by Susan Bliler
And now Grace felt bad for ruining not just her breakfast but Baymac’s too. “It’s okay,” she stood quickly. “He can finish. I’ll get myself settled.” Too late though. Baymac was already scooting his chair back and without a word he took her hand and pulled her along behind him. Was he angry? She couldn’t see his face. Staring at his back she wondered if he was upset with her for the story she’d offered on how they met. Maybe he was mad because he hadn’t gotten a chance to finish his breakfast, or maybe he just didn’t want to be stuck with her for another day.
In their room, he closed the door and then spun, gripping her shoulders and pressing her into the door. “Stop!”
Her heart rate kicked up and she wasn’t sure what he meant. “I don’t…”
“You smelling like that is fucking gutting me, woman!” He pinched his eyes shut and breathed slowly.
“Smelling like what?” They hadn’t showered the night before because Kris had asked that they do so together to conserve water and there was no way that was happening, but this morning she’d gotten freshened up as best she could in the bathroom. Mary had even provided new toothbrushes and deodorants.
“You smell like fear, worry, and ache.” He shook his head and breathed more evenly, but his words had her stilling.
“Baymac? Are you…” Did she dare ask? She had to know. “Are you like Dell?”
His eyes snapped open and grew nearly black beneath speared brows. “No. Not like Dell.”
But her heart was racing now because his eyes were a color no human’s should be and there was no way he smelled her fear, worry, and ache with just plain old human senses. He also didn’t ask what she meant by ‘like Dell’, which meant he knew about wolf shifters. But he’s not like Dell. With a trembling voice she asked, “Are you s-something else?”
His eyes bore into hers and for long minutes he didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe. Finally, his hard expression softened and he replied, “Yeah, Grace. I’m something else.”
***
Baymac had revealed too much to Grace and he knew it. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret the disclosure. Clearly, she was close friends with Kya Blackbird, and her question to him let him know that she knew exactly what the Blackbirds were. Wolf shifters. He wasn’t though. No, he was a different monster entirely and his type of monster was something little, delicate Grace wouldn’t be able to handle. Or would she? Her revelation at breakfast had wrung with sincerity. She was on the run from a ‘bad man’. A bad man who she’d had a relationship with. A relationship that now caused nightmares so intense that Baymac had to tamp down his rage just at the mere memory of her terror. He hadn’t been as angry in all his life as he’d been last night when she’d cried, out, “I’m not with him!” Hell, even during the attack on StoneCrow Estates a few weeks back hadn’t elicited the primal reaction her fear had last night. Someone had hurt Grace. No, not someone. Some man! She was trekking to Glacier in the middle of blizzard out of fear and self-preservation and damn if that fact didn’t have his protective instincts surging to the fore.
“She’s not ours,” he snarled quietly, reminding himself of the painful fact. Still, holding her in his arms last night had felt…right. He’d never held a female before, not like that, and for some reason it made it feel like he had rights to her that he knew he didn’t. “Stay focused,” he breathed. “Head on the job.” And that’s what she was. A job. Right?
Chapter 9
Baymac had closed up after his little admission to Grace. Doing as directed, he’d made sure she was settled in the room with a large fire before declaring he was going to help Kris with some chores.
Alone in their room, Grace watched the fire until it burned down to mere embers. The afternoon had come and gone and when Mary knocked softly and came in with a tray of lunch, Grace felt guilt bite hard at hiding away all day. She’d devoured the roast beef sandwich, chips, and soda and then joined Mary in the sitting room where they listened to the sound of what Mary had described as, “That giant man of yours chopping enough wood to get us through the rest of the winter.”
Mary had been knitting and reluctantly, Grace agreed to accepting lessons. Grace worked diligently for hours before Kris finally came in beaming a smile. “That man of yours is like a work horse. No stop in him.” He kicked out of his boots, shrugged out of his coat, and disappeared into the house.
A little progress had been made on Grace’s project, and she was feeling a little good about it when, finally, the sound of the axe splitting wood halted. Short minutes later, boots were stomping on the porch and then the door opened as Baymac entered, broad shoulders covered in snow and hair damp and glistening with melted flakes.
