by Wendy Cole
“What?” I furrowed my brow at him. “What do you see?”
“You’re going bear hunting,” he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
I snorted. “Why the hell would I go bear hunting?”
“Quiet, girl! Here comes one now!” He pointed towards the yard.
I turned to find Bard walking towards us. When I turned back to Mr. Frankfire, he was silently laughing at me.
“Shut up, old man.”
His response was one of those old people laughs that sounded as if dust would puff out of his throat. I rolled my eyes and pushed past him into the shop.
Scarlet was the first to approach me. “All packed?”
I eyed her. “Yes.”
She grinned. “Wonder how long you’ll last.”
“Until what?”
She titled her head and rolled one shoulder. “Until you get laid. I’m curious to see how much it chills you out. You’re wound tighter than Boe since he came in here sporting that black eye this morning.” Her grin widened. “I still haven’t gotten the story on that, but I’ve been having fun imagining.”
I grimaced. “Don’t know, and no, I’m not getting laid. That’s not what this is.”
She snorted. “Okay. Whatever you say. If you don’t, I’m gonna be a little pissed. It’s the only good thing about you leaving. I finally have a chick that’s not annoying as fuck around here, and there she goes!” She tossed her arms in the air. “Dragged off into the mountains by a fucking Sasquatch. What are the odds?”
I laughed.
“A Sasquatch?” Bard, once again far too quiet for my own good, appeared right behind me.
“There it is,” Scarlet hissed behind her hand.
Bard glared at her.
I studied his expression and bit back a smile. “You don’t like that, huh?”
He didn’t respond, never even acknowledged me. He was too busy glaring at the blue-haired girl in front of him.
Scarlet didn’t look intimidated.
“It’s fitting, you know?” I pursed my lips. “You’re gigantic, hairy, reclusive, and secretive.” I shrugged. “Sounds pretty Bigfoot to me.”
He shifted his focus to me and leaned forward. “You know what they say about big feet, Tequila.”
My mouth went dry, and–dammit–heat flooded my face.
“Holy shit!” Scarlet laughed. “Are you blushing?”
Nope. I turned my back on both of them and walked away.
Zeke was waiting in his station, and he’d obviously been watching the three of us. When I started towards him, he stood, met me halfway, and wrapped me into a tight hug. It was strange that it felt so natural.
“Bard’s gonna take care of you. Don’t worry. We’re gonna get this shit straightened out.”
I nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done more for me than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. Thank you for that.”
He chuckled. “Don’t get all sentimental. You’re making Charlene cry.”
He ruffled my hair in a fatherly way, and a lump formed in my throat.
“Now, hurry up and say goodbye to everyone else. She looks about ready to burst a damn pipe over there.”
I turned and, sure enough, the woman was bawling.
I gave her a hug, too. “Don’t cry. This isn’t anything I’m not used to.”
The words were meant to make her stop, but they only seemed to make it worse.
Charlene’s bawling turned to sobbing. For such an attractive woman, she sure was an ugly crier: hiccupping, scrunched-up face, skin red and blotchy. I patted her, unsure of what else to do.
“There, there?” I shot Zeke a pleading look.
He smirked. “Come here, Sniffles.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he took her away from me. I made my way back over to Bard.
“You ready?” Even as I asked the question, my gaze roamed, hoping Boe would walk through the door. I hadn’t seen him, and the fact that he was suddenly absent made my chest grow tight. He was still mad. Things were ruined, just like they always were.
Bard grabbed my hand and all but dragged me behind him.
I pulled back, but he didn’t give an inch. “I can walk, you know?”
He opened the door for me.
My eyes narrowed as I climbed inside. “I can open my own doors, too.”
“I know you can.” He swung the door shut before I could respond.
When he climbed into his side, he reached over to buckle my seat belt.
I smacked him away. “Stop! I’m not a fucking infant.”
His chest rumbled as he leaned back into his seat and started the engine. The Camaro roared to life, and I quickly clicked the restraint into place, remembering how close I’d come to death the last time I let him drive me around.
Bard was silent as he tore onto the road.
“How long will it take to get there?” I asked.
“Couple hours.” He kept his face forward as he shifted gears.
I stared at his profile for a moment. “I was expecting Boe to come say goodbye.”
“Why?” He made it sound like a strange assumption.
“Um…because I’m leaving.”
“Highly doubt he knows.” He shifted again, and the car lurched.
I gaped at him. “Let me use your phone.”
“No.”
“I need to call him.”
“No, you don’t.”
I groaned. “I can’t just leave and not say anything!”
“I thought you were just friends.” He turned and gave me another of his famous cutting looks.
I rolled my eyes. “We are.”
“Friends don’t need to explain where they’re going.” He turned back to the road.
My hands balled into fists, and I had to fight not to lash out. Whatever. Be a dick. I turned away and glared out the window, refusing to ask again. It wasn’t like I was going to beg him for the fucking thing.
Neither of us spoke after that. Buildings turned to trees, and trees turned into more trees―endless amounts of fucking trees.
