Haunting Me (An Angel Falls Book 3)
Page 6
“I didn’t make it up. You’re a fox and they come around to remind you of who you are.”
“What about you, Nathaniel? If I’m part fox what animal are you?”
“You’ll laugh when I tell you, so I’m going to make one up, and say cougar.”
“Cougar? Okay,” she says half laughing. “I can kind of see it, but why?”
Mercifully, she doesn’t ask about the animal totem I didn’t say.
We drive through town and a clock outside the bank says it’s almost nine. It’s full dark and somewhat late for dinner. I don’t have to eat, but I can fake it if need be. I begin to look around for someplace to park the truck.
“When a cougar is learning to hunt, they go through a lot of trial and error. They’re only trying to survive, but a lot of mistakes are made before they learn how to use their power.”
“So you make a lot of mistakes? Is that supposed to be a warning?”
“Maybe,” I admit.
“I thought you were going to say you’re good at prowling around in the dark and pouncing on your victims,” she says with a laugh.
“Good one. But no. I don’t prowl, and the pouncing is where I keep messing up. It’s about the only thing I have in common with cougars. Their success rate when hunting is pathetic.” I glance over at Juliana who is watching me closely. Turning my attention back to the road, I continue, “I thought you’d maybe think cougars are powerful and elusive.”
“Oh, right,” she says, obviously backtracking to soothe my wounded manhood. “All those sleek muscles and killer instincts. Your spirit animal is definitely a big cat.”
“Making fun of me now, eh?”
She giggles.
“That’s just great. You’ll love it when I spit out the truth — I’m more like mountain lion food.”
A blue public parking sign catches my attention and I pull into a lot. The headlights shine across a manicured lawn and I glimpse a playground in the distance. I turn the key and the rumble of the engine stops. The summer night is cool but comfortable enough Juliana didn’t bring a sweatshirt. The stars twinkle through the windshield and are almost as beautiful as my date.
I feel her shift on the seat next to me. “I don’t think you’re as gentle as a deer. At least not all the time. So, what else do cougars eat?”
“I’ll tell you, but do you mind if we walk from here?”
“I’d love to walk with you,” she says and opens the door before I even have a chance to get out.
∞
Juliana
Nathaniel nearly causes me to have a stroke when he appears on my side of the truck without having seen him move. He reaches for the door, taking it from me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Will you let me open the door for you?”
“No,” I say a little shocked at his behavior.
“I’ll probably do it anyway,” he tells me as he shuts the door behind me.
I turn to face him, wondering if he’s really that old-fashioned. “What if I tell you I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door and you doing it for me feels like you think I am some poor helpless female?”
“You’re anything but helpless,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest. “I can’t stop doing what I think is right.”
I set my jaw for a second and consider the dilemma. “Women fought hard for their independence. I’ll never be the little woman.”
Nathaniel’s eyebrows shoot up as he watches me. “You don’t have to worry about me treating you like anything little. I know how incredible you are. But from my end of things, I have enough respect for you as a person to open a door and let you go first. That sort of thing is ingrained in my brain.”
“Maybe you should consider a brain transplant.”
Did I really just say that? The sides of his mouth twitch at the suggestion and I try not to laugh from nervous anxiety. Jeez Jules, use the filter between your thoughts and your mouth! He’s only being nice.
“Maybe you could try letting someone show you respect, and not get all worked up about it.”
“No way,” I say definitively. “Overreacting is another feminine right,” I joke, and hope it helps make up for my previous verbal slip-up.
His smile widens and I get a very strong impression this argument is pointless.
I keep up the banter. “Let me ask you one more question.”
“All right, but you probably won’t like the answer any better.”
“Fine,” I say and feel my chin lift the tiniest amount. “Who do you really open the door for? For me or for yourself?”
Nathaniel lowers his arms from across his chest. His face mimics mine in a look of stubborn defiance. I actually think he is considering my last attempt at convincing him helping someone who doesn’t ask, or need help, is in some way self-serving.
His eyes, which now appear much darker in the dim light of the parking lot, are dark gray and smoky. They leave mine, sweeping down the length of my body and back up again for at least the third time tonight. He lowers his tone. “With all the commotion over at your house, I forgot to tell you something.”
I give him a slightly perturbed look because he’s deliberately changing the subject without answering me. I look away as his face softens and his eyes do that thing where they seem to look into me and it sucks me in and makes me forget myself.
We’re at the park by the river and near the hot springs. The rushing sound of the water overshadows the whir of cars on the main street behind me. I catch the faintest trace of sulfur lingering in the air from the springs and my muscles suddenly crave the naturally hot water.
“Juliana?”
“Hmm?” I hum, as I stare over at the lights by the hot pools. He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard. All deep and velvety and when he speaks softly to me, I’m totally done for.
“Maybe there’s some machismo involved. I am a man,” he says as if this is an acceptable excuse. He smiles. It’s devious and too hot for his own good, even without trying to be. “I open the door for you, love.”
