by Cindy Miles
“So far, so good,” he said. “Long way down.”
“Well, prepare to eat the most delicious hunk of Angus you’ve ever put in your mouth.” From the bag I handed him a foil-wrapped bacon burger with cheddar and blue cheese, several napkins, and then I claimed the other one. I set it on my lap, then reached into the cooler and retrieved two icy bottles of strawberry soda. I handed one to Jace. “Don’t forget the extra super-exquisite sauce.”
Wordlessly, he set his down, relieved me of my bottle, and opened it for me. Then he handed it back before opening his own.
Manners. The boy had manners, that was for damn sure. A-plus and a nod to his mama.
After a few moments of quiet eating, I sipped my soda. “Was I right? Best you’ve ever had?”
Jace nodded, a mouthful of burger preventing him from speaking. “Umm hmm,” he hummed. He chased it with soda. “Pretty good.” He looked at me. “Thank you.” He inclined his head to the river. “And for the view. Didn’t know this was even out here.”
“Well,” I answered. “I really appreciate you replacing my belt. And checking the oil.”
Jace popped the last big bite into his mouth and chased it down. He wiped his mouth on one of the napkins, and his gaze followed the sun’s descent into the trees. “So, who are you, Memory Thibodeaux?” He turned those sage eyes on me. “Exactly.”
For a moment, we simply stared. His words caught me off guard.
Jace Beaumont kind of caught me off guard.
And for a split second, I thought he knew. I almost felt as though he could see past my All Mighty Oz curtain, to see the real me. I mean, I was the real me. But part of who I was also included the person no one knew about. The person I’d once been.
What I’d been through.
What I was presently going through.
And no one—not my friends, not Crisco, not even Claire, Sugar and Brie—knew about my past battle and brush with Death.
Just like they didn’t know I was rubbing elbows with that sickle-toting bastard right now. Hell, I hadn’t even told my dad. I’d chosen a different tactic, and I was sticking to it.
And as I looked at Jace Beaumont, sitting on the edge of an aged train trestle over the Calico River as winter’s dusk swallowed up the sun, a stab of guilt seared me. So fleeting, I almost didn’t identify it as guilt because just as quickly as it was there, it was gone.
I was simply that used to avoiding it.
But the sensation of wanting to tell Jace shocked me.
I cleansed my lungs with the crisp January air and smiled at the sexy guy I was having dinner with. I mean, damn. I’d only known him for a couple of days. Actually, I didn’t really know him at all. We were just hanging out. Passing friendly flirty time. Nothing serious. Just having a little fun. Right? I mean, I couldn’t afford anything more than that.
You see, I had absolutely zero guarantees. I was a grenade. The proverbial ticking time bomb that some bad guy had tossed, and it’d rolled into a hiding place. Waiting to go off.
I simply smiled. “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets, Mr. Beaumont.”
Jace’s eyes softened. “Old Rose, Titanic, 1997.” Then he gave me a mock frown. “But if you tell one damn soul I can quote anything from Titanic, it’s over, Memory.” One side of his mouth lifted into an endearing grin. “I mean it.”
Looking back, it happened right then. Right as the sun faded away and the evening shadows stretched over the Calico and brushed us with surreal shades of lavender and gray. And a buttery-voiced, muscular, bow-legged cowboy with soulful eyes recognized a quote from Titanic, and gave me a crooked grin. Yeah, that’s when I fell for Jace Beaumont.
Only, I didn’t really know it.
Not until it was way, way too late.
“So, you want to know who I really am?” I asked Jace as I rose to my feet on Morgan’s Bridge. The sun was gone now, but still light enough to see. Almost dark, but not quite. “Why? Have you heard rumors? Wait! Don’t answer that,” I continued. “You’re pals with Brax Jenkins. Since he’s the king of bad reputation, I’m sure he can single out badasses just as easily.” I winked at him. “Takes one to know one, right?”
Jace laughed softly. “Yeah, he said you’re known for some pretty crazy stunts on campus. A player. Adrenaline junkie.”
