by Sennah Tate
He was so proud of himself with this batch though. So proud, in fact, that he didn’t notice her watching him until he spotted the flutter of a faded polka dotted curtain in the window.
Ben froze. She saw him. In the light, this time. His eyes darted to the picnic basket in hand, the delectable aroma of fresh baked goods emanating from within. He could drop it and bolt — he didn’t want to leave without giving them to her — but his debate took too long. She was already at the door.
The sight of this woman — half asleep, draped in the gentle morning sun, her golden hair shining like a halo — took his breath away.
“Wait!” she called before he could think.
Her voice was soft, sweet, gentle and unafraid. He had no choice but to obey her.
“Who are you?” she asked, bare feet softly padding down the well-worn porch steps to the leaf-strewn ground.
“And why are you bringing me baked goods?” she finished with a nod to the basket still dangling from his fingertips.
He shuffled his feet awkwardly — she didn’t look frightened, or even startled. He didn’t know how to react.
Her eyes narrowed as if she were trying to make out his features. Benny had to remind himself that she didn’t have his ability to see in the dark — or perhaps she had trouble seeing at all. That would certainly explain a lot.
Was it a trick of the light or did her eyes really change colors? Shifting swirling pools of hazel and green, never the same for longer than a split-second, no matter how long he looked. He could fall in — would willingly dive and never come back up for air — he could drown in those eyes without a single regret.
“Have we met?” she asked, pulling his eyes to her lips, plump and pursed in contemplation.
He side-stepped, uncomfortable under her gaze. No one had ever looked at him the way she did — she saw through him. Tucker avoided looking at him, it was a painful reminder of a tragedy he thought he should have prevented. Gabi didn’t look for long; her father marveled at him like he was a specimen to be examined thoroughly. No one had this genuine openness and acceptance.
It was clear to Benny that there was no way she could see him and still look at him that way. Even though he knew he should, he didn’t say anything.
Her iridescent gaze focused on his shoulder where his arm still hung at an awkward angle from their last encounter.
“We have,” she muttered, “the other night. Why did you run away so quickly?”
He knew he should flee, but her eyes pinned him in place, his feet leaden in the mud.
“You’re not scared of me?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
“Why would I be?” She came a few steps closer. Too close for comfort. He couldn’t move. Only able to shake his head.
“I… I don’t see many people out here. Any people,” he finally said, hoping it was a satisfactory response.
She raised her arm, extending a hand towards him.
“Elena,” she said.
He glanced at her hand and back to her eyes. Maybe she couldn’t see him well, but surely she’d feel the thick cover of chestnut hair when she touched him. She would know. Her hand hovered between them and Benny cringed at his inability to engage in a fundamental human interaction like a handshake.
“Ben,” he answered against his better judgment. He stumbled backwards, sunlight making him more nervous every minute that stretched by. “I… have to go,” he said lamely. It was still dark enough — not enough to mistake him for human, but enough to give him cover of shadow on his hike home — but that wouldn’t last for long.
She frowned; could she possibly be sad to see him go? The whole encounter felt foreign.
As he backed into the tree line, he heard her utter one last thing.
“I like scones!”
A mile-wide grin pulled at the edges of his mouth. He had to stop himself from skipping home — not exactly the most inconspicuous method of locomotion — and had to fight the urge to let his giddiness bubble into laughter. How could one little conversation make him feel so incredible?
Elena, he repeated in his mind, fulfillment coursing through his veins, waking up something deep inside of him he’d never before felt.
It was one thing for the woman to instill these feelings in him, for this overwhelming contentment to take over whenever she was near, but it was another for her to not openly reject him. In fact, she seemed almost… accepting?
He had to remind himself that she may not know about his furry affliction. That thought brought him down a peg.
Would she still be so accepting if she knew he was a sasquatch?
Determined to stop himself from ruining his good mood, Benny spent the rest of the afternoon researching the perfect cinnamon scone.
Well after dusk, he heard footsteps outside. For a brief moment he was hopeful that it was Elena — that she’d somehow found him and came to visit — he dismissed the thought nearly as quickly as it had formed. There were too many footsteps. It had to be…
“Knock knock!” Came Tucker’s cheerful announcement of his presence.
Benny groaned.
“I wasn’t talking to myself when I said you need to call before dropping by,” he grumbled. His protest was met with a dismissive wave from Tucker.
“It’s not like you’re going to tell me to not come over, are you?”
He knew better than to answer the question.
“Is Silvanus coming?”
Tucker sighed, obviously still irritated with Benny’s disdain for the other panther.
“Yes, Brock is coming. He’s bringing his mate, also.”
“Girlfriend,” Gabi murmured, having often commented on the archaic sound of the word ‘mate’.
“Right, Hailey’s coming.”
“Great,” Benny said sarcastically. Just what he wanted: someone to remind him just how far from human he was.
By the time the skittish redhead had her fill of Benny’s Key Lime Pie, she seemed to warm up to him — at least a little.
The rag-tag group of sleuths kept him occupied with constant queries for his opinion — as a fellow sasquatch — about where Nora might be residing.