We both know he opens the door for his own ego, but neither of us admits it totally. I look down at my Mary Janes, somewhat embarrassed by my own behavior. “You know what sucks?” I admit. “A lot of women would think if you didn’t dote on them every single second, you’re a misogynistic jerk. I’m not that type of girl though.”
He steps forward so he’s in my space, mere inches from my chest. Immediately I feel my blood rise to the surface of every millimeter of skin. Thank God it’s mostly dark. The citrine yellow glow of the street lights should hide some of the flush in my traitorous cheeks. I close my eyes in a longer-than-necessary blink hoping to find self-control within the shadows of my eyelids and am bombarded with his smell. Intoxicating is the only description that comes to mind. There are layers to it, it’s nothing overwhelming like cologne, but he is clean-smelling at first, like ozone after a mountain storm, then there are hints of sweet — better than honeysuckle, but not flowery, just yummy. When he speaks this close to me and wrapped in his scent, I know I’m not coming back to myself. There are too many contenders when it comes to picking the hottest thing about Nathaniel Evans.
“You’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t. Especially when it comes to understanding a female,” he says.
My eyes flutter open and I stare at his shoulder, trying and only partially succeeding at following the now unimportant conversation. Something about women’s expectations of a man and how I detest such old-fashioned ideas.
“Mmm-hmm,” I agree.
“Understanding them or not, I’ll open the door for you just to watch you walk by.”
“Is that so?” I can hardly focus on what he’s saying.
“And if you smiled at me, I would conquer the world for you.”
I look down at the front of his shirt vaguely wondering if angels cast spells on people. His voice, and his presence…he’s like a warm summer breeze filled with every sweet memory. His
essence swirls around me and through me and I’m carried away and I no longer care where I’m headed.
“What I wanted to say, back at your house,” he says, continuing his earlier thought.
He stops and clears his throat with a tiny groan. The sound pulls at my lower abdomen and I feel a rush of heat move through my blood. Oh God help me, the sensation makes me want to throw myself at him.
He raises his hand so slowly I get a shiver of anticipation running amok over sensitive parts of my body. His fingers finally land on the top of my shoulder. His hand is overly warm and firm, but still soft. The wide opening of my forest green boat neck shirt leaves a lot of exposed skin. As he brushes my hair back over my shoulder I decide I need to buy one of these shirts for every day of the week.
“I’m glad to see you,” he finally says.
His hand moves to the edge of my jaw making me look up into his pewter-colored eyes, but they’re staring at my mouth.
“And I meant to tell you that you look amazing and ask if you would like to get something to eat?”
“Are you hungry?” I ask, the words coming out of me automatically.
“Hmmm,” he says.
That tiny groan again. It steals my breath. Don’t jump on him for goodness sake.
His beautifully curved mouth turns up at the edges into a small grin that makes me think he finds something funny and he isn’t sharing it with me. I don’t have time to dwell on it though as he leans down and barely brushes his lips against mine.
He pulls back and murmurs, “This is supposed to be a normal date, right?”
“Can you define normal for me?”
Nathaniel’s smile spreads. He takes one of my hands in his and his eyes search mine. He looks so uncharacteristically happy I feel myself frown a little with uncertainty. His moodiness is what I am used to. Nathaniel’s happy face doesn’t register at first.
“You know, dinner and a movie if you want. Or maybe a walk in the park and then I drop you off at your front door and say goodnight, and hope you’ll call me later.”
“That’s pretty normal,” I admit.
We start walking toward the lights of the restaurants and shops, my hand firmly nestled in his.
“Do you really want to eat?” I ask.
Our pace is slower than normal. He squeezes my hand once and I think he’s hesitating to give me an answer.
“I know you don’t have to, but do you like food anymore?”
“After I died,” he pauses again as if considering his answer thoroughly. “It was hard to let go of the habit of eating regularly. Over time the routine of eating passed and now…I have no need of food. I do like the colors and textures and the variety of it though.”
“Why are we going out to eat then?” I ask.
“Standard date protocol,” he says.
“Okay, except I’ve never been very good at normal. You really don’t miss anything? Pizza? Bar-b-que? Ice cream?”
“I’m not sure what happened; ever since I became what I am now, I really like chocolate. It’s the only food that matters anymore. In the history of the world, it has to be the only food that has ever mattered.”
“You have a sweet tooth,” I say and laugh out loud at the absurdity of it. You die and still want to eat candy.
“I rarely eat it, but yeah. Give me chocolate and I’ll be in a sugary fog of blissful content.”
He laughs with me, showing me all his perfectly straight teeth. His canines are a little pointed, which I find extremely sexy for some unknown fetishlike reason.
“What about you? I’ve never seen you eat meat. Are you a vegetarian?”
“No,” I answer immediately. “Wait. I don’t call myself a vegetarian, but I sort of am. Can someone be a closet vegetarian?”
“I suppose you could keep anything hidden if you wanted to.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” I defend. With the thought of hiding something, I have an unnerving twinge of guilt about the creepy feeling I had in my bedroom, and the mystery of how my four-leaf clover necklace moved on its own. I’m not really keeping it a secret. The subject just hasn’t come up. I bury those thoughts for now. Returning to the subject at hand I say, “I usually choose not to eat meat. I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I know you care a lot about animals. I saw you risk your life over an injured deer, remember?”
