by C. Gockel
I shot a sideways glance at Jace. He wasn’t looking at me, though, and instead was staring out the passenger window. I didn’t know how much he could even see, since the high-beams were illuminating the road ahead of us, not either side.
“That was weird,” I said, once we were past the coyotes and they’d melted away into the darkness.
“A little,” he agreed. Then I saw his shoulders lift. “Maybe they’re getting bold now that they don’t have to worry about getting run over every time they come out of hiding.”
That sounded plausible. But still a note of wrongness seemed to echo inside me, and I couldn’t help thinking there had to be more to it than that. Then again, the world had ended in a way no one could have ever predicted. Things had been wrong for weeks now.
Well, mainly. I risked a sideways glance at Jace and saw that he was looking out the window again, his fine profile faintly illuminated by the glow from the dashboard lights.
Looking at him, I knew there was one thing right in my life.
Although I cast worried glances from side to side as we approached the compound and I pushed the remote to open the gate, I saw nothing in the darkness, no gleaming red or yellow eyes of various wildlife just waiting to pounce. We came onto the property without incident, although I activated the controls for the gate as soon as our rear bumper had cleared it. The motion-activated lights above the garage door turned on as we approached.
Off in the distance, I did see a shimmer of eyes glowing in the darkness, and I jumped.
“It’s okay,” Jace said softly. “It’s just the goats.”
I didn’t quite relax, but I did let out my breath. “Oh, right.”
Was that a chuckle? When I glanced over at him, his expression was sober enough, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Fine, if he wanted to laugh at me for jumping at shadows — or glowing eyeballs, in this case — I’d let him. I didn’t see anything wrong with staying on my guard.
But the unpacking of the Cherokee passed without incident, although it took longer than I’d expected to unload all that stuff and get it safely stowed. Dutchie kept wandering between us, trying to track all the new and interesting smells we were bringing in the house, until at last I bribed her with a chewy treat so she’d get out from underfoot.
By then it was moving on toward seven o’clock, and far past time for dinner. When I had all afternoon to figure out what to make and plenty of time to prepare it, I really didn’t mind cooking. Right now, though, I thought I might have sold my soul for pizza delivery. Or Chinese takeout.
Jace must have noticed my lack of enthusiasm for the task at hand, because he said, “It’s not that bad. Look what I brought back.” And I saw that he held a package of fettuccini in one hand and a jar of vodka cream sauce in the other. “Add some of that rabbit sausage you made a few days ago, and we’re set.”
I could have kissed him. Actually, I realized I would have loved to have an excuse to go over and kiss him, but I wasn’t sure dry pasta and pre-made sauce were a good enough reason. I had to settle for smiling and saying, “That sounds perfect. Can you feed Dutchie while I get this going?”
He nodded, setting the pasta and the jar of sauce down on the countertop. The dog, seeing that he was heading toward the pantry, got up from her rug and went bounding over to him, tail wagging wildly. At least she wasn’t the type to turn up her nose at kibble. She still got as excited about it as though we were feeding her T-bone steak or something.
While they were occupied, I filled a big stock pot with water and set it on the stove, then found a smaller pan and dumped the sauce into it, setting it on low heat on the back burner. The sausages were being stored in an airtight container in the fridge, so I got them out and started them cooking, too. Actually, I was sort of surprised that they’d turned out as well as they had. Let’s just say that making sausages hadn’t exactly been in my cooking repertoire before this, but they really weren’t that difficult, once you figured out how it all worked.
They were just starting to sizzle away when Jace came over to the stove and paused to sniff the air. “Those smell good.”
“You said the same thing two days ago when we had them for the first time.”
One eyebrow went up. “So? Two days shouldn’t make them taste any less good.”
Maybe not. I wasn’t going to argue the point, especially with him standing that close to me, barely a foot away. He’d taken off his jacket, and I could see the way the knit henley shirt he wore molded to the muscles in his arms and chest, the smooth golden-brown skin where he’d left one button undone.
Shit. I shouldn’t be staring. Was I staring?
I had a feeling I was staring.
Blood rose to my cheeks, and I turned back to the skillet, making something of a show of turning the sausages over. I also took a pot holder and lifted the lid on the pot of pasta water to check on it, but it wasn’t boiling yet.
As I was setting the pot holder down on the counter, I felt a hand settle on my waist, turn me around. Jace was even closer now, dark eyes fixed on my face. The touch of his fingers through the long-sleeved T-shirt I wore seemed to burn like fire.
I swallowed, thinking I needed to say something. But words had fled, leaving me alone with him, with the need I now saw in those dark eyes. I recognized it at once, because I’d felt the same thing myself.
And then…oh, God…he was bending toward me, his mouth suddenly on mine, his lips strong, urgent. I tasted him, felt him taste me, and then I was pressed against him, feeling the shocking solidity of his body, the power of the muscles in the arms that were now going around me, bringing me even closer, as if he needed every inch of me to be touching every inch of him.
