.
She used to feel silly about showing up to potential project sites with all her gadgets, notebooks, and measuring tools while everyone else stood around with their hands in their pockets. She’d thought they knew something she didn’t or simply had better instincts for the work. Later, she learned that most simply weren’t interested in that level of detail at that stage of the project. Further, they’d had underlings who’d scout sites for them. Autumn wasn’t that kind of learner. Like her mother, she needed to put her hands on things and see width and breadth. She needed to “learn a thing’s personality” before she could figure out how best to alter it.
That was how her mother could turn a bolt of fabric most people would consider ugly into a sought-after dress with an obscene price. Where she’d grown up, people didn’t waste things—a very Jekhan mindset, in a way. Her mother probably would like the Jekhan people.
“I guess the best way to describe what my father does is to call it costume jewelry,” she finally said to Luke.
He bounded up onto another rock ahead of her and reached down to help her up.
She eyed the rock critically. It was about waist height. She’d have no problem scrambling up if she put one knee up and pulled herself up on her belly. Her clothes would get dirty, but at that point, no one would have noticed a little more dirt. She’d already sweated through her shirt and there was peanut butter from lunch on her pants.
“Come on,” he said. “Don’t argue with me. Either let me help you up, or give me some of the stuff you’re carrying.”
She looked at her camera, her gear bag, and her backpack. None of it was especially heavy, but it did make maneuvering somewhat more difficult.
And there was no good reason to refuse his polite gesture. If he could give her his hand, she could be gracious enough to take it.
Sighing, she tucked the camera into the gear bag. No sooner had she pulled the zipper closed did Luke crouch down, jam his hands beneath her armpits—which earned him a reflexive shriek that he ignored—and heaved her up as though she weighed nothing.
He set her on her feet. “I think that’s the last of these. Pretty flat walk back to the grouping area.”
She blinked at him. He hadn’t even groaned or grimaced as he’d lifted her.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re…strong, is all.”
He shrugged. “Fitness has its uses.”
“I…see.”
Felt, actually.
She was used to men getting out of breath after ten seconds of enthusiastic thrusting from plank position. Even with all the walking and climbing they’d been doing, he’d hardly broken a sweat.
Maybe he’s some kind of genetically enhanced super soldier, like in the movies.
Again, she blinked at him.
“You all right?” he asked.
She had to close her eyes. Smirks usually made her want to slap people silly, but when Luke worked his lips that way she could only think that he was actually paying attention enough to find amusement in the situation.
In her.
The intensity of the sun was probably making her loopy.
She dragged her forearm across her brow and corrected her wobbling stance.
“What were you saying about costume jewelry?” Luke looked ahead, likely to see where Alex had gone.
She hoped he was far ahead. She preferred for him to not be able to swoop in and dominate a conversation just when she was starting to make headway. She was starting to suspect that she and Luke didn’t have to be so brutally antagonistic toward each other. Maybe things hadn’t worked out the way either of them had expected, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t cooperate.
“Costume jewelry,” she said, “looks beautiful from a distance, and sometimes even up close you can fool people with it. But it’s cheaply made and when the paint flecks away, you can see what’s left is garbage. It’s not meant to last. It’s meant to trick people and to earn flattery.”
“Then why’s it so expensive?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
He grimaced and gestured for them to move forward.
She stepped ahead, taking his offered arm as she went.
It dawned on her that the only times she’d been offered the same sort of assistance before were when she’d been on the ship en route to Jekh—Jekhan men were competitive in showing off their good manners—and when she’d been around six. New York had been damn near underwater with a storm system that just wouldn’t go away, and a sweet old man had scrambled in between her and her mother and helped them over the deluge rushing the gutters. He’d tutted and complained, “You don’t even have an umbrella. You should have an umbrella.” Then he’d given them his and marched down the block before her mother could get her wits about her enough to thrust it back. For days after, Autumn had wondered where her father was and why he couldn’t send a car for them like he did for everyone else.
It seemed that when her mother had to swallow her pride and beg for crumbs from her estranged husband, they walked.
“I’ve made my objections known to my father,” she said quietly and flicked her left wrist as if that would help her shake off the toxic memory. “I’ve been arguing with him about his choices ever since I got dragged into the business, kicking and screaming.”
“You didn’t want to work in construction?”
“I wasn’t allowed not to want it. I was never really given an opportunity when I was a child to think about going into any other field, because what would my father’s associates have thought about that? If I’d ignored the family business, what sort of impression would that lend?”
“Oh, I dunno. Maybe that you have your own talents and interests, and that maybe they’re not suitable for that work?”
“I think perhaps you’re too reasonable.” She wasn’t used to being around so many reasonable people and wondered if she was getting spoiled.
Worse ways to be spoiled.
She tightened her hold on his arm as she poised to step over a deep ditch. She didn’t have Cree’s long-limbed grace or athleticism, or even a fraction of the young woman’s boldness at moving her body.
