“Good. I like the dog.” He settled back in his chair. “Put the TV on.”
“Too late for Jeopardy. You want Dancing with the Stars?”
“Nah. Find me a movie.”
Rafe looked through the guide and found the description for something called Mad Max: Fury Road. “You’ll like this one.”
Del got one look at Charlize Theron and gave a little shout. “Oh, yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Thought so,” Rafe muttered.
The Old Man got quiet. “Hot. It was so damn hot there. Like that place.” He pointed at the flatscreen and shook his head. “Thought we would die of the heat until we started digging underground. But we made it, didn’t we.” He glanced up at Rafe and back at the TV. “Yep. We made it.”
Rafe put a hand on Del’s shoulder and squeezed, but his father didn’t acknowledge it. He was caught up in the adventure onscreen now. Or gone, his mind stuck in the past; it was hard to tell.
Charlie and Louise wouldn’t arrive for another 15 minutes, and Rafe debated cracking open a beer in the interim. He decided against it and spent the time pacing instead. Borazt! He felt like a raw recruit on his first mission. Why should this be so difficult? Charlie had said it wasn’t really even a “date,” which he’d looked up and meant “a romantic appointment.” Though, when you think about it, why would she be afraid to call it what it so obviously was? Unless she didn’t feel about him like he felt about her.
And how was that exactly? Fuck-all if he knew! He was a soldier. He knew about lust—the physical reactions a male body had to a beautiful female. The need. The hunger. The obsessive behavior of a predator on the hunt. All of that kicked him in the gut every time Charlie walked in the room, so hard he could barely breathe sometimes.
But it was what happened when she wasn’t around that he had never felt before and didn’t understand. He didn’t just fantasize about her body or her face; when he was away from her he longed for her voice, or her laughter, or her calm presence. He wanted to spend time with her just talking. What did that mean? He didn’t spend time with anyone just talking.
And the worst part? He had no one to ask about any of it—no friend, no sister, no brother-in-arms. Just a crazy old man who used to be his father.
Maybe he was just as crazy for agreeing to this night out with Charlie. It was so risky, in so many ways. He might say the wrong thing and give himself away. He might give Charlie too wide a glimpse at his true self and risk scaring off their one anchor to this place. And, worst of all, he might fan the spark of emotion he was feeling for her into a flame he couldn’t control.
Rafe couldn’t imagine now why he’d said yes to this wild scheme. He pulled his comp out of his pocket and was on the verge of calling her to cancel when he heard the gravel crunching in the driveway. Headlights swept the living room as the vehicle pulled up, then abruptly cut off. Swallowing his panic, Rafe went out to meet his guests.
He was at the driver’s side door before Charlie had a chance to open it. “Hey. Thank you.” She smiled up at him as she stood up. “That’s awful sweet.”
Under her open winter coat she was dressed simply in jeans and a light sweater of some subtle color he couldn’t determine in the dim porch light . But, gods, those jeans hugged her every curve and the sweater only made him think how she would feel under his hands—warm and soft and—okay, he needed to stop thinking.
He stuttered out a hello and closed the car door behind her. Happy barked in the back seat, so Rafe opened the door for him, too, and endured the enthusiastic doggy greeting that followed.
He looked for Louise in the passenger seat, but she had already made her way up to the porch. “Hi, Louise. Sorry I was a little slow to get your door.”
She laughed. “You had other things on your mind. Y’all got a nice evening for your, uh, time out. Thought we might get some snow for a minute there this morning.”
Rafe glanced up at the starlit sky. “No. Cleared up.” He noted Louise didn’t call this a date, either. Perai.
The women waited politely for him to open the front door and usher them inside. Happy, though, brushed past everyone and ran right to Del, tail wagging so hard it shook his whole body.
“Hey, big fella!” Del lavished attention on the dog and ignored the rest of his visitors.
Rafe shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. Del seems to have forgotten his manners.”
