“What has he ever done to you?” I tugged the hem of her shirt to draw her attention from the road and down to me. “You’re not usually one to hold a grudge.”
She rested a hand on my shoulder. “He watched the person I love most suffer needlessly.” Her grip tightened. “And he did nothing to stop it.”
I stopped rocking. “Me? If anything could have been done to save either of us, any of us, Harper would have done it. He did do it. Clayton doesn’t figure into the equation.” Did he? What did I really know about the resentment simmering between Emma and Clayton? Less than nothing, that’s what. “How could he have helped me? And when?”
Instead of answering, she tugged down her ponytail and offered me the hair band. “It looks like you’ll need this more than I will today.”
I was tired of being ignored, but her sullen expression stalled my brewing rant in its tracks. “What do you mean?” I finger combed my hair and wrapped the rubber band around it. The temptation to pull down the loose knot and allow my hair to cover my back was a nervous twitch in my hand.
Emma pointed down the road where a plume of red dust roared to life, chasing after a partially concealed vehicle. Clayton’s topless Jeep came into sight just ahead of the cloud rolling up the driveway behind him. The tan hardtop was missing, leaving the cab exposed to delicious air currents.
“It’s a pretty day to drive with the top down.” I imagined driving fast enough would feel like flying. And why else would an Evanti drive a convertible? “This should be fun.”
Emma didn’t answer. She did take a half step closer to my chair.
The Jeep rolled to a stop in our yard’s unofficial parking lot, a patch so worn grass gave up on growing there. Clayton unfolded long legs that carried him to where we waited on the porch. He tucked one hand in the front pocket of his pants while the other raked through the windblown tangle of black hair curling with sweat and sticking to his temples.
Serious eyes settled on me. “Are you ready to go?”
Emma pressed my shoulder down with her hand, refusing to let me rise. “Maybe I could stay home today. I could ask Marci or one of the others to cover my shift. They can’t do the closing paperwork, but I could put in a few hours tonight after closing…”
“Emma.” I patted the hand anchoring me in place. “I’ll be fine. Clayton won’t let anything happen to me.” My gaze slid over to the towering male resting a lean, denim-clad hip against the porch’s wooden rail. “Right?”
He waited the span of two heartbeats to reply. One longer than a simple “yes” should have taken. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
“See?” I gave Emma’s hand a final squeeze. “I’m in good hands.”
She grumbled as I pried away her fingers. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Should I wait here for you or head to the diner?”
She passed over my backpack, which was stuffed with enough trail mix, water bottles and sunscreen to last a week in the Sahara rather than a few hours on a rock barely qualifying as a mountain. “Come to the diner. I have to start the closeout papers for the month and I don’t want you left alone—period.” Emma sighed, clearly unhappy. “We can eat there before heading home and save ourselves a few dishes.”
“Okay.” I stood and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. “See you after awhile.” I barely needed to guide my feet forward. Where Clayton was, I found myself wanting to be.
I forced myself to take slow, measured strides until I reached the porch’s edge. He offered me a warm, firm hand to guide me down the steps, probably thinking pain caused the small tremors and shuffling gate.
The second our skin touched, my mind flashed back to his brother, and the night he’d escorted me to the edge of a grand ballroom, brimming with my mother’s court and seething with eager anticipation. The chill dancing up my spine vibrated through our joined hands. I shook my head, