Wingman: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

  Chapter Nine

  Izzy squealed happily and clutched Wingman’s neck as he lifted off the ground with a powerful swoosh. Having flown with him once before, Delia had no doubt he’d take good care of her. Peals of glee rang out as he circled the beach. He did a slow swoop, and Izzy screamed, “Do it again!”

  She was thrilled to see her daughter so happy. She could be trying for people unused to children—or even if you were used to children—but her antics didn’t faze Wingman. Delia already found him attractive, but after seeing how well he interacted with Izzy, he’d risen in her estimation. He was hot, and he got along well with children. Could she have gotten lucky enough to have met two good men in her life? She crossed her fingers. Time would tell.

  She’d always hoped to remarry, but a child complicated dating, and in dealing with Colson, switching jobs, moving across the country, and getting settled, meeting men had fallen to the bottom of the priority list.

  Until Wingman had tumbled out of the sky. Her lips twitched. Maybe he was an angel, like Izzy originally had said. An angel who’d arrived in a spaceship.

  He’d fled the creators who destroyed his planet and killed his people. How did someone survive that kind of tragedy and emerge mentally unscathed? She’d often felt alone and under siege, but her ordinary troubles paled next to his suffering. If temporarily losing a sitter was the worst that happened, her life was pretty much golden, so quit whining and suck it up, buttercup! Still reeling from his loss, he’d had to settle on another planet. She couldn’t imagine living any place but Earth. Of course, until recently, she hadn’t known there were other options.

  And maybe there weren’t yet. She’d heard of aliens coming here but hadn’t heard about humans relocating to their planets. When the Intergalactic Dating Agency had begun bringing in aliens, the story had taken major news outlets and social media by storm. Not everyone welcomed the influx of extraterrestrials, fearing invasion. Others had doubted the authenticity, insisting the IDA had perpetuated a hoax. She could understand Wingman’s reluctance to come out.

  She’d never expected to meet an alien in Argent. She would have placed the odds at slightly better than meeting an angel. Boy, he sure looked like one, and it wasn’t just his silver-and-white wings. Angels were supposed to be beautiful, and damn, if he wasn’t. Handsome as sin, with thick chestnut hair, a straight nose, and a masculine, rugged jaw tempered by soft lips and smoldering brown eyes.

  Wings outstretched, he made another pass over the beach.

  Izzy waved. “Look at me! I’m flying!”

  “Hang on tight, Izzy!” she cautioned unnecessarily. Wingman held her quite securely.

  Finally, he landed on the blanket, set Izzy on her feet, and folded his wings.

  “Did you see me? Did you see me? We were flying! You’re going to love it, Mom!”

  “I’m sure I will.” She would never reveal she’d already flown with Wingman.

  He smiled, his grin taking in Izzy’s exuberance yet holding a promise for her alone. She flushed. “Ready?” Warm fingers clasped around hers and tugged her close.

  “You stay on the beach,” she ordered her daughter.

  “Can I go in the water?”

  “No. When I get back, you can go in. Until then, stay on the blanket.” Instructions had to be specific because Izzy would take full advantage of any loopholes or technicalities.

  Izzy settled on the blanket and picked up the juice box she hadn’t finished. Wingman scooped Delia up into his arms.

  “I’m a little heavier than Izzy,” she said self-consciously even though he’d carried her before without any effort.

  “You’re light as a feather.” He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth then launched into the air. She clung to his neck, not because she had to but because it gave her an excuse to touch him. His fresh, masculine scent went straight to her head. She could get drunk on him.

  “I’ve been waiting all morning for this.” He smiled down at her.

  “Me, too.” She relaxed in his arms, marveling at his strength. Muscles contracted and released in his chest as he flew. He picked up speed and then stretched his wings out to their fullest extension and let the wind carry them. Held aloft by air, flying with him was like floating on a cloud—calm, serene, and silent, except for her heartbeat thudding in her ears and water slapping against the shore.

  “Mom! Mom!”