Louise just waved a hand at him on her way to the couch next to the recliner where Del sat. “Oh, that’s okay. Hap has a way of stealing the limelight.” She sat and joined Del in petting the dog. “Hi, Del. I’m Louise. We met the other day.”
When the Old Man finally realized she was there a huge smile broke over his face. “Oh, sure, I remember you, sweetheart! Wanna have a beer with me?”
Rafe shook his head violently and mouthed NO!
But Louise just grinned. “I’d love to sit a spell. Whatcha watchin’?”
Del looked at the TV, then looked up at his son. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”
Rafe moved toward the door with Charlie. “As a matter of fact, I do. We’ll see you later.” He turned back just before he closed the door. “And behave yourself.”
As he crossed the porch, he glanced through the window to see Del in his recliner and Happy curled up next to Louise on the couch, all three of them engrossed in the exploits of the Imperator Furiosa. If things went well, the Old Man would fall asleep mid-movie; the hardest part of Louise’s job would be listening to him snore.
Charlie was already behind the wheel of her vehicle by the time he came off the porch. He hesitated half a step before going around to the passenger side. He got in and closed the door, but he had to admit he felt out of place in the co-pilot’s seat.
Charlie raised an eyebrow at him.
He frowned back at her.
She gestured at a strap hanging from the side of the vehicle. “No one rides with me without a seatbelt.”
Earthers called that thing a seatbelt? And they figured they needed it for a trip into town? He was used to strapping down for take-off from gravity or to go into jump, but . . . really? Then he got another look at Charlie’s face. The woman was dead serious. Like she’d-kick-him-the-hell-out-of-the-vehicle-if-he-didn’t-comply serious.
He sighed and fumbled with the thing until he heard a click. Charlie smiled and started her engine.
“Are you worried about Del?” she asked as they wound their way down the mountain.
Rafe was surprised to find that he wasn’t. “No. Seems like he’s in good hands.”
“Louise knows what she’s doing,” Charlie agreed. “Nothing fazes her.”
He refused to let himself think of all the challenges Del could present on a bad night. He’d been plenty fazed himself a few times when he’d first taken over his father’s care. Everything will be okay. Just . . . talk.
At the end of the long gravel road that led down the mountain from the cabin, Charlie stopped at the intersection with the main road into town and turned in the opposite direction.
He took a breath. “So, um, tell me about this place we’re going to.”
Charlie smiled at him. “I hope you’re not expecting anything fancy. It’s just your basic pizza joint, maybe a little more on the honky-tonk side than the family side. The pizza’s decent and the beer is cold.”
He’d looked up “pizza,” a food he’d learned was an essential foodstuff for people in this part of Earth. (Americans, he reminded himself.) He’d wanted to have some idea what to order—and what not to order. He figured he would like the meat—pepperoni, sausage, ham, whatever. He wasn’t so sure about the “mushrooms,” which were defined as fungi in his dictionary. The fungi on most of the planets he’d been to would kill you.
But the other things she’d said were more of a mystery. “What’s a honky-tonk?”
She stared at him for a long second before returning her gaze to the road. “Really? They don’t have honky-tonks in Canada? What do yo
u call a cheap little bar where they might have music sometimes?”
Shit, now he’d done it. How the hell did he know what they called such a thing in Canada? Rayna’s angry voice echoed in his head, telling him to do his homework.
“Um, a café?”
She laughed. “Yeah, well, maybe if a café had an old scuffed-up wood floor and a coupla guys about a hundred years old drinking at the bar at 4:00 in the afternoon.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but it didn’t matter. Her blue eyes were bright with humor, her whole body alive with warm energy. He had turned toward her in his seat and was leaning in, trying to capture some of that warmth. He inhaled and was instantly aware of her scent—fresh and sweet, like a garden in the rain. He lost the thread of the conversation.
“Rafe? You okay?”
He blinked. And realized she was pulling into the parking lot of a long, low wooden building with a neon sign that read, “Mike’s—Pizza—Burgers—Cold Beer.”
