Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections

by Nancey Cummings

  “Nope. The Corravian military isn’t sure where they came from originally but they arrived on Corra two decades ago.” Just about the time Corravians began an exodus from the planet. “There’s sentry stations, like this one, near civilian settlements. It’s our job to clear out infestations and keep the civilians safe from attack.”

  “Okay, stay away from the big ugly bugs.”

  “The homestead’s security will keep you safe as long as you’re in the house. If you go out, bring a gun.”

  The serious tone of his warning chilled her. Life on Aldrin One wasn’t worry free but she didn’t have to arm herself against random bug attacks. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “We’ve got a cattle rustler.”

  Sophia couldn’t help the grin spreading on her face. How delightfully old fashioned. How right out of a movie. So much better than her fear of being told the mornclaws were in mating season or infesting the attic.

  “I know that look,” Alton said, frowning.

  “What look? I don’t have a look.”

  “I was starting to think you were all right but I guess you’re just another city girl who thinks frontier folks are quaint and simple.”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “But I’m not wrong.”

  The blood rushed in Sophia’s cheeks. Alton was correct. She should be mortified that her ugly big city prejudice was exposed but all she could think about was all his manly things he could be putting in her eager mouth. She shifted in her seat, aware of the hard wooden surface against her exposed flesh. Her mind kept chanting “no panties, no panties, no panties.” Get it together.

  “First off,” Sophia said, finding her voice. “You can stop calling me ‘girl’. You know my name and I’m a grown ass woman.” He arched his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, taking in her exposed thighs on the chair. Sophia ignored the fluster and rush of blood surging through her, heading straight to her core. Damn that man. She’d leave a wet patch on the chair before long.

  “Second?”

  “What?”

  “Generally, when you start with ‘first off’, there’s a second.”

  Sophia took a long sip of coffee. “Secondly, if you want people to respect you as a modern citizen of the world, maybe try not being a stereotype with your folksy vocabulary and neighborly hospitality.”

  “Neighborly was your word.”

  Was it? Sophia shook her head. It didn’t matter. “Third, maybe I should be wearing pants.”

  “Aw, I liked talking to you without your britches on. Made you seem friendly.”

  The blood left her burning cheeks, leaving her cold and mortified. So he noticed and was happy to let her squirm away uncomfortably on the chair while he teased her. Sophia stood up, tugging down the hem of the shirt. “Stay here.”

  “Wouldn’t trade the view for anything in the world,” he said with a wink.

  Eyes wide with irritation, Sophia backed out of the kitchen slowly, refusing to turn her back and bottom on the man.

  “Watch out for the—”

  Her shoulder slammed into a doorway. Giving up, Sophia spun around and scampered away, hands pulling down the shirt to cover her round bottom. Upstairs in the bedroom, Sophia tore open her luggage. She pulled out a pair of simple black pants in a stretchy fabric, panties and bra. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her nipples were hard and poking straight through the thin shirt fabric. Her heart sank. She spent the entire meal braless and nipples erect in front of the insufferable man. No wonder he had that damn smirk on his face.

  Making herself presentable, Sophia dragged a brush through her short dark hair. It had the unfortunate habit of sticking straight up in the morning. Sensible. She practiced her best teacher-glare in the mirror. There. Sensible. No nonsense. Don’t cross Miss Barber.

  Dressed and composed, Sophia returned to the kitchen. She reclaimed her spot at the table. She finished her nearly cold coffee. “What do cattle rustlers have to do with you standing me up at the spaceport?”

  Sensing playtime was over, Alton grew serious. “We’ve had a significant number of unbranded calves stolen.”

  Sophia said nothing, waiting for the alien man to continue.

  “Cattle are normally branded so we know who they belong to.”

  “I’ve seen Bonanza,” Sophia said, referring to the ancient Earth program.

  “Right, and branding happens when the calves are two or three months old.”

  “So an unbranded calf is small, easy to transport and easier to sell?”

  Alton nodded, a surprised smile spreading on his face. This city girl had some know-how. “To other, less law abiding ranchers, who give the thieves cash or Sugar Cane.”

  “Jesus. Really? Where do the ranchers get Sugar Cane around here?” Sophia recognized the drug, having seen it sold in the seedy bars on Aldrin One. In her innocence she assumed the frontier planets were immune from the problems found in core worlds. She had a hard time picturing drug dealers standing at the corner of dirt roads in the middle of nowhere.

  “The core worlds don’t have the monopoly on drugs, Miss Barber. The ranchers either buy it from smugglers or they make it themselves.”

  “Really?” She sounded like a broken record. “How do you know that the morning-claw things aren’t eating them?”

  “It’s too clean. Mornclaws aren’t tidy,” he said, voice serious.

  Sophia gathered the plates from the table and moved to the sink. She could sense Alton’s gaze firmly fixed on her ass. Maybe not so serious after all.

  “People are people. We have the same vices. It’s just spread out and harder to see. Someone is stealing my Bova and I don’t like it.”

