by Elsa Jade
“Same.” It took only slightly less effort than not going up the stairs to not press Evens again for details about why he felt the need for strict security—and yet refused to supply more information.
Also, he’d hired a disgraced beast battalion, which made him even more suspect.
Evens studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “You have questions.”
“So does Tyler Lang. And she is too clever not to realize the answers don’t add up.”
“I did bring her here because she’s brilliant.” Evens inclined his head in a preening way, as if congratulating himself.
“Brilliant is going to cause trouble.”
“And that’s—partly—why I brought you here, remember?” Evens propped his elbows on the countertop to peer at Cross. “Can you not contain her? You’ve been effectively restraining your beast, so how much harder is it to hold one little Earther female?”
A dull flush of humiliation scalded him from the inside. Of course he’d resigned himself to knowing that Evens would’ve suspected why a beast battalion was available so easily and for so cheap. But confirmation still stung. And the thought that an outsider was watching him struggle for control wasn’t just a dishonor; the beast roared a demand to be unbound, to face the threat.
This was why he must never lose his hold.
But the idea of holding Tyler Lang…
Unable to answer, he swallowed hard, choking down the shame and the furious craving for freedom—and the lingering scent-memory of chocolate on her skin.
Evens watched him another moment, then gave a decisive nod. “I trust you,” he said. “Speaking of which, she’s been awake since dawn—I heard her puttering around up there—and never even got coffee. Show her to the Twinkle and add her to the shop account. You took her the groceries yesterday, yes?” He waited for Cross to nod back. “And told her to ask for anything else she needs? Then we’re good for the moment.” He turned back to his ledger.
None of this was good for the moment. Cross seethed to himself as he thumped up the outside stairs to the apartment above. He told himself the extra thump in his steps was just to warn her someone was coming, not another indication that his control was slipping.
She opened the door at his knock. “Hey. Morning.”
“You’re supposed to ask for identification,” he reminded her.
“I knew it was you.” Turning her back on him, she wandered inside.
After a heartbeat of indecision (he must never allow that again; hesitation could kill) he followed her.
The same bowl and spoon were on the counter, alone this time with a few beige squares of foodstuffs that matched the image on the box. The room was warm, one of the windows barely cracked.
“Did the fire make it too hot? Do you need me to open more windows for you?”
She glanced back at him from where she’d returned to the nest of tech she’d built. “Hmm? Oh. No, it’s fine. The air is so fresh here. It’s like the spring water, just weirdly refreshing. I mean, water and air are everywhere, but somehow here it’s better.” She shook her head, threatening to destabilize the haphazard roll of fire-touched brown she’d piled on her head and barely secured with a scrunched-up band of glittery blue fabric.
When he took a breath to answer, that whisper of breeze carried her scent to him: warmed skin, sweetness, and something with a sharper bite.
He held the breath for a long moment, and while it made his pulse race, it also seemed to give him an unexpected calm. “Evens asked me to take you to the coffee shop and get you added to his account. They have the usual morning beverages that you…all seem to like, but they also offer more substantive meals throughout the day if you prefer not to forage for yourself.”
“I’m actually more of a chai than coffee girl.” She gestured at the mug next to her station, and he realized that was the source of the spicy aroma. She stretched. “But I’ve been going for a few hours, so I could use the break. Maybe grab a sandwich for lunch so I can work at my desk.” She gave herself a little shake, as if just waking up, and finally sent him a more pointed look. “Also, I have some questions about the attributes and actions I’ve been given.”
He forced himself not to stiffen. “I can let Evens know that you want to meet with him.” He felt obliged to add, “Although I can’t guarantee he’ll give you what you want.”
She grimaced. “Bosses are like that, aren’t they?” Considering that no one could give him what he wanted, he was inclined to agree, but before he could respond, she pivoted on her stockinged foot and headed for the back room. “Let me just put on some pants and we can go.”
At her words, he found his gaze dropping in assessment. “You’re already wearing pants,” he noted. They were very snug pants, holding her in a way that would be presumptuous in anything other than pants. Gold filigree stars printed on the fabric were stretched across the boundaries of her curves, following intimate physics that made his fingers twitch.
The restlessness that had been rising in him both tightened and loosened in a way that should’ve alarmed him more except he was too focused on the faint sounds of her moving in the bedroom.
“Going-outside pants,” she called. “Not work-from-home pants.”
“It didn’t seem like you brought much to be carrying many kinds of pants.” After all, she’d carried up all of her bags herself, rejecting his help.
“I put some of my stuff in storage when I left San Francisco.” Despite the wall between them, the hitch in her voice carried clearly. “I just brought what I thought I needed to do this job, and the rest would wait until…” She reappeared in the bedroom doorway. “Until whenever.”
Though he’d told himself not to do it again, his gaze roamed over her. She had donned the heavier denim material that was so popular in Sunset Falls, Montana, United States, Earth. Although the cut fit her well and the fabric was suitable for both surface protection and societal norms, he liked the stars better. “You’ll want a jacket,” he told her. “The weather today is forecasted as cloudy and cool for the duration, with a thirty percent chance of rain.”
