by Bonnie Dee
“Nice.” Bryan sneered at the dilapidated motel.
“Don’t judge,” Ava ordered. “You’re getting to be a real snot. You know that?”
“Sorry.” For a blink, the Bryan she knew peered out from the bristly monster costume. “I can sit in back,” he offered and had his door open before she could protest that he didn’t need to.
Mason came out of room eight and walked over to the car, lifting his hand in a little wave.
“Hey, you don’t have to give up your seat,” he told Bryan as the boy struggled to get himself and his crutches out of the car.
“No problem. Could you open the door, though?”
“Sure.”
Mason didn’t try to help but stood back and let Bryan make his own way into the backseat. Before closing the door behind Bryan, he said, “Thanks, man.”
Ava inhaled and exhaled slowly to steady her nerves as Mason swung into the seat beside her. Not a date, she reminded herself, just a get-together. But it had been a long time since she’d gone anyplace with a man beside her, and even with her kid brother sitting in back, this felt sort of like a date.
She drummed her thumbs against the steering wheel as she pulled the car out of the motel’s gravel lot, which was almost more weeds than gravel. “Hot day. Almost like August.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty hot.” Mason sat with his hands folded on his lap and gazed out the side window.
You’re pretty hot. The unruly thought shot through her mind as Ava glanced at his profile and those amazing eyes watching the countryside unfold. He wore the same thing he did at work, T-shirt and jeans and a worn-out pair of tennis shoes, but without the stained white apron, the effect was completely different. Maybe because he’d trimmed his shaggy dark brown hair and shaved his beard down to sexy stubble. Mason appeared grunge chic rather than merely grungy. Because of this date? Ava wondered. Or had he simply decided it was time for a haircut?
For a while, only the ragged hum of the motor and the tires whirring on the road disturbed the silence. Ava searched for something to fill it.
“I’m surprised you got time off. Deb’s been scheduling you a lot.”
“I can use the money. I told her to work me in as much as needed.” He flexed his fingers, cracked his knuckles, and then folded his hands again. Nervous hands. Was he possibly feeling as awkward as she was?
“So, uh, what did you do before you came here?” There was a fine line between small talk and nosiness, and she hoped she didn’t come down on the wrong side of it.
Mason didn’t answer immediately. The muscle in his jaw flexed, and his lips tightened for a moment.
“I, uh, was working in a traveling show, but I got tired of it,” he said at last. “After that, I struck out on my own, and I’ve been working odd jobs along the road.”
“A traveling show? Like a carnival?”
“More like a revival.” He shrugged. “But that scene wasn’t for me. I’m not a particularly religious person.”
A nonreligious person who’d worked for an evangelist. Well, somebody had to move the equipment and such. Ava’s curiosity was only teased by this bit of information. She wanted to know what had set Mason wandering to begin with, his whole life story. But that would be crossing the line from polite conversation into prying.
Mason turned to look at Bryan, silent in the backseat. “I’ve never actually been to a county fair. What’s there to do? Will there be rides or just 4-H displays and tractor pulls?”
“All of that,” Bryan answered. “Lots of animals and crafts and farm equipment to bore the crap out of you, plus game booths and some rides.”
“Cool. Should be fun.”
“Yeah.” Bryan fell silent again. In the rearview, Ava watched him stare out the window, his hair starting to escape the gel, his eyes—worried. She wished he’d share his troubles with her and tell her his secret fears like he used to.
Mason turned his attention to Ava. “What’s your favorite ride?”
“Honestly, most of them make me too queasy to call it ‘fun.’ I don’t like being whipped around or having my stomach drop. If I had to pick one, I guess a carousel.”
“No sudden drops or unexpected twists for you.” Mason’s sly smile gave the words added meaning. He thought he had her figured out.
“I don’t like surprises. Nothing wrong with that,” she answered curtly.
“No. But surprises can be fun.”
Was he flirting? His tone sure sounded like it.