  And her daughter’s shouts.

  Delia waved. Wingman’s mouth twitched. She was relieved he could find the humor. She loved Izzy to death. Her needs would always come first, but darn if she didn’t wish for a parenting time-out, to be an ordinary woman on an ordinary date with an ordinary man.

  If ordinary meant being held in the arms of a winged alien gliding over a lakeside beach. This was the stuff of dreams. Would she awaken to discover none of this had happened? “You’re real, right?” she joked.

  “I’m as real as you are.” He looked at her with an expression so heated, her breath caught in her throat, and her body hummed. The beach, Izzy, the world, faded away, leaving only the two of them, and the push-pull of desire. She was a single mom of a precocious daughter. Yes, she had responsibilities, commitments, bills. But also desires, needs, dreams.

  This was only one date, but in his eyes she read the potential for much more. Did she dare to fly that high? Or would she be like Icarus who’d flown too close to the sun, paid the price, and fell from the sky to drown in the sea?

  “I have a daughter.” Tell me now if it’s not going to work.

  “I know.”

  “She has to come first.”

  “As she should.” He swooped, and she felt like she was falling head over heels until he pulled up again and leveled out to glide on a draft.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Why would I mind?”

  “Some men won’t get involved with a woman who has children.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Are we involved?”

  She had been a little presumptuous. Her face heated. “I—uh—we—”

  “I’m teasing.” He chuckled. “I would like to be involved with you. That’s why I’m here.”

  A giddiness filled her with such lightness, she felt as if she could fly herself. I’m crushing on him.

  “I had my life mapped out. I’d mate with an Avian woman, have children, and spend the rest of our lives on ’Topia. In a flash, all of that was destroyed, and I had to start over. You are different from any other woman I’ve ever met, yet when I’m with you, the only thing that matters is that I am with you.”

  She’d loved Josh with all her heart, and life had seemed so perfect—until the hand of fate had torn him away. Now she was soaring through the sky with an alien, and it felt as natural as breathing. Maybe there are second chances.

  His smile lit up his face with such beauty she could almost see a halo. Then he shifted his gaze, and she followed it downward to where Izzy hopped from one foot to the other. “I think she wants to go in the water again,” he said.

  “I think you’re right.”

  In a slow spiral, he descended, landed on the beach, and released her. She brushed against him, her thigh bumping his hard-on. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared up at him, and the appreciation in his gaze could have melted her into a puddle of goo.

  “Can I go in the water now?” Izzy asked.

  She could use a dip in a cold lake, herself. “All right. Be careful. You know the rules. Stay close to shore.”

  She dashed for the water, and Wingman stole a long, slow kiss while her daughter’s back was turned. She’d never, ever kissed a man so passionately with her daughter mere steps away. The thought sobered her, although it did little to cool the heat. She let her lips linger on his before pulling away with a sigh. “I need a swim to cool off.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  She peeled off her shorts and T-shirt to her blue-striped one-piece. She felt Wingman’s g
aze on her modest cleavage, and then he removed his shirt, and grabbed her hand. They ran for the lake. Icy water splashed over her toes, and she stopped dead.

  She caught a flash of a devilish grin before he lifted her off the ground and tossed her into the drink. She shrieked.

  Wingman and Izzy, the two traitors, laughed.

  “It’s freezing! Why did you do that?” She rounded on him.

  “Because I knew if your toes so much as touched the water, you wouldn’t get in.” He glanced at Izzy. “Am I right?”

  “You’re right!” Her head bobbed.

  After acclimating to the cold, she floated and paddled around while Wingman hoisted Izzy onto his shoulders and tossed her into the water—to her daughter’s great delight.

  When her fingers and toes numbed, she insisted Izzy get out and warm up, and they all waded out of the lake. Wingman shook like a duck, flinging water droplets everywhere, before folding his wings.

  “Your wings aren’t dry, are they?”

  “Just a little damp.”

  She reached out and smoothed her palm over a downy wing. Amazing.