Just the sight of him had Grace’s heart seizing. He was a magnificent man. Big, strong, sexy as hell with those dark eyes that passed over her quickly.
Mary sprung to her feet. “Wait there!” She rushed to Baymac and snatched up a broom that was propped by the door. Grace watched as Mary took the broom to Baymac’s shoulders and then told him to turn. She brushed flakes from his chest and back and crusted snow from the legs of his jeans before nodding her head once in satisfaction.
Taking off his coat, he hung it on an empty hook on the wall. His boots came off next and then Mary was back to ordering him around. “You go get changed. Papa put some dry clothes in your room. I’ll heat you some soup and tea.”
When Mary left the room, Baymac paced to Grace and whispered, “How’s it going?”
She looked up helplessly from beneath the pile of puke green yarn on her lap. “She’s teaching me to knit.”
His face twisted in mock disgust. “Why’d you pick that color?”
“I didn’t want to ruin her good yarn. I took what she didn’t mind wasting.”
Baymac’s face split in a smile as he eyed her work. “What in the hell is it?”
“Hey!” she snapped, holding up the odd shaped article. “This is a scarf!”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” but she was eyeing the material quizzically. “It’s… It’s like Wilson.”
Baymac’s brows steepled in confusion. “What in the hell is a Wilson?”
“You know,” she hissed. “That volleyball from the Tom Hanks movie where he’s stranded on the island. He doesn’t have any friends so he makes this raggedy ball he finds into a face and it gets him through tough times. Like an old friend, he endured the struggle with.”
Baymac’s smile was back. “You comparing learning to knit with Mary to being stranded on a deserted island with no friends?”
Now she was angry. “Well you were gone for a really long time and I’m not a very social person! This poor scarf has absorbed every ounce of my anxiety.”
He held up his hands playfully. “Easy, Tom. You think you’ll be okay if I go change?”
“Don’t be an ass!” She peeked at the doorway though and said the words quietly as if afraid of getting in trouble for cursing. “Just hurry up!”
Laughing again, Baymac turned with an, “Aye-aye.” He stopped at the doorway, eyes shining with curiosity. “What happened to Wilson in the movie?”
Grace’s lips pursed as she tried to suppress her own laugh. “He got lost at sea.” Then she whisper yelled, “I’m gonna hide this under the bed when we leave. When she finds it maybe she can reuse the yarn.”
Nodding, Baymac beamed a grin and disappeared down the hall.
“Okaaaay,” Mary sang as she entered the room and when Grace looked up, the older woman was bundled up in a thick fur-lined coat and carrying a tray of food that she placed on the coffee table in front of Grace. “See that your man gets fed.” Fat gloves covered her hands and she bustled back to the kitchen and came out carrying a large, cloth covered basket. “Me and Papa are off!”
“Off?” Grace shoved the pile of yarn off her lap and stood abruptly. “Off where? Off how?”
Mary flashed a grin and turned for the door. “We’ve got in-laws we’re going to stay with for a few weeks. Been planned for months�
��
“But…but…” Grace glanced at the empty hallway and back to Mary. “The roads, the storm, the…”
“It’s fine, dear.” Mary was flapping her gloved hand wildly. “We’ve made this trip a thousand times. Could do it in dark if needed.” She turned for the door, “Can’t keep Papa waiting. Plenty of food in the fridge and pantry to hold you two for as long as you need to stay. Be sure not to leave any fires burning,” she winked playfully at Grace.
“WAIT!” Grace looked back toward the hall wishing Baymac would hurry the hell up. “The roads are closed. How can you leave.”
Mary just beamed a bright smile. “Sleigh, of course.” She turned and bustled out the door tossing over her shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. You come back and visit us sometime in the spring.”
Grace hustled to shove her feet into Baymac’s big boots and shrug into his coat before chasing Mary out onto the porch, untied shoe laces trailing behind her as Grace took large steps to avoid tripping herself.
