Soul Drifter (Divinely Touched Book 1)

by Dyan Brown

  “How old are you?” The question flies out of my mouth without permission. I really have to get a handle on that. One of these days, it’ll get me into trouble.

  He grins wide at the question. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting me to be more curious about him than our abilities. “Too old to be good for you, babe,” he replies with another wink.

  “Thanks, but actually, I was trying to figure out how you know my uncle. How do you know me? And what do you mean by…” I hook my fingers in the air as I quote his previous comment. “Teach me things he isn’t going to?”

  His nonchalant attitude toward the situation irritates me more than it should. Yes, he’s hot—like, Greek-god hot—but there are seriously more important things going on at the moment than him.

  “Slow down, Sam. All things in good time. You’re about to go back, anyway. We’ll have more time to talk in a bit. One last thing before you go—it may be best that you don’t mention me to your uncle,” he suggests. “You know he doesn’t want you to do this, but I know what you’re capable of. I want to help you. With my help, you’ll be more powerful than your uncle knows is even possible. You’re going to help a lot of people, Sam. I can take you far beyond what you think you want.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re special,” he says, looking at me so intensely that my lips form a small o as my only reaction. He uncrosses his arms and reaches over to brush my cheek with the back of his hand. “Sleep well, Sam, and don’t forget to take care of that nosebleed.” He gently nudges the tip of my nose as I’m pulled away by the waves.

  9

  The weekend passes uneventfully. April and I do a little grocery shopping on Saturday morning, hang out at the pool during the afternoon, and watch some movies at night.

  It was great spending time with her. She’s really nice, but you can tell she was brought up privileged. The attitude of ‘anything I want is already mine’ shows up often. While mildly annoying, talking more about the possibility of ‘me and Grayson’ helped.

  Where Grayson isn’t forthcoming about their past, April’s quite the opposite. It didn’t take much prodding before she unfolded the whole story about the affair between their parents. Her paternity had been kept secret until she and Grayson were in middle school together and some office ‘skank’ realized that April and Grayson’s private-school tuitions were being paid from the same checking account and decided to cash in on the scandal. April still blames their father’s accountant for the uproar. Regardless, it made the stockholders think her dad was untrustworthy since the public image of his company is as a wholesome family operation.

  She poked fun at me as we chatted, saying, “Since you’re going to be part of the family anyway…” but I can’t say that insulted me very much, even if it did make me feel slightly uneasy since I’s only spent half an hour with the guy. Perhaps it really wasn’t just all in my head?

  I was a little surprised not to see Grayson on Saturday. After seeing me pull an impression of a meerkat every time a car drove by April finally said he volunteers most weekends.

  Sunday morning when we get up, we pop open a can of cinnamon rolls and put them into the oven. I am just taking them out when the front door opens and Grayson steps into the living room.

  He has his own key? Of course he does, moron. How do you think he got in here Friday night?

  My heart skips a beat when our eyes meet one another’s. Thank God I’m dressed and my hair is done this time. It makes me remember I need to add ‘why the fuck would my hair need to change color’ to my list of questions for Uncle Carl—or Cedrick.

  “Morning! Breakfast?” I call out from the kitchen as I start to spread icing onto the freshly baked cinnamon rolls. He’s staring at me with some sort of bewilderment, his lips parted but not fully open. It is such a kissable position for his mouth to be in. I have to look back at the baking pan to keep from staring at him.

  “Yes, please.” He walks over to the bar and props his elbows on the counter, watching me. “April?” He gestures with a small nod toward her door.

  “She’s still getting dressed. It takes a while.” I snicker. “These still have to cool for a minute. Do you want some coffee?”

  He nods with a small smile.

  I go over to the coffeemaker and pour a cup. Taking a stab in the dark, I hand it to him black. He doesn’t complain, but then again, he doesn’t even look at it. He’s still staring at me. Did I forget to wash off yesterday’s makeup again?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. You should just always leave your hair down.” He drops his eyes, takes a sip from the mug, and turns to look around the room.

  I feel warmth bloom on my face. One minute he’s confidant, and the next he’s shy and embarrassed around me. It’s totally confusing. But before I can ask Grayson why he is suddenly so embarrassed to give me a compliment, April makes her grand entrance.

  “OMG, those smell sinful!” She bounces into the kitchen, picks up a plate from the counter, and scoops up a bun with her bare fingers before I can tell her they’re too hot. “Ouch! Shit.”

  “Careful,” Grayson scolds her. “Will you ever learn to be patient for anything?”

  She looks honestly hurt for a moment, then takes her singed fingers out of her mouth and sticks her tongue out at her brother. “Nope,” she says, and then giggles, grabbing a fork and stabbing the roll instead.

  He shakes his head. They may be the same age, but he’s definitely the ‘older one.’

  I head into my bathroom and grab some burn cream from my first aid kit. When I come back, April’s pouring a crapload of sugar replacement into her crème brûlée-flavored creamer.

  “Here you go.” I pass her the cream under the side of her arm, so it’s not supremely obvious I’m trying to help. She takes it and sticks it in the pocket of her shorts.

