Protecting Rayne

by Emily Bishop

  The tears welled up and blurred my vision. “Th-thanks.” God, don’t cry in front of him. You’re supposed to be strong. What would Mom say?

  “Listen, I’m going to find the childish, piece of shit jackass who did this and make them fucking clean it. I’ll make them lick it off.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I replied, and the tears spilled over. A sob rocked my chest. I smacked the wetness on my cheeks but more appeared to replace it.

  He dragged me against him again and stroked my hair, gently, so gently. “Looking after you is necessary. Looking after yourself, too. Understand? I want to be here for you, Aurora. But I want you to realize that you’re worth it. You’re amazing, and you can’t let people get to you like this.”

  I couldn’t speak. I buried my face against his chest, silently thankful I’d put on a dash of waterproof mascara this morning. I slurped like a friggin’ toddler and cried on.

  We stood there, under the sun, with the forest at our backs and the RV’s horrible tagline in front of us. Gypsy whore. Gypsy whore. Jarryd ran his palms over my back, my arms, almost every inch he could reach.

  It wasn’t sexual, precisely, just a soothing stroke that made me supple. I relaxed against him, the tears abated, sobs slowed. I struggled back a step, and he steadied me. I wiped off my cheeks, under my nose, and grimaced. “Oh, god,” I said. “I’ve totally messed up your shirt.”

  “I’ve got like ten of these here,” he said and plucked at the cotton button-down, which was soaked through. No black streaks, at least. Score one for Maybelline.

  “Ten,” I said and allowed for a watery giggle. “How imaginative.”

  “Hey, they’re versatile, OK? You can wear them with suits and with… uh…”

  “More suits?” I smiled.

  He pinched my chin. “That’s what I like to see,” he muttered.

  I hiccupped, blocked it then swallowed. “I’d better get cleaned up.” I picked up the tube of pepper spray from the grass.

  “Mind if I stick around? I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jarryd said.

  How could I say no? He’d held me and rocked me like a newborn babe. The moment of weakness had passed, but my addiction to his presence surely hadn’t. “Of course. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  We fell into step beside each other and circled the RV, away from the horrible reminder from Moondance. I halted in front of the stairs and searched through my tote bag for the keys to the RV.

  “What are these?” Jarryd asked and tapped the basket of crystals with his index fingers. “What type of crystals are they?”

  “Do you really want to know?” I jangled the keys, and Mistress poked her nose out from under the RV. She meowed at me then padded into view.

  “Of course, I do,” he said. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

  I inserted the keys into the lock, flicked them, and let Mistress in. “All right,” I said and lifted the basket instead of following my cat into the RV. Maybe talking about the crystals would take my mind off the… other stuff. “Pick one,” I said.

  Jarryd chewed his bottom lip and leaned in, bringing more of that cologne, not too overpowering, and the heat of close proximity. I swallowed and admired the stubble along his strong jaw, little dots of brown hair, and his aquiline nose.

  He wasn’t cookie-cutter handsome, and I adored that about him. The slightly hooked nose that accented his eagle-sharp gaze gave him character a model couldn’t possess.

  The actor reached into the basket and drew out the rose quartz. “What’s this?” Jarryd asked.

  He’d chosen a smooth crystal, rounded, pink, with a few milky streaks of white at its heart. “Rose quartz,” I replied. “It’s meant to bring inner peace. It’s also the crystal of love and relationships. It’s got a comforting energy.”

  Jarryd held the crystal out to me, cupped in his palm. “It’s beautiful,” he said and pressed it into my hands. “It’s perfect for you.”

  “I—thank you,” I said. “I’d better get cleaned up.” I carried the crystal into the RV and placed it on the kitchen table then hurried to the bathroom to freshen up. I clicked on the yellow bathroom light, fisted my hips, and faced myself in the mirror over the sink.

  The sight of my red puffy eyes almost brought out a wail. And Jarryd had seen me like this? Yikes.