Why now? some part of me asked, but the rest of my mind and body and soul, all those parts that had been aching for him for days…for weeks…they didn’t care so much. It was enough that here, in this moment, Jace was kissing me, and I was kissing him back, letting him know I’d wanted this, too, more than he could ever know. Every nerve and cell in my body seemed to be responding, pulsing with heat. Had it ever felt like this before? I didn’t know, because Jace kissing me seemed to have wiped away my memories of every other kiss I’d ever experienced.
A hissing sound interrupted us, though, and Jace let go of me abruptly. “The water’s boiling,” he said.
That’s not the only thing boiling, I thought, but I didn’t answer, only lunged for the pot holder so I could lift the lid on the stock pot and then turn down the heat to a more reasonable level. Those mundane tasks helped me gather myself a bit, although I could still feel the blood thrumming and throbbing in my veins. That wasn’t the only thing throbbing, either. I wouldn’t say I was the kind of person who got turned on easily — as my asshole ex-boyfriend had complained on more than one occasion — but right then I was so aroused that Jace probably could have laid me out flat on the kitchen counter and taken me there with absolutely no complaints.
He’d backed away slightly, though, seemed content to watch as I dumped some fettuccini into the boiling water and then turned the sausages over once again. It was only after I gave the vodka sauce a quick stir that he said, “You didn’t…mind that, did you?”
“Mind it?” I asked. We now stood facing one another, my back to the stove. He looked calm enough, but I thought I could detect a certain hard, bright glint in his eyes that I’d never seen before. Arousal? I couldn’t tell.
I realized I didn’t know him well enough to guess. Yes, we’d been living under the same roof for almost three weeks now, but we’d always been careful around one another, making sure we didn’t cross any lines, didn’t blunder through any barriers.
Well, those barriers were pretty well knocked down now.
“I didn’t — I didn’t want you to think I was forcing you or anything.”
Now he appeared almost worried, the gleam gone from his eyes, leaving them sober and dark, so dark I couldn’t really tell where the pupils ended and the irises began.
/> Forcing me? That was a joke. I’d wanted that kiss, but had worried that my growing feelings for him weren’t reciprocated.
“I mean, after what happened to you in Albuquerque — ”
Time to disabuse him of that notion. I set the spoon down on the little stone rest we used to keep our cooking utensils off the counter, then went over and took his hands in mine, right before I went on my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. A fast kiss, not like the breath-stealing, knee-knocking one we’d shared a few moments earlier, but still enough that he should understand that I liked kissing him very much indeed.
“This isn’t Albuquerque,” I told him. “And you’re nothing like…either of them.” To be fair, I didn’t even know for sure that the man who’d wanted to steal the Cherokee had the same designs on me that Chris Bowman did, but I’d gotten the impression his intentions weren’t exactly benign. “And I’ve wanted…this…for a long time. I just wasn’t sure it was what you wanted.”
The tense set of his shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and he even grinned. “Oh, I wanted it, too. But I didn’t want to push you. I could tell you’d been through a lot.”
“We both have,” I said simply. No need to go into it any more than that. He’d lost everything, and I’d lost everything. Through some miracle, though, we’d both come to this place, come to the one spot in the world where we’d be safe to grow into knowing one another, caring for one another.
And again I couldn’t help wondering if this was somehow the doing of my guardian angel, the voice. Had he given Jace the same prompting he’d given me?
Eyes flickering as he seemed to study my face, Jace asked, “What is it?”
Did I dare mention the voice? We’d just opened up so much to each other; the last thing I wanted was for him to think I was crazy, or at least slightly unbalanced by everything I’d experienced since the Heat stole everything I loved. But I didn’t want to keep it a secret from him, either.
“Did you….” I began, then stopped. He was still holding my hands, fingers strong and somehow comforting. I never wanted him to let go, although I knew he’d have to at some point, just to let me get back to making dinner. But that could wait another minute or two. His gaze was still resting on my face, expectant, wondering what I was trying to ask. And there was simply no good way to ask.
“Did you ever hear anything?” I blurted. “Afterward, I mean. Like a voice guiding you, telling you where you should go. Telling you should come here.”
A long, long pause. At least he hadn’t let go of my hands, but I could see him weighing the question in his mind, trying to see if I was serious. “No, nothing like that,” he said at last. “Like I said, I came to Santa Fe because no one seemed to be left in Taos, and I had a friend here. The world’s longest shot, I know.” He hesitated, then asked, his tone soft, “Did you hear something like that?”
I wanted to deny it. But that would also seem like a denial of all the assistance the voice…guardian angel…whatever…had given me. “Yes,” I said. “It’s how I found this house. I would never have gotten out of Albuquerque alive if not for the voice.”
“‘The voice,’” he repeated. Nothing in the calm, even set of his features told me what he was thinking, and so I could only stand there in agony, wondering when he was going to let go and back away from me. Away from the crazy woman.
Somehow I managed to stand there, waiting.
“You’ve been blessed, I think,” Jace said at last. “Some guiding spirit looked down on you and knew you were worthy, that you needed to survive.”
Relief washed over me. So he didn’t think I was crazy. Then again, although I’d never much believed in such things, I guessed that his people thought differently. The dividing line between our world and the world of the spirits was definitely thinner for them.
“You really think that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Up until that moment, I hadn’t realized how important it was that he believed me.