  “Thanks,” she says under her breath, giving me a small smile. Heading over to the living room, she flips on the TV. The local news is on.

  I look over at Grayson. He mouths thank you at me, letting me know he saw the burn cream. I smile at him with a small nod, then look back at the news just as April flips on the guide.

  “No,” I shout, scaring everyone in the room including myself. “Uh, sorry,” I say quickly. “I just wanted to see the news. I didn’t mean to say it that loud.” I give a small laugh, trying to lighten the situation. I’d caught a brief report about the accident yesterday morning, but all they said was that two men and a woman were in intensive care. I need to know more.

  “Whatever.” April disables the guide and tosses the remote onto the coffee table with a clunk.

  I hurry and make my coffee, adding a little creamer and a spoonful of real sugar. Forking a cinnamon roll onto a plate, I look up at Grayson with the plate in my hand and raise an eyebrow. He looks at the plate, then gives me a nod that says, ‘one more’. I scoop another onto the plate, handing it over the counter with the fork. He takes it and waits for me.

  “Is your coffee good?”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you,” he says without hesitation. The smirk I love makes an appearance again, making me smile like the lovesick puppy I am. “After you.” He gestures for me to come around into the living room before him while he carries his small plate on top of his coffee mug, leaving one hand free the whole time.

  I go over to the sofa and sit on the corner closest to the end table with April at the other end. Grayson takes the seat catty-corner from me, in what is now officially his chair. He sets his mug next to mine on the end table. The mugs look good beside one another, and it makes me smile.

  We’re all digging into our cinnamon rolls when the report I want to hear comes on. With my loaded fork halfway to my mouth, I stop to listen to the female newscaster with way too much makeup on.

  “Now, an update on the survivors of Friday night’s four-car pileup in South Oklahoma City. The three people seriously injured in the crash continue their stay at OU Medical Center. The young woman, Lauren McNeil and
, and her boyfriend, Jason Dixson, have been moved from ICU and are in stable condition. The couple’s family announced Lauren is four months pregnant, and the baby is doing fine.

  “The other man injured in the crash, Scott Robin, who was brought back to life after nearly ten minutes of CPR by emergency personnel, will undergo brain surgery tomorrow morning to remove a spinal tumor that was only discovered during his post-accident examination. Mr. Robin’s wife, Mindy, and their three children say they are grateful and forever indebted to the off-duty nurse who never gave up on him. What an amazing example of good things coming from a bad situation.

  “And now, here’s John with some more good news about the weather.”

  I shake myself out of the trance I’ve been in for the whole news report. My fork is still stopped in midair, but a goofy smile spreads across my face and prideful tears swell in my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly as relief floods me, then happily let my fork find its way to my mouth, the sweetness of the roll paling in comparison to the sweetness of how I feel.

  Cedrick and I saved so many lives that night—more than I knew about at the time. I start to load my fork again and catch Grayson looking at me. I know I must look silly crying at a news report, but I opt to downplay it instead of acknowledging my unusual reaction outright. They can both think it’s my time of the month for all I care. It sure as hell makes more sense than the truth.

  “What’s up?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

  “Do you know one of them?”

  “Uh, no.” I stretch out the words as I try to figure how to hide my embarrassment. “I saw the original report on the accident. It’s just such a sweet story, and I think what the news lady said is true. Just because something bad happens doesn’t mean God doesn’t have a good reason for it. That man never would’ve known about that tumor if the accident hadn’t happened. Maybe because of that accident, he will live another thirty years, where he would have only had one or two if the tumor took over.”

  “That’s extraordinarily optimistic, Samantha. I hope you’re right.” He takes a large last bite, clearing his plate. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

  I take another bite and glance over at April, lifting my shoulders at her. She just shrugs hers back. “I don’t have anything planned until I see my uncle tomorrow at his office for my unofficial internship.” I’m tempted to disdainfully air-quote the phrase, but instead, I just twirl my last bite of cinnamon roll around my plate, gathering the frosting that is left.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Grayson asks, setting his plate on the table.

  “Pretty much,” I say after I take the bite, then set the plate next to his.

  “Grayson should show you around campus,” April suggests, winking at us for the second time this weekend.

  Could she be more obvious?

  “He’ll be a much better tour guide than the orientation gurus you’ll meet in August. Lord knows, he knows this campus inside and out.” She says the last part with little enthusiasm while looking at her brother. He rolls his eyes, takes my plate with his into the kitchen, and starts to rinse them in the sink.

  “Regardless of my sister’s opinion of our school’s tour guides, I really would like to show you around today. I still think there are safer ways to get around than a bike, but there’s nothing I can do about that while I’m at work during the week.” He dries his hands and comes back to his seat. “At least I can make sure you know your way around.”

  “That would be nice, thank you.” I use the coffee mug to stop my hands from fidgeting while taking a sip every now and then. “When do you want to leave?”

  He spreads his arms in an open gesture. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “All right, give me a minute.” I set my coffee back down on the table. Popping up from my seat, I take the small path between Grayson’s chair and the end table to my door around the corner. Once I’m inside my room, I can’t stop myself from doing a tiny celebration dance just for a few seconds. I do, however, stop the squeal that is aching to get out.