“What about this marshy area over here?” Hailey asked, still struggling to find her voice around him.
Benny shrugged and eyed the scones in the oven, “Worth checking out, probably.”
His internal clock was spot on because a moment later the timer for the scones rang.
Tucker didn’t even wait for them to make it to the counter before he tried to snatch one off the tray. Ben swatted his hand away.
“They’re not for you.”
Tucker narrowed his eyes at his brother as if he had something more to say, but didn’t want to say it in such mixed company.
Minutes ticked into hours and by 5 AM the group of intrepid gumshoes were still in his home and still peppering him with questions.
“Do you think she’s mostly nocturnal?” Brock asked, ignoring Benny’s huff of frustration.
He looked at the clock, “How should I know? Maybe she has people keeping her up all hours of the day and night.”
“Do you have somewhere to be, Ben?” Tucker asked pointedly.
He wanted to meet Elena, time was slipping through his fingers rapidly, but he couldn’t tell his brother that. Telling any of them the truth would only lead to more questions, suspicion, and probably ridicule. He didn’t want to open that can of worms.
Exhausted and irritated, he sighed and shook his head. He only hoped that Elena would be able to forgive him for standing her up.
Chapter Six
Elena
It was like waiting for Christmas morning — she couldn’t sleep with the excitement and time ticked by so slowly. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so eager to meet with him again. Maybe, Elena told herself, she should be more guarded with the strange man that gifted her with pastries. It was odd, without a doubt, but so sweet. It didn’t hurt that he made the most scrumptious baked goods that had ever touche
d her tongue.
Was she crazy for thinking that they’d made a connection of some kind? He wouldn’t even shake her hand. He hadn’t acknowledged her request for scones. She’d thought of it as flirty — did he think it pushy?
Elena watched the night creep by and got more nervous with every passing moment. What if she’d misread the situation? Was she foolish to be waiting up all night for Ben, the beckoning baker? Simply moonstruck by the mystery of a courtship in the swamp? Was that even the term for it?
She sighed, leaning her cheek against the window. Maybe she was being ridiculous. Maybe she should just give up, go to bed and forget all about the way he made her heart flutter. How his warm chocolate-colored eyes, framed with dark lashes, seemed to call to her. His gaze made promises to her body that kept her up at night, imagining his touch, his warmth.
Ben, the man who’d saved her. Heard her cries for help against all odds and then wooed her with sweets — it had certainly worked.
The sun made it’s daily creep over the horizon and Elena felt even more foolish. There she was, imagining some romantic comedy type of courtship like she was the star of a chick flick.
By the time Bea was up and around it was nearly 8 AM and Elena knew she needed to accept that Ben wasn’t going to show up.
“What do we have with our tea this morning?” Aunt Bea asked, unaware of the inner turmoil Elena faced.
“Nothing. He hasn’t come. I confronted him yesterday and now he didn’t show,” she felt herself on the verge of tears.
Bea opened her jar of herbs and frowned at it, “You know what? I’m out of Marsh Lily root. The tea just isn’t the same without it…”
Elena jumped at the chance to be anywhere else, “I’ll go find some for you.”
“Thank you, honey. It’s awfully hard for an old lady to stoop down and trudge through the muck.”
“I already said I’d get them for you, Bea, no need to make it sound so fun.”
The old woman’s raspy laugh reached her ears as Elena crossed the porch and headed into the swamp, hoping some time alone with nature could make her feel less idiotic for thinking a strange man could be interested in her.
She trudged through the winding trails, trying to remember the way to the lilies her aunt wanted. Elena remembered that they liked wet sandy areas, near mangroves. She still didn’t have any idea what the ‘family things’ Bea spoke of were. She’d been in the Glades for nearly a week — her vacation time nearly up — and still had no more answers than she’d started with.
“I could be sipping margaritas on the lido deck, snorkeling, and sunbathing,” she muttered, “but no. There are important family things I have to tell you, Lainey. But I’m not actually going to tell you anything.”
Elena sighed. She wasn’t really frustrated with Bea. She was angry with herself. For getting her hopes up about a handsome stranger. For thinking that something like that could really happen to her.
She used sturdy tree roots as a bridge over the ankle-high water that separated the trail from the patch of flowers she sought.
“Be careful with the Devil’s Wort,” a voice called from behind her, “one touch will burn you,” Ben said as her hand slid towards the creeping vine he spoke of.
His sudden presence startled her; she lost her balance and he was there to steady her before she fell into the water.
Their eyes locked for a moment and Elena’s breath hitched in her throat, sure that she was imagining things.
“I’ve been burned before,” she whispered, clearly not talking about the plant’s effects.
Ben frowned and Elena had to admire the chiseled line of his jaw, the prominent brow and straight nose that made him look like he belonged in a movie instead of the swamp.
“I’m sorry. I was… detained,” he answered, offering a little package of scones.
Elena took the pastries, still eying him openly. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at him.
