Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set

by Amy Miles

  I remembered Trip’s gun and wondered if going to Lynn’s on our own was a good idea. “Should we call Sam?”

  I wasn’t going to say Collins. I’d rather go alone than have her tag along. I think. I mean, she was a full trained officer.

  “I’m not calling Sam. He told me to stay off the case.” He slammed his index finger down onto the pad. “There it is. Not too far from here.”

  I took the pad from him and stared at the address. “Are you sure we should go alone?”

  “Look, it’s not like Sam got anything out of her last night.” He started the ignition. “Maybe if we go over there on unofficial police business . . . I don’t know. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

  What he said made sense but I still felt the cold shoulder. Like I’d betrayed him by not answering his question or something. “You’re mad.”

  He grabbed the gearshift and started to slide it into drive.

  I put my hand over his and shoved it back into park. “It hurt like hell, okay?”

  He kept his head down, focused on the stick we were both holding.

  “It felt like someone stuck my arm in a fire pit.” My voice was quiet but steady as I tried to detach myself from what I’d seen. “The images were fuzzy at first, but I saw him stab me. Over and over. He wants me dead.”

  He turned toward me, his eyes meeting mine. “I won’t let him hurt you again.”

  My eyes went straight to Trip’s holster. “Is that why you have a gun? Do you actually have training, a license and everything?”

  “I’ve clocked plenty of time at the shooting range.” He turned away from me and slid the stick into drive. “We’re going to solve this, Kylie. We’ll get them. You won’t have to experience anything like that ever again. I promise.”

  I fingered the pad of paper in my hands, knowing he hadn’t answered my question.

  Trip looked over his left shoulder, stepped on the pedal once again, and we roared down the street.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stared through the front windshield and pulled my knees up to my chest as Trip cruised down 21st Street in downtown Sacramento. “Do you think we’re being followed?”

  “No. I’ve been checking and we’re clear.” He eased off the pedal as we drove past The Bean and he moved into the left lane. “If we’re going to scrape answers out of Lynn at this time of night, I’m going to grab a cup of Joe.”

  My eyes bulged. “You want a cup of who?”

  “Coffee.”

  “O-kaaay.” That’s just weird. The Joe thing. Not the coffee itself. Personally, I’m always up for a decaf peppermint mocha. It wouldn’t help me stay awake but caffeine just makes me jittery anyway. It’s all about the flavor.

  He flipped a U-turn and squeezed into the narrow parking lot at The Bean, which was surprisingly full for ten o’clock at night. I stepped out of the car and then remembered tonight was Saturday. Yep. Saturday night. Most people were out having fun right about now. Must be cool to be them.

  What was I complaining about? A hot guy was about to buy me a peppermint mocha. What could be better than that?

  My footsteps slowed. Wait a minute. He hadn’t actually offered to buy my drink. He’d bought me a soda earlier at the bar but the cops had pretty much egged him into that. Should I offer to pay for my drink myself? It’s not like we were on a date and he should pay, right? Although, let’s face it, nowadays men don’t always pay on dates. Not that I’d technically been on one, but I liked to think of myself as a modern girl.

  Then again, modern girl or cave girl, Trip had a part-time job at the station whereas I’m lucky to get twenty bucks from my dad each week. So, I should definitely let him treat. Right?

  He held the front door open for me and I stepped into The Bean.

  Holding open the door must be a sign that he’s old-fashioned. He’d probably be offended if I tried to pay for myself. Although, what kind of independent girl expects a guy to buy her a coffee drink? I should probably even offer to pay for his. Really. He was driving me around protecting me for free, so what kind of cheapo was I? My head spun. I never realized getting a mocha—or a cup of Joe or whatever—could be so stressful. How on earth do couples manage to imbibe without needing therapy after?

  Not that we’re a couple.

  Yet. Still working on that.

  Maybe I should be more aggressive on the couple thing and speed things up between us. Then we’d work through these crazy coffee dilemmas.

  A lovey dovey couple stood in front of us as we waited in line to order. I ignored their PDA and instead obsessed on which one of them would be treating. Guy or girl? I stole a glance at Trip who appeared calm. Was that because he planned to buy me a drink? Or not?