  “Can I touch?” Izzy asked.

  He extended a wing, and she touched one feathered tip. “They’re not sharp at all!”

  “They’re only sharp when I need them to be.”

  “Oh. Can we go for ice cream?” Izzy shifted to other matters, but now Delia was curious.

  What had made her daughter think his wings were sharp? They looked and felt soft. However, ice cream sounded like a good idea. It was late in the day, and they’d probably had enough sun. “You want to?” she asked Wingman.

  “I’ve never had ice cream. But I’ll try it.”

  “Never? You’re in for a treat, then. Let’s pack up. Get all your stuff together,” she told Izzy.

  Her daughter dashed for the blanket. When she was out of earshot, he said, “I can weaponize my wings. It’s a defensive mechanism. Izzy saw me in fight mode…”

  Just the mention of anything happening to Izzy terrified her. First the threat from Colson, then the near-kidnapping. She shuddered.

  “It’s okay, now. She’s safe.” He drew her into his arms. Their wet bathing suits felt cold, but his contoured hard body radiated heat like the sun. He’d saved Izzy, and, with his strong arms holding her tight, she felt safe, too. For the moment, she could relax the requirement to be the strong one. She believed in standing on her own two feet. She’d never had another option, but, given a choice, she’d still choose self-reliance and independence. Izzy was her greatest accomplishment, and she was damn proud of her daughter. But was soloing easy? Hell, no. Wingman made her feel like she wasn’t alone in her battle against the world, that anybody who attempted to hurt either one of them would have to go through him first.

  My knight with shining wings. Super Angel, like Izzy once described him, before Delia realized he was flesh and blood. Perhaps she had a touch of hero worship herself.

  A growl erupted from his throat. “I’m going to need another swim if you keep looking at me like that.”

  “I already do,” she said.

  “Let’s go get ice cream.” He hustled her up the beach.

  Chapter Ten

  Wingman fashioned his wing tip into a poker, chalked it, leaned over the green-felt-covered table, and struck the white sphere. Crack! A triangle of colored balls scattered.

  “Man, that’s fucking cool!” His opponent chortled.

  Killing time at the Whitetail while Delia worked, he’d been invited to play pool, and when the men discovered his wings were real, he’d been given special dispensation to use them instead of a cue stick.

  He surveyed the table, and, after deciding on solid, bagged the number two blue ball in a corner pocket. He sank three more solids before missing a shot, and his opponent stepped up for a turn at the striped balls. Wingman tipped back his mug of Elk Spit, an ale recommended by his new pool buddies. He grimaced. He should have ordered his usual rum and Coke.

  He glanced at Delia delivering drinks and baskets of chicken fingers and fries. He enjoyed the shift of her buttocks as she scurried about. Of course, she had a lovely face and magnificent front curves, but the backside, yeah, that was good, too.

  He’d been coming into the bar just to see her home. Tonight, Saturday, the place was packed. All the tables were full as were the seats at the bar, where men shouted and cheered at two large televisions.

  He’d gotten to know some of the regulars and had begun to enjoy the camaraderie, feeling more and more like he belonged on this planet. He’d outed himself as an extraterrestrial, and they’d been fine with it. More than fine. Fascinated, which discomfited him a little. He preferred to blend in.

  “So, Wynn, what planet did you say you were from?” His opponent studied the balls on the table.

  “Dakon,” he replied. For security reasons, his and Earth’s, he continued to use the alias and background assigned to him by the Intergalactic Dating Agency.

  “Is that near Mars?” Crack! A striped ball spiraled into a side pocket.

  Did humans have any clue about astronomy? Ignorance benefited ’Topians, but he’d had to bite his tongue numerous times to avoid educating them. “A little farther away,” he replied.

  His opponent missed the next shot, and Wingman cleared the table of solids and then sank the eight ball for the win. Bar patrons broke out in applause. He assumed they were cheering for the game on TV—and then discovered all eyes on him. Self-consciously, he pulled the poker back into his feathers.

  “What else can you do with your wings?”