“Come on.” Luke pulled her across, using his momentum to help propel her so that she actually landed with some semblance of dignity.
When the construction actually got underway, there’d be small ladders and short footbridges to help the people on-site maneuver, but in the meantime, she was going to have to suffer. Her hips would probably be screaming in the morning.
She fixed her bag on her back and gave him a searching look as they started walking again. “Think about it, Luke. If your family had owned a business, don’t you think you’d be working there?”
“Nope.”
“Just nope? How can you be so certain?” And so confident. In spite of how fast she could make a retort, she always second- and third-guessed herself. Most days, she felt like a smooth-talking, high-heel wearing fraud.
He chuckled and freed his arm from around hers.
Darn.
She missed his touch the moment he withdrew it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so invigorated by a man’s proximity. Luke was like a sun’s worth of energy all bound up into a man-sized package. Charismatic in a way she couldn’t understand. People liked him, of course, but she’d taken for granted that she had to work to get him to like her back.
When she’d stepped onto the ship back on Earth, she hadn’t given much thought to whether or not her would-be betrothed would like her. Mail-order brides in the American Old West rarely had a choice on the other end. When they showed up in those cowboy towns, they had to try to make the best of their situations, and that often meant living with individuals they wouldn’t have interacted with under any circumstances back at home. Some of those men may have been lower
in status. Some might have simply been brutes, and romance was therefore untenable, but the women had seen an opportunity in those matches.
That was what Autumn had wanted: opportunity, not romance.
She hadn’t expected, though, that she’d accepted a match with a creature as interesting as Luke. He was her husband, and yet he was already involved with someone else.
She looked up and found him looking curiously down at her. His expression was neutral, similar to the one he’d been wearing in his 3D capture on the matching site, but somehow, there was animation in it—not like he really didn’t give a damn about anything.
Did he not give a damn when he took that picture?
She hoped that wasn’t true. She might not have gone to Jekh looking specifically for romance, but standing with him, feeling so at ease and secure in a way she’d never been before, she was certainly open to the possibilities.
Why not me?
There was no reason she couldn’t have someone.
“You all right?”
The entry of Alex’s voice into the conversation shattered any hopes that anything more than strained friendship between her and Luke would be possible. Just that fast, she’d pushed Alex to the back of her mind. A mistake. Luke wasn’t going to ignore him for her sake.
She probably wouldn’t have, either, if she were him.
Alex had backtracked to them and walked at Luke’s right.
Autumn turned her head and rolled her eyes where they couldn’t see.
“I know the terrain is difficult to maneuver over,” Alex said.
“Nah, we’re fine,” Luke said. “I was just about to tell Autumn about the butcher shop my dad and granddad own in Boston. The place is called Cipriani and Son. When I was a kid, I kinda dreaded that one day, Dad would be the Cipriani and I would be the son.”
“That’s how things tend to go,” Alex said.
Luke grunted. “Yeah. And then one day, my dad sat Marco and me down to talk to us about how much money he and Ma needed to put aside for college for us because he didn’t know the cost of that stuff and didn’t know if what we were studying would make a difference in what he’d have to pay.”
“You never told him that you wanted to go to college?” Autumn asked.
“Nope.” They stepped under the shade canopy where the project manager waited with Oreva and few other site attendants. As Luke filled water bottles, he said, “I guess both Marco and I were assuming that we were going to let Dad and Granddad down, but we’d never come right out and asked them what they wanted.” He handed a bottle of water to Autumn and then one to Alex. “He likes his job a lot and he likes owning something, but he didn’t want us to be butchers if we didn’t want to be. I think he was curious about what our potential might be and wanted us to do our own thing. I guess with Precious, he just assumed that chick wasn’t gonna toe the line. She was always college-bound.”
“I wish I’d had that sort of support.” Autumn surprised herself with her candor. She wasn’t used to sharing such embarrassing information about herself so openly. Cringing, she set down her bags. She didn’t want anyone to think she was pathetic. That was the last thing she was. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I had more advantages than the vast majority of people and still do. I know I’m privileged. It’s just that some of the choices I was given weren’t especially kind ones. None of them took into account what I might want for myself. I was forced to mold some sort of life for myself in spite of the constraints handed to me.”
“Poor you,” Alex murmured against the rim of his water bottle.
“Pardon me?”
He shrugged and swiveled his bright gaze down to her. “So you’ve had to make some sacrifices? We all do.”
“Alex…” Luke closed his eyes and exhaled the tiniest of groans. “Behave.”
“I’m being a perfect fucking knight, all things considered.”
“Yes, all things considered,” Autumn said at a volume just above a whisper. Normally, she might have been anxious that a shark like Oreva was occupying the site’s decision maker with such deep conversation, but for the moment, she was glad for the distraction. She had things she needed to get off her chest. “I don’t know what rule book says that scavenging someone else’s husband is chivalrous behavior.”