  I glanced down at his hand. Maybe if I slyly slipped my right palm against his, I could do a swift read and put an end to this tortuous apprehension. It would just be a peek. Barely a look. That’s not so wrong.

  “Welcome to The Bean. May I help you?” The cheerful gal behind the counter wore a brown cap with a white, coffee mug patch on the front. She seemed oblivious to the stress I was under.

  “I’ll have a sixteen ounce cup of drip and—” Trip turned to me “what would you like?”

  I swallowed. “I’ll have a medium decaf peppermint mocha with whipped cream.”

  “Alrighty.” The girl pressed buttons on the register and smiled liked she was Miss America.

  Okay, he’d put our order together. Now what? I should definitely pay. At least for mine. Maybe I’ll just hand the barista enough money for the both of us and let her decide. She worked here and looked pretty smart. Surely she knew how to deal with this kind of problem better than me.

  “That’ll be $5.12, please.”

  I unzipped my tiny purse to pull out my wallet, when Trip raised a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

  “Thanks.” I blushed. Oh my gosh! I couldn’t believe it. He was buying me a mocha. That made this a semi-date, right? I floated to the end of the counter with a goofy grin on my face.

  Here I’d been, all this time, complaining about mind reading. But if it weren’t for my wacky power, I wouldn’t have met Trip. I mean, the guy’s beyond hot and for some reason I could talk to him without getting all sarcastic. How many guys could I say that about?

  “You’re too modest.” I heard a familiar high-pitched giggle that reminded me of a certain ex-best friend’s attempt at flirtation. “You’re amazing at all sports. Don’t pretend you’re not. What-evs!”

  I froze, then slowly turned around.

  Blonde hair was being flipped over a bare shoulder.

  My body tensed as I did a double take to confirm. Definitely Julie. And the guy standing next to her was . . . oh, it just figures. Joel Templeton. Nothing going on, huh? In love with Brandon, huh? Were she and Joel openly dating now?

  When Julie turned her head slightly, I dashed behind a rack of CDs. Just because I was pissed off didn’t mean I was comfortable with confrontation. I waited a few seconds, then peered around the metal rack, hoping I could make a safe dash for the door.

  Julie and Joel stood about four feet away from me, facing each other, completely oblivious to the fact that they’d been caught. Well, at least Julie was caught considering she’d called herself my best friend. What a joke.

  She put a hand on Joel’s forearm. Easy to see how not interested in him she was.

  “I’m absolutely serious,” Joel said, in his silky smooth voice that, although not as sexy as Trip’s, was still admittedly attractive.

  What happened to Joel liking me? Did the guy just hop to the nearest girl, or what?

  “Oh, puh-leeze.” She giggled again, then fingered the necklace above her strapless top.

  I knew it was lame, but it killed me that Julie’s outfit looked way cuter than mine—the dark turtleneck I’d put on this morning to hide the bruises on my neck and jeans? Not exactly sexy.

  How could I slip out of here unnoticed? I took a step in the direction of the door, but Joel laughed a
nd turned my way so I zipped back behind the CD rack. Trapped.

  Anger coursed through me as he laughed again. Julie giggled and I gritted my teeth. This was sheer torture. How long would I have to stand here and listen to their betrayal?

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Julie said. “You could totally bench press circles around Brandon.”

  I rolled my eyes and took a step toward the exit. Like a person could bench press circles. “Nice line,” I mumbled, then turned to escape and instead smacked into Trip who was carrying our drinks.

  “Aagh!” I screeched as hot coffee seeped into my shirt. I plucked the material away from my skin and gaped in horror at the now only partially filled white to-go cups in Trip’s hands. “Hot. Hot. Hot.”

  Trip’s eyes widened as he stared at my shirt. “I didn’t see that coming. Anything I can do?”

  I cursed Trip’s “Cup of Joe” as I hopped from foot to foot, still holding my shirt away from me. Don’t ask me why my body thought hopping would help at a time like this. See why I don’t need caffeine?