  Sophia nodded, thinking about the small settlement the shuttle flew over yesterday. The main drag, actually called Main Street, had a retro vibe, with wide glass shop windows and fading red brick buildings from the previous century. The town had two stop lights, one gas station, one bank, two bars and one cafe. The closest trading post was the next town over. Alton was right. Her first impression of the town was quaint and she wrote the inhabitants off as simple.

  “Listen,” she started, “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

  That wicked smile returned. “Think nothing of it. I’ve been staking out the herd for the last week. We got a lot of calves ready for branding. If someone’s going to move, it’ll be soon. I hoped to have it resolved before you arrived.”

  “Just you?” Didn’t he need a team or something?

  “We’re a small sentry post but resourceful.” He moved close to her, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace.

  Sophia gulped. “So you’ll be finished in a few more days.”

  “Mostly likely. Thank you for your understanding. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t go telling everyone about our operation.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good.” He stretched an arm around Sophia, who tensed, waiting for a touch or caress. He reached for the wide brimmed hat on the counter. All her muscles relaxed in disappointment.

  “One more thing,” he said, placing the hat on his head.

  “Yes?”

  He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. His lips claimed her, deeply powerful, like a thirsty man taking a drink after a long day’s work. Sophia’s body responded, humming with fire and her skin tingling. She rocked on the balls of her feet, standing on tiptoe to get more of the tall handsome man. Damn.

  Just damn.

  Alton pulled away. Sophia whimpered quietly. It’d been too long since she had a man kiss her like that. “That’s me being neighborly,” he said with a wink.

  Sophia stood dumbfounded.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and wash or unpack,” Alton said. His strong hands guided her through the door and up the stairs.

  Finally, alone and watching water fill the tub, Sophia found her voice. “Like hell that’s neighborly.”

  Chapter Five

/>   Alton

  The sound of an engine pulled Alton out of the barn. The flatbed vehicle rattled across the field toward the house. Zan was back.

  Alton climbed the steps of the porch and into the kitchen. He turned on the stove and cracked two eggs into the skillet. Zan wasn’t going to be happy with him or the surprise upstairs, but Alton might buy some time by shoving food in his face.

  A grin tugged at his lips when he thought about Sophia and the fearless way she stood in the kitchen, wielding a baseball bat. She was a lovely creature. The mighty appealing expanse of her creamy thighs was almost as appealing as the way the Terran woman charged through a strange house wearing nothing more than a thin shirt.

  She had spirit.

  The house already felt like a proper Corravian home: a Brace of two males and their woman. Finally.

  Zan would complain, maybe threaten to walk out and break up their Brace. Alton wasn’t Zan’s first Brace partner. He understood his partner’s reluctance to take a wife. Never comfortable with emotional risk, Zan had been hurt before.

  His partner was stubborn. Obstinate, even. When his mind was made up, changing it was like catching a greased hog.

  He’d come around. Alton was certain of it.

  If Zan did leave… Alton refused to consider that scenario. He’d make it work. Hell or high water, whether Zan liked it or not.

  Zan

  Zan knocked the mud off his boots before stepping into the house. The aroma of bacon and eggs nearly masked the scent of a female. Nearly.

  The large Corravian male paused in the door. His nostrils flared and he breathed deep the bright, citrus soapy smell with undertones of something he couldn’t place, something that stirred yearning in his chest. Yes, a female. No self respecting man washed in something that fruity.

  Alton, the other half of his Brace, said nothing but put a plate of grub on the table.

  “You think you can butter me up with home cooking?” Indignation was hard to pull off as he tucked into the meal but Zan fancied himself talented.

  “I cook every day,” Alton said.

  “But this is special, isn’t? You want to impress her.”

  Alton sipped his coffee before answering. “You’re a right bastard first thing in the morning.”

  Zan sighed. It had been a long night and an early start with only a short break for sleep in between. “You sent me off chasing my tail.” Alton sent him off yesterday to fetch supplies from the depot two towns over. Roads on Corra were nonexistent and it was a long journey there and back. All that so Zan wouldn’t be there when the woman arrived.

  “Not true. We needed those parts for the pump. You like water, don’t you.”

  Zan stuffed a slice of toast in his mouth. “It was a dirty trick. You didn’t want me here last night. Were you selfish and did you have her already?”

  “She has a name.”

  “Not interested,” Zan said flatly. He wasn’t interested in a wife. Not now, not ever. Their assignment was too dangerous to risk a defenseless female. Alton sometimes had an itch to scratch. He didn’t begrudge his partner having a bit of fun but it was rude not to include him. “Was she good?”

  “Watch your mouth, that’s our wife you’re talking about.”

  Zan stopped chewing. Wife? “You never.”

  “I did.”

  That bastard, just sitting at their table, in their home, smiling like a fool. A married fool. “Explain,” Zan growled.

  Alton sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I understand you said we were never interested in marrying.”

  “I ain’t.” He wasn’t the marrying type. Relationships never seemed to work out for him.

  “Well I am,” Alton said. “I ain’t getting any younger. I want children, Zan. Our children.” Corravian pregnancies required the sperm from two males. Often, in Corravian culture, men formed a partnership, a Brace, for the sole intention of settling down with the right woman and fathering children.

