by Jaycee Clark
Alyssa shook her head. “Umm. Hello.” Finally she blinked and focused back on him. “Sorry, for interrupting, I just needed to talk to you about something, but it can wait.”
Her eyes hadn’t stayed on him, but had instead slid over and froze on Murbanks.
Max took a deep breath and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. He’d seen her off on a date with the lady’s man—Thad. And thank God that had gone nowhere. He’d have alienated his daughter if he’d killed the kid.
Mark. Mark he liked, did like. Nice boy.
Mr. Murbanks should not have this affect on his daughter. And he’d just told the starving artist he’d carry him. Complicated crap bothered him.
Alyssa walked closer. Thankfully, she’d dressed normal today. Or as normal as she got. She only had one piercing in her brow. Her clothes were tasteful yet eclectic in their tie-died color patterns. Then again, this was Taos, what was normal really?
From the corner of his eyes, he watched as the new artist ran his gaze over Alyssa once, twice and then again.
“For the love of…” Max muttered.
Alyssa quickly flipped through the photos, her brow furrowing as she concentrated. She flicked a look to the young man and then to him with a question in her eyes.
“You like?” he asked his daughter.
She studied the photos yet again. “Actually, I do. At first, you just kind of think, huh, pictures. Then one grabs you. And you look closer.” She continued to look through them, giving closer attention to each one. “They’re local, which is cool, yet not stereotypical with the mountains or more pueblos. Yet you get the…” She turned to the next one of a couple kissing at night beneath an arch. “Flavor.”
Murbanks cleared his throat and made his move, stepping closer. “That’s what I was aiming for. I wanted people to get the feel of the southwest, but not have it pushed in their faces.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
As a man he should probably feel sorry for the kid, but as a father, he really couldn’t drum up the sympathy.
“Plus,” Murbanks continued, leaning a little bit closer to Alyssa, “I like to people-watch.”
Normally, Alyssa didn’t like to be too close to people. Max kept waiting for her to move or step away. Instead she only looked at Murbanks.
Max knew what was coming. He smiled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Your aura is interesting,” she said softly.
Max frowned. That wasn’t how she normally delivered the news. She went for shock. For the awe factor.
This was different.
Jonathan smiled. “I’ve heard that before.” He studied her and took a deep breath. “So you like my photos?”
“Y-yeah. I uh, I do.” She looked back down at the stack she held in her hands.
“Cool.”
And this was where he set a few things straight. Max cleared his throat. “Mr. Murbanks. Meet my daughter, Alyssa.”
For a minute there was nothing, then Murbanks blinked, blinked again and said, “Daughter?”
Alyssa’s laughter danced out.
Murbanks’s eyes shifted to meet Max’s. “I’ll get you those photos tomorrow.”
With that, Max watched as Alyssa helped the man pack up. She even walked him to the door. Normally, Max would have been pleased to see her taking charge like this, to agree and point out the artistic qualities of a client’s work. But hearing her stroke the man’s ego just sat wrong with him.
Then again, she was nineteen and he figured it was only going to get worse for him.
Daughters. Almost twenty-year-old daughters…
He had heartburn.
Alyssa strode into The Book Emporium & More.
She took a deep breath and savored the scent of old musty books, new books, incense and just a feeling of peace. She loved this place.
“If it isn’t our beautiful Alyssa,” Yancey said, his smile wide as his face.
Yancey wasn’t as tall as she, more barrel-like than bodybuilder and perfectly happy in his roundness. He’d always reminded her of a bulldog. Maybe it was the jowls. With his strange golden eyes, she often wondered where his ancestors came from. His brother, a sweet if somewhat simple man, wasn’t as round. In fact, the last time she’d seen Jay, he’d been pale and looked as if he was losing weight. The brothers did share the same strange eyes, though. And though Jay, she knew from dealing with him, was clearly not the smarter of the two, he was still a sweet man. He loved books as much as his brother. But he was weird.
To be honest, Alyssa didn’t like coming into the store if only Jay was working. It wasn’t that she had a fear or aversion to those with special needs, but Jay had a way of watching her that unnerved her. However, she didn’t want to be rude to the guy, so she was always nice, always polite and never stayed more than just a few minutes if he was the one running the shop. There was just something about those strange yellow eyes following her around the shop that tightened her stomach and made her breath catch.
Yancey claimed they were of Romany descent. She’d looked that up on the internet and realized he meant gypsies. But what? Eastern European? Central European? Italian? And what exactly were Romanies? Did they originate in Rome? These were questions she wanted to ask him, but she was never certain if they were appropriate or rude.
Her mother would have said rude.
Of course her mother wouldn’t have let her even look at this shop, which was neither here nor there.
She’d probably have to bring up this little episode of thinking with her shrink. Regression, especially thoughts of her mother’s approval was never a good thing. Never. Nope.
“Hey, Yancey. How’s it going?” She glanced behind the counter to the empty stool. “Where’s Jay?”