When we started gaining altitude, my ears popped, and it was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. It only added to my irritation. I struggled to pop them back, wiggling my finger like a woman possessed.
Bard reached over and held out a stick of gum. “Chew this. It’ll help.”
I ignored it.
“Just take the damn gum, Tequila.”
“No.” My voice was flat, and I turned my face back to the window.
“Look, chew the gum, and I’ll let you use my phone when we get there.”
I looked at him. “Really?”
“I promise.” He crossed his chest, then held the gum back out.
I took it. It was Juicy Fruit, and I lifted an eyebrow at him. “I never pinned you for a Juicy Fruit type of guy.”
He softened a bit, and the very corner of his mouth twitched. “I like sweet things.”
I unwrapped the gum and stuck it in my mouth. The minute I bit down, the air expelled from my ears.
“Thank you, Jesus!” I sighed.
“Nah, I’m Bard,” he said, still focused on the road. “I can see the resemblance, though.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “You’re kinda right.”
He turned and blessed me with a smile. “Not much farther now, Tequila.”
We drove for another half hour, and the road narrowed more and more with each mile. It wound and weaved its way through the terrain, becoming almost nonexistent in places.
When a cabin came into view, Bard let out a heavy breath. “There it is.”
It was small, probably only big enough for a couple of bedrooms, and old. It sat in between the trees like some long-lost relic.
Bard parked the car and looked over at me. “I’m glad you agreed to this, Tequila.”
I shrugged. “It was the smartest plan.”
“Let’s get settled, then we can eat something.” He swung his door
open.
“Not so fast.” I grabbed his arm and held a hand out. “Phone, remember?”
Bard smirked and pulled the phone out of his pocket. “Knock yourself out.”
I grabbed it and pulled up Boe’s contact, but when I tried to call, the screen flashed no service. “It’s not working.”
Bard tilted his head at me. “Really? Hmm, that’s strange.”
He got out and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I stared at the phone in my hand, then up at Bard’s retreating back.
That fucking asshole! He knew. He knew I wouldn’t be able to make a call up here.
“Hey!” I jumped out of the car and stormed after him. “Bard!”
He ignored me.
I ran to catch up and grabbed the back of his shirt. “Hello!”
Bard stopped and turned. The way he stood, the look on his face as he literally looked down at me, made me feel like a chihuahua who’d picked a fight with a bear―a big, annoyed bear.
His brow lifted. “Yes?”
Was he trying to intimidate me? I almost laughed. My fingers curled around the worthless device, and I shoved it into his chest. “You did this shit on purpose!”
“And how exactly did I do that?” Same expression, same lifted brow; like a statue, unaffected.
“You knew I wouldn’t be able to call.” Despite knowing he wouldn’t lay a hand on me, I still took a step back. I blamed it on instinct.
Bard matched the movement. “I did.”
I looked around. We were alone, secluded. “Well, then,” I cleared my throat, “that’s pretty messed up.”
I took another step back.
“I’m sorry.” He took another step forward and loomed like a walking mountain about to crush me. “If you feel so betrayed, you could always spit the gum out.”
With that, his expression completely changed, and a wide smile spread across his face.
I glared at him and took the gum out of my mouth with every intention of sticking it to his nose. I reached up to do just that.
I hadn’t expected him to open his mouth nor to lean forward and take the gum, along with my fingers, between his lips.
A fire ignited every inch of my skin, and I stood, dumbstruck, as I stared at him, my lips slightly parted and eyes wide. I was frozen.
His tongue caressed my fingers as he slowly pulled away. “I like sweet things,” he said, chewing the gum pointedly.
I whimpered. Fuck it if I didn’t whimper, and he smirked. That asshole smirked.
“Come on, Tequila. Let me show you the cabin.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me inside.
I couldn’t do anything but follow. My heart was racing. My mind was on repeat. His tongue, the look in his eyes, the feel of him tasting me. I was gonna burn. I was burning already.
Shit. This was an awful idea.
He kept my body pressed into his side, and I didn’t even have the presence of mind to pull away.
“This is it. Home sweet home.” Bard motioned with one arm as we stepped through the door.
The room was small, not as small as the motorhome, but not big either.
It was remarkably clean for a place nobody lived in, and I wondered how often Bard visited.
Obvious feminine touches peppered the living room. A floral sofa lined up the far wall. A wooden rocking chair faced an entertainment center that was covered in knickknacks and photos. Entertainment consisted of VHS tapes, a TV, and a VCR.
Even more photos coated the walls. There were dozens of them, all varying in sizes. I pulled away from Bard and inspected the closest one.
An older Bard stared back at me, and a little boy clung to his leg, looking like a young Tarzan, shirtless and covered in dirt, smiling like the sun shone just for him. So…happy.
My heart clenched, and I moved on to the next one. The same man stood with an obvious Zeke, both much younger, each holding a line with a bundle of fish at the end in one hand and fishing poles in the other.
They were everywhere, and for a girl who’d never had a home, this was a new experience for me. Sure, there’d been foster families. Some of them had been okay, not as bad as the others, but this was different.