“You want to talk about scavenging, do you? Shall I hold up a mirror?”
Luke stepped between the two of them. He crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “Drop it,” he said through clenched teeth. “I told you both to save this shit for later.”
Autumn put up her hands and gave Alex a cool look. “Fine.”
She’d save it for later, all right, but not for one moment did she want Alex to think that he was off the hook for anything. He may have meant something to Luke, but he didn’t mean shit to her, and she wasn’t going to let him have her husband without a fight.
She wanted him, and it was high time she got something she wanted.
Back on Earth, she spent hours every weekday arguing with men who didn’t think she was capable or deserving of anything. She’d had plenty of practice, and the fight wasn’t one she intended to lose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Goodness, you’re up late again.”
Brenna sprang upright at the sound of the quiet, deep voice and rubbed her eyes. Tittering tiredly, she moved the wireless keyboard from her lap and set it on the floor of the main house’s gathering room. “I’m not really up, I guess.”
Herris came into view when she leaned back to stretch.
“I think I fell asleep for a bit.” She checked the time on her COM’s strap. “Three.” She groaned. “Well, that’s not useful. I don’t know what time I nodded off. Could have been five minutes ago or hours ago.”
He straightened a few cushions on the curved bench and sat, twining his fingers on his lap. “Your body would know the difference. Does it feel like minutes?”
Grimacing, she rolled her tense shoulders back. The muscles at the top ached and burned, so she quickly abandoned the exercise. “Hard to tell. My whole body is one big knot lately. I guess slouching in front of a computer for up to three-quarters of the day is starting to catch up to me.” She rubbed her neck and furrowed her brow at him. “What are you doing up?”
He was not only awake but perfectly put together as always. He was fastidious and prim. His posture was always so rigid, his gestures always so careful.
He wore a plain white tunic that brought out the russet tones of his skin and white-and-black patterned pants. She’d never seen them before, and Jekhans were, for the most part, quite conservative with the number of clothing articles they owned. Mixing and matching throughout the course of a week was normal, and no one would bat an eyelid if someone wore the same pants two or three times with different tunics. Such thrift was expected, and people were often recognizable by their wardrobes.
“I wanted to finish Kerry’s shoes before setting out to work in the fields,” he said.
“Ooh. I forgot about those. How long did they take you?”
He grunted and smoothed his thumb idly over his perfectly knotted hair bun. He had thick, wavy hair that never flew away, and she wondered how long it was. They’d lived on the same farm for years, and she still hadn’t seen his hair down.
“Hmm. Once I managed to track the child down to measure her feet, I was able to construct the soles and uppers in about eight hours. I would be done already, but I want them to be perfect.”
“I don’t think either Courtney or Murki expect perfection. Kerry’s probably going to run holes into those shoes within three weeks.”
He chuckled. “I hope she does. It’ll be an interesting experiment to see how my work holds up to the conditions here. The shoes I made for my children were constructed with hard street surfaces in mind.”
“Oh.” Brenna looked down at her hands and wrung them. She never knew what to say about his children, beyond the same trite, “I’m sorry” again and again, and he had to have been
tired of hearing that. He had to know that everyone who knew him was sorry.
“Tell me about your shoes,” he said.
“Mine?” Brenna queried curiously. “Why?” She lifted her left foot and peered down at her athletic shoe. It wasn’t anything special. A pink-and-tan cross-trainer style with stretch laces Precious had brought back from Earth for her. Brenna kept meaning to start running or to get any sort of exercise, really, but time kept slipping away from her.
“Why did you pick them?” Herris asked. “What is the purpose of them?”
“Oh. Well, on Earth—at least, where I came from—people wear these for sporting activities and as part of an everyday ensemble. I mean, they’re supposed to be just for exercising, but most younger people wear something similar as their casual shoe.”
“Because you have several pairs of shoes.”
“Yeah. Not like you guys at all. We have shoes for every occasion. Casual. Beach. Dress-up. Work. Athletic. Here, though, we tend to pare down the choices a bit. It’s not like we have clubs to dress up for or anything.”
“Hmm.” He extended a hand and nodded toward her foot. “May I?”
“Sure.” She quickly unlaced the shoe and handed it over.
She curled her toes against the cold floor and watched him study the underside of the shoe, the tongue, the laces, and the insole.
“They are comfortable?” His voice was level. There was no judgment in it, but she wondered what he really thought about the garish thing. He was probably far too civilized for sneakers.
“Yes. Comfort usually trumps elegance, hate to say it.”
He toyed with her frayed laces. “Fiddly, though.”
“I know yours are easier. You just have the tabs and that Velcro-like stuff to snug the fit. People have come up with other closures, but laces always seem to win out. Most kids learn to tie them by first grade.”
“They’re harder to take off when you enter a dwelling.”