“Hmmm,” I answered. “I guess I’d be lying if I didn’t lay claim to all of those accusations. What can I say? I love to live life to the fullest.” I cupped my hands at my mouth. “I’m young! I’m twenty-two!” My voice echoed over the water and through the trees. I squatted down and shot him a lingering look. “I just simply don’t allow all of that to define me. You see,” I went on, wrapping my arms around my legs and hugging them close. With my chin resting against my knees, I looked at him. “There are many more facets to my psyche than I ever, ever let on. You know? Keeps me in a sort of shady shroud of mystery.”
“A shady shroud, huh?” he repeated, and chuckled. “What are you majoring in?”
“Fine arts,” I answered, and sat close to him. “BFA.”
“And what will you do with that?” he asked.
“I’m a self-proclaimed ornamental metalwork designer,” I told him. “And that’s pre-degree, yes sir. Got a business license and everything.” I flashed him a grin. “Calypso Designs. I make a pretty decent coin with the whirlygigs and windcatchers I create in the workshop by the barn. Any sort of crazy welded metal art statue I can dream up. Calypso Designs, Inc. Google me, why don’t ya?”
Jace just kept his eyes on me, and in the faded light they hardly looked green at all. More like shadows in the mouth of a cave. “Any siblings?”
“Nope. Only child.”
He nodded again. “You’re close to your dad?”
I smiled. “Very. He raised me alone after Mom died. Taught me about brazing rods, oxyacetylene, how to set up the fuel tanks. Taught me how to strike a torch, how not to look directly at an arc flash. Taught me…everything I know.” I felt my heart pinch, because I loved my dad more than anything. “He’s a damn good man, Jace Beaumont.”
His teeth were a ghostly white in the dusk. “I believe you, Memory Thibodeaux.”
“Okay.” I changed gears from the serious stuff. “Here’s the final chapter of tonight’s grand Thank You For Changing My Belt Date. Then we’ll have dessert. Ready?”
Jace laughed. “Yeah, why not. Shoot.”
I could barely see his features now. “Remember how I said this bridge was haunted?”
“Yep.”
“Well,” I continued. “The legend goes that back in 1923, Madigan Morgan and Company—not to be confused with the Morgans of the Morgan’s Louisiana and Texas Railroad—was commissioned to build this trestle for the Southern Pacific Railroad. Anyway, Madigan Morgan was rumored to have had a love affair with a beautiful, beguiling witchdoctor who lived in the woods, just there”—I pointed toward the forest on the other side of the river—“named Gilly from New Orleans. Right behind his wife Adelaide’s back. Well, the construction of the trestle was finally finished, but not before Adelaide Morgan found out about the affair.” I leaned closer. “It’s rumored she gathered her three brothers and went after Gilly the witch one moonlit night.” I glanced up. “Much like tonight, yeah.” I wiggled my brows.
Jace watched me closely and in silence, and although it had grown fairly dark I could still make out the amused expression pulling smile lines around his eyes and mouth. He smelled good. A faint, woodsy, clean smell. Like pine needles, with a ting of ocean spray, if I had to put a name to it. I continued.
“Well Madigan Morgan was supposedly to have scheduled a rendezvous with Gilly right here where we sit, that very night, in the center of the trestle,” I said softly. “Gilly was a raven-haired French-Acadian Cajun, you see, and had the sensual power to make a man do just about anything. And he’d fallen hard and fast for her. Anyway,” I said with a grin, and I looked out over the moon that had slowly risen, and watched the water lap at the bank’s edges.
“When Madigan arrived for the rendezvous, it was just in time to see his wife and brothers-in-law binding Gilly’s hands with rope. He started to run up the hill to stop them, but could hear Gilly’s voice. She wasn’t pleading for her life. Wasn’t begging for them to let her go.” I reached slowly between the boards beneath me until my hand felt the heavy-duty nylon rope I’d placed there myself back in October when Crisco and I had bungee jumped off the bridge. Eased my hand through the slipknot and grasped it tight, all the while, keeping my gaze on Jace’s. “She was cursing them, Jace Beaumont,” I said huskily. “Just before they shoved her off the bridge!”
Over the edge I went, just as though I’d been pushed by Gilly herself, and as soon as I cleared the boards I grasped the rope with my other hand and hung there, mid-air, just beneath the trestle.
