Water's Threshold

by Jillian Jacobs

  He drove to the ranch to confront Crowder, but spoke to the veterinarian instead, who feigned ignorance. Upon returning to the carcass, Terran noted channel catfish were gnawing on the cow’s flesh. The sun set while he dug a deep hole and buried the cow.

  With a doctorate in Environmental and Organic Chemistry and a Masters in Biology, his upbringing and subsequent education made it impossible to stop investigating a potential health threat just because “big money” Crowder had thrown the hammer down.

  After receiving Terran’s initial test results, the Conservancy met with their lawyers. The next step was gaining legal access to Crowder’s cattle so they could officially test for BSE.

  Terran, however, refused to wait for all the legal posturing—immediate action was crucial. He parked on the side of the stream across from Crowder’s property, hopped down, and pulled his tackle box off the truck’s backseat.

  Steps crunched against the rocky shore’s gravel behind him. His heartbeat kicked-up as he glanced over his shoulder, but no one was there.

  Standing still for a moment, he listened. Nothing but the usual sounds of the forest filled the air. He rested his pole against a nearby rock and worked at releasing the fishing hook from the ring on his pole, but the line was a tangled mess. He kneeled and dug through his tackle box for scissors. Finding them, he turned back to cut the line, but a pair of shapely calves blocked his vision. Long legs led all the way up to a blue-eyed blonde who stood in the cool water, which couldn’t be more than fifty-five degrees. She peered down at him with her head slightly cocked to the side.

  Where did she come from? Aren’t her feet cold?

  “Hello,” he ventured, still crouched with scissors in hand.

  She didn’t speak, but looked at his tackle box and pole before returning her gaze to his. Water splashed around her calves as she stepped out of the stream and progressed in a circular path around him.

  Not liking the disadvantage, Terran stood. “May I help you?”

  Her eyes were clear as a lake, welcoming him to dive in and swim deep. Her hair flowed passed her shoulders, and the soft curls beckoned him to experience their waves.

  “You’re trespassing.” Her voice cut across the quiet.

  Her voice stirred a memory he couldn’t quite place. He turned with her as she continued her trail around him in a wider circle—half-in, half-out of the water. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

  Her smile went stiff, and she stopped her slow turn. “We have not met. You need to leave.” She pointed to his truck, pointed at him, and then made a shooing motion with her fingers.

  “Why? I’m not trespassing.” He reached around her to grab his fishing pole before it slid into the water.

  “You are.” She poked a finger against his chest.

  “No. I hesitate to correct a lady, but I measured the distance to Crowder’s land. It ends at that tree.” Using the fishing rod’s tip, he indicated a Lodge Pole pine directly across from where they stood.

  Something was familiar about her. And that something caused a rumble through his body. A primal, raw need to capture and conquer her had him envisioning cavemen with clubs. Too bad I only have this thin pole.

  “I’m sorry. You look very familiar.” He shook his finger at her before tapping his forehead as if that would shake loose his memories. “Why are you here? Do you live nearby? Aren’t your feet cold?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Do you work for Crowder?”

  “And another question.” She raised a brow and tossed her hair off her shoulder.

  With that flick of hair, he recalled a golden tendril against a black sweatshirt. “I know.” He snapped his fingers as he recollected the vision. “At the gas station the other night before the robbery, Shoeless Girl, that was you, right?”

  “You remember this?” She moved closer, searched his eyes then glanced away. “What’s in your kit? Why do you have all those vials? Do you plan to do experiments on the fish?”

  “Looks like I’m not the only one with questions.” He smiled. A charming smile, one that generally disarmed the female populace. “May I introduce myself?” He held out his hand. “Terran Forrester.”

  Her gaze stayed focused on his as she shook his hand. Her hand lingered in his, and she twisted his wrist. With her hand directly on top of his, she ran her fingertips down his palm then traced the etched lines with an index finger.

  The sensual caress shot a lustful jolt down his body.

  “Terran. It means ‘of the earth.’” She ran a hand up his arm to his shoulder.