“He wasn’t feeling so well today,” Yancey muttered, shaking his head. “You know Jay. The air got cold and he’s not feeling very well. He doesn’t think the wind is blowing right. Or so he says.” His rounded shoulders shrugged. “He’ll be fine in a day or so.”
A chill danced down her spine. “O-okay. Well, let him know I hope he gets to feeling better.” She had the urge to get out of the shop, but she sometimes had that urge when she stepped in here. Thanks, Mom. No, she’d stay, to see if there was anything new.
She’d already bought several tarot decks. Two to practice on, to see which ones she liked better, which had a better feel to her. She wasn’t of the belief that all decks were the same. They might all have the same pictures, but they were not all the same. She knew this without a doubt. How she knew it, she wasn’t sure, but there she was anyway. She also had this beautiful gold inlay deck, which she’d found in the back corner with a layer of dust on it. When she’d asked Yancey if she could buy it and what the price was, he’d just smiled and told her to take them.
She never used those. Not really used them. She looked at them, admired them and loved to simply touch them, but she never really used them.
She’d also purchased an old birch wand. She didn’t believe in witches or wizards, in wands or potions or whatever, maybe not even tarot, though tarot was interesting. No, the wand was just a cool stick with a wicked purple crystal on the end, which she would pry out one day and then ditch the stick more than likely.
“What’s your dad been up to? I saw him and the Howards’ newest renter going at it outside the coffee shop.” Yancey stacked three books on the counter and put a bundle of herbs on it as well.
“Yeah, well, that’s Dad for you. Throwing romance away.” She grinned. “He’s good actually. Finding new talent or trying to.”
“No lack of wannabes in this town.”
She smiled at Yancey and picked up a book on herbs. Herbology was another interest she had. There were almost as many holistic or organic food stores here in Taos as there were galleries. She didn’t want to buy a weed for this or that ailment or need just because the bottle said it was good for her. She wanted to actually know and understand what these things were used for. Her shrink and her
dad both wanted her to be interested in things, to have a hobby. For now, her hobbies varied and included learning and reading about various topics.
“That’s a good one,” Yancey told her.
She flipped through the book, noticed it not only gave directions to make tonics and infusions but also topical creams. There were both drawings and photos of the plants, with bold cautions and warnings. Huh. She skimmed on through it. “I’ll take it.”
While he rang her up, Yancey asked, “So what are your plans? Decide on the graphic arts school?”
She shook her head. “I’ve no idea yet. It’ll come to me. For now, I’m just helping Dad and that’s enough.”
“Getting your bearings is important,” Yancey told her. “It’s always important to know where you stand and who you are.”
So it was.
“Any new friends? I heard you and that Lake lady were spending time together.”
Yancey always had the latest gossip. The fact people wanted to talk about her was both intriguing and disturbing.
“Yeah, she’s really nice.”
Yancey leaned closer. “I heard she’s gifted too. Ran her own shop in Sedona. You might find that friendship useful,” he added.
“Well, Lake’s nice and she’s helping me with some stuff.” She wasn’t really in the mood to chat. “Thanks, Yance. I’ve got to get going.” She grabbed her bag and shoved out the door. The alley as usual was dark and dreary. She looked up and noticed the low-hanging snow clouds. She was so ready for spring. Real spring and melting, not more snow. But it was going to snow. She knew it. When she reached the edge of the alley that led onto the street, she took a deep breath and the bands around her chest loosened.
Maybe she’d wait awhile before she went back into the bookstore again. She glanced over her shoulder. Why did she seem to feel more darkness when she visited it now? Why did a place that once called to her, seem to turn her off now?
Confidence…
Lake said to believe in herself. Time to try that. She would try doing that. So if the bookstore bothered her this much, she’d just not come again—for a while anyway.
Taking a deep breath, she walked back towards the gallery.
Max sighed and knocked on the door. He waited and then waited a bit more. Finally, the door jerked open and Lake stood on the other side, glaring at him.
He was used to seeing her in purple, or copper, though usually black. But today she wore an oversized cream sweater, the top bunched and thick around her neck, the bottom hanging past her hips. Those long, trim legs were encased in some sort of creamy tights or something. Leggings. His daughter called those leggings. Whatever. Her thick red braid lay over her shoulder. Her eyes seemed even greener this evening.
Eyes that still glared at him.
Hell.
“Can,” he said, clearing his throat, “I come in?”
She tapped her long purple nails against the doorframe—once, twice—then she stepped back and let him in. Thankfully. It was cold outside.
“Thanks.”
She shut the door behind him, never taking her eyes off him. “If I hadn’t let you in, you’d have wanted to stay and talk on the stoop and then I’d be colder than I am already and that’s never a good thing.”
“Yeah, it’s cold.” He jerked his head to the large picture window and balcony doors that overlooked the front street and his gallery. “The snowstorm is supposed to hit soon.”
“That’s what I heard.” She stared at him for a minute more and then walked towards the fireplace and tossed in another log.
“You want a cup of tea or coffee? Water?”
Twilight was falling, the evening going soft pink-purple. He’d closed his shop early and had hurried over here thinking he needed to speak to her. What the hell had he been thinking?
