by Mary Frame
He stops in the driveway, but leaves the truck in idle.
“Not staying tonight?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Right. Okay.”
His hands stay on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the force of his grip.
What do I do? Shake hands? Hug? Kiss him goodbye? That last thought is too appealing. I open the door and slide out. “Bye. Have a good night. Drive safe. See ya later.”
Shut up, Fred!
He nods, his expression inscrutable, and I slam the door, running up to the house. Beast doesn’t pull away until I have the door open. The tires crunch over the gravel and I don’t look back.
Chapter Eleven
“He’s old.”
“Like how old?”
“Like, he was alive before Supernatural was even on the air.”
–Overheard at Comic-Con
* * *
“Have you heard anything about any of the jobs you applied for?” Reese tilts back against the headrest, the better to see me in the back seat.
We’re in Annabel’s car. Grace is sprawled across the seat next to me, her head against the window, mouth open, snoring slightly. Lord knows when she finally went to sleep. She was clicking and tapping at computer keys in the middle of the night. Grace is lucky she didn’t have to wake up with the guys. They left at the crack of dawn to reserve our spot. And Beast and I worked last night. He must be exhausted.
I’m surprised he didn’t ride with us so he could sleep in a little longer, but I guess the guys all wanted his help with hefting the camp supplies.
I frown. Kind of rude of them, actually.
It’s been a week since our “kissing practice.” If I can even call it that. More like “making Fred explode due to sexual frustration practice.”
But it doesn’t matter. It’s not happening again. There has been no kissing, or mention of the kissing, for the last week, only the occasional question on how to respond to a text from Caroline. Which is a good thing. We’re friends. Friends don’t make out. Friends don’t ogle their other friends from across the bar when they’re stacking chairs. Friends don’t get flustered when their buddy tosses ornery drunks out of the bar while looking all cut and impressive and intimidating and handsome.
Wait, what did Reese just ask me?
“I have an interview next week.” I won’t mention the handful of immediate rejections.
Annabel hits her turn signal, and we drive up a winding road, leading us further into the mountains and toward our destination. “Who is the interview with?”
I shrug. “It’s a temp job. Some marketing firm. I’m not really excited about it, but at least it will give me some experience with phone interviews I can use for the next application.”
A job is a job, right? As long as it pays the bills and I’m no longer beholden to my parents or anyone else. Independent woman, hear me roar and all that. But instead of empowerment and liberation rushing through me, it’s more a trickle of meh. Disappearing somewhere to hide from the inevitable future would be preferable.
Reese settles against her seat, still half turned in my direction. “If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be? If there was nothing to hold you back. No excuses or limits.”
“Well, there is this one position I applied for, but—”
“No buts,” Reese points one finger in the air, “no excuses or limits, remember? So what’s this job?”
I hesitate, gazing out the window at the landscape growing thicker and greener the further we get up into the mountain. “So there’s this company creating a cross country chain of fandom-themed restaurants.”
There’s a long pause and I hold my breath. But I don’t need to worry about it because Annabel and Reese aren’t assholes, unlike someone whose name starts with J and ends in ack. Neither are they my parents, worried about having a daughter who has a weird job and no retirement fund.
“Fandom-themed restaurants?” Reese asks. “Like dining with comic- and movie-themed dishes and paraphernalia?”
“Basically, yes. There are already similar venues all over the world. The job would involve researching markets prior to opening to assist design teams with menu creation, and also observing user experiences in action and reporting back to a marketing team.”
“Fred.” Annabel glances at me in the rearview mirror, her voice bright and encouraging. “This is like the perfect career for you.”
“I probably won’t even get an interview. I’m sure it’s competitive.”
“But you would rock this job. You have the restaurant experience, you’re great with people and knowing what they want, and you know everything about everything when it comes to fandoms. It’s totally your jam.”
“Maybe it will work out.” The trees are a blur of green as we zoom up the narrow road.
Wouldn’t that be the perfect thing to shove in Jack’s face? How many times did he mock me for my love of “kid crap”? But the truth was he wanted me to be his beck and call girl. To be fair, he did support us both once he started his job. But at what cost?
“No maybes allowed,” Reese says. “If this is your dream, you should go after it no matter what it takes.”
“Yeah,” Annabel adds. “Don’t make us badger you like we do Beast. Our harassment allotment is full.”
My ears perk up at the mention of my protégé slash former kissing partner. “What are you trying to convince Beast to do?”
Reese glances over at Grace, who’s still sleeping, before she responds, her voice lowered. “We’ve been telling him he should apply to a better culinary school. We’ve been nagging him for months. But he won’t even consider it.”
“He won’t leave his family,” I murmur.
“It’s admirable, and it’s obvious how much he cares for Grace, and how much she depends on him.” Reese shoots a look over at Grace again. “But sidelining your dreams doesn’t do anyone any good. I think that’s only part of it, though. There’s the other minor inconvenience of not being able to speak. He’s never outright brought it up, but I know he thinks it will hinder his chances of success.”
I nod slowly.
“We still have time to convince him. He’s only like, what, eighteen?” Annabel asks.
“Nineteen,” Reese and I say at the same time.