And at the same time, Jace leapt to his feet.
“Memory!” he yelled. “Fuck! Memory!”
Hanging beneath the very place he stood, I burst out laughing. “Do you kiss your mama with that mouth, boy?”
In a flash, Jace was on his stomach and peering over the edge of the trestle at me, swinging on my rope.
“Boy, you look pissed!” I exclaimed, laughing. “I didn’t know you could move so fast—Jace!”
The moment I swung within his reach he grabbed me, and let me say that although he was muscular, he was way stronger than I’d suspected. He pulled me up and over the trestle, and I barely helped. He did it that fast. And he all but plunked me down onto the track.
Jace pushed off and stood, clasping his fingers behind his neck. “Jesus God, Memory!” He turned to me then, and I could see fury in the shadows of his eyes. “Don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He moved toward me where I was still sitting on the track, and hauled me up. His fingers encircled my arms, and he gave me a slight shake, and we were almost nose-to-nose. A muscle flinched at his stubbled jaw, and his dark brows were furrowed. His eyes flashed. “Do you have a death wish? Or are you just crazy?”
The irony of his words almost made me laugh. At the same time, though, I was touched. I was used to being egged on. Used to being dared.
I was not used to Jace’s reaction.
I did the only thing that came to mind. The only thing I wanted to do.
I leaned against him and pressed my lips to his.
And for one, delicious moment, Jace Beaumont let me.
The kiss was soft, subtle, but wholly sensual at once. I barely moved, but yet I did; just the slightest shift of my lips against his and Jace inhaled, then his fingers tightened around my arms and he pushed away from me. Not harshly. Almost as if he had to force himself. He walked away, to the other side of the track. Quiet. So much that I could hear the water lapping the banks again.
I was left standing there, breathless. My mind in a whirl. My lips humming.
“What are you doing, Memory?” he finally asked. He turned around, bracing his weight and tall frame with his wide stance. “Never mind,” he said. “I think we’d better leave.”
My fingers brushed my lips as I stared at him. I’d never experienced a reaction like his before. I’d never had a guy back off me before. Ever. I took a step toward him, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Jace,” I said. “Really, I am.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “What were you thinking?”
I glanced at the ground, then back to him, confused. “Do you mean the jump or the kiss?”
Jace dropped his head back and sighed. “Either. Both.”
Okay. Now he wasn’t sounding quite as pissed off. Score! “Well,” I began. “The jump? I’ve done it a thousand times, just like I did tonight. I don’t know…I guess I thought you’d think it was cool. Funny.” I shrugged. “It’s fun.”
He looked at me. “You mean before or after you gave me a heart attack?”
“Don’t be mad,” I crooned. “Honestly. I’m so used to being dared that it didn’t even cross my mind that you would, I don’t know. Be scared for me? Worried?” I nodded. “So I guess that might explain the kiss, then. Which, for the record, I’m not sorry for. No matter how mad you are.” I gave him a cocky grin. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, yeah.”
Jace stood there on the aged train trestle, bathed in moonlight on a frosty January night, with his hands on his hips, and those sexy bowed legs braced wide. He glanced away, pinched the bridge of his nose, then let out a slow, deliberate exhale. I saw the muscles in his jaw flex a time or two, then he looked at me.
“Memory,” he began. “I like you. And I think you’re interesting as hell. Just in the couple of days I’ve known you, I can tell you live life to the fullest.” He shifted his weight. “But I’m not a good-time college guy. I don’t play games. I don’t party. And I don’t throw myself off of bridges.” He walked toward me, lifted the cooler and the bag containing our trash and the other, our dessert. His gaze found mine in the near-darkness. “So maybe you should find someone else who does.”
He stepped around me then and started down the tracks.
I watched him walk away, that sexy swagger and all that muscle and lankiness packed into those jeans, in the moonlight. And part of me fell.
“But we didn’t even eat our pie,” I said quietly.
Ahead, I saw Jace just shake his head.
I hurried after him, skipping slats on the track as I rushed to catch up to him. When we reached the end, I grasped his arm, stopping him. I relieved him of the cooler. “You know,” I said quietly. “It wouldn’t hurt to just loosen up a little.” I lifted my face to lock eyes with him. “You never know when your last day on earth will be, Jace Beaumont.”