He shook off whatever had a hold on him. “Looks like we’re here.”
“Busy tonight,” Charlie said as she circled the gravel lot for a space. She finally slid between two pickups where the lot bumped up against a wall of evergreens.
Rafe could already hear the happy noise of the place as they crossed the parking lot, and the adrenalin rose in his body in response. Too many people made him nervous. Too many people, too many chances for someone to come at them out of the crowd, for someone to recognize what they’d been paid to look for. He thought again that this had been a mistake, maybe a fatal one. He should have stayed on that mountain, out of sight.
He felt Charlie’s soft hand on his arm. “You all right?”
He hadn’t realized he’d stopped just before the entrance to the restaurant. He looked at Charlie, at the puzzled frown on her face. She would need an explanation if he insisted on leaving now. And, more importantly, she would be disappointed.
He sucked it up. “Fine. Just . . . it’s been a while, that’s all.”
“I get it. Are you sure you want to do this?” If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. Everything about her projected calm and reassurance.
But it was the smile that convinced him. “Yeah. I’m sure.” He opened the door for her and followed her through.
Inside, Mike’s was every bit as loud and lively as the building’s exterior had led Rafe to expect. Nearly every booth and table in the big square space was full of big groups of patrons laughing, talking, eating and drinking. A few people glanced up at them as they wove their way between the tables to an open booth along the back wall; one or two grinned at Charlie and said hello. But no one stared, and Charlie didn’t stop for any long chats. Everyone looked like they belonged there, except for him, of course. By the time Rafe had found a seat across from Charlie in the last available booth, he’d started to relax.
The server came over right away—a miracle given the crowd she had to deal with—and they ordered: a large half-pepperoni, half-mushroom. What the hell, other people seemed to be eating the things without dying. Then it was time to talk again. Damn it.
He opened his mouth to say something inane, but Charlie beat him to it. “Tell me what your dad was like before, Rafe. What was your childhood like with him?”
Borazt! That was the last thing he could tell her about. He hadn’t had a childhood, really. He’d grown up in a Rescue crèche on Terrene with the kids of other field agents until he got old enough to join the fight against the Grays. Not all his crèche-mates chose that path; some of them grew up to have “normal” lives as doctors or traders or Confederated Systems Fleet officers. But he had wanted to fight from the time he understood where his parents went when they left him behind. And his father, at least, never argued with him over it.
“Rafe?”
“Well, to be honest, the Old Man wasn’t around too much when I was growing up,” he said at last. “He did a lot of undercover work in those days.”
Charlie considered him, her blue eyes dark with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. “I suppose that’s where some of that odd stuff he says comes from?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah. He did some time in the Native lands. Plus, you know, I think he just makes stuff up.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond to that suggestion. The woman was just too damn smart. And she didn’t let things go, either.
“What about your mom? You don’t talk about her.”
His heart twisted in his chest, the old wound threatening to open again. “She died when I was a teenager.” What lie had they chosen for him to tell? “A brain aneurysm.”
“Oh, Rafe! I’m so sorry!” Her hand covered his on the table.
He stared at their hands, allowed himself to feel the connection. His heart was pounding, but for once the familiar hurt and anger of his mother’s loss was overpowered by a new emotion, something new he only felt for Charlie.
He shook his head. “Look, this is supposed to be a fun night out. How about we talk about something else? You, for instance.”
She withdrew her hand and sat back. “Oh, well. Nice weather we’re having!”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he said with a lift of his chin. “You like to prod and probe other people, but won’t talk about yourself?”
Her pale skin flushed to a sexy pink, and she tossed her red curls over her shoulder. “Okay, I admit I’m a better listener than a talker. But fair’s fair. What do you want to know?”
“Hmm.” He wanted to know everything, but specifics deserted him as he struggled with the effect she was having on him. “We can start with something easy. What about your family? You grew up around here, right?”