  Then again, what did it matter? If he could handle the slogan painted along the back of my truck, he could likely deal with my puffy eyes. He’s not shallow, anyway. He doesn’t care about that stuff. Or did he? He’d dated and almost married Felicity Swan, for god’s sake.

  A knock rattled the front door. “Aurora? Are you OK in there? Do you need help with anything?”

  “I’m fine,” I called back. I splashed water on my face, dried it off, and examined myself all over again. Not any great change, except my cheeks had gone a little pink, too. Pink as rose quartz. My heart thudded.

  I spritzed a little perfume onto my wrists, clinked the bottle onto the little shelf in my medicine cabinet then trundled out of the bathroom and toward the exit.

  Jarryd waited for me at the bottom of the steps. He hadn’t come in.

  “Coffee,” I said, “I forgot to make coffee.”

  He caught my hand before I could disappear inside again. “You don’t have to make coffee. I mean, unless you want some.”

  “What I want? I want to sit down,” I said and promptly plonked down on the steps, beside the two remaining crystals in their basket. Citrine for prosperity. Aquamarine for truth. “And I want to wash the back of my RV later. And then? I don’t know what then. I’m still working that out.”

  “I told you, you’re not going to wash the back of the RV. The person who did this will clean it off.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said, “but it’s not how the world works. At least, not for people like me.” I looked up at him, and he towered over me, eyebrows drawn together. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. Look, I fucked up,” Jarryd said and crouched on his haunches in front of me. The front of his shirt flapped open and afforded me a view of the toned body underneath. “The whole of yesterday was a fuckup.”

  “It’s—I don’t know.”

  “I lost my cool last night, Aurora. I don’t like the way that chump talks to you. I don’t like the way you let him talk to you.”

  “I don’t let him do anything,” I said, and a steel rod rammed into place between my shoulders. “I don’t let anyone do what they do. They just do it.”

  “I’m fucking it up again,” he said and pressed his knuckles to his forehead, already lined with a few premature creases. “I want to apologize for interfering and bringing attention to you that you probably didn’t want or need, right now. Your plans are important to you, and Moondance is the town you want to call home. I don’t want to jeopardize that for you. So, I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” I said. And I did appreciate the sentiment. It was sincere enough but it didn’t help the brewing nerves in my stomach. Those butterflies were back. They’d flown in the minute he’d crouched down in front of me. “And it’s not your fault alone. I—uh, I was involved, too.”

  “Last night was tough,” he said. “I’d like to make it up to you. Would you like to go grab some breakfast?”

  I had the entire day off today. No fortune-telling, and no shift at the Moondance Bar and Grill. Jerr had insisted I take time to relax and forget about all these assholes, as he’d put it. “I don’t think that’s wise.” I didn’t want to be alone, right now. I didn’t like the thought of chilling in my RV with Gypsy Whore painted across its side, but heading out to brunch with Jarryd would only complicate matters more.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, firmly. “That smut scrawled across your RV upset you.”

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll survive.”

  “It’s not about whether you’ll survive or not,” he muttered and brushed his fingers through his hair—gel-free, and now wavy from the disturbance. “It
’s the fact that all the nightmares you had about coming back to Moondance are coming true, and I’m part of that. I’m the reason.”

  “No, ignorance is the reason. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. I’ve driven through enough towns to know that’s the damn truth.”

  Jarryd’s gaze hardened. “People are idiots.”

  “We’re people,” I replied. “Doesn’t that make us idiots, too?”

  “Well, if you’re going to get all philosophical and logical, I can’t argue with you.” He put up his palms.

  I laughed, and it felt damn good. The laugh got some of the nasties out. The mucky feeling of being watched and judged by people. By James, especially. Had it been him who’d done that to the side of the RV? It was his catchphrase, after all.

  “Look, I can handle being on my own.” Before he’d arrived, it’d been all I wanted. Some time alone to process what I wanted and whether my mother’s cabin and those happy memories were worth all the pain it would take to get them.