  Does this count as a first date?

  I could kiss April for suggesting this. Trying to prepare myself for any situation that may arise today, I strip off my jean shorts and OU shirt, trading my bra and underwear for my light pink bikini with the little skirt on the bottoms that hides my butt. April said yesterday it made me look hot, and she thought Grayson would like it. If we go to the pool later, I don’t want to have to stop back by here to change.

  I put my shirt and shorts back on over my swimsuit, then head to the bathroom and check myself in the mirror. After I brush my teeth, I apply a little bit more lip gloss. Going back into my bedroom, I find my brown sandals with just a small heel on them. They’re good shoes even if we end up walking most of the day. Grabbing my iPhone off the charger, I take the cover off and slip a twenty in, then stick the makeshift phone/wallet into my back pocket and head back out into the living room.

  “I’m ready,” I say as I pick up my coffee mug and drain the last few sips on my way to the kitchen sink to rinse it out.

  “Good deal,” Grayson says as he opens the door and stands beside it, waiting for me to leave first.

  As we walk out, April calls from behind us. “Have fun. Don’t spend the entire day doing it!”

  Charming.

  I can feel my cheeks flushing as he closes the door behind us, glancing back in time to see him roll his eyes and shake his head. Turning on my heel, I start walking toward the parking lot. Grayson quickly catches up, coming to my right side. I feel his fingers graze the inside of my wrist, slide down into my palm, and lace our fingers together. It surprises me so much that I pause and look at our hands intertwined at my side in bewilderment.

  He looks down at me with slight worry in his eyes. “This is okay, isn’t it?”

  I smile and nod. “More than,” I say, finally finding my voice.

  His eyes immediately soften, and the corner of his mouth turns up into a half smile. He gives a single nod and pulls my hand, leading me to the parking lot. “Come on.”

  Grayson steers me over to a black truck. It looks like it’s fresh-off-the-lot polished—a dual-cab Chevy with chrome detailing. The thing is a monster. He opens the passenger door for me and helps me up into the seat. Closing the door behind me, he walks around and gets in the driver side. I can’t help but frown as I watch him get into the cab.

  His smile fades when he sees the expression on my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really.” I put on my seatbelt and watch him buckle his. “Granted, I don’t know you very well, but this isn’t really what I expected you to drive.”

  He gives a short laugh as he starts the engine. “So now I’m curious. What did you expect me to drive?”

  “I don’t know.” I frown deeper. “I guess I thought something more like a… sports car?”

  He chuckles again, shaking his head as he puts his left hand on the top of the steering wheel and his right on the headrest behind me. Looking back over his shoulder, he starts to back out, grinning so big a dimple appears on his cheek. I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eyes.

  Talk about a million-dollar smile!

  “Oh, Samantha, honey. There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

  10

  After Grayson shows me the most direct path to my uncle’s office and where I can lock my bike up, we spend about an hour walking around campus. He tells me about some of the architecture and history behind the buildings, favoring the sculptures sprinkled along our path through campus. We head back to the truck when the heat gets to be too much. I fully expected us to go back to the apartment, but when we leave the parking lot, he turns in a different direction.

  “We’re not going back?”

  He glances at me from the side with that deliciously devious smirk that I’m beginning to recognize is just for me. “Do you want to go back?”

  The slow and deep way he asks electrifies me. A goofy grin covers
my face again. “I’m good.” I have to get a hold of myself around him.

  “Good, we need to make one stop first.”

  We turn down a few streets I don’t recognize before pulling into another parking lot. He stops in front of an old convenience store with a red banner wrapped around the top that says ‘Campus Corner Market’ in black-and-white lettering. I start to reach for my door, but he stops me. His hand, warm on my thigh, makes my skin tingle.

  “No, wait here.” Turning, he undoes his seatbelt, gets out, and looks back through the door open. “Anything you need or want?”

  I shake my head, and he closes the door and heads inside.

  Five minutes later, Grayson emerges holding a paper grocery bag by the folded-over top. No peeking, I guess. He gets into the cab and puts the bag on the backseat.

  “Ready?” he says with a soft smile.

  “Since I have no idea where we’re going, sure,” I say with a light chuckle.

  “I want to show you something. Somewhere.” He backs out of the parking space and turns left out of the lot.

  We turn right onto Classen Blvd. His driving is meticulous. He never speeds, uses his turn signal, and never gets mad at other drivers. Even my parents don’t drive this carefully. It’s comforting to me, considering my phobia. Not that I’d tell him that—yet, anyway. I’m starting to realize I just feel safe with Grayson. He’s my equivalent to a warm blanket on a chilly night.

  As he turns to go east, I realize I’m smiling so big that it’s starting to make my cheeks hurt. It doesn’t help that Grayson laced our fingers together again as we were taking off.

  After an hour, he exits the highway and turns left. I see an old wooden sign with white lettering from the sixties that says Lake Thunderbird State Park. All air escapes my lungs. My jaw clenches, and my entire body tenses in absolute terror. It takes a moment for air to make its way back into my body, and when it does, it starts coming in short, tight puffs, as if the cab of the truck lacks the proper amount of oxygen to let me breathe.