by Kate Rudolph
"I live just past Skyler Road and County Road 12." She didn't question the garage in his cave and didn't look at him. Her breath fogged up the glass. It was cold out, an early winter chill in the air.
Derek turned up the heat. Normally he left if off, his body temperature already warmer than normal, but this human had been through enough already. He drove in the direction she gave, but when ten minutes passed in silence he grew tense. People were supposed to talk, that's what normal humans did. He'd learned that in college. They hated when you kept your thoughts to yourself. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know enough about her to know what they had in common. He settled on the one thing he knew. "You shouldn't hike alone in those woods. It's dangerous."
"I wasn't hiking," she replied, but she still didn't look at him. "And we were practically in my back yard."
"Do you live at the old Hamilton place?" Derek asked. The Hamilton family had owned a large ranch until about fifty years ago, but the house and property had sat abandoned since the 1960s.
The woman shrugged, "I guess, if that's the house by the river."
"That place is a dump," he realized that he shouldn't have said it the moment the words slipped out of his mouth.
But the woman said, "Gee, thanks," before he could apologize.
Still, Derek tried to fix it. "I mean, no one's lived there in a very long time." He'd barely lived in the area a year when the Hamiltons moved away.
Finally, his fascinating woman looked at him, "That's not what the real estate agent said."
"Well, then she lied to you." He understood why, who wouldn't lie to get a sale on more than a hundred acres of prime real estate?
"I don't think so." The woman fidgeted in her seat, playing with the seat belt in front of her. "I mean, the house is old, but the previous tenants clearly lived in it."
Derek turned his signal on to go down Hamilton Road, but the woman tutted, "That's not my street.
Derek turned off the blinker and glanced at her, "But you said you lived at the Hamilton place?"
She pursed her lips, "No, you said I lived there. My street is another mile down the road."
"Oh," that was why Derek didn't like to make assumptions or speak before he'd completely thought out his words. Now he looked like an overbearing fool who'd tried to insult her home. And he'd been completely wrong about which home it was.
They stayed silent for another few minutes until the woman directed him down another county road. Her place was down a gravel driveway and when Derek got a good look at it, his insults rang true. It wasn't as bad as the Hamilton place, but it wasn't much better.
"You live here?" he asked. It looked like the roof had collapsed in one place and most of the windows were broken. The paint was peeling and a raccoon scampered across the roof and down through one of the broken windows.
She grimaced and she sized him up, "You're kind of judgmental."
"This place should be condemned. I can't believe you live here!" Derek didn't consider himself quick to judge, but when safety was involved, he'd state his mind. He tried to think of a way to encourage her to find another place to stay. The house wasn't fit for bear or woman.
"I don't live in the house," she pointed beside it. "I live in there."
"That's a shed." In fact, it was worse than a shed, smaller and looking like something that Santa's elves would live in. He didn't think she could store a lawn mower in there, let alone sleep in it.
The woman laughed, "I wish." At least she agreed with him. "But," she continued, "It's home until I can get someone to fix up the house."
"Oh." Derek looked back at the house with new eyes, trying to assess what she would need to tackle first. Probably the roof, and then the windows. But he'd need to go inside to truly get an idea.
He was silent too long. The woman unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Before stepping out, she said, "Thanks for the ride, I guess. Maybe don't abduct any more women in the woods?"
Derek smiled, "I'll keep that in mind." She got out of the car and closed the door behind her.
Derek didn’t drive away until she was ensconced in her little shed-house.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning as Sandra was making coffee and toast, she banged her head while standing up too quickly. The toaster was stored away in a drawer that she needed to pull out each time she wanted to use it, and the coffee pot was in a tiny cabinet above the sink. Leaving any cabinet open was a safety hazard and it seemed to halve the space available in her kitchenette.
Though by normal standards the entire house was the “kitchen area,” it was also the “living area” and the “bed area.” She’d seen pictures of these little houses online before and they’d always looked cute. But it was no wonder that she never saw people actually living in them.
Based on her scant experience in the state, she was beginning to wonder if anyone in Montana lived in normal homes. After yesterday, she doubted anything could surprise her. Did that man - Derek - really live in the cave? Was his bedroom in an antechamber?
How did the women he dated feel about that?
Nope, not going there. If she started thinking about him dating, she’d remember his eyes, his grin, and the promise of defined muscles under his shirt. Her fingers itched to touch, but she balled them up into a fist and took a deep breath. Sandra counted slowly from one to twenty-three. She imagined her brain as a cluttered room, thoughts strewn about it an unordered mess. With each number, she put the thoughts up, everything in its place.
She’d learned the trick back in high school, though usually the thoughts she calmed were not her own.
It was strange, being in such a quiet place with only the birds chirping and the wind through the trees as her company. She didn’t miss dozens of thoughts invading her mind, but she felt strangely exposed. Every thought she had, every sound she made, seemed to echo around and bounce in her head. How did normal people do it?