The snow glistened like a white glittered wonderland. Fat flakes still fell in thick sheets and the bite of frost threatened to seal Grace’s nostrils close as she inhaled. Kris was bundled up in a great fur lined coat of his own as he sat with reins in hand. An opulent red sleigh with intricately patterned wrought iron runners was stacked high with supplies covered by a thick fleece blanket that was already disappearing under a layer of snow. Two magnificent Clydesdales stood beside each other, pawing the snow impatiently as bells on their harnesses jangled. Mary handed her basket to Kris, and he set it on the bench seat before bending and offering a hand, hoisting Mary up as she settled in. She bent and grabbed a fur robe from somewhere at their feet and used it to cover both her and Kris’ laps. She waved to Grace, “Jesus loves you, dear, so do we. Have a very Merry Christmas!”
“WAIT!” Grace help up a hand. “It’s cold, it’s snowing, it’s…”
“It’s going to be alright!” Kris winked at her. “You and your man make yourselves at home.” Kris’ smile dipped a little. “He’ll take care of you, Grace. You trust him.”
His words didn’t sound like a suggestion, but Grace had to ignore his tone to turn and call out, “BAYMAC!” She was certain Kris and Mary shouldn’t be traipsing off into a snow storm, and why so suddenly? Why hadn’t they said anything before hand? Why weren’t they waiting out the storm?
When she turned back around, Kris bellowed, “HUP!” He snapped the reins and the horses lurched forward. Mary waved at her excitedly, “Good luck, dears!”
“WAIT!” Grace called, she turned to run for Baymac, but crashed into the solid wall of his chest. His hands on her biceps caught her, keeping her from crashing to the ground.
“Where in the hell are they going?”
Glancing up, she saw his eyes narrowed on Kris and Mary’s departure. “To see relatives! We can’t let them go! We need to stop them!” But when she looked back over her shoulder, the snow had swallowed up Mary and Kris, sleigh and all, only the faint sound of sleigh bells in the distance let her know they’d even been there.
Chapter 10
Grace paced the house in socked feet with her thumb nail caught between her teeth as she waited anxiously for Baymac to return. He’d bustled her into the house, got her out of his boots and coat before donning them himself and then hurrying out of the house in an attempt to go after Kris and Mary. It had been a dumb idea and one she now regretted supporting.
Crossing to the window for what felt like the millionth time, she squinted into the thick snow trying to make out any shapes. Nothing! Dropping the curtain, her mind started racing. What if Baymac fell down and hurt himself? What if he can’t get back or is lost? What if he’s out there freezing to death, while I… A clatter on the porch had her racing for the door and with little thought she jerked it open. Cold wind blasted her and she held up a hand to cover her face as she peeked through her fingers. “Baymac!”
He was back!
He walked across the porch toward her and her eyes raked over him searching for any sign of injury or ailment. She found none.
“Get inside, woman! It’s blizzarding!”
“I know,” she breathed around a relieved laugh. “Hurry!” She waved him in. “Faster, it’s cold.”
When he stepped into the house, she didn’t follow Mary’s actions and dust Baymac off with the broom. Nope, her little hands reached up and ripped open the zipper of his coat before she dropped to a knee and began unlacing one of his boots. Baymac boomed a laugh, “Miss me?”
“I thought you were hurt, or dead, or hurt and dead!” She stood to her full height that didn’t even reach his shoulders and planted both hands on her hips with a dark frown. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”
Shrugging out of his coat, he quirked a brow at her. “You said someone should go after them, try to stop them, bring ‘em back.”
Her eyes suddenly rimmed with tears. “I just meant someone, not you!”
“Hey!” He reached for her and pulled her into his big warm body for a hug. “It’s alright. I’m alright.”
She only nodded against his chest, relieved that he was back. Her arms slipped around him and she hugged him before asking, “Why isn’t your hair wet? And why aren’t your clothes crusted in snow like earlier?” She pulled back to stare at him quizzically. “You shifted didn’t you?”
“Grace.” Baymac sighed, releasing her and hanging his coat on the rack.