“Whatever’s fine. Or nothing.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocked up on the balls of his feet and said, “Look, I wanted to apologize.”
“Really?” She sat on the deep plush couch and sipped from a thick blue mug.
“Not gonna be easy,” he muttered, looking at the floor.
“Honey, I’m never easy.”
He glanced at her from beneath his lashes. “Oh, of that I’m very certain.”
A smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Lake. I didn’t mean to be so rude and…” And what?
“A jerk?” she supplied.
“A jerk. An ass.”
“A fool.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, as she looked at him over the rim of her mug. “Though ass works too.”
He took a deep breath and strode to the fireplace, stretching his hands out towards it. “And I just wanted to apologize and explain that you were right. I was painting you with my issues. I don’t mean to, but…”
“But?” she asked.
He shrugged. “When Alyssa is mentioned, I just get…I get…” Hell. He raked his hands through his hair.
“Protective. Worried. Scared.”
The woman was no idiot. Probably why he liked her. “Yeah, all those things.”
“I know,” she said softly. When he turned back to her, she continued, “I’m sorry too. I have a quick temper in some regards. Not most, but you question my integrity and I can be quick to jump in.”
“I noticed.”
For a moment neither said a word. Finally she patted the cushions beside her.
Thank God. He took a slow breath, walked over and sat down. “I didn’t think I’d get past the ‘I’m sorry’ before you slammed the door shut on me.”
She grinned and took another drink. “I thought about it.”
He sat back and put his arm on the back of the couch. After only a moment’s hesitation, she leaned into him, pulling her legs up under her. The fire crackled and danced as they simply watched it.
“Can we try again?” he asked quietly. Hoping. Maybe she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I like Alyssa and we’re going to meet at least once a day for however long she wants to.”
He thought about that. He scratched the side of his mouth with his finger. “Okay.” He might be worried about her, but he’d seen something that day he hadn’t seen in a long time. Still staring at the flames dancing, he said, “I saw you, both of you out on the balcony. She laughed.” The flames, dark blue, licked the log. “I haven’t seen her laugh like that in so long, I honestly can’t remember.” A lump formed in his throat. “She used to be carefree when she was very little, and she’d laugh like that. I couldn’t hear her, not from the gallery, but still, I knew what it would sound like.”
She breathed deeply and patted his thigh. “She knows. I’m not trying to take anything from you. I’m not a threat to your daughter, you know, or your relationship with her.”
He swallowed and turned his head to look at her. “You wouldn’t mean to be. But I worry about what she’ll do when you go back to wherever, Sedona, wasn’t it? When you go back there to run your shop, what will she do?”
For a moment she didn’t say anything, then she shifted so they more faced each other than not. “Max. I don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, let alone later than that. I’ve never lived that way. Alyssa’s nineteen and if I go back to Sedona, then she can visit if she wants. There’re also these inventions known to many as the phone and email and texting. I’m not going to drop her. You can’t wall her up, Max. You’ll put her in danger if you do that.”
He frowned. “I know. I remember something my grandmother said once, and my mom agreed with her. That Alyssa needed to experience things with her talents, openly and freely without any threat or anxiety of rejection, for her to truly understand who she was.”
“She’s got a pretty damned good handle on who she is, who others are.”
He raised a brow.
“Really. Thanks to you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
She
lifted her hand and ran her fingers through the hair on the side of his head. “I do. She said as much, though I won’t tell you anything else we talked about. But she loves you, and I think it says a lot that she’s comfortable enough with you to discuss some of the things that happen to her, that she experiences.”
He hadn’t really thought of that. “Still, doesn’t feel like enough.”
She smiled. “Not to you, maybe.”
He thought about that for a while.
He reached for her hand and kissed her wrist, watching as her eyes darkened. “So are we okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and looked into his eyes. “Are we?”
“It feels like it,” he admitted.
She took a deep breath. “Max. I don’t know how to tell you…” Her lips pressed together before she continued. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you. I like Alyssa. I see some of me—very little, granted—in her. But that vulnerability, wanting acceptance, is something I understand all too well. I have this urgency to help her, this feeling that she’s going to need my help.”
“For—”
She held up her hand and interrupted him. “I like you, I like her. I’m not using either one of you to get to the other, and I don’t want to have to worry that I’m going to offend or upset you because of something I did with your daughter and—”
“As long as you’re not getting her drunk or into drugs, or setting her up for sex dates, I’m good.”
She blinked. “I’m not that bad an influence.” She tilted her head. “Well, maybe once upon a time, but not in a long, long time, thank you very much.”
He took a deep breath. “Or into the dark arts.”
This time, she blinked three times. “Dark arts?”
He sighed and sat up, put his elbows on his knees. “My grandmother and mother were gifted.” To hell with it. Honesty. He wanted honesty, he’d have to give it as well. “Upon occasion I get feelings, or intuitional guides. I get all that. But I also know that some of this stuff can pull you in, way in and be very, very dangerous. I don’t want Alyssa there.”
“I’m not into the occult, though that probably depends on who you’d ask.”