Take the cave-man yesterday. With her powers blocked, she’d needed to rely completely on atrophied instincts. She didn’t normally hear the entire contents of a person’s head, but it wasn’t difficult to suss out whether they were friend or foe. And yet the cave-man was a blank slate.
So who’s thought had she heard?
Between the bear - which she wasn’t forgetting about, but was now beginning to doubt had actually carried her back to Derek’s place - and all of the drama of Derek’s cave, she’d forgotten about the thoughts that she’d heard the day before. She supposed that it could have been Derek. Maybe her fainting spell really had knocked out her abilities and that’s why she wasn’t able to read his thoughts.
She’d be able to test that theory later. She was down to two slices of bread and half a container of yogurt. The house only had a mini-fridge, which meant she’d need to run to the gas station in Oak Wood and pick up some supplies along with some meals from the diner.
Sandra plated her toast and poured her coffee. She went outside to eat. It was better to sit on the little seat built into the porch of the house than cram in at the little table in the kitchen area.
A familiar car pulled up in the driveway, the wheels crunching the gravel beneath them. She’d seen that truck before, just yesterday.
It was Derek.
She could sense him, psychically. He felt like cotton fluff brushing against her arm. She could feel him, but he was amorphous; his thoughts had yet to take shape.
She set her drink and plate on the railing beside the chair and stood, crossing her arms and waiting for him to come closer. There was a gun in her safe, but she didn’t even consider getting it. Derek was an annoyance, not a threat. Today he wore blue jeans and a tight white t-shirt. The crisp morning air should have been a little cold for that outfit, but he looked comfortable. His hair was a mess, still a bit damp and more likely combed with his fingers rather than a brush. And he was still too damn attractive. Even more so now that she was on her own turf and not scrambling for an escape route.
&n
bsp; He approached the tiny-house and smiled up at her, stopping just before he reached the steps. “Good morning.”
And morning it was, it wasn’t yet eight o’clock.
“Did you come to borrow a cup of sugar?” She asked.
“Can you even fit a container of sugar in that doll house?” he teased.
Despite herself, Sandra laughed. If he altered his tone in the slightest, she would say that he was making fun of her. But the warmth in his words was enough to tell her that he found her house amusing, it wasn’t a mark against her. Though, now that he mentioned it, she didn’t actually have any sugar. “What are you doing here? I don’t need rescuing today.”
“It’s early yet,” he said it with no inflection, and Sandra had no idea if he was teasing or being serious. Every time she tried to get a lock on his thoughts, she failed.
This was unacceptable. Yes, she’d moved to the middle of nowhere to escape the incessant nuisance of strangers’ thoughts, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be rid of her power. She just wanted a little peace and quiet, not to never be able to read anyone again.
She focused on him, opening her senses up to try and intentionally catch his thoughts. Maybe he had some sort of natural shield that made it so she didn’t accidentally read him, but she’d never before met someone that she couldn’t read at all.
That fluffy feeling started to solidify, and while she didn’t sense his exact thoughts, she felt a sense of amusement and attraction coming from his general direction, along with a dogged desire to help out a person in need.
Not at the house. That didn’t come from Derek. Sandra jerked her head and looked out toward the road, trying to find whoever she’d just heard.
Derek may have given off an air of helpfulness, but she only felt malevolence swirling around the stranger’s thoughts.
Derek felt that same headache he’d gotten just after this woman - he still didn’t know her name - had finished throwing rocks at him. This time he noticed that her eyes narrowed just a smidge before focusing in on him.
Was she doing this to him? Somehow intentionally giving him a headache so that he would go away? He’d never heard of someone with X-Man powers before, but he could change his shape into that of a bear. It felt a bit hasty to dismiss mutants out of hand.
She jerked her head away and stared out into the woods. A moment later, the headache dissolved, with not even a twinge of pain to remember it by. It must have come from a lack of sleep or something.
It felt a little awkward to stand there while she ignored him, but Derek wasn’t presumptuous enough to begin assessing her house without her consent. She needed help and he wanted to offer it, but he wasn’t going to thrust it upon her.
Driving home yesterday, this hadn’t been his plan. But he liked to think of himself as a gentleman, and this woman was new in town and had no idea of who she could turn to for reliable help. Besides, he would prefer if she didn’t mention seeing a bear to anyone just yet. He wasn’t the only shapeshifter in the area, but things could go poorly for him and his kind if anyone realized that they were changing shapes where normal humans could see them.
That was a centuries-old conflict. Most humans knew nothing about shapeshifters, vampires, witches, or other magical creatures who lived among them. Those that did fell in to two camps: supporters and detractors. Sometimes the detractors became hunters or rounded up mobs with pitchforks.
It meant that a single bear had to tread carefully. He didn’t want his head mounted on someone’s wall.
The woman kept looking out into the woods, but before Derek could question her about it, she turned back to him with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “What do you want?” she asked again.