He told me his age right before we . . . I shake the images out of my head. One more reason it’s a bad idea. He’s nineteen, I’m twenty-two. I’m too old for him. Practically a cougar. Okay, that excuse is weak, it’s only a few years, but still.
“I don’t know.” Reese shifts her focus to Annabel. “You saw how he was when Grace took off last year. He was a wreck. He’ll never leave Grace, or Jude, or any of us if he can help it. We’re his only family.”
“Wait. Grace left? Like ran away?”
Reese and Annabel exchange a glance, and then Reese speaks. “She left where they were living in Valdosta and came here to Blue Falls. Jude and Beast followed. But that’s a long story. And it’s also why she’s promised to stay with Granny and go to school.”
And here’s my opening. “Does it have something to do with what happened when they were kids, like with their parents?”
This time, Annabel answers. “All I know is Jude met both of them at the library in Valdosta. Jude was still a teenager himself, only seventeen or so. Grace was eight and Beast was about thirteen—but tall enough to be mistaken for a man, even then. I don’t know what their past was before that, only that they were on their own.” She wrinkles her nose. “Jude won’t talk about it, even to me, insists it’s not his story to tell. They bonded with Jude because of Grace and her hacking skills, and also because they didn’t have anyone else.”
“What happened to Jude’s parents?”
Annabel pauses before answering. “They’re alive. But they don’t have a relationship.”
I nod, not probing further. I’ve already poked my nose in more than what’s polite.
We drive in silence for a while, each
of us lost in our thoughts.
My own inner musings are stuck on a giant of a man with a soft heart and a past so dark that he can’t even speak. What has he been through? Part of me is incredibly curious and wants all the answers, but the other part of me thinks the knowledge might break my heart. And who am I to hold his secrets?
I’m zoning out so hard, I jerk when the car stops. We’ve arrived.
“Wake up, Gracie.” Annabel puts the car in park and leans back to nudge Grace in the leg.
She rubs her eyes, heavy with sleep, and looks out the window.
We’ve parked behind Fitz’s truck. Water sparkling in the sun through thick green foliage entices me out of the car.
Jude and Fitz are sitting at a wood picnic table in the center of the campsite, playing cards.
Annabel calls out, “Do you ever stop with the games and the betting?”
“The stakes are high, darlin’. If I win this hand, Fitz is cleaning my bathroom for a month.”
“Oh. Carry on then.” Annabel waves a hand and then opens the trunk for us to grab our bags.
A couple other tents sit between the trees surrounding the main area of the campsite. I don’t see Beast anywhere, though.
“Can we go swimming now? I already have my suit on.” Grace is practically dancing in place, all remnants of her nap blown away at the idea of beach and water and sunshine.
“Let’s unpack first and see if there’s anything else that needs to be set up. We have to find the towels and everything anyway,” Reese says before bouncing over to Fitz. She leans into him for a long hug. On the other side of the table, Annabel greets Jude with a kiss. Like they all didn’t just see each other last night.
The sky is blue, the birds are chirping, and the air is fresh with the scents of pine and clean sunshine. At this elevation, the heat isn’t quite as oppressive. There are a few other campsites in this circle, but the closest one is about fifty feet off and unoccupied. Our campsite is a wide area of packed dirt and grass. There’s a firepit and camp table in the center. Next to the table, I pick through a pile of camping gear, bags, coolers, and lanterns, looking for the bag with my tent.
We brought four tents in total. The couples, of course, each have their own and Beast is sharing a tent with Grace. I have my own little one-man pop-up.
That’s me. Cursed to wander alone forever like the Phantom Stranger.
“Has anyone seen—” Jumping at a gentle touch on my arm, I flap like I’m being attacked by murder hornets.
Beast is standing next to me, silent as a statue. I put a hand on my chest. “You gave me a heart attack. How do you move so quietly even in the forest? Never mind. What’s up?”
He motions for me to follow him and leads me past the table and around a few looming pine trees to where he’s already put up my tent in a spot of shade. The tarp peeks out from underneath, and the netted doorway is folded open. My sleeping bag is already laid out and ready to go.
“Oh, thank you.” It’s a good spot, far enough from the happy couples that I might not hear any frisky behaviors but close enough that I won’t have to worry about getting eaten by a bear.
He nods at me and then lumbers away, leaving me to toss my bag of clothes and toiletries into the little tent. I pull out my smaller beach bag packed with a towel, sunscreen, and a book. Inside the tent, there’s a lantern in one corner and an unopened water bottle in a storage flap sewn into the tent wall.
I smile at the little gestures of comfort. He’s so good at taking care of everyone in small ways, but if I learned anything from Jack, it’s that the small things matter the most. The big gestures are nothing compared to the minutiae of life.
Heading back to the main area, I pass Grace and Beast.
“Do you have to sleep right by the door?” Grace asks from inside the tent. “You’re so overprotective. What if I have to pee in the middle of the night? I’ll have to climb over you.”
Standing outside the door, facing her, he shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Ugh you’re annoying.” The grumbled words are halfhearted at best. “Will you blow up my flamingo?”
Granny bought her the giant inflatable and gave it to her yesterday.