  “Yes, my parents own Earth Wrap.” His voice took on a husky tone in response to her bold touch. “It’s a company that manufactures environmental packaging.” His fingers twitched with the same need to explore her body. Her scent evoked images of yellow lily blossoms on a rainy spring day.

  “And you, Terran Forrester, you study the earth for them?” She released her hold on his shoulder and bent to run her fingers through the stream.

  “I don’t work for them. I work at The Conservancy in Morgan Junction.” No longer able to stand by while she waded through the cold water, he pointed out, “Your feet have got to be freezing. The body freezes at 32 degrees, excluding variations, of course. Please, let me get you a towel. I’m sure I’ve got one in my truck.” He took her arm and helped her from the water.

  Her pixie nose wrinkled as she stepped onto the bank. “You have a towel in your truck?”

  “I always carry extra towels. When I was young, I fell into a Colorado stream. I got very sick after, so…” He dug around in the backseat. “Found it.” He waved the towel above his head then turned to offer it to her. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?”

  Empty space. No blonde.

  What the hell?

  Were Crowder’s men here? Did she leave with them? No, there were no other vehicles around and no sounds. Nothing.

  She couldn’t have gotten far on foot. Perhaps she was a water sprite conjured from his over-caffeinated mind—no, that wasn’t logical.

  Where is she?

  “I found the towel,” he stated in a louder voice.

  As he stepped over to where she’d stood only moments before, he felt a light mist brush the back of his neck. He spun and spotted her by his truck.

  She held a rusted three-speed bicycle by the handlebars. “Terran, please leave. This is a hazardous place, unbalanced. Do not come back. You cannot change what has become.” After making that strange statement, the Shoeless Girl hopped on her bike and rode off.

  He threw the towel over his shoulder and walked back to the stream. The water bubbled and churned—a chorus in the quiet, summoning him to stand at the shore and explore its depths. He grabbed his pole and got back to business. If she was working with Crowder then he didn’t have much time.

  Chapter 4

  Terran slapped his best friend, Clay Ellis, on the shoulder as they sat in a stretch limo’s backseat. Clay’s words were slurred from too many toasts to his bride-to-be. “Shtill can’t believe it. I’m sho happy.”

  Bottles clanked against their feet as the entire crew stepped out of the car and followed the loud thump of music into Tattered Tetons. After hitting a few of the local pubs, the bachelor party crew decided this strip club was the proper way to end the evening. As best man and bachelor party planner, Terran checked off the last stop on his whisky-stained list.

  An aromatic mix of cumin and onion permeated the air from a food truck labeled, “The Tangy Taco.” The truck occupied the only handicapped parking spot on the lot. Ironic, as the food attracted customers hindered by various chemical intoxicants.

  Tattered Tetons tinted glass door was covered in advertisements for weight loss and male enhancement drugs. When he stepped inside, Terran blinked as his eyes adjusted to the flashing lights. Vision cleared, he noted flesh bulging out of tight tops and ass-baring shorts as the waitresses carried drink-filled trays from table to table. A local group standing by the bar included Etha
n Crowder. The only son of Carlyle Crowder, Ethan threw around his money to cover up the fact that ninety percent of the time he was a complete jackass.

  Ethan glanced over as they headed to a large table set up in front of the stage. Two bottles gripped in one hand, a monster cigar in the other, Crowder maneuvered through the tables with his arms open wide. “What’s up? What is zzzzuuup?”

  He punched Clay on the shoulder with his cigar-filled hand and a hunk of ash drifted to the floor. “Hey, Ellis, hear you’re taking the plunge next weekend. Why ya wanna go and get hitched for?” He wrapped an arm around Clay’s shoulder. “Forrester,” he slurred. “Surprised to see you here.”

  “Surprising how?”

  “These girls aren’t interested in your little science projects. Right, baby?” Ethan grabbed a waitress walking by and pinched her ass.

  Terran refused to debate with someone who thought a cup of dirt qualified as a science project. Instead, he nudged Clay’s arm. “I’ll grab some beers and meet you at the table. Crowder, always a pleasure.”