He was tall. Like, ridiculously tall. At least six and a half feet with broad shoulders and a mop of straight chestnut hair that hung over his forehead. Broad shoulders gave way to biceps the size of her legs and corded forearms that looked far too burly to make such delicate desserts.
Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze fell to his hands — images of those long fingers spreading over her skin, manipulating her flesh, stoking the fire she felt already simmering low down in her body, arose unbidden.
“How did you find me?” she asked, closer to him now than she’d ever been, but still too timid to reach out and touch him. For the first time, he didn’t retreat from her immediately and she saw something.
Like the flickering image of the old woman she’d seen when she looked at Bea, Ben’s handsome facade was replaced for a moment. She saw the fur-covered creature for less than a heartbeat.
What did it mean?
“How could I not? I couldn’t stay away if I tried,” he said, his voice warm and sweet.
Elena felt herself blush at his unabashed appraisal of her.
“I need to collect some supplies for my aunt, if you’re not busy…”
A smile tugged at his lips and Elena found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
“I think I could find the time,” he quipped.
“What do you normally do when you’re not baking treats for strangers?”
He chuckled and Elena’s stomach flipped. God, she could get used to that. To this comfortable companionship. To the butterflies that swarmed her intestines. To the look in his eyes that made her feel like the only thing he saw.
“Cooking is my passion. I’m always researching new recipes and hunting for new ingredients out here.”
“Haute cuisine in the Glades?” she teased, pulling a group of lilies from the sandy soil before rinsing out the roots.
He shrugged, “I don’t know about that. I’m no professional.”
Elena frowned, “You should be! I’ve never had such amazing sweets. People would pay a fortune for those snickerdoodles.”
“Maybe if someone else made them,” he said, defeat evident in his voice. Again, Elena saw the flicker and wondered what it meant.
“Well, I certainly won’t turn my nose up at anything you make. You have incredible talent.”
She thought she saw the flush of embarrassment creep up the back of Ben’s neck, but she didn’t say anything about it.
“I will gladly keep making things for you… I wasn’t sure you’d like them.”
Elena grinned, “I thought it was a little weird at first, but even I can’t argue with something that delicious. Keep ‘em coming!”
Soon, they had more roots than Aunt Bea could ever be expected to use and Elena still didn’t want to part from him.
“Aunt Bea is expecting me back by now… You should come meet her. You’d like her,” Elena offered.
Ben’s expression changed in an instant. Only a moment ago he’d been laughing with her, open and receptive. In the space of a breath, he’d reverted to closed off and distant.
“Maybe some other time. I should be going, too,” he said.
They both lingered for a moment and Elena wondered if she should hug him, kiss him, or just scamper off.
“Tomorrow?” he asked hopefully and Elena nodded before traipsing back to Bea’s little shack.
Bea read her as easily as a book the moment she walked in the door.
“Someone’s got the pep back in their step,” the old woman said with a knowing grin as she crushed dried herbs with her mortar and pestle.
Elena shrugged, feeling heat flush her cheeks as a smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth even as she tried to disguise it.
“Ben helped me gather your roots,” she said, offering the spoils of her trip to her aunt.
“That was nice of him,” Bea commented.
Elena nodded and Bea’s wrinkled lids narrowed.
“That’s not all though, is it?”
Elena laughed ruefully, “Can’t sneak anything
past you,” she teased, using her aunt’s words against her.
“Well, honey, tell your old Aunt Bea what’s turning the cogs in that pretty little brain of yours.”
“I don’t know,” Elena sighed, “It’s hard to explain. Sometimes I see this… flickering. An alternate image. Maybe I’m crazy.”
Bea clapped her hands together and gave her a big hug, “No, you’re not! It’s your gift!”
“My… what?” Maybe Bea was the one going crazy.
“Your gift! True sight,” she said unhelpfully.
“True… what?” Elena still didn’t comprehend what Bea was so excited about.
The old woman took a deep breath and gestured for Elena to take a seat at the table.
“I’ve been trying to tell you to really look at things. You’ve seen plenty of things through a window, but have you ever really looked at the window? The streaks on the surface? Little spots near the frame, a chip at the corner of the pane? Lainey, you have the ability to see through the window where everyone else sees a wall. The problem with that is that you have to focus to really see things the way others do.”
“So…” Elena paused, chewing on the new ideas her aunt gave her to digest, “the flickering I see is what everyone else normally sees? What do I normally see, then?”
Bea grinned, making it nearly impossible for Elena to keep from smiling herself, even if she didn’t know what the smile was for.
“That’s the beautiful part of your gift. You see people for what they really are. Deep down inside, under all of the distractions of window dressings, you can see straight through.”
The gears in Elena’s mind worked overtime. The flickering image she’d seen of Ben… the handsome exterior she’d grown to appreciate… The puzzle pieces began to fit together and eventually, Elena had a clearer picture of who her admirer really was.
Chapter Seven
Benny
Guilt gnawed at him all day. Benny knew that he should have come clean with Elena. Should have told her about his curse, about what he really was. She didn’t seem to have any problem seeing other things. Hell, she’d looked directly at him in broad daylight and never flinched. Maybe she just had nerves of steel.