There’s a flurry of activity near the firepit and camp table, where the others are gathering towels and frisbees and transferring food and drinks from a large cooler into a smaller, more transportable ice chest. A high-pitched humming fills the air as Beast uses a battery-operated air pump on Grace’s flamingo.
“Do you have sunscreen?” Annabel calls out.
I respond, “I have some.”
“I’m so ready to get in the water,” Fitz says.
“Feeing hot under the collar from losing at cards? Riddled with nerves?” Jude drawls.
Fitz snorts. “You couldn’t make me nervous if you tried, old man.”
“Now, now, puppy, you should respect your elders.”
Annabel rolls her eyes. “You’re like five years older than Fitz.”
“A veritable lifetime.”
“Let’s go!” Grace yells, already heading down the path between the trees that leads to the shimmering water in the distance.
Beast hefts the cooler onto his shoulder, like it’s full of air instead of packed to the brim with food and drinks and ice, following behind Grace.
I meander behind the others, listening to the chatter and laughter as we take the short walk to the beach.
The trees abruptly end in a bed of wild grass that peters out into a sandy stretch of beach.
Grace tosses her towel and bag on the sand and races to the water, lugging her giant flamingo with her.
Beast trails her, his gait twice as long but still having to jog to keep pace. He catches up to her at the shoreline, squeezing sunscreen into his hand. She bounces on her toes in the shallow waves while he attempts to spread the stuff on her back.
In most ways, Grace fits the narrative of a fourteen-year-old, but seeing her here—it’s like she’s more of a kid. Granted, she’s in that strange twilight between childhood and adulthood. But if what Annabel said bears even a hint of truth, she may not have had much of a childhood at all. Most teenagers would probably think it’s lame, being at the lake with their family, no friends to gossip or hang out with, but not Grace.
I lay out my towel and shuck my jean shorts, self-conscious in the plain, black, one-piece suit I found at the general store at the last minute.
Jude pushes open an umbrella, shoving it into the sand and twisting it open with competent ease. “I have some activities planned.“
“Of course you do,” Annabel says.
“Sarcasm does not befit you, my dear.”
She rolls her eyes while he pulls off his shirt in that quintessential guy way, tugging up the back before whipping it over his head.
“I’ll tell you—” Annabel cuts off midretort. And I don’t blame her. Jude is all golden, tan skin and lean muscles.
“Uh, let me put sunscreen on you.” She pats the towel in front of her and he grins and lopes over, settling down so she can rub it on his back.
Reese and Fitz are on the other side of Annabel. Already shirtless and ready for the water, Fitz hands Reese water from the cooler. Reese is wearing a one-piece, too, so I don’t feel so lame. Her suit is cuter though, dark green, high neck, speckled with large pink flowers.
There aren’t many people around, one family down the beach with small children, and a group of teenagers on the other side. The teens have music playing and the beat of a hip-hop song tinges the air.
Beast returns to where he dropped his towel next to mine. He whips off his shirt and my mouth instantly goes dry. Jude might be a golden god, but Beast is a tank.
I’ve seen him in his tight, form-hugging work shirts. I’ve felt those shoulders under my hands. But seeing him in the bright daylight? It’s a whole new world. And you can bet your ass I won’t dare close my eyes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many muscles in the fle
sh. His shoulders are broad and defined, tapering down to the ridges of his abdomen, a sculpture of raw masculinity. He’s built in flawless proportion, nothing even CGI could improve upon.
My eyes are greedy little monsters, taking him in.
Fred, you’re a pervert.
I force my eyes to his face. He’s not watching me, thank the gods. His head is tilted, listening to the others discuss some chicken game.
My eyes narrow in on his full lips. Those lips have touched mine.
Look away, Fred. I engross myself in rubbing sunscreen on my arms and legs, refusing to so much as tilt my head in his direction.
My intentional diversion isn’t long lived because suddenly he’s standing in front of me, holding a tube of sunscreen.
“You need help?”
He nods.
“Okay.” I nod.
There’s a lot of head bobbing going on.
I swallow. “Uh, turn around.”
He does and I’m presented with the most beautiful back I’ve ever seen on a man. Dammit.
I squeeze the tube too hard and sunscreen squirts all over my hand and wrist, some of it falling to the sand.
Dropping the container down to the towel, I stare at his back, then down at my lotion-splattered limb. “I can’t reach your shoulders.”
He kneels in front of me on the towel and all that skin and heavy muscle is even closer. It’s all too much. The smell of suntan lotion mixed with sunshine and fresh air and Beast’s crisp, clean scent. My brain short-circuits until my chest hurts because I’ve stopped breathing.
Pull your shit together, Fred.
I take a deep breath and start rubbing. Oh my. He’s warm and smooth under my fingers, and I do my damnedest to avoid lingering too much on the rigid bumps and grooves of his physique.
I spread the lotion all over his shoulders, swiping down to his lower back just above his . . .
Maybe it is better than Captain America’s ass. My fingers move closer, like they’re no longer controlled by me, but by a force much greater. A Space Force. No, an awesome ass force.
Don’t touch his butt, Fred.