Her lips quirked. “Professional security, personal escort, and customized weather report. Nice perks.” She grabbed a heavier, hooded layer in bright red with a symbol on it that he didn’t recognize. He’d have to look it up.
He stepped back and gestured her out the door. She stuffed her feet into shin-high boots with a rim of fuzz around the top.
She caught him looking, and two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “I know they aren’t considered fashionable anymore, but…”
“I was just thinking they look very comfortable and wondered if they might be available in my size.”
“Don’t know if they make Uggs in size giant, but go for it. If you think you’re ready to venture out from your black outfit du jour.” She gestured at his battalion uniform.
He considered. “This is what I brought with me too. But you’re right—there’s no reason I can’t add some local color.”
“That’s the spirit.” She followed him out, locking the door behind her and pocketing the key with a grimace. “I feel like I’m being big-city rude, but I just rebuilt my system and I couldn’t stand losing it again.”
“Lost it? Perhaps I can help you find it.”
Tucking her hands under her arms, she glanced away. “Not lost-lost. I know who has it. But… I couldn’t get it back, that’s all.”
“I understand.” Although he didn’t. But neither would he pry when it wasn’t his place.
As he started down the stairs, she touched his elbow. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to say before we go.”
He took another few steps before turning to face her. “What?”
She took a breath, then shook her head. “I swear, it’s this fresh air making me drunk. Or maybe it’s just your eyes, which are the exact same color as too much bourbon…” She peered at him. “I just said that aloud, didn’t I?”
He tilted his head. “I hear
you but I don’t quite know what you are saying.”
“It’s me who didn’t know was I was doing. Last night,” she clarified when he continued to stare at her. “When I…kissed you.” She winced. “No, I wasn’t drunk. That’s even more irresponsible of me to say. I was tired, sugared, and feeling out of place, but that’s no excuse.”
He kept his expression in check. “Did you need an excuse to kiss me?”
“Yes! I shouldn’t go around kissing people I work with.” Her brows furrowed. “It’s just…a bad idea.”
Something about her tone alerted him. “You say that as if you have experience.” Experience he lacked. Which was the only reason he was asking; because he needed to know what protection she needed.
Averting her face, she let out a harsh breath. “I…got involved with my last boss. It ended…badly.” She jerked back around to meet his gaze. “Brett wasn’t my boss when we got involved, and he was a nice guy at first, so please don’t think that about me. But… It won’t happen again.”
“It won’t,” he agreed. “Because as far as I can tell, Evens is not currently available in that way. Unless maybe you’re organizing an estate sale at one of the century farms, in which case he will make himself very available and very charming.”
After a moment, she chuckled. “Yeah, Evens is a little too charming for me.”
He stiffened. “And I’m not?”
“Definitely not.” But the soft edge to her husky laugh told him she was teasing. “And I know you’re not technically my supervisor or anything, but… I feel like I made things weird. And I don’t like when things are weird. And I definitely don’t like feeeeelings. Especially when I’m feeling weird.”
That was going to be a problem if she ever learned the truth about her presence in Sunset Falls.
But that was the reason for his presence, wasn’t it—to make sure she never found out how weird the worlds were.
“You didn’t make anything weird,” he assured her truthfully. “I was always that way.”
She laughed again, the sound sparkling around him. “Cool. Let’s go hunt down some muffins or something.”
But instead of backing away down the stairs, he held his ground. She’d let him closer in these last moments, not so much physically—although from her perch three steps above him, their eyes were on the same level—but personally. And it occurred to him that keeping her innocent would be much easier if he could keep a close eye on her, ready to distract her if she asked the wrong questions.
“I would not want to make things feel weird,” he said, “but if you had a decision matrix in which one path led you to kiss me again, what would be the next step?”
“Kiss again?” Her lashes fluttered wildly, but this time she did not look away. “Now?”
Her green-gray eyes were like a secret passage into the restless sky behind her where a wind as cold and sweet as ice cream whispered through the pine trees. If he moved any closer, he would fall…
“No.” His voice was rough-edged with the desire to give the opposite answer. “This is not the place or time.”
Again color danced over her cheeks, brightening the ember flecks that highlighted her skin. “Tell you what. Kiss me when you want and we’ll figure out the way from there.”
When he wanted… He backed one step down, lest he seize her right here, right now.
And he had the not-so-weird feeling the temptation would only get worse.
Chapter 5
The Twinkle, Twinkle Roasting House was just around the corner and up the street on the main commercial stretch of Sunset Falls, such as it was. So not far at all, and yet Tyler used every step to obsess about the man at her side. Despite the chill in the air and the dots of wind-rushed rain that sneaked around her ball cap and speckled her glasses, all her senses were focused on Cross.
She didn’t even know his last name. Cross what? On the way down the stairs, she’d decided to think of him as Hot Cross Buns, but she definitely wouldn’t be saying that allowed. He was a little too intense and serious, but not in that self-important way that she’d once mistaken for confidence. When Cross looked at her with those amber eyes, she knew he was seeing her.
