by Tessa Bailey
She tossed her hair back and finally—finally—looked at him. Something she hadn’t done since he’d almost slipped and kissed her in the kitchen. It broke his stride and made him want more. Constant focus. All of it. Don’t think about her upturned face, those damp lips. His groin ached with the memory and it wouldn’t quit its attack on his consciousness. But more than anything, he wanted back the trust she’d displayed by letting him tie ribbons into her hair. Since when did he care about personal trust? “No. I’m not going to tell you what I was going to do with it,” she said. “You made your decision. You don’t get to know what’s behind door number two.”
When she started walking faster, Aaron caught up with her, quelling the impulse to grip her elbow. Hurl apologies like water balloons and fuck if he knew what they would entail. “Slow down before you break your neck.”
“What a shame that would be,” she muttered. “You’d never find the money.”
He threw up his hands with a heartfelt curse. “How did I become the asshole when you’re the one who stole money from your own father?” As soon as he said the words, regret passed through him like a dark cloud. “Just tell me why, Grace.”
Instead of answering, she stopped and pointed toward her feet. Aaron had to hand it to her—she’d done a good job of hiding any trace. Handing over his cell phone—flashlight app engaged—Aaron crouched down and performed the job of digging up what looked to be two pillowcases. Stuffed full of fives, twenties, singles. Seeing the cash in reality made the whole thing seem petty. Like walking through a museum full of fine art and exiting through a gift shop. Especially when he looked up at Grace, finding her still as a statue, eyes fixed on some spot past his shoulder.
And he told himself it was curiosity—even though his bullshit detector went off, loud as an ambulance siren—that had him handing the bags to Grace. He would surely regret the decision in the morning, but just then, Grace was real. The money wasn’t. It had no value in the woods, even if tomorrow it certainly would and he’d be calling himself a fool. “All right. Let’s go.”
Grace split a puzzled look between Aaron and the pillowcases he’d handed over. “Go where?”
“You wouldn’t tell me, remember?” He stood, rolling the stiffness out of his neck, brushing the dirt off his trousers. “Look, technically, I’m already an accessory, since I didn’t report you climbing out of the window, like I should have. Might as well royally fuck myself—”
Grace threw herself at him, the impact of her body cutting off his explanation. “Shut up, you liar.” The words were muffled against his neck. “You can’t always explain why something is a good decision, can you? Neither can I. No one can, right?”
Excluding his sisters at events like graduation or Christmas, Aaron had never hugged a girl in his life. Not like this. Not out of happiness, hers or otherwise. On instinct, his arms moved around her, one at her upper back, the other just above her hips. And he tugged the curved little package of her close, just a test. Just a test. “Don’t you dare get used to this, Grace.”
“The hugging?” Her breathy voice sounded right at home in the forest. “Or having you surprise me?”
“Both.” Let her go now. Time to let her go. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I could be a good man. I will let you down.”
Grace stepped out of his embrace with a solemn nod. “But not tonight?”
He couldn’t answer that. Couldn’t even tell her he’d remain at his current level of decency for one measly night. If that didn’t signal to both of them how little they made sense together, nothing would. Hell, hadn’t it taken him less than one day to betray his potential new employer? A man who’d overlooked his past transgressions and given him another, coveted chance?
A vision of his foot behind the pinball machine, kicking the wire free, invaded, forcing him to rub his palms down the sides of his pants. “Lead the way, Robin Hood.”
Ten minutes later, they were cutting through the cold Iowa darkness in the Suburban, Aaron wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. Grace couldn’t stop smiling in the passenger seat, reminding him of a nun who’d broken free of the convent. Or she might have, if her legs weren’t encased to uncomfortable—for him—perfection in purple leggings. Or if he hadn’t noticed her distinctly non-holy lack of panty lines when she’d boosted herself into the vehicle. He’d wanted to haul her back out of the Suburban, press her against the side, and yank the purple cotton down to confirm. God help them both if she’d left her house panty-less, with a man whose cock had been painfully distended since she’d answered the door in a see-through T-shirt, her little nipples tenting the white material.