“Your name.” It popped out, but Derek hadn’t meant to ask like that. But if she didn’t give him a name soon, she’d probably really hate the nickname he gave her. Her eyes were the most intriguing shade of honey, unexpected given that she looked Asian. How bad would it be to call her honey?
No, even he understood the unfortunate implications of that without having to think it out.
“Sandra Khee,” she answered. “Though it seems like you came a bit out of your way to find out.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the dark wood wall, her brown hair falling over her shoulders and rustling a little in the wind.
“That’s not why I came.” He liked her name. It fit her. There was a quiet dignity to it, and an air of maturity beyond her years. He doubted that she was older than thirty. But humans aged so quickly that it was sometimes difficult to tell.
“Okay.” She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
But she hadn’t thrown any rocks at him yet, which made today a success. So far. “You said that you needed help getting your house livable. I wanted to help.”
She took a deep breath and leaned forward, her arms taking most of her weight as she rested on the railing. “Thanks for the offer, but I need to get a professional to assess this all before I even begin to tackle this project.”
“I am. A professional, that is.”
“Really?” The skepticism in her voice was almost offensive, but Derek was prepared. ‘Really?’ was one of the four responses he had planned for her to make.
“Yes, I used to own a construction company.”
“Used to? And why don’t you own it anymore?” She sounded curious, rather than hostile. Good! Another response that he’d anticipated.
He shrugged, “My friend needed capital for a business venture, so I helped him out.”
“You sold your company to give money to a friend?”
Had he not said it clearly enough? “Of course, he needed help.”
She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything.
Derek took that as his cue to talk. “Anyway, I thought I could help you get started. I’ve lived here for a long time so I can give you some pointers on what will work best. You don’t look like the type of person used to cold winters.”
Even though it was barely chilly, she was bundled up in a fleece sweater and thick pajama pants. Derek hadn’t even bothered to put on a coat. If she thought October was cold, she’d have another thing coming when winter truly hit.
But Sandra just laughed and said, “I’m adaptable.”
“So do you want me to get started?” Derek was glad that they’d met, even if the situation had been fraught with bruises. He needed a project and this house would keep him occupied. And he hoped if he played his cards right and that the woman who lived there would keep him even busier.
“And you’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?” She really asked a lot of questions.
“We can talk price after a walk through. I promise I’m affordable.” Derek wasn’t quite sure why he wanted this job so much. But there was something about Sandra that made him want to be around her, made him want to help. And the longer he was with her, the less tongue-tied he felt. She seemed just as out of place here in this ridiculous small house as he sometimes felt when he was out among humans.
Though he was honest enough with himself to know that this might all be some projection. He saw a beautiful woman and she seemed like a perfect match? Yeah, he’d been down that road before.
But maybe this time he was right.
“I can be a harsh task master,” she said.
Derek smiled. He was in.
CHAPTER FIVE
“And I’m going to make you redo things if they aren’t to my standards.” His smile was something else, though it made Sandra worry that he wasn’t taking her as seriously as he should.
No matter—he’d learn exactly how much of a hard ass she could be when the time called for it.
He offered a hand. “Your wish is my command.”
Sandra pushed off of the wall and leaned forward to shake. When she did, she almost gasped. Those cotton-ball sensations that she’d been getting from him solidified; an onslaught of lust and a desire to truly help her washed over her like a t
idal wave.
There was something more, something at the back of his mind, but it disappeared when he pulled away.
“Are you cold?” Derek asked, leaning forward, concerned. “You’re covered in goosebumps.”
“I’m fine,” Sandra snapped. The sudden attack of emotion reminded her uncomfortably of that night many in Kiev. But it did solve one mystery. It wasn’t her powers that were acting strange, it was Derek who was somehow different. Yes, some people had natural shields, but physical contact usually had little effect on whether or not she could hear someone. And their minds never felt so immediate, so vibrant.
Derek was like her. Maybe not psychic, but like the other members of the Sector. There was little overlap in ability among the women of the Sector, though Sandra didn’t know if that was because of how they were recruited or how people like them were born. And to see a man with psycho-tactile powers was something else. There were less than a dozen men in the Sector, usually reserved for missions where a woman would not be welcome. Sandra had never worked with any of them.
She opened her mouth to ask Derek what he could do, but thought better of it at the last moment. They were nearly strangers, and if he was used to hiding his talent, he probably wouldn’t tell her.
But now she knew how to get it out of him.
“Wait right here,” she said. “I need to put my dishes away.” She went back into the house without waiting for Derek’s reply. She placed her plate and mug in the tiny sink and quickly changed out of her pajamas into a sturdy pair of jeans and a thick sweater.
Sandra picked up her gloves but put them back down. She’d need to touch Derek again if she wanted to learn his secrets.
A sizzle of excitement zinged through her. This was what she had loved about her job, getting information she wasn’t supposed to have, analyzing it, and learning everything that she could. It didn’t occur to her to actually get to know the man and wait for him to open up to her. No, she wanted to know now. And with her power, she didn’t need to wait.
Sandra hated waiting.