What did his last name matter anyway? It wasn’t like she could stalk him online, not with the basically nonexistent cell service around here. She’d managed to get one plain text message off to her parents when she’d been driving in, and received their “good luck at the new job, honey! we love you!” reply, but nothing since. Not that she really had anyone else to contact. She hadn’t realized how all of her friends and even acquaintances were either coworkers or suppliers or clients or Brett’s until he took them all in the breakup. In that one moment, she’d lost her relationships along with her job, prospects, housing, savings, and the future she’d dreamed of—not to mention her dignity and self-respect.
And somehow, not a lick of that mattered at the moment.
Because of Cross and his triple-chocolate kiss.
Jazzed by the kiss—and by the nerve-racking dilemma of how she would justify it to herself and Cross—she’d stayed up half the night reviewing the thumb drive data. Maybe she’d been partly inspired by the kiss, but also the project was going to be more complex and compelling than she’d first imagined.
Once she filled in some of the gaping holes in the data types, of course.
But for now, she’d indulge in the rush of an exciting new project, a fresh start—and the promise of another kiss when the place and time were right.
The Twinkle was actually more upscale than she would’ve guessed. Its decor looked like something cobbled together from Evens’ shop over several discount days, but the espresso machine was top-of-the-line and all the flavors of syrup were arranged on the wall behind a display case with an impressive display of baked goods. And no waiting line.
The pierced and tattooed server with the ‘they/them’ pronoun button who took their order wouldn’t have looked out of place in San Francisco, although they were probably almost four decades older than the average Bay barista. As the server expertly pulled a shot of espresso for a caffè mocha, they peppered Tyler with a nonstop barrage of friendly/nosy questions about her presence and plans in Sunset Falls while pointedly ignoring Cross. Tyler answered with cheerful and nonspecific replies that triggered a search engine’s worth of suggestions for hiking, drinking, dancing, learning another language, and locating the geothermal vents that fed hot springs into Sunset Lake. “Nude, usually. So I hope you don’t shock easily.”
Exquisitely aware of Cross standing silent behind her, Tyler grinned at the server. “I guess I’m pretty hard to shock, but I’d be up for it if someone wants to try.”
The barista tsked. “Sunset Falls seems like some quiet old town, but be warned, crazy things happen here.” They leaned across the counter. “Some say we’re a hotbed of alien abductions.” When the steaming milk screeched, they straightened with a decisive nod. “So keep an eye out.”
Tyler pursed her lips. “If I see any strange lights in the sky—”
Cross nudged one elbow in front of her as the barista slid the glass mug of perfectly layered beverage across the counter. “Please add Tyler Lang to Mr. Evens’ account.”
The barista finally acknowledged Cross with a scowl. “Tell that rascal he’s already pushing three digits on his account.” But then just as quickly they smiled at Tyler. “Chocolate syrup with that?”
“Yes,” Cross interrupted.
With a harrumph, the barista squirted a stream of dark chocolate in a star shape atop the foam. “Welcome to Sunset Falls, Tyler. Take a bag of the leftover morning pastries. Lunch to-go options will be up by the time you finish your coffee.” With a parting glower at Cross, they went to empty the grounds.
Tyler dumped a few bucks in the jar before she snagged the mug and the bag. “Thanks for the tips,” she called over the hiss of the espresso clearing.
“Back atcha,” the barista said.
Finding an open table at the windo
w—with an available power outlet!—was another pleasure she wouldn’t have had in San Francisco, not just because of the population density in most cafés, but because she’d felt she could never leave her office.
Brett had taken that freedom from her too, and she’d barely noticed. But maybe Big Sky Country was giving her a different view.
She settled in the chair—the most comfortable she’d found in this town so far—and gave Cross a look as he sat across from her. “That barista isn’t charmed by Evens or you.”
“You already noted I’m not charming.”
“They didn’t even ask if you wanted anything.”
“They know I never do.”
Gently stirring the milk foam into the espresso and that into the chocolate syrup at the bottom, Tyler gazed at him. “So if you’re not here for the corporate free coffee perks, what did Evens promise?”
He didn’t look confused, which told her he knew exactly what she meant even as he replied, “He said he would pay the debt to the Twinkle once I got the latest total.”
She shook her head, rejecting his attempted misdirection and signaling her disappointment that he’d tried. “I mean what did he promise you? You’re obviously too…” She tilted her head.
“Too what?” The edge to his voice sounded almost nervous.
“Just too much.” She nudged the mocha toward him. “Want to try it?”
After a half-second hesitation, he reached for the mug. The brush of his fingertips against hers sent a little shiver through her.
He saw it, she knew he did, but he dropped his gaze to the coffee without following up or doubling down on her obvious interest.
“It wasn’t even really a promise at first,” he murmured. “Just…a place to be.” He lifted his eyes, and shadows muddied the amber. “We needed that—more than payment or even a purpose.”
“Yeah. I know how that feels.” Fleeing that feeling was why she was in Sunset Falls, had stayed even when Evens revealed the ridiculous matchmating concept. “Who is ‘we’?”