  “Kylie?” Joel managed to tear his eyes from his current love interest’s sexy top and took a step toward me. Great. So much for avoiding confrontation. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bathing in coffee. Isn’t that obvious?” Still snippy when I talked to him. Why was I reverting to sarcasm? Freaking Joel Templeton, that’s why. Joel Temptation was more like it. Well, not anymore. I glared at my former crush who was out with my best friend—correction, ex-best friend—when only two days ago, he’d been having hot thoughts about me. He’d better not deny it either. I could recall the visual with the snap of a finger. Not that I wanted to.

  To Joel’s credit, he did look slightly embarrassed at my drenched shirt situation. “Yeah, that sucks. Want a napkin or something?”

  “A napkin would be divine.” I pinched my shirt away from my body as I thankfully managed to stop bouncing from foot to foot.

  Joel turned around to reach for the napkin dispenser at the end of the counter, but somehow Trip got there first. Balancing our two coffee drinks in one hand, he reached in front of Joel, pulled several wheat-colored napkins out and handed them to me.

  “Thanks,” I said, flatly. My buzz from our semi-date had disappeared.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Joel said.

  “Well, currently, I’m mopping up coffee.” On top of being unable to focus on just one girl for two days, he obviously had a sight problem. Why did he insist on making me verbally express an already humiliating enough episode?

  “What I meant was, why aren’t you sick at home in bed?”

  I stared at him blankly. Was Joel’s coffee spiked? “I’m not at home sick in bed because I’m standing here in a coffee shop. Perfectly healthy.” At least physically. If you didn’t count the bruises. Or the mind reading thing.

  Joel looked thoroughly confused, although I have to admit, I didn’t used to like him for his smarts. “But Julie said—”

  “Kylie!” Julie pushed her way between Joel and me. “Sweetie, come here, we have to talk in private a moment. Excuse us.”

  I gave Trip an apologetic look as Julie dragged me to a corner. I’d somehow forgotten how pushy she could be.

  She crossed her arms over her silky chest. “First of all, what are you doing here with that guy? He’s the one from the quad yesterday, right? Are you two dating? Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  What did she mean first of all? That sounded like first, second, third, and all of all. Apparently Julie found lying, almost-boyfriend stealing, and pelting me with personal questions to be perfectly acceptable behavior. To tell the truth, the bossy attitude hadn’t bothered me so much when I thought she was a trusted loyal friend. Now that I knew the truth, she was so going to get an earful from me. “Um, I guess he’s kind of a friend.”

  What can I say? Old habits died hard.

  “What kind of friend? So he’s available? Where’d you meet him?” Her penciled brows drew together. “You’d better not have gone to a party without me.”

  I cringed and marveled at how she’d turned things around, making me somehow feel guilty when she’s the one who’d stolen my almost boyfriend. I’d had enough. “Why does Joel think I should be at home in bed?”

  Julie blinked her thick lashes, then pointed a finger at me. “Don’t change the subject. You’re holding out on me. How’d you meet that hot guy without me knowing?”

  I pointed a finger right back at her. “You told Joel I was sick. Admit it.”

  “Have you been sniffing glue?” Her voice had an edge as if the thought that she’d betray me was way out there. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

  I gestured toward Joel who stood by the napkin dispenser and appeared to be sizing up Trip. Actually, they seemed to be sizing each other up. Must be a male thing. “He just said you said it. Are you deaf?”

  Julie took in a breath and made a gasping sound like she couldn’t believe I’d even ask her that. “How can you talk to me like this?” She put a hand to her heart. “I’m your best friend.”

  “Are you for real?” Did she think that Drama 101 would distract me from what she’d done? I couldn’t help wondering if she’d used this technique on me before and had it work. “For your information, denying something doesn’t make you less of a liar.”

  Tears formed in her eyes. Real tears. No joke. “That hurts.”

  “Catching you lying to me?” My eyes started to burn and I inhaled deeply to stay calm.

  “Don’t be mad, Kylie.” She threw her hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Fine. Maybe I did tell Joel you were sick and couldn’t make it to the party last night.”

  “I thought he meant tonight.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Was is it Friday night, too? How long have I supposedly been sick?”