There’d been love here. The memory of it lingered in the air. It choked me, tightened my throat, and burned my eyes.
Then I saw her, Bard’s mother. It was unmistakable. She was holding him. He was no older than a toddler. Her arms surrounded him as he placed a kiss onto her cheek.
And she was smiling his smile; that rare smile that blinded me.
My eyes burned, and I blinked back emotions I hadn’t expected to feel.
Bard didn’t say a word. He just let me look without an ounce of protest towards my nosiness.
When I turned, he was studying me. “She would have liked you. You remind me of her: free spirited and wild.”
He kept his tone normal, but I could tell. For once, Bard couldn’t hide his feelings.
This place affected him. It was in the way he held himself, the way his fingers twitched on his left hand, and the way his eyes stayed fixed on me. It was as if he was avoiding the room like he couldn’t look but didn’t have a choice.
That memory of love had been his. This world…had been his, and he lost all of it. He’d been forced to watch it be ripped away from him.
I didn’t know what possessed me. Maybe it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was my own emotions running high, but I approached him.
Bard watched me, unmoving. He didn’t say a word as I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest, offering comfort the only way I knew how. He leaned down and buried his face into my hair.
I didn’t utter meaningless I’m sorries. Sorries wouldn’t bring them back. Sorries wouldn’t fix what Drake had done. Sorries wouldn’t take the pain away. So I just held him.
We stayed like that for a while, neither speaking, neither breaking the contact. When the room darkened, Bard whispered, “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who gets it.”
I understood, but he was wrong. I didn’t get it. I couldn’t.
“There’s a difference,” I said, pulling back to look at him. “I never had anything to lose.”
“It’s easier that way,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to lose for a long time.” His voice was rough as the emotions he’d kept buried fought to come to the surface.
“I guess it is.”
He caressed my cheek. “It was.”
I took a step back. Things were going too deep. I knew what he meant, knew what he was getting at, and it couldn’t happen. I didn’t have it in me to say it, though, not right then. He knew. I’d told him enough times already.
So instead, I changed the subject. “I’m hungry. What kind of foods do mountain people eat?”
He smiled, then motioned with his head for me to follow him.
Directly behind us, a doorway led into a kitchen decorated in a combination of cheery yellows, floral patterns, and ceramic chickens.
Bard walked over to the fridge and opened the door. “Take your pick, Tequila. I stocked it up while I was out here.”
I looked inside, and my mouth fell open. It was so full, and I was so hungry, so used to the minimal, I wanted to eat everything.
Bard stood out of the way and grinned at my response.
I studied his face. He’d done this, planned this. That was why the place was clean. That was why he’d been out here; why he’d left. It was all for me, for his family―to keep us all safe.
“How about I cook you dinner?” I offered, feeling generous and more than a little grateful to him.
Bard’s smile fell, and his eyes grew wary. “Uh, how about I cook?”
I remembered the eggs and barked a laugh.
Bard’s eyes locked onto my mouth. “You should laugh more often, Tequila.”
I sobered, but I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips. “I was thinking about the eggs. I’m sure you were thinking about th
em, too.”
A laugh tried to bubble its way back out, but I swallowed it down and held a hand over my mouth.
Bard grinned at me.
“I know how to cook, Bard. I used to cook for everyone back at the clubhouse.”
His smile dimmed, but he didn’t seem upset.
“I burnt those eggs like that on purpose,” I laughed, “and you ate them.”
He smirked. “Just a bite.” His head tilted. “Alright then, Tequila. Show me what you got.”
I ushered him to the old wooden table and pushed him into a chair. “Don’t get up.”
Bard did as he was told, but his eyes stayed glued to me as I made my way around the kitchen.
Everything was organized and easy to find. I rummaged through the fridge and decided on a meatloaf. Bard seemed like the type of guy that would like meatloaf. Isn’t that what they called them? Meat and potato men?
I grabbed the hamburger and an onion, and tried to ignore the burning gaze on my back. Bard had really stocked us up. I had everything, even the tomato paste.
I focused on my task. I chopped the onion, cracked the eggs, mixed the ingredients, and the entire time, I was nervous as fuck. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking even as I formed the loaf into a pan and placed it in the oven.
“That’s gonna take an hour,” I said, and I turned to look at him.
Sure enough, he was staring at me. It was so intense and so evasive, it caused the stupid heat to fill my cheeks, again.
“I think it will take longer than that,” he said, “but I’m willing to wait.”
CHAPTER FORTY
By the time I had everything done, my nerves were completely shot to hell.
The man was too much, too intense. By just sitting there and watching me, he had my nerves so at attention, one word from him and I’d have been lost. He was too appealing. We’d only just gotten here, and already I was…overheated.
I let my gaze dart across from me. Bard wasn’t even watching me anymore. He’d stopped paying any mind to me the moment I set the food in front of him.
He ate like a damn bear. The meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and red gravy didn’t last five minutes before he got up and added more to his plate.
How could he even taste the shit?
His fork kept a steady rhythm. Plate, mouth, plate, mouth; each time barely taking a second to chew before swallowing.