He still didn’t have an adequate gauge of Grace’s mental state. Or rather, what other people had decided about her mental state. Despite his words of frustration earlier—despite her having a handler and eating in a different location than her family when a guest came over for dinner—Aaron’s gut told him that while Grace might talk, act, and reason differently, there was a high chance she was better adjusted than he was. But his attraction to her took away his objectivity. Big time. His body had been hot for contact with hers since she climbed backward through the window, so he couldn’t trust himself. What if he allowed himself to pursue his attraction to Grace? When he turned out to be a callous motherfucker—and he would—she’d be hurt. And not in the way some women of his experience were offended when he didn’t call. No, as with everything else, Grace would react differently.
And the idea of her being hurt made his insides burn.
“Take this turnoff,” Grace instructed, breaking into his thoughts. “It’s not far.”
Aaron steered the Suburban off Interstate 235, turning the windshield wipers on when snow began to fall. Not a lot, just a light flurry, but enough to make someone from California take turns with exaggerated slowness. Something he realized when Grace’s soft laugh reached him and he looked over, finding her cross-legged on the seat, pillowcases puffed in her lap, watching him with amused eyes. “Have you ever driven in the snow before?”
“Does yesterday count?”
She pursed her lips. “I guess.”
“Try for a little more sarcasm next time.” Unbelievable. He actually felt self-conscious. “Do you drive?”
“Not lately. Not since I lived in Austin.” She turned in the seat, dropping her feet to the floor. “But when I drove, it wasn’t like a grandpa.”
“Mario Andretti is a grandpa. Maybe you meant that as a compliment.”
“I didn’t,” she replied breezily.
Aaron caught sight of his reflection in the speedometer, surprised to find himself smiling—without a conscious effort—and quickly dimmed it. “Belmont drives slower than I do. My brother,” he explained when Grace lifted an eyebrow. “The mountain you ran into. When you were…”
“Leaving your cabin,” she finished, not looking at him anymore, making the back of Aaron’s neck itch. “You don’t look like brothers.”
“We don’t act like them, either.” He rolled to a stop at a red light, watching the flurries dance along the asphalt, spinning in the headlight beams. “Or maybe we do. He’s the only one I have to judge against.”
“Turn right at the next light,” Grace said, leaning forward to peer through the windshield. “My sister and I were close. Really close. But she didn’t…they separated us one summer and things were different after that.”
The light turned green and Aaron reluctantly hit the gas, Grace’s words ricocheting in his head. “Separated you how?”
“Up ahead.” Aaron had no choice but to drop the subject—what the hell was the subject anyway?—when Grace tapped on the passenger’s side window, indicating a two-story brick building, tucked back from the road, the front courtyard surrounded by a black, chain-link gate. “There. I’ll just be a minute.”
Aaron threw the Suburban into Park, scoffing into the sudden silence, void of the engine hum. “You’re not going by yourself. I don’t even know what this place is.”
He climbed out of the vehicle, rounding the front fender and pulling open Grace’s door. She held out one of the pillowcases to Aaron, turned, and started to jump from the Suburban—but a blast of protectiveness had Aaron catching her midair with an arm around her waist, easing her down slowly until both feet were firmly on the ground.
But he couldn’t let go. Her breasts were pushed up even higher than usual because they’d dragged down his chest and hadn’t had a chance to bounce yet. He tugged her close, tight, and watched them plump, groaning like an agonized bear. She seemed to will his mouth closer with a bat of her eyelashes and his head dropped forward, as if she’d commanded it…and he had no control…none.
The loss of will was so unfamiliar, Aaron released Grace and stepped back as if he’d been burned. A hammer pounding in his head and behind his fly, he pivoted on a heel and made for the gate so she wouldn’t see the confusion on his face. Why did this girl continue to inspire such a need to be something he wasn’t? For damn sure he wasn’t some chivalrous knight who went around snatching damsels in distress out of the air and kissing them, like a scene that played out while movie credits rolled. And the sooner the night ended and he could snuff out any future confusion about his self-image, the better.