  “It really doesn’t matter.” She mimicked my stance by crossing her arms and then glared at me. Actually glared at me. Like this was my fault. Like I hadn’t shared my lip-gloss with her for seven years. Well, when I wore it at least. “It’s not like you’d know what to do with a guy like Joel, anyway. You can’t even hold a normal conversation with him.”

  Her words stung like a slap in the face. “That’s not true.”

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes and raised those perfectly penciled brows. “You’re almost seventeen and you’ve never even kissed a guy.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Have too. What about freshman year?”

  She guffawed. “So Brett Mayner stuck his tongue down your throat and made you gag. That hardly counts. You wouldn’t have the first clue what it takes to satisfy a guy like Joel and you know it.”

  That was a low blow. “We’re done with this conversation.”

  She grabbed my arm as I started to leave. “Please don’t ruin things between Joel and me. It was never going to happen with you guys and I need him to make Brandon jealous. As a friend, I’m asking you for a favor.”

  “Let go of my arm,” I said through clenched teeth. “A friend doesn’t stab another friend in the back.”

  Anger coursed through me as I turned away from her. Thankfully she didn’t grab my arm again because I seriously think I would’ve smacked her. I stopped in front of Trip. “Can we go?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” He threw Joel a triumphant look, then gestured toward the door. “After you.”

  Without saying good-bye to Joel—why bother?—I stormed out of The Bean and stomped over to Trip’s truck. Then began the pacing.

  Who did Julie think she was? I wouldn’t know what to do with a guy? Wouldn’t have the first clue how to satisfy a guy?

  I studied the white line of the parking space as I paced it to the end, then my feet pounded the pavement in the other direction and I threw my hands in the air. Of course I could please a guy—even make him beg for more. Just because I hadn’t yet, didn’t mean anything. I just hadn’t met the right guy. That’s all.

  Trip took a wide stance in front of me, blocking my pac
ing. “Who was that guy in there?”

  “Nobody.” I bent my head and pushed around him. I couldn’t stop. Had to move. All this energy inside me was building. About to burst.

  Hadn’t even kissed a guy? Ha!

  Trip blocked my way again. “Is he your boyfriend? The one you were talking about at the cemetery?”

  Adrenaline coursed through me as I stopped pacing and stared up at him. His dark hair fell across his forehead and his green eyes peered at me, questioning.

  “No, he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend.” That’s right. I was single and perfectly able to kiss any guy I wanted.

  Without thinking I grabbed the front of Trip’s shirt, pulled him toward me and pressed my mouth against his. Oh my gosh. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. My mouth was on Trip’s and, believe me, it felt nothing like kissing my pillow and wasn’t remotely like kissing Brett Mayner.

  I’d thought about kissing Trip before but the dream had been more romantic. In reality, our lips stayed against each other, not moving, like both of us were paralyzed or something. Not knowing what to do, I slipped a hand around his neck and puckered slightly—my stomach fluttering uncontrollably.

  Then Trip took over.

  His hand snaked around my waist possessively and he parted my lips with his tongue as he explored my mouth in a way that left me breathless. I tried to learn, to match his rhythm, but just when I’d figure it out he’d change his pattern. My body came alive as I leaned into him.

  He must’ve chucked our coffee cups then because I heard them bounce against the truck and splash on the pavement. His other hand gripped my waist pulling me toward him.

  His strong, warm hands felt their way under my shirt, up my back—no bra strap to get in the way—and indescribable zings shot throughout my body. When Trip first approached me in the courtyard at school, he’d sidestepped me and I’d sidestepped him—but nobody was trying to get away now.

  My knees went weak. And his kisses. . .

  Oh. My.

  His lips left mine to brush my cheek. Then my ear lobe. And my jawline. Mmm. . . When he found my mouth again, I gripped his waist so I wouldn’t lose my balance and he deepened the kiss. Not very helpful in curing my dizziness but I wasn’t complaining. I ran my hands up his biceps, feeling every inch of those muscles I’d seen as he’d washed Sam’s car. Then I wrapped my arms around his neck and the last remnants of my problems slipped away. Everything was about Trip. I wanted to freeze time to stay like this forever. Why didn’t I have that power?