  But with Jarryd here, those thoughts faded away. He was so solid, so fucking tangible. I could touch him, right now, run my fingers down his arm and feel the notches of his knuckles.

  Jarryd sucked his bottom lip, tapped his thumbs together. “What if we hung out at the motel?”

  “We can’t. People would see, and it’d lead to more of this,” I said and gestured to my RV. Was it selfish of me to want to preserve myself? “I don’t know about you, but I could use some anonymity.”

  “Anonymity’s something I won’t have again. But,” he said and raised a finger, “there’s a back entrance at the motel. If you don’t want to be seen, I can sneak you in.”

  “You didn’t mention this yesterday,” I said.

  “You didn’t give me a chance,” he replied. “You marched off. Your feet must be killing you.”

  I’d soaked them all afternoon before my shift and managed all right. “I’m used to walking,” I said.

  I let quiet grow between us and looked out at the forest that encompassed the park. The distant shriek of joy from the fairgrounds, and a slight tinkling of music signaled that the rides had finally started up.

  I could go there now, open up my fortune-telling tent even though I’d decided to take the time off.

  “So? What do you say? What about we order some room service, chat, watch a little TV. Just have a chill day. No pressure.”

  It sounded good. Better than what I’d planned—cleaning the RV and setting out the crystals in my tent in the fairground. “I—OK, that’s, yeah. We can do that. Why not?” Apart from the myriad reasons that involved my burgeoning feelings for him and the trouble they’d cause for both of us.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Chapter 15

  Jarryd

  The flat screen TV on the wall remained off, and the curtains, partially drawn to block out the gray clouds in the late afternoon sky, gave my motel room a sense of serenity it hadn’t had when I’d left this morning.

  Or maybe, that was because Aurora sat at the table in the corner. She smiled at me then took a bite of chocolate mousse. “This is good,” she said.

  “I know, right?” I gobbled down a spoonful myself and shifted across from her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You didn’t have anything else to do today?”

  That was a loaded question. I had a ton of shit to get through, and all of it involved Pride’s Death. “No. Well, yeah, but I’d much rather be doing this.”

  “That’s sweet,” she said and slurped down more mousse.

  I clacked the plastic spoon against my teeth. “Aurora?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a question. I—look, feel free not to answer it if you feel uncomfortable.”

  “OK,” she said and put down her spoon. She sat back and waited, hands in her lap, head tilted to one side.

  I got up and took both her empty mousse cup and mine to the tray on the silver cart the waiter had left behind.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “What happened to your mom?” I asked. “How did she pass?”

  Aurora got up, too, but she looked out of the window instead, up at the gray blanket now clouding the blue sky beyond. Her shoulders tensed up, but they didn’t shake with silent tears as I’d feared.

  “It happened in Moondance,” she said, at last. “My mom and I, we walked everywhere. The RV, you see? It wasn’t exactly a traveling car. We paid for a lot in the RV park and left it there.”

  “OK.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, with its duck’s egg blue sheets, and leaned my elbows on my thighs. Don’t crowd her. Let her talk it out and if she wants a hug after then give her one.

  “So, yeah, we walked everywhere. It was—sorry. It was a Friday afternoon and we were walking to the restaurant together. Mom wanted to see if I could get a summer job there, because Jerr was a big ol’ sweetheart and usually gave me one.” Aurora cleared her throat. “We used the long road through the woods then hit the road and walked on down. We were probably a half mile out of town when it happened.”

  I braced myself.

  “Some drunk ass came around the corner. Came right for us. Right for me, actually. Mom pushed me out of the way, and he—he got her instead.” She shook her head, voice thick now.

  I itched to hold her and dissolve the pain, but this wasn’t something I could heal. That was time’s job.

  “I didn’t know she was gone until they told me in the ambulance. I broke my arm and they had to patch it up, and they were doing it when I found out. The police wanted to ask me questions. I lost it. I don’t remember what happened after that, not until I woke up the next day in the hospital and realized that it wasn’t all a bad dream, and that she was gone. And I was alone. For good.”