  “Besides fly?” He shrugged. “Pool is my only parlor trick,” he lied. He could turn a wing into a sword, feathers into daggers, but that wasn’t for public knowledge.

  The man slapped Wingman’s back. “Still, it’s fucking cool!”

  Somebody else stepped up to play. Wingman could have won again, but he wished to avoid making a spectacle, so he deliberately missed a couple of shots. After “losing,” he exchanged a few slaps, which seemed to be standard human greeting among males, and taking his now-warm Elk Spit, retreated to a corner table to keep an eye on Delia’s ass. He watched her bustle around the bar and fingered a tender area under his jaw. Was it his imagination—or was the gland swollen?

  The bartender motioned her over, and, moments later, she set a drink in front of him. “Here’s a rum and Coke for you.”

  “I didn’t order that.”

  “Marty says it’s on the house.”

  “Your boss is giving me a free drink? Why?”

  “Because of the business you’ve brought in.”

  “Me?” He surveyed the packed room. Four inebriated guys waved at him, and a woman at the next table blew him a kiss.

  “Haven’t you noticed it’s gotten busier every night?”

  The Whitetail had gotten more crowded as the week wore on, but he’d attributed the increase to the vagaries of business or human behavior or both. “I thought it was because it’s Saturday.”

  “It’s busier on weekends but not like this. They came to see the alien play pool with his wings.”

  He’d enjoyed the interaction, but being the center of attention made him uncomfortable. They still had to protect who they were, where they’d come from. If the Xeno Consortium were to hear of ’Topians on Earth…

  “Some of them remember you from the lavender fest.”

  Maybe he shouldn’t hang out at the Whitetail while Delia worked. He could meet her afterward. Except…he liked it here. Liked being near her, even if they couldn’t converse. He enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, shooting pool, being one with the group. Avians had been genetically programmed to be suspicious and distrustful yet to crave social interaction. The Earth saying, birds of a feather flocked together, aptly described Avians, who lived in cohesive, familial groups. The castaways had become his surrogate family, yet there had always been something missing for him.

  None of the people here were Avians or even ’Topian, yet they rem
inded him of the community he’d lost.

  “I’m sorry. You look upset.” Delia slid into a chair and covered his hand. “You don’t need to come here for me—”

  “No, I want to. The idea of being the main attraction caught me by surprise.”

  “Once they get used to seeing you, you’ll become a local. They’re friendly and nice here. I’m still new, but they accepted me with open arms.”

  He would gladly give up notoriety to become an anonymous citizen.

  “Besides, next week I switch to days while Trudy’s son visits. Most people work during the day, so there will be far fewer customers. And, like I said, you don’t have to come.”

  “I like seeing you in your element.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call this my element. It’s a job.”

  “No. You like people. I can tell. They can tell. You greet them with a smile. You call them by name. You make them feel at home.” He cocked his head. “I bet some of these people are coming to see you.”

  She laughed. “I doubt that. But I’d better get back to work. They may not be coming to see me, but they expect to get their drinks.” She got to her feet. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m staying.”

  “Okay. Marty will close up tonight, so I can leave as soon as my shift ends.” She patted him on the shoulder and scooted away.

  * * * *

  “Home. Safe and sound.” He landed in front of Mrs. Beckman’s house and let Delia slide down his body as he released her. Desire thrummed unabated. Each passing moment increased his need for her. Unable to resist, he pulled her to him for a long kiss.

  “Only a few more days,” she said when he released her.

  Izzy would start camp on Monday, and Delia had the day off. They could be alone then. “I’m counting.” He kissed her again before giving her a gentle shove. “Go get her.”

  “’Kay. I won’t be a minute.” The chain-link gate squeaked as she opened it.

  He wished he could help her, but he’d caught a glimpse of the inside of Mrs. Beckman’s cluttered home through the windows. There was scarcely enough room for a human to move around, forget an Avian. If he folded his wings into an accordion, he still couldn’t fit inside without knocking over something.