“Oh, yes,” he replied, pulling me closer to him, his lips finding mine. “So let’s make sure our survival matters.”
Chapter 14
Dinner was…well, dinner was wonderful. It might have only been left-over sausage and sauce out of a jar, leavened a little by some zucchini from the greenhouse that I steamed to go along with the pasta, but I might as well have been eating at a five-star restaurant for as exhilarated as I felt. Jace had kissed me. Jace wanted me, had only been holding back because he didn’t want to pressure me or frighten me off.
Some people might have said it was inevitable, that if you put two healthy, attractive people of the same sexual orientation in the same place, sharing the same home, eventually they’d end up together. Propinquity, or whatever they called it.
I didn’t believe that for a second, though. There were plenty of guys I’d known over the years who, if they’d shown up on my doorstep the way Jace had, I could’ve lived in platonic harmony with and never had the slightest inclination for anything more than a quick hug on a birthday or something.
Jace, on the other hand…well, I’d been thinking how hot he was from the first moment I laid eyes on him, even as I was confronting him at the gate to the compound, shotgun in hand. That sudden, unexpected flare of admiration had shifted into attraction as the days had gone on, and now was…what?
Far more than simple attraction, even if I was too scared to put a label on it right then.
He’d opened a bottle of wine, some more of the Black Mesa Montepulciano, which, as it turned out, was also a New Mexico wine. I’d been so rattled when I arrived at the compound that I hadn’t even read the label that closely. It did go well with the simple meal I’d prepared. More than that, it gave the evening a sense of celebration, that this was just the beginning of something far more.
Was I ready for that? Yes, I’d been dutifully taking my pill every night, knew I’d be protected in that way, if nothing else. Maybe I should’ve been worrying whether Jace had packed some condoms as part of his “surviving the apocalypse” kit, but for some reason, I didn’t think that was necessary. He certainly didn’t give off the man-whore vibe. It should be fine.
“Dollar for your thoughts,” Jace said, and I startled, knowing I could never tell him I’d been pondering contraceptive options. By then we were winding down, only a few bites left on our plates.
“A whole dollar?” I teased, glad that we were eating by candlelight. With any luck, he wouldn’t have noticed the way the hot blood rose to my cheeks.
“Well, a penny’s probably worth more than a dollar now, since at least you could melt a penny down and get the copper out of it.” He set down his fork and leaned forward slightly, a smile touching those full lips, the ones that had felt so delicious when pressed against mine. “But your choice.”
“I — I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular,” I said.
An eyebrow went up.
“Seriously.” I lifted my glass of wine and took a quick swallow.
The other eyebrow went up.
Oh, boy. I could stall and I could hedge, but it was pretty obvious that Jace would see through any of those machinations. “Okay, fine,” I told him, setting my wine glass back down and taking a breath. “If you have to know, I was thinking about whether you’d packed any condoms when you bailed out of Taos.”
He let out a breath, both eyebrows still raised. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“Well, you asked.”
For a second or two, he didn’t say anything, only looked at me. I tried not to blink or glance away, but damn, that was hard. My cheeks felt like they were on fire.
At last he said, “No, I didn’t. Sorry…I guess I was thinking more about the world ending or something than whether I was going to get laid in the near future.”
I winced, and he shook his head as if exasperated with himself.
“Jessica, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” His hands flattened on the tabletop, as if by exerting pressure against the cool c
opper surface, he could take back what he’d just said. “That is, if we — if we were together, I think you know it would be a lot more than just getting laid.”
My heart seemed to start beating again. “It would?”
“You know it would,” he said, his tone quiet, but no less intense for all that.
I smiled at him. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill.”
After that…well, I’m still not sure who moved first, but almost in a single motion, we were on our feet, pushing our chairs away from the table, Jace reaching out to take me by the hand. He pulled me into him, kissing me, his mouth sweet with wine. I felt as if I could never get enough of tasting him.
But he broke the kiss after a few seconds, leading me down the hallway to my bedroom. He’d never been in here before, of course, although I left it unlocked most of the time, except for the occasions when I was getting dressed. Since Dutchie liked to wander between our rooms at night, I didn’t have the heart to shut the door. Because of that, though, I always kept it tidy. I knew I didn’t have to worry about Jace tripping over a discarded bra or something when we entered.
It was cold, though, away from the fireplace in the family room, which did a pretty good job of heating the dining room as well, since they were right next to each other. Jace let go of my hand — with some reluctance, it seemed — and asked, “Okay if I get a fire going?”
“You already have,” I said, smiling, but I nodded. “We could use one. It’s probably going to get below freezing tonight.”
He went to the fireplace and began expertly stacking some logs within it. We were burning a lot already, but I wasn’t too worried. The house had an enormous log room built on the north side, with wood stacked almost to the rafters on every wall. Jace had taken one look at the stockpile and said we could have fires in every room through July if necessary.
So I allowed myself to enjoy the warmth that began to spread through the room after he got the fire going, and not fret over whether we were going to run out of wood halfway through the winter. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also enjoy watching the way Jace’s jeans hugged his backside as he bent over, coaxing the fire to life.