Grace drew even with him at the gate, which was locked. He watched in dawning realization that she’d been there before when she reached up and pressed a Call button on a recessed silver keypad, causing a light to come on and a camera to buzz into activity. Grace smiled at the electronic eye and Aaron banked the urge to shove her behind his back. Instead, he peered through the fence for some clue as to where they were, getting ready to hand over a bundle of cash.
Just above the single black door, a small sign was hung, illuminated by a dull spotlight that flickered in the snow, which had begun to fall harder.
YouthAspire.
Chapter Seven
The name YouthAspire triggered some recognition for Aaron, but he couldn’t place it. And he didn’t have time to ponder it further because the gate clicked open, a light going on at the end of the walkway. Aaron looked down to find Grace’s eyes on him, snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes.
“You should go to the door,” she whispered, pressing the second pillowcase into his free hand. “Maybe it’ll help you understand why I did it.” On cue, Aaron opened his mouth to list all the reasons he wasn’t walking up to some strange building and depositing two bags of cash—it could be a brothel in disguise for all he knew—but found there was only one factor that seemed to matter, standing there on the silent street. He didn’t want Grace going. Not when he didn’t know what was on the other side of the door.
“Right. Let’s go make me a felon.” He transferred both pillowcases into one hand and dug the car keys out of his pocket, handing them to Grace. “Go wait in the Suburban. Doors locked.”
To his surprise, she nodded, floating off to do as he’d asked. Grumbling under his breath, Aaron trudged up the path, swatting snow off the lapels of his jacket as he went. Just before he reached the end, the black door creaked open—and two young girls poked their heads out. Which, obviously, made Aaron stop in his tracks.
“Where is Grace?” one of them asked.
“Out of the way now,” came a voice from inside. An adult voice, thank Christ. Both little girl heads vanished and a woman in her mid-to-late forties filled the doorway, taking Aaron’s measure with a sweeping glance. A former sea captain, he thought absurdly. “What’s this? Where’s Grace?”
Dimly, he registered an Irish brogue, but he wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to be charmed by it. He nodded toward the vehicle, sighing when Grace waved in the passenger window, all but bouncing in her seat. “There she is,” Aaron said, sounding grim. “She asked me to drop this off to you.”
Aaron advanced, holding out the bags, just as the two girls appeared again, one slipping between the Irish woman’s body and the door frame, the other from between the woman’s legs.
“What is this place?”
“Sure, she didn’t tell you?” The woman laughed heartily but, in a curious contrast, regarded the pillowcases with trepidation. “We wouldn’t be here anymore if it weren’t for that one.” She whispered something under her breath. “No, we’d be something else altogether.”
He rubbed at his jaw. “I’m going to need a little more than that.” One of the little girls waved at Aaron, the edges of his mouth lifting to return the greeting with a smile before the response registered. Annoyed with himself and the lack of forthcoming information, he gave them a brisk nod instead. “Is this some kind of orphanage?”
“Eh. Of a sort. We’re still figuring out the particulars.” The woman shooed both girls away, her demeanor good-natured. “If you don’t mind me saying…” She eyed Aaron’s wingtips. “You don’t seem the kind of man who does anything without knowing all the details.”
“You’re right.” Obviously the woman wasn’t planning on taking the pillowcases anytime this century, so Aaron stepped forward and slid them just inside the door. “I’m not.”
She was looking down at the bags of cash when she spoke. “Well. If anyone could convince you to take a night off from your scruples, it would be Grace.” Snow puffed onto the walkway in the ensuing pause. “Tell her thank you. Tell her to be careful. I needn’t see her again for a while, looks like.”
Anxious to get back to Grace and begin a new line of questioning, he murmured a good night and strode back to the vehicle, pulling away from the curb as soon as the ignition sparked. Leaving the scene of the crime. Good God.