  As Terran walked off, he smiled at a passing waitress. Quite a few girls here were a lot smarter than Crowder realized. He wasn’t surprised to find Crowder and his crew in attendance on a Friday night. Word around town indicated Ethan had a tendency to play it rough in the bedroom. Unfortunately, Crowder’s money might seem worth the pain to a desperate girl. Ethan took advantage of people, and everyone in town turned the other way while it happened.

  After paying for an extremely overpriced bucket of Green Moose beer, Terran headed to where his friends were gathered.

  “Ish amashers night,” Clay struggled with his words as he reached into the bucket. He gestured toward the stage with his beer bottle. “Maybe that meansh they’ll try harder. Shake it, don’t break it, baaybee.” He laughed and tipped sideways in his chair. Righting himself, he proceeded to down half his beer in one big swallow.

  Great. The last time Clay got this drunk, he’d passed out on the back deck of their rental house. Terran decided to stop drinking, or he and Clay would be sharing porch space.

  Strobe lights flashed across the stage and the bar lights dimmed when an announcer dressed in a red suit, with the requisite amount of gold chains, stepped onto the stage. “Welcome, everyone. We have a bevy of beauties lined up for you tonight, but first off are some amateurs to titillate you. Handpicked, these girls went through extensive tryouts before being allowed to entertain. Remember, these girls are worth every dollar, so drink up and hit the private rooms.”

  A popular dance song thumped through the room before a pretty brunette appeared on stage. A little jerky and nervous at first, she eventually got through the song. The next girl lacked a bit in the chest department, but had some steamy moves. Crowder and his friends yelled for her to get off the stage. Terran slipped her a fifty.

  The next number kicked off with a blonde in a cop outfit wearing knee-high black leather boots and silver-mirrored sunglasses. Smoke machines billowed fog around her body.

  A tingle of recognition struck—the fog, the hair, the legs.

  What the hell?

  It couldn’t be her. Why would she do this?

  A slow hypnotic beat pulsed through the club as Shoeless Girl twirled a police baton. The room fell silent as she danced. Her body was fluid and smooth, inviting him closer. When a light mist fell across his face, Terran checked the ceiling for the water source—must be a new 4D effects system.

  He shifted in his seat as she worked her way over to where Crowder and his crew beckoned. No longer silent, they whistled and waved bills to get her attention. She danced in front of Ethan, removed her sunglasses, placed them on his nose, and then finished by running her hand down the side of his face.

  Is she crazy? Why is she taunting that jackass?

  She dropped to her knees, spread open her thighs, and ripped off her shirt.

  Damn it. He’d figured she had a very fit body, but hadn’t realized the package came that well-endowed, barely covered now by a pair of hot pink triangles.

  She shouldn’t be up there revealing her body. Her purity flowed in waves around her. Awareness of a connection had erupted that day at the stream, and he still felt it now. He struggled to remain seated while she continued her flagrant display. His fingers curled around the sticky table as he glanced at his friends—they, too, enjoyed her charms.

  Her hips rocked back and forth as she centered her svelte body on the stage. With her back to the audience, she bent and ripped off her shorts. Every pulse of blood in his body went south. Permanently. Toned, yet curvy, she completed the picture of his fantasy woman.

  She is mine.

  Why that thought came as an absolute, he couldn’t say, but he would not allow her to uncover anymore. He stood, tucked his index finger and thumb into his mouth, and whistled—loudly. Summoning her.

  This produced the desired effect. She swayed over and crouched with her backside facing him. Everyone rushed to where he stood, tucking dollars under her black G-string. She subtly pushed away any exploring hands and stood, winking at him before dancing away.

  A ruckus in Crowder’s crew erupted just before Ethan jumped on stage. He grabbed the blonde by the back of her head and kissed her—hard. The bouncers were apparently tipped well, because no one moved to stop him.

  A swell of rage erupted through Terran at the sight of his Shoeless Girl in another man’s arms. He jumped onto the stage and wrenched Crowder away.