Ava focused on driving. Her motto was when in doubt about what to say, don’t say anything. She turned up the radio, and songs about love and loss and love again carried them through the green folds of hills all the way to Brag’s Hollow.
Chapter Five
Mason didn’t expect much from a county fair, which was good because the dusty, sun-soaked fairgrounds didn’t boast many thrills. But he wasn’t here for the cheesy games, rattling rides, or booths displaying country pride. It was a pleasure simply to walk alongside Ava, doing something other than washing dishes and scrubbing grills. She’d sprung him from the solitude of his room for a day, and though the swarm of people around him caused a low buzzing of need that tickled at his cortex, Mason was able to ignore it. Most everyone was happy, healthy, and enjoying a Sunday with their family.
“Want to see the rabbits, Bry? You always liked them,” Ava asked her brother, who was walking several yards apart from them.
“Yeah, when I was eight.”
Bryan stumped along quickly, plying those crutches with practiced ease. His legs might be weak, but his shoulders were quite developed from the constant workout. What would it take to make all of him as strong as his shoulders? Mason probed the edges of Bryan’s symptoms, pushing just beneath the surface to feel the complex shape of the muscular dystrophy. To try to repair faulty genetics would be a monumental undertaking. Even if he drained every last bit of his power, he doubted a change could be made. Mason withdrew his feelers and quieted the simmering desire to “fix” that had begun to rise in him.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you later. Four o’clock.” Bryan veered away from them.
“Wait. What? You can’t go off by yourself,” Ava protested and trotted after him.
Bryan’s body practically vibrated with irritation. “I’m twelve, not two. And it’s not as if we’re at Six Flags here. I’m not going to get lost.”
Ava put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him, forcing him to face her. “Maybe if Garrett was with you, but you can’t go alone. Not in this crowd. What if you need help?”
The siblings shared a stony glare with the same stormy blue-gray eyes. Mason stepped back a pace, removing himself from the standoff.
“I don’t need Garrett, and I don’t need you. I’m not a little kid anymore,” Bryan practically shouted, drawing the attention of several people walking past. They gave him pitying glances before quickly looking away.
“No, you’re not a little kid, but you’re…” Ava broke off. The suggestion he was less competent than other twelve-year-olds remained unspoken but understood.
Bryan’s glare grew hotter. “I’ll be fine on my own. Besides, I’m going to meet up with some guys I know.” He turned and stomped away, crutch tips stabbing the ground.
“Fine!” Ava called after him, but her worried eyes said it was anything but.
Mason moved close, started to reach out to touch her arm, but pulled back. He folded his arms and tucked his hands inside. “He’ll be all right. The fairgrounds aren’t that big. And we can check on him from a distance now and then.”
She nodded. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and she bit down to keep it steady. Longing surged through Mason, and he wanted to kiss the sadness from that soft mouth. It had been a long, long time since he’d kissed anyone. His lips tingled at the prospect.
Except there was no prospect. He wasn’t going to be kissing Ava Wheaton. This was a friendly outing for two coworkers. No other agenda.
He jerked his head. “Come
on. Let’s see those rabbits.”
They found the right tent and walked past cages of fancy breeds of bunnies. Short Lop, American Sable, Chinchilla, and Cashmere, the signs on their cages proclaimed. Mason wondered about the rabbit he’d healed the other night. Had it made it home safely to its warren, or had some owl or coyote snatched it up?
Mason and Ava toured tents of prizewinning goats, lambs, pigs, chickens, and cows. A large tent boasted quilts and crocheted and knitted items. His eyes began to glaze over after about the fourth tent. This was like falling through a time warp into the eighteen hundreds. What next? Candles and soap-making? Why yes, there were even candles and soaps and preserves before they were through seeing everything.
“The only pie I can make is heat-and-eat,” Ava said as they left a baked goods display. “Guess I’m not fair-worthy material.”
While they were touring the displays, she’d dropped the subject of her brother, but she scanned the nearby game booths, clearly searching for him.