“All right, Grace—”
“Thank you.” Her words were accompanied by a blast of cold and white snowflakes, caused by her rolling down the passenger’s side window, flinging her right arm out into the night, and tossing her head back. “Thank you,” she said again, this time more high-pitched, but still in her usual musical delivery.
She was not from Earth in that moment. Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes on the road as they constantly returned to Grace. Moisture dotted her cheeks, although he couldn’t tell if the tracks were created by melted condensation or tears—and it didn’t matter, because there was so much more to take in. The hair flying around her face like she’d been filmed sinking underwater, then fast-forwarded. It flew and tangled and danced, strands and swaths of his red silk tie catching on her damp face. Her eyes were closed, but she was seeing everything. Aaron could never express the certainty of it. Or the desperation to know what she could see. To hear her describe it.
He didn’t realize he’d pulled over, alongside a barren stretch of field, until Grace opened the door, jumped out…and took off running. Panic gripped his throat, but he fought through, all but diving out of the Suburban to go after her. Heart pounding triple time in his chest, Aaron caught sight of her form, illuminated by the still-engaged headlights.
“Grace,” he shouted. “Get back here.”
His legs turned to marble as she spun around, arms outstretched, laughing up at the sky. Torn. He was so fucking torn. Between worry and…envy. Look at her, he had the odd urge to shout. Just look at her. The jacket she wore had unbuttoned down the front and that’s what propelled him forward—the fear that she would freeze to death. When he reached Grace, it was as though she’d felt him approach, because she threw her arms around his neck, warm breath ghosting down his neck, all the way inside his shirt. “Don’t be worried,” she breathed. “I can tell you’re worried.”
He curled his hands around Grace’s biceps, setting her away so he could yank her coat together, buttoning it with unnecessarily rough movements, but they stilled on a dime when she laid her warm hands on top of them, his white breath puffing out between them in rapid bursts. “I don’t like surprises, Grace.”
“That’s a shame,” she whispered. “People say I’m full of them.”
“Right now, I’d have to agree.”
Grace’s touch fell away. She stepped back, lifting her face to the sky. “There’s so much bad. Hap
pening all the time, around us. I guess I just…” Her chin lowered and the emotion in her gaze almost knocked him back a step. “I like to stop and appreciate when something good happens.”
The snow had grown steadily heavier, white flakes landing on her face, her hair, and melting in degrees. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he stood watching Grace, trying to process the meaning of her words. Afraid he would miss what she might do next. I’m in a field in a strange place…and I’m not trying to change that. So unlike him just to stand still and wait. Wait.
“That place.” She rubbed at her throat. “It used to be a leadership camp for teenagers. They had a…tragedy and it was almost closed down. But it didn’t need to be snuffed out, only changed. You can’t throw ideas or people out when they don’t work the first time around, right?”
Her forehead wrinkled, as if finding the right words was frustrating, and for once, they were on the same page. “What if all we get are moments, Aaron? Like this. Like back there. We work and try and sit and stand and what are we working toward? I think…moments. And we—me and you—got to have one tonight. We got to make a moment for a bunch of other someones. So can we just stop and think about it? That’s all I’m doing. I’m thinking in my own way, even if it looks like something else to you. I’m just stopping. And thinking.”
He couldn’t swallow. Every time he tried, his throat clogged, pressure piling on top of pressure. “Okay,” he finally managed. “Okay, fine.”
But he wasn’t fine when she moved closer. Moved closer to the raw, exposed hunk of flesh, formerly known as Aaron. It was insane. Everything was insane. She was forcing him to consider light and shadows, when he’d only ever dealt in black and white. And she was the light. Shining bright enough to flay him.
He’d operated until now as if people were only hiding selfishness, the kind he didn’t bother to conceal. But not Grace. She contradicted everything he held true and it made the earth shake under his feet. She approached him like a lion tamer approaching their target, as if he might get startled and eat her whole. Was he the sane one here? Or had it been her the whole time? It couldn’t be both of them, could it? His thoughts fled when Grace laid her ear over his heart, gasping at whatever she heard. “You feel it, too. You feel the good we did?”