“What?” she challenged then sounded insulted, “I can be trusted!”
Snorting, he passed her and made his way to the tray of cold soup and hard sandwich sitting on the coffee table that he assumed Mary had gotten for him before she’d tore out of there. “How about you answer some questions about what you said at breakfast?” He settled the tray on his lap, socked feet propped toward the fire.
Grace was quick to counter, “How about you answer some questions about your revelation after breakfast?”
Baymac gave her a hard look and bit into his sandwich. “How about answers for answers?”
She nodded, claiming a seat on the sofa across from him where she tucked her legs beneath her like a little mother hen warming eggs. “You first. What do you mean your something else? Should I be worried?”
He smirked, “Little late for that isn’t it, Angel?”
His endearment caught her off guard, and it must have done the same to him because the second it left his mouth, his eyes jerked to hers to see if she’d heard it. She was watching him, but he ripped his gaze away and focused on his food. The sandwich was gone in just a few bites and apparently with Kris and Mary gone so were manners because he lifted his bowl of tomato soup to his lips and finished it off in several great gulps.
When he lowered his bowl back to the tray and used the napkin lying there to swipe at his lips, Grace prodded, “What something else are you? Obviously not a wolf. You a vampire?” She wanted to laugh at the look of disgust he shot her.
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
She shrugged a slim shoulder. “Okay, bad guess.” Her eyes tracked up and down his large form. “Bison shifter?”
Now he was outright laughing. A long, deep, belly laugh that had Grace’s cheeks staining pink even as a trill of pleasure tore through her at the sound. “What? That’s a legit guess! Look at the size of you!”
Baymac settled some, swiping at the corners of his eyes with his fingers before sniffing once. “Can’t tell you anything about me, woman, until you tell me what you know of the Blackbirds.”
“Well, I…” she clamped her mouth shut. She’d just assumed that Baymac was a friend and that he knew all about shifters, but if he didn’t then she couldn’t afford to say anything now. Plus, divulging any information on the Blackbirds would be in direct contradiction to her whole, “I can be trusted” spiel. Lifting her chin haughtily, she snapped her eyes closed. “I know nothing.”
“Liar.”
Her eyes opened and she pinned him with a hard look. “It’s not my place
to divulge secrets, and I’m not going to!” Crossing her arms over her chest she shook her head. “Ask what you want about me, but leave my friends out of this.”
“Okay.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin that had grown thicker since they’d arrived. It made him look like a sexy ass lumberjack. “Tell me about this him you spoke of last night. Who is he? What did he do? Why are you running from him? And where can I find him?”
Grace held up a hand. “Whoa. That’s a lot of questions.”
“You wanna see my secrets, woman, you’re gonna have to show me yours.”
His eyes dipped to her chest with his words and had Grace’s cheeks singeing all over again. “Fine!” she snapped crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously. “Otto Alexander. Abusive ex. Running for my life. You don’t want to find him!”
Baymac was silent, but his eyes narrowed to thin slits as he studied Grace. “Why don’t I want to find him?”
“He’s a bad man. Strong, tough, not afraid to hurt people.”
Baymac’s face blanked before his brows hiked in incredulity. “You don’t want to tell me where I can find this fuck-tard because you think it’ll be safer for me?”
Well, when he put it like that… Grace fidgeted in her seat. “Don’t want no one getting hurt because of me. He’s a really bad guy, Mac.” She shook her head sadly. “The less you know the better.”
“Better for who?” he challenged, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.
Grace lifted her eyes and stared at him before asking, “Skin Walker?”
Baymac tensed, but held her gaze.
Slowly, a corner of her mouth lifted and she relaxed back into the sofa. “A Skin Walker,” she breathed in awe, turning her attention to the fire where she stared into it and wrapped her head around the revelation.
“What do you know of Skin Walkers?”
Pulling her eyes from the fire to look at Baymac she could see that he looked worried. “Not much,” she told him honestly. “Only stories that I heard growing up mixed with myths I’ve read about and stuff Kya has shared.”