She nodded. “Not too far. In the big city of Asheville. My dad’s a defense lawyer there, still giving the city prosecutors hell on a regular basis. I renovated his old hunting cabin to live in when I needed my own space. Mom’s still around, too, but I haven’t seen her in a long time. My parents are divorced, and dad and my grandma raised me.” She ground to a halt, then took a long swig of her beer. “I was lucky in a lot of ways.”
Rafe wondered how old she had been when that divorce had separated Charlie from her mother. Had she been a little girl, too young to understand why Mommy wasn’t around anymore? Or a rebellious teenager, full of anger at the betrayal? Either way, he didn’t think “luck” had much to do with what had happened to that sweet-natured child.
The food was served, and Rafe missed his chance to find out. He stared at the huge disc of baked dough covered with red sauce and cheese that took up most of the table between them. On one half of the disc, small circles of reddish meat dotted the top of the pizza; on the other, small bits of fungi peeked out from under the cheese. Half-pepperoni, half-mushroom. Got it.
He served himself a big triangular piece of the pepperoni, waited for Charlie to get her mushroom piece, then bit into the thing. Holy Angels of Vantyr! He tried not to show his reaction, because Charlie was eating as if this was just food—good food, but nothing special. He considered it the best thing he had ever put in his mouth. Of course, he was used to freeze-dried field rations and starship food synthesizers and the far outpost spaceport crap that passed for “luxury meals.” But even in the best chophouses in the galaxy, he’d never tasted anything like this. He gobbled up the first piece and went for the second.
Charlie laughed at him. “Hungry? Maybe we should order another one.”
He thought about it. “Depends. How much do you usually eat?”
“Not much. You can help me with my side, too, if you want.”
Mushrooms? But Charlie was still alive, and they smelled delicious. He worked his way through all but one piece of the pepperoni (which Charlie snatched out of his reach and put on her plate), then started on what she had left of the mushroom. Oh, gods! Mushrooms were great!
Of course, so much pizza had made him thirsty, so he ordered another pitcher of beer. Which loosened his tongue.
“You know, when the Old Man st
arted in on wanting to come here, I didn’t understand it,” he said between mouthfuls of the last piece of pizza. “But now that I’m here, I think I get it. The mountains are . . . I don’t know . . . peaceful or something. I can feel it, and I know he does, too.”
She nodded. “It’s the same reason I don’t go back to Asheville. I love the quiet. Looking out at those mountains every day does something to make you slow down and take a breath.”
That was something he could appreciate after years of dodging Gray laze rifles, but Charlie was young and gorgeous and—he glanced around—the pool of available men here seemed severely limited. “I wondered why you would choose to live way out here. You don’t miss the city? Your friends?”
“I hate the city. Too crowded. And I have friends here,” she said, her laugh erasing any hint of defensiveness. Then, suddenly, she couldn’t meet his gaze, and her voice dropped so low he could barely hear it. “Boyfriends, now, that’s another matter.”
Boyfriends? He frowned, puzzling over the term, before it hit him. She meant lovers. Men with whom she could have an ongoing sexual relationship. Men, potentially, like him. His pulse spiked and his chest tightened, strangling his breath.
He waited for her to look at him. It took a while; she seemed determined to log every detail of the crumbs on her plate. When she finally raised her gaze to his, he noted the last of a fading blush on her cheeks, a brightness in her blue eyes.
“That could change,” he said. “Sooner than you think.” Gods knew why he said it. He only knew he had to say something. Her voice, her face, the pain he saw there, compelled him to do something, to be something. For her.
“Think so?” She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, which had gone as dark as a stormy sea. She sat back in her seat, withdrawing from him. “Well, let’s just say I’m open to whatever the universe brings.” She raised her mug to him and drank.
He did the same, if only to help him swallow what was a rejection, despite the words. He couldn’t blame her; he’d been nothing but a hard case since the day she’d met him. Why should she trust him now? He didn’t deserve it, yet, suddenly, her trust was what he wanted more than anything on this planet.
Not Fade Away: Interstellar Rescue Series Book 4 Page 13