Sucking in a breath, I release it as I tell him the main reason I rarely eat meat. “When I eat a salad or potato soup, I don’t see cute furry faces staring back at me. I know other people don’t have this problem with meat, but it makes it hard to swallow when you do.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Nathaniel says without hesitation or judgment. “People have much crazier reasons for doing the things they do. Did you know Pythagoras was totally against eating all beans? He claimed they were evil. He was also a promoter of vegetarianism. That was about fifteen hundred years ago. You’re not alone.”
“I’m glad you don’t think it’s too weird. But you have to know, I don’t have anything against beans.”
“I think you should eat whatever you want. It’s one of the greatest things about life… you get to choose for yourself.”
I look up at my date, catching a whiff of regret somewhere in those words. Stark nakedness in those gray storm clouds he calls his eyes meets mine with a flicker of buried sadness. I vaguely notice we’ve stopped walking. Does he regret having his life taken from him at such a young age?
“You can’t change anyone, Jules. All you can do is change yourself,” he whispers.
“Is this how you get people to cross over with you?” I whisper back, feeling like I’ve just glimpsed a side to Nathaniel that is pure mysticism and enchantment. I’d go anywhere with him.
His perfectly sculpted brows dip in the center in a troubled and weary look.
“You tell them secrets to the universe and promise them more if they follow you to the other side,” I say.
His face softens suddenly and I see him glance down at my mouth and back up to my eyes. He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No,” he whispers so it’s only a hint of sound on his breath.
He moves in closer to me. His eyes never leave mine as he bends down and tenderly places his lips against my own. This time there is something like raw emotion fueling him. Raising his head, but never losing eye contact he says, “No one wants to journey alone. I’m just their guide.”
A warm current trickles through my body with his touch. “There has to be more to it. Your responsibilities can’t be that simple.” My voice sounds breathy and strained. I ignore it and focus on every other pleasant sensation, mostly the silky tone of Nathaniel’s voice.
“There is more to it, but not much. Come on, I’ll tell you anything you want to know but first I see some chocolate in our near future.”
Just then a passing car honks its horn and I hear a familiar gravelly voice shout, “Hey, Jules, you goin’ on tour with us?”
Startled, I glance over and see Derrick Brewer, the drummer for my brother’s band, Mostly Mayhem, driving by, his head sticking out the window of Caleb’s minivan. No doubt my brother is inside with the rest of the band, having their numbskull’s reunion.
“Tour?” Nathaniel asks.
The possibility of touring with Jared and the band hadn’t even crossed my mind. With Nathaniel on his way over for our date, the oddness of my necklace moving on its own, and the admission of Jared’s drug problem, I didn’t have time to think about the details of the upcoming tour. Of course, I should go with the band. I’ve been to nearly every show since they started. The horn honks obnoxiously and I see Derrick’s head disappear back inside the van as they drive down the street.
“Come on. I’ll tell you while we eat,” I say, and start walking again.
We pass the steakhouse and the Mexican restaurant and I start to wonder if Nathaniel has any idea where he’s going or if we’re just walking until something looks good. An idea comes to me and I know the right place.
“Juliana, I may not have thought this through very well. Work has been crazy-mad. Do you…err, I…”
“No worries. I know where we can go, and you’ll love it.”
He looks away, his face blank, but all too telling. He’s brooding.
“I open doors for myself, and I’m going to pick the restaurant, too. May as well get used to it.”
His frown deepens, but he crosses Main Street with me and we head toward a lit patio about a half a block up.
“Juliana, I respect your strength. It’s that I’m just now figuring out what that entails.”
“I’m not the strong one around here,” I say.
“You are,” he says in a way that leaves no room for argument.
Chapter Seven: Ghosts of the Past
Juliana
Nathaniel stares at the menu card, then looks over at me. There’s a little twinkle in his eye and I feel my heart melt. He puts an arm around my shoulders and hugs me close as if to say, “Well done. Really great.”
I hide my smile and turn to the girl behind the counter waiting to take our order. “Can I have a cup of the cream of squash soup and a grilled veggie sandwich on a French roll?”
The girl, I think her name is Anna, types in my order. She looks at Nathaniel and her blue eyes widen. I think I hear a little pop as one of her circuits blow.
“Umm, can I get you anything?” she manages to ask, but the drool starting to ooze from the corner of her mouth is really unattractive. There really isn’t any drool, but there may as well be. She smiles coyly and bats her lashes as Nathaniel gives his order.
He starts with, “Hi. How’s it going?”
This almost makes her swoon. I swear she’s about to faint. And I would know because I get the same feeling when he talks to me.
He places his order and Anna squeaks, “Anything else?”
I’ve been completely forgotten by Anna which is fine with me. I’ve been staring across the room, slightly flushed in the cheeks by his order. Is he planning to eat all that by himself?