“Want me to win you a giant purple panda?” he asked. “Or maybe a SpongeBob pillow?”
She smiled. “Can you? Are you a good aim?”
“Probably not. The only shooting I’ve ever done is on an Xbox.” He spotted Bryan at a distance and nodded toward him. “There he is.”
The boy was with a group of kids waiting their turn outside a karaoke booth. It was one of those deals where you could burn a track of yourself singing. Bryan stood staring at a short, cute redheaded girl who seemed to be the life of the party, the nucleus of the group. A gangly blond boy with fairly bad acne had his arm slung around her shoulders. Everyone was talking and laughing, and Bryan hung at the fringe, talking to no one.
“Garrett,” Ava muttered. “You were right. He got the girl. Poor Bryan. It’s always going to be like this for him, isn’t it?”
“Not always.” Mason tried to soothe her, although he didn’t believe his own words. “Somebody special will look past his physical issues. Maybe not in high school, but when he’s an adult.”
“If he lives that long,” Ava said flatly.
Mason frowned. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Muscular dystrophy. Not Duchenne, thank God, but Erb’s, which is bad enough.”
“I’m sorry.” That vibration hummed deep inside him, stirring and strengthening at the suggestion of a problem he might be able to fix. “What causes it exactly?”
“It’s in the genes. Symptoms vary widely, but the type Bryan has starts with weakness in the hip and leg muscles and spreads from there. He’ll probably be in a wheelchair eventually. And as for life expectancy…” She shook her head. “The outlook isn’t as dire as for some other forms of MD, but it’s not great either.”
“I’m sorry,” Mason repeated. “That’s really tough.” And maybe I could help him, but a disease that serious would suck me almost dry.
Ava stepped around a glob of purple cotton candy on the ground, covered with dust and ants. “I try not to think about the future too much, but, damn, I wish I could at least make his life happy for however long he’s got. I’d go through the hell of high school for him if I could.”
“High school is hell, isn’t it?” Mason agreed. “I know mine was. Until I dropped out.”
Ava turned from watching her brother to look at Mason, but she didn’t ask questions. He liked that about her. She didn’t push. And that actually made him want to tell her things. Probably more than he should share.
Ava asked, “What do you want to do next, buy tickets for the rides?”
“Sure. But we won’t go on anything with twists or drops, I promise.” He smiled, and she smiled back. Such a sweet heart-shaped face, he wanted to drop a kiss on those lips. Touching didn’t automatically lead to healing. It would probably be all right to hold her hand as other couples around them were doing. But Mason kept his hands by his sides, afraid to reach out, afraid to start anything.
Ava’s cheeks were pink as she looked away from him. Maybe it was only a touch of sunburn, but he guessed it had more to do with the way their gazes had locked together for several moments. There was heat between them that had nothing to do with the sun.
After buying a roll of tickets, they headed into the House of Horrors, which was probably the least scary ride at the fair. But at least it didn’t appear as if bolts might rattle apart and send riders plunging to their deaths. The little car clattered slowly along its track toward double doors, which groaned open beneath a skeleton ushering them into blackness. Music, shrieks, and mad cackles were cranked up to maximum volume. Strobe lights flickered over dummies with severed limbs or heads.
A vampire on a pneumatic piston thrust toward them. Both of them jumped, and Ava shrieked and grabbed Mason’s hand, startling him almost more than the mannequin. He half expected that electric shock he’d felt the other day when he touched her arm, but nothing like that happened this time. Her hand was warm and smooth, wrapped around his. Comforting, not radiating distress or need. He laced his fingers through hers and held on tight while the rickety car gave a sharp turn to the right and threw them even closer together.
As a clown with a truly terrifying grin lurched toward them from the shadows, Mason leaned to speak in Ava’s ear. “Looks a little like Deb on one of her bad days.”