  “You know how I feel,” Zan said. Alton wasn’t Zan’s first Brace, but it was his most successful. The previous one, short lived and disastrous, put Zan off the idea of bringing little Zans into the world. “We have a good thing. No need to make changes.”

  “Good? We work well together, sure, but I need more. You need more, too.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need. How is it even legal? I didn’t agree to marry and I sure as hell didn’t sign a marriage license.”

  Alton had the decency to flush a dark gold. “About that… You really should pay better attention to what you sign.”

  “You tricked me. I’m almost impressed.” Almost. Zan pushed his plate away and kicked his boots up on the table. Alton hated that. Zan grinned, watching Alton struggle not to say anything about mud and germs.

  “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “Am I? Am I getting germs all over your kitchen table?” He uncrossed and crossed his legs again, knocking dried mud onto the table.

  “We eat here, you savage. How about I just serve you a plate of mud, since you like dirt so much.”

  Zan chuckled. There was his uptight Alton, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Who’d you convince to marry us?” Zan asked.

  “A human.” Zan’s eyebrows shot up. There weren’t a lot of humans on Corra. Some, not a lot. “I used a mail-order service,” Alton explained.

  “Couldn’t find anyone crazy enough to give us a go?” The pair of men could find willing partners when the need for intimacy struck them, but there was not a single woman in the surrounding countryside insane enough consider Zan husband material. Maybe Alton. He was Mr. Responsibility and Mr. Good-With-Kids. Zan was Mr. Bad-Idea or Mr. Good-For-a-Good-Time but never Mr. Right.

  Zan frowned. That idea never upset him but now it did. He wasn’t going soft, was he? He took another deep breath, taking the woman’s lingering scent. The rebellious part of him wondered if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

  “Look,” Alton said. “She’s upstairs now. Give her a few days. She’ll grow on you. She’s right for us.”

  “And if she don’t grow on me?”

  “A week. We can send her back on the next shuttle. That’s all I’m asking.”

  Zan nodded. Alton would do his best to woo the woman and keep her on their modest ranch. Zan would do his best to run her off.

  “Deal,” he said with a grin.

  Chapter Six

  Sophia

  Sophia couldn’t get the stupid, goofy grin off her face. Alton was easy on the eyes, infuriating but a good cook. She pondered his virtues while brushing out her short, dark hair. The whole marriage thing might not be so bad after all.

  Bathed and dressed, Sophia moved her luggage into the empty room. The room faced south and a soft, gentle light spilled into the room. The windows protested as she opened them but the fresh air was worth the struggle. She surveyed the room: bare hardwood floors, plain white walls and not a stick of furniture. It would do.

  She took out the painting and unrolled the canvas. The frame assembled easily and the entire unit went rigid. She carried the painting down the stairs. The living room needed color. She pushed open the heavy curtains. Sunlight streamed in, dust motes hanging in the air.

  “Hey, Alton,” she called. “Mind if I hang my painting?” There was no response beyond the clattering in the kitchen. “Sure, Sophia,” she said in a mock, high pitched voice, “that sounds great.”

  Sophia knew exactly where her painting belonged. She placed it above the fireplace mantel. She ran her finger along the dark walnut frame, rubbing the chip in the lower left corner.

  Her mother had painted three year old Sophia, dark hair in braids and wearing a calico dress. In the portrait, young Sophia was in a derelict barn, sunlight and grass flooding and the skeletal remains of the barn. She held a single black eyed Susan. The sense of hope and joy saturated the painting and made it brighter than the muted color palette. Sophia never tired of the painting. It brought back the sense that h
er mother was in the room with her, whether she was a giant space station or an alien planet at the edge of the universe.

  Sophia gazed out the grimy front windows. Endless prairie golden in the late summer sun, rolled out interrupted by telephone poles and the occasional crude hallmarks of civilization. She never dreamed her painting would match the view out the window.

  “What is that?” Alton asked, coming into the room.

  “Art.”

  “I realize it’s art, Miss Sassmouth, but what is it specifically?” He stood in front of the mantle, taking in the painting.

  “That’s Mrs. Sassmouth to you and my mother painted it.”

  He nodded. “Did you find everything you need upstairs?”

  “What’s the story with the empty room?”

  “It’s empty,” he said with a shrug.

  “I want it.”

  “We already have —”

  “I want my own room. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.” Separate beds was a nice thought but being in the same room as the gorgeous male was too much temptation, let alone sleeping in the same room.

  He rubbed his chin then said, “Agreed.”

  “Really?” Just like that? No fighting, no bargaining? A smile spread across Sophia’s face.

  “Really.”

  “Can you help me move the bed?”

  “No.”

  Sophia’s smile fell. Oh, that was his angle. She could have the room but if she wanted a nice, comfortable bed to sleep in, she had to do it in his room. No deal. “I need a bed.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Why can’t I move one of your two beds?”

  “Reasons.” He folded his arms across his broad chest, the expression on his face suggesting he was tickled pink. “But why don’t you take the truck and go into town. Pick up anything you need from the General Store.”

  “Including a bed?” What kind of a bed she could expect to find at a General Store, she had no idea.

  “If that’s what you want, yes. Also, nice smelling soap, bed sheets, clothes. You know, lady things.”