“Thanks for bearing with me Jared,” she mumbled softly into his chest.
Well, there wasn't really any appropriate response to that in present circumstances. His gaze focused on the startled expression behind the cashier's desk. The Fletchers had owned the general store for generations and Amos who was a huntin', shootin' and fishin' type, had known him since he was a baby. “Amos,” he greeted him with a nod.
“Jared,” the older man harrumphed, a strong look of disapproval on his face.
Pristine's body twisted so she faced forward.
“Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Pris.”
Amos Fletcher's moustache moved silently for a moment. “Fletcher,” he said after a heavy pause. He may as well have had a 'No PDAs allowed' sign over the counter to go along with the other classics including 'Buy 3 for the Price of 3' and 'If it's in stock we have it'. Amos' curmudgeonly nature was almost legendary in Cranston Falls. He was strongly of the school of thought that grown men should only express emotion three times in their lives and then with a sheepish embarrassment and the expectation of scorn.
Pris examined the sparse magazine collection on the display rack. Unless you were into fishing or guns there really wasn't much by way of selection. “Where do you keep your women's magazines, Mr Fletcher?” she asked.
Amos Fletcher pointed to one forlorn copy of Female Chatter which had escaped her notice. The front had a woman in a floral apron holding a pie. She winced faintly. “Oh.”
Jared doubted she would find an article on stripper make-up among its pages.
“I don't think...” she started tactfully.
“Your aunt Petunia reads that magazine,” said Fletcher heavily. “And if it's good enough for your aunt, I should think it's good enough for you, young lady.”
“Pris hasn't met my aunt yet, Amos,” Jared said in a steely voice.
“Don't you think you should remedy that?” Amos grunted. “Before you start introducin' her all over town?”
Pris' hand squeezed his forearm as she grabbed the magazine off the shelf. “I've an idea, let's take the latest copy for her,” she suggested brightly.
Jared took a steadying breath as Amos rang it up on the old fashioned cash register. He paid and he grabbed the paper bag in one hand and her in the other.
“Quite a character,” she commented diplomatically as they exited and the door jangled above them. “It's sweet he's so fond of your aunt.”
Jared let out a surprised laugh. “Amos? He's not fond of anyone, mean old bastard.”
“Is he a bear? I mean a shifter?”
“Yeah.”
“Widower?”
“Twice divorced,” he corrected her dryly. They'd reached the truck by this point and she snagged the magazine as he stowed the bag of groceries.
“I'd like to meet your aunt,” she said, flipping through the pages.
He handed her up into the truck without comment. Opening the door on his own side he started the engine. “I'll make you a deal,” he said. She looked quickly up at that. "We go get you a cell phone and sort out that run-around at the Shackleton’s garage, then I'll take you to see my aunt ‘Tunia."
“Deal,” she agreed swiftly and returned to the magazine.
“Deal,” he echoed.
She glanced up from the magazine and smiled at him. Yep, he was lost.
Three hours later they were sat in the kitchen of the large run-down farmhouse where Jared had been raised, just out of town. His Aunt Petunia sat opposite them drinking tea. The Shackletons were going to run a full service for the run-around, a 1975 AMC Pacer hatchback in yellow. If all went to plan they would deliver it personally to the trailer She was also the owner of a pink smartphone which was still sat in its’ box in his pick-up.
“Well you have been busy,” said Aunt ‘Tunia pushing a plate of sugar cookies toward them. She kept darting curious glances at Pris every so often, though everyone had been very polite. Pris had kept up a flow of easy conversation with the older woman for the last half hour, but Jared had a feeling Petunia was biding her time. For what, he had no idea but it was making him slightly tense. “So you'll be working at Bettina's salon from tomorrow,” she said, tipping her head to one side. “Won't that be nice?”
“If my trial period works out,” agreed Pris. She added a lump of sugar to her tea. “I love your tea set,” she said. “I can't remember the last time I used sugar tongs.” Then she frowned, Jared guessed because there were a lot of things she couldn't remember.
Aunt 'Tunia wasn't paying attention though. Instead she was clearing her throat and straightening up in her seat. Jared guessed the moment had arrived. He steeled himself for confrontation but instead his aunt reached into her flowery pinafore pocket and withdrew a ring box which she slid over the table to Jared. “I think...if the rumors flying round town are true, Jared, then you should really have these to give to your ...to Priscilla,” she corrected herself hastily. Color mounted her cheeks, giving a glimpse of what his spinster aunt might have looked like before she turned faded and grey. Jared reached for the small velvet box with a quizzical look, but his aunt's gaze fell away. When he flipped the box lid he recognized the rings as his mother's sapphire engagement and wedding rings. Now it was his turn to clear his throat.
“Perhaps I should have given you them in private, Jared,” she said inclining her head in acknowledgement. “But I know you. You would have shoved them into your pocket and brooded on it for a few weeks before putting them on her finger. And folks in town will talk. I don't want them saying you're not doing right by your...by Priscilla.” She corrected herself again. “I don't want them thinking it's because your family are standing in the way of your happiness.” Her eyes welled up and she dabbed her eyes with the hem of her apron.
Which was typical of Aunt ‘Tunia he thought wryly. She dithered and hemmed and hawed and wouldn't say boo to a goose, yet in her own way she was stubborn as a mule and determined to get her way. Pris had rounded the table and was patting her on the shoulder and saying soothing things to her now.
“No-one would think that Aunt Petunia,” she said kindly. “Why, all I've heard in town is how lovely you are.”
Aunt 'Tunia sniffed. “I don't know who would have told you that I'm sure.”
“Amos Fletcher,” Pris replied promptly. “Said what a fine woman you are.”
That wasn't quite how Jared remembered it, but Aunt Petunia's mouth fell open and she blushed like a school-girl. “Amos Fletcher!” she squeaked. “Well I can scarcely believe ...”
“Yes, he told us this was your favorite magazine,” said Pris, gesturing to the open copy of Female Chatter.
“Well, it's the only women's magazine he stocks!” the older woman replied with a sniff.
“Yes, there really wasn't much choice,” agreed Pris biting her lip. She looked across at Jared for support.
He sighed. “Pris, c'mere.”
Her eyes widened and Aunt Petunia caught her breath, clasping her thin hands together. When Pris approached him, he snaked his arm out to catch her at the waist and pull her down onto his lap. He balanced the ring box on top of one tanned thigh.
“For you,” he said.
She sat very still a moment before taking the box and opening it.
“They may be a little old fashioned,” said Aunt 'Tunia timorously when Pris did nothing but sit there and stare. “But...they've been in the family for generations.”
“They're beautiful,” said Pris sounding a bit choked. “But I can't wear these...You see Aunt Petunia, I - I already had a ring and...”
“It got lost,” Jared interjected swiftly. “Pris feels guilt totally out of proportion. It was just a cheap piece of tin.”
“What a shame!” said Aunt Petunia placatingly. “But I'm sure you'll take better care of these ones, dear!”
“But-”
“Put 'em on Pris,” he said firmly. “Show Aunt 'Tunia how they look.”
She hesitated a moment before slipping them on her finger.
The round sapphire was set between four cut diamonds. It was a traditional, but classic design. Cilla would have hated it. She would have wanted a large flashy rock on her finger, but on Pris it looked right, especially sat next to the plain gold wedding band. His bear was hovering close, possessive and curious, but Jared found was his human side that felt particular satisfaction in seeing the rings on her finger.
“Thanks Aunt 'Tunia,” he said. “They're perfect.” His aunt could see he meant it, and her pale blue eyes welled up with tears. She slid her chair out from under the table to come around and join them in first admiring the rings, and then embracing Pris.
“Welcome to the family,” she said warmly. And he could see she meant every word too.
They stayed another hour and had dinner with Petunia before they'd left for the trailer. Jared casually pointed out that she was a vegetarian which both Pris and his aunt had looked startled about. They both took it in their stride.
“Your aunt's lovely,” said Pris softly. She was looking at her rings again, with a slight frown on her face. Wedding rings weren't as important to shifters. You could tell by scent alone if someone belonged to somebody else. Christine had never really smelled like Harber, but more like expensive floral perfume. She smelled better without it, in his opinion. “Does she live all alone in that big house?” she asked. “It must be a lot of work for her.”
Jared grunted. “Me and Luke help out with firewood and any repairs around the place.”
“Still...” she said. “She must feel a little lonely out there.”
Jared shrugged. “Every so often one of us suggests she sells up and moves closer to town.”
“And?”
“She doesn't want to leave the house. It's been in the family for generations. Our great-great-grandfather built it.”
“Wow,” said Pris. “Well I guess I can see where she's coming from. I mean, it is a beautiful place.”
He glanced at her in surprise. The Heights was ultra modern with glass and steel and full of all the mod-cons. He had figured that was her dream home. Not a traditional old place with a wrap-around porch.
“Still, it should really have a family living in it. Couldn't your cousin or your sister buy her out?”
He snorted. “Luke and Debs have got her Mom on one side of them and her sister on the other. They've got built-in babysitters right next door. Plus Debs would hate to live out here in the middle of an orchard. Says it would give her the heebie-jeebies.”
“Daisy and Lloyd?” she suggested.
“Lloyd's a city boy,” he said scornfully. “No way, no how he could cope with a furnace and a log fire, let alone a generator and grounds to maintain.”
“Hmmm. That's a shame,” she said absently. She was fiddling with the packaging on her new cell-phone, getting it out of the box. They'd set it up for her in the store, and so far his was the only number stored on there so he was curious who she could be texting.
“Just adding your aunt to my contacts,” she said as if reading his mind. “She gave me her number.” She turned to look at him. “I hope I did okay,” at his quirked brow, she sighed. “I could tell you were tense back there, Jared. You must have been worried I might show you up. You can be honest.”
Is that what she thought? “I wasn't tense cos I was worried you might show me up, Pris. Thought never even occurred to me.”
“Why were you tense then?”
He paused over this a moment. “Aunt 'Tunia raised me,” he said slowly. “So of course, I wanted you to both like each other. But I guess I was more concerned she might say something that might cause you offence...” He darted a quick glance at her and found her open-mouthed.
“But she was so sweet,” she protested.
“Believe me,” he said dryly. “If you'd refused to wear the rings she'd have turned into a frozen statue of outrage.”
Pris laughed. “I'd have soon thawed her again.”
“I bet. You're turning out to be quite the charmer.” Which frankly surprised him. Christine Lascombe had not seemed possessed of many people skills in her previous life. When they'd been there, she'd never had any friends or family over at the house. When he'd heard her on the phone to acquaintances she'd seemed either brittle and coolly polite or shrilly indignant. But maybe those had been business calls? Certainly in her dealings with him, animosity had pulsed off her in waves. She'd been a full-on bitch to Stuart Harber. This was all kinda hard to remember now as he watched her sending his aunt an SMS. She was so different. Again, he found himself puzzling if amnesia could affect your personality. Sure, he'd still wanted her when she was a stuck-up bitch, but he hadn't actually liked her. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Of course, liking her brought its own moral dilemmas. His bear gave a low growl of warning. I'm not giving her back, he assured himself. At this point Pristine looked up at him as if aware of his scrutiny and smiled. Shit. He felt it right down to his toes.
When they got back to the trailer she'd put her phone on charge and started loading up his fridge like it was the most natural thing in the world. He tried not to stare.
“You want coffee or a beer?” he asked.
“What are you having?”
“A beer,” he said lifting up the six pack she'd ousted as the sole previous contents of his refrigerator.
“I'll have a beer with you.”
“You want a glass?”
She hesitated, clutching a squash to her chest. “Are you having a glass?”
He found himself smiling. “Nah.
Me neither,” she said cockily and turned back to the fridge.
God damn it, watching her at work in his kitchen shouldn't feel this good. He popped the tab for her and set it down, taking a deep pull of his own beer as he enjoyed the view. Shit, he bet Pristine Christine had never worn a pair of jean shorts before in her life! Which was a goddamn crime as she looked fucking spectacular in them.
Once she'd arranged it to her satisfaction, she shut the door and turned back to him, reaching for her beer. “Okay, I'm done.”
He watched her take a sip. Damn, she was sexy.
“I'll cook dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “After work.”
“Uh-huh.” He forced his eyes to focus on her beautiful face.
“Shall we go in the lounge? I want to do some research.”
“Research?” he echoed. Focus Jared, damn it.
“For work tomorrow. I need to look at make-up techniques. I'm sure if I just watch a few YouTube tutorials it'll all come back to me,” she said with a bright smile.
“Right,” again he tried to remember how she was usually made up, but it must have been subtle as hell, cos he really couldn't. Subtle really wasn't going to cut it at Bettina's, he thought wryly.
**
Pris sat up half the night watching videos on smoky eye make-up, and contouring cheekbones. None of it triggered any memories but she made avid notes on a jotter pad Jared found for her. He was remarkably patient while he sat wrapped around her on the sofa. Every so often, he'd rub her knee or gently squeeze her thigh, like he couldn't keep his hands off her. When she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, he effortlessly swung her up and carried her to their small bedroom with the curved ceiling. Again, he curled around her and kept his hands mostly to himself except to rest one idly against her belly. She was a little surprised and she wasn't going to lie, a little disappointed he didn't make a move on her. But she was tired and it had been a long day and she guessed her fiancée was a considerate guy.
Pris woke early the next morning and managed to extricate herself from Jared’s close-body hug with some perseverance and a lot of wriggling. Good thing he was a heavy sleeper! She snuck all the way to the other end of the trailer to the bathroom on tip-toes so as not to disturb him. She showered and then dressed in her longer length black shorts, a black sleeveless blouse with tiny white dots and a little peter-pan collar and her gold gladiator sandals. She blow-dried her hair out with a round brush and a little mousse until it had plen
ty of bouncy waves and full body. Then she hesitated. After all, she needed to look like she’d gone to some effort, but she also needed to look functional for work. Retrieving her new hair pins from the small mirrored cupboard she thoughtfully gathered her honey blonde hair up into a loose bun. Turning her head this way and that she gently tugged and manipulated it until it had the shape she wanted. Then she tugged free a few loose tresses to make it a little more informal and then added a few more pins to hold the style and a spritz of hairspray from her new stash of toiletries. Good thing Jared didn’t have much by the way of products in the bathroom as she’d taken up most of the shelf space with her supplies!
Once her hair was fixed she turned her attention to her make-up. She hadn’t picked up much in the store the day before, but she had enough to do the basics. She’d already decided from the tutorials the night before that she was going to have winged black liquid eyeliner. The first eye went fine even though her hand shook, but she had to wipe and re-do the second eye. Looking at her reflection critically in the mirror, she wasn’t sure at all that this was how she normally did it. To her own mind it looked a little heavier than she’d expected. Maybe when she wasn’t performing she kept it light, but she didn’t want everyone at the beauty parlor thinking she didn’t know her stuff! Anyway, it gave her a more sultry look, she thought, nodding her head and adding a little dusky rose shimmer to her eyelids and then blending in some iced mocha from the outer corner and into the crease. Once she was happy that her eye-shadow popped, she added two coats of mascara, making a mental note to buy some eyelash curlers when she got the chance. She was lucky in that she had good skin, but she added a little concealer to her under-eyes and then a little powder to set it and then she added a little crème blush to the apples of her cheeks. She had only bought gloss the day before, so she doubled up the crème blush for lip stain and it worked just fine.
Bear Faced Liar Page 7