  Unwilling to be thwarted, Ethan threw a wild haymaker.

  Terran ducked then surged forward. He wrapped his arms behind Ethan’s knees and used forward momentum to drive them onto the stage floor. Years of Brazilian Jiu-jitsu training kicked in to control the fight, along with the primal need to defend his mate. Terran sat with his knees on each side of Ethan’s torso and pinned his arms by holding his wrists. He growled out, “Keep your hands off her.”

  “What’s it to you, forest fucker?” Crowder spit back.

  Blood pumping hot and fast through his veins, Terran punched Ethan in the nose, which knocked his head against the stage floor and silenced him.

  Sprinklers went off, blasting water onto the stage and throughout the bar. The power of the spray stung his skin. Terran stood and glanced around for the fire, but didn’t see any flames. Must be a faulty system, or some new sort of security, because the power of the water’s stream seemed excessive.

  The crowd looked like a wet T-shirt contest gone wild as employees and patrons rushed for the exits. Their shouts overpowered the announcer’s voice as he stepped on stage and tried to maintain calm.

  Terran gripped the silver stage pole to steady his footing on the slick floor and surveyed the area for his blonde. Gone. Shoving aside the red-velvet curtain, he went backstage. Not finding her in the dressing rooms, he detoured out the back door.

  “Terran,” she spoke from behind him.

  Startled, he spun to face her. “What?”

  Now dressed in faded cut-off shorts and a light blue sweater, she stepped back as the door swung open and a very soaked girl exited the building.

  Where are the fire trucks?

  They needed to move away from the building if there was a fire. Terran eyed her feet.

  No shoes. Again.

  Rocking back on her heels, she joked, “So, you might say my dance routine was a little washed out.”

  “Not funny.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Ahhh… I don’t know, I thought that joke was a good one. I sense you’re not in the mood for my nonsense. Why not? Your gander party appeared in full swing. Celebrating the end of a friend’s bachelorhood, right?”

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  Flinching slightly, she answered with a patronizing tone, “Stripping.”

  Jaw tight, he clipped out, “I understand that. What I cannot comprehend is why.”

  “Again, so many questions.”

  Terran tried wiping his glasses with his wet shirt, remaining completely baffled by
this blonde beauty before him. Why did he feel this unearthly need to contain her? Why should any of this matter? Had his friends left? Why wasn’t she wet?

  Frowning, he considered the price he would pay for striking Ethan. He wouldn’t be surprised if the local Sheriff was already waiting outside his home, ready to arrest him for assault.

  “Crowder won’t call a Copper,” the blonde before him piped out. “He may bother your apartment, your car, or your office, but he won’t involve the law. If he does, his father will find out he’s been spending time in dives again.”

  “Excuse me?” Copper? Who used that word? Why is she talking about the police?

  “You looked a little worried.”

  “Listen, I don’t think you should encourage a guy like Crowder. He isn’t known for his kindness to women.”

  “How kind of you to be concerned.”

  Rubbing his forehead with his fist, he tried to contain an impending headache. Too much alcohol and difficult women didn’t mix. “Where the hell are your shoes? Why are you always roaming around without them? Come on. I’ll take you home.” He took her hand and led her toward the main parking lot.

  She stopped and tugged her hand from his grip. “I can get home on my own. I still have work to do tonight. Work I would have finished sooner if you hadn’t interrupted.”

  “And what ‘work’ is that?” He sneered.

  “Are you implying I would prostitute myself?”

  “Are you?”

  She burst out laughing, holding her sides as her head rocked back. “Ah, Terran…” She began walking in a slow circle around him. Again. “Curious is what you are. I find I am a little curious about you, as well. What kind of man is hiding behind those spectacles and starched button-down shirts?” Grabbing both ends of his collar, she pulled him closer.

  Placing his hands on her waist, he locked her hips against his body.

  “Have you ever watched waves crash upon a rocky shore?” She whispered against his lips. “What happens when the earth yields? When it breaks and crashes into the sea. What then?”