Ava laughed so hard her body shook. The redheaded clown did look remarkably like their boss when things weren’t going her way. Something about the crazy eyes and wild red hair as well as the hulking shoulders and even the garish clothes that were similar to some of Deb’s more eccentric choices.
Mason let go of Ava’s hand and moved his arm around her shoulders. It had been a long time since he’d touched a woman, even though he could turn off his ability and function like a normal man. But after what had happened at the revival, it seemed safer to hold himself apart from the world, like maybe that was the only way he could survive.
Letting his hand rest on Ava’s smooth shoulder, he felt no desperation inside her pulling at him, demanding of him, only his own desires which tugged low in his groin. They were just an average guy and girl on a date, riding a cheesy ride.
Forgetting all about that smart plan to keep his distance, Mason gave in to the very natural urges coursing through him. He couldn’t sit in the dark with his arm around a pretty girl and not kiss her. He touched her cheek, turning her face gently toward his.
In the flashing strobe light, the whites of her eyes and her teeth gleamed. Ava slicked her tongue over her lips, a rapid dart that aroused him way more than it should. He leaned closer and let his mouth brush over hers, soft and light. Ava’s hand moved up to his chest, resting over his heart, a slight, warm pressure. Mason slid his other arm around her and pulled her close as he settled in for a deeper kiss.
While demons and the undead howled around them, he melted into the warmth of Ava’s mouth and body. Her hands moved up his shoulders and around the nape of his neck, her fingers curled there. She didn’t hold back as her tongue coiled sensually around his, sending delightful shivers through him. Not such a shy girl after all.
Another surprise dummy dropped in front of them on a gallows rope, but Mason hardly noticed. There were more exciting things to focus on: the taste of red licorice on Ava’s tongue and the feeling of her arms around him. He would’ve been happy to stay in that fiberglass car clattering along in the dark for another hour, but within moments, the ride ended. They exited into sunlight that burned away the illusion of intimacy the blackness had given.
A sweaty, red-faced ride operator wearing a T-shirt that labeled him a team member of Jolly Roy’s Amusements brought the car to a jerking stop with the push of a lever.
Mason got out of the car and extended a hand to help Ava from the seat. Such a simple pleasure, taking a woman’s hand and walking with her. He’d forgotten what that could feel like.
As they strolled through the afternoon crowd toward the carousel, their hands clasped together, warm but not sweaty. Just right. Contentment swelled in Mason, and he tho
ught maybe hooking up with Ava could be all right after all. He might stick around Waller longer than he’d intended. After all, there was nowhere he had to be.
Maybe this was a place he could call home—for a while at least.
*
Ava didn’t need a whirling carousel to make her head spin. As she rode up and down on a blue painted pony, she touched her fingers to her lips, which felt slightly bruised and very warm. The ghost of Mason’s mouth pressed against hers, deliciously sexy and demanding, but also sweet and sensitive. That was a lot to get from a few kisses. Maybe it had just been so long that she’d forgotten how great kissing could be.
She glanced at the man sitting beside her on a camel and focused on his lips that had touched hers so intimately. No. It wasn’t just that her memory of past kisses was hazy. Mason was a good kisser. And she wanted more.
But was it wise, hooking up with this wanderer, a high school dropout with a checkered work history? Mason seemed very nice, but a little stargazing and necking didn’t really tell her anything about the man. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer, luring her into trusting him.
Oh that’s right, Ava, go for the worst possible case scenario. Frannie was right. She really needed to lighten up a little. Why not enjoy a summer fling with this hot guy, even if it wasn’t going to last? She just had to be prepared for that and hold part of herself back so when he left inevitably, she wouldn’t be hurt.
Mason leaned over and shouted above the music, “Doesn’t calliope music kind of freak you out? Sounds like that killer clown from the funhouse is about to attack.”
Ava grinned. Sure enough, the cheerful tune playing through the loudspeaker was discordant and freaky. “Music boxes too,” she called back. “And little kids singing. They always use those in horror movies.”