  Not for good. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Aurora.”

  “It’s seven years in the past,” she replied and walked toward me, paused halfway across the room. A teardrop fell from her chin and splatted onto her white cotton shirt. “It still hurts. But I’ve made do. That’s why the cabin is so important to me. My mom wanted me to have a good life. I think she regretted the decision to take me traveling all over the place. Moondance was her last chance to be happy.”

  “She had you. Of course she was happy.”

  She gulped and wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “Oh, god, I’m crying again. I’m like a friggin’ sprinkler system today.” A weak chuckle.

  How strong was this woman? How much had she been through that I didn’t even know about?

  “What about you?” she asked. “Where are your parents?”

  Oh, fuck. Worst subject in the world, but then, I opened the damn can. Worms are everywhere now. “My parents. My mom died of cancer ten years ago. I’m still struggling with it. She was a wonderful human being. I think she’s the only reason I turned out remotely sane.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Let’s forget apologies and remorse for now,” I said and smiled at her.

  “And your father?”

  “He’s… complicated. We don’t speak anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “My father was a hard man. He didn’t have much love for me or my mother, at least, he didn’t show enough. He was obsessed with work but he kept trying and failing, trying and failing. I think what fucked me up about it was the fact that he blamed his failure on us. He felt his family held him back.”

  “Wow,” Aurora said.

  “Yeah. I promised myself I wouldn’t fail like he did, and that I wouldn’t treat a woman like he treated my mother.”

  Aurora walked to the bed and perched on it, beside me. She reminded me of a bird, on the point of taking flight, except that was the last thing I wanted. I’d never expected this—sharing feelings, memories with a woman I’d met only days before, but it was right.

  Miniscule space between us, her heat mingling with mine, and my heart, fuck, it wouldn’t behave. It beat a mile a damn minute.

  “Thank you,” she
said.

  “For what?” I hadn’t done anything except listen and talk. I hadn’t helped her situation in Moondance, nor mine with Pride’s Death.

  “Listening. Understanding,” she whispered. “No, that’s not it. Thank you for keeping your judgment to yourself.”

  “I’d never judge you,” I said.

  She turned to me then, eyes ablaze, dark liquid pools. I could fall into them, trace the line of her nose with my thumb. Sear her with a kiss. All the things I could do and only end up falling deeper into the hole I’d already dug for myself.

  Love was another trap. Or was it? Aurora was freedom made flesh, and I was a worker robot. Two different worlds. So god damn different but I didn’t care anymore.

  “What’s happening?” she asked.

  “Between us?”

  “Yes. What is happening?” Aurora licked those plump lips. Christ, even her uncertainty was sexy.

  I took her hand and held it, palm upward. I traced the lines, though I couldn’t recall any of the names she’d given me for them. Her fingers twitched, closed ever so slightly. I raised that hand and placed it on my chest, right over my heart.

  “This is happening,” I said. My heart skipped beats, thudded hard and fast for her. “I can’t put it into words.” Not yet. Or you’ll scare her. Shit, you’ll scare yourself.

  Aurora quivered.

  I caressed her wrist, down her arm and to her shoulder, up to her throat, rested my thumb on her chin. “I want to know more,” I said.

  “Me, too.” She trembled all over now, her light cotton tee straining at her breasts. Her breaths came in short gasps. “Me, too.”

  I cupped her chin and leaned in, inch by inch. So fucking slow. I’d draw this moment out as long as I could, prolong this feeling. The rock in the center of my chest dissolved into grit and drifted away.

  Aurora watched my approach, eyes flicking from my lips to my unflinching stare, back down again. And up, and down.

  “I want to know everything,” I said, against her lips.

  She whimpered.

  Finally, I claimed her, searing her with a kiss. Scouring us both, taking whatever had pained us, balling it up, throwing it out. There was only room for two in here.