With that, I silently walked to the Jeep and stuck the cooler behind the driver’s seat, and when he came up behind me I took the remaining bags from his hands and placed them on the backseat. Then we both climbed in, leaving the Fabulous Date Turned To Absolute Shit in our wake.
We drove back to my house in silence, although I felt the weight of his stare more than once. I refused to look at him. I don’t know what had come over me. Usually, I just brushed things off. I never really got angry with anyone. And embarrassment just simply didn’t occur to me. I repelled both. Always.
Yet this night? Both had happened.
Angry? Yeah, I guess I felt a little angry at Jace The Tow Truck Guy Beaumont. Because he’d not liked my stunt. Because instead of laughing or cheering me on, he’d grown concerned. Feared I’d been hurt. Hell, we didn’t even know each other. Why would he act like that? Why would he care?
And more to the point: Why would it affect me so? I had mixed signals flying everywhere. I could feel Jace’s attraction. When he’d brushed that strand of hair from my lips? He might as well have been licking me. And the way he looked at me sometimes? I mean, I was used to guys checking me out, and I wasn’t saying that in a stuck-up, conceited way. I was being blatantly honest in stating that I knew guys desired me. It’s not because I thought I was all that. Or that I was beautiful. And, it wasn’t that they desired me, either; the person I was. It was only my physical attributes they wanted. I was very tall. Very well-built and curvy. Long legs. Big boobs. Ink sleeve. Confidence? I had it by the bucketful. That came from cheating Death one good time and, to be frank, it could be a fault to the Nth degree. It was what it was, though. Yes. Guys looked at me. They desired me. They wanted to have sex with me and yeah, sure, I knew it was just casual. I mean, it was all about just…having a good time. Right?
I’d never known anyone to turn me away. Ever.
Only Jace Full-of-Integrity Beaumont.
It’s possible he was simply an entirely different species of male altogether.
As I parked and killed the engine, Jace surprised me.
“So,” he began. “Is the legend real?”
I glanced at him, and his eyes were on mine. “Every word,” I answered.
He relaxed but kept his gaze on me. “I’d like to hear the rest of it,” he requested, with a lazy grin. “If you want to.”
My mouth tugged
upward. Well, hell. I couldn’t turn down an offer like that. “Basically,” I continued from where I left off at the story. “Morgan saw his wife and brothers-in-law push Gilly off the bridge, hands and feet bound. Morgan supposedly screamed and dove in after her.” I leaned a little closer, twisted in my seat to face Jace. “Her body was never found. And from that horrible night until the trestle finally shut down and the Madigan Morgan and Company moved on and the tracks were diverted, more than one train car went into the Calico River. Not a single survivor was recorded. And…” I dropped my voice to a deliciously husky, ghost-telling whisper. “To this day, if you listen long enough, you’ll hear the hushed and cursed whispering of Gilly through the trees.” I smiled. “And we might have heard it, had you not insisted on stomping off just because of a little ole prank. And a pretty damn good one, I might add.”
Jace nodded, but his mood had lightened and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “I am the one with the stick up my ass, remember?” He glanced away, as if he didn’t want me to see him smile.
“Oh,” I started. “My bad. Sorry.” But I grinned, too. “No one can ever accuse me of not being brutally honest.” Which, considering my present circumstances, was a pretty damn contradictory statement.
Then, Jace Beaumont regarded me closely. So much that I almost blushed. At the very least, my cheeks heated up. Was he going to kiss me? Oh please, sweet little baby Jesus! Let him kiss me!
The stare was intense; it hung heavy and crackled with electricity in mid-air between us.
Then, he sighed.
“It was an epic trick, Memory. And a great ghost story.” He stuck out his hand. “Friends?” he said.
Oh. So it’s friends, is it? Okay, I gotcha, straight-laced Beaumont. I’ll play along. For now.
I gave a coy, sly smile and slipped my hand into his, firmly grasping his calloused palm with my softer one. “Well, I certainly can’t pass up a chance like that. You’re on, Jace Beaumont. Friends it is. And given that,” I added my exception, “hand me your phone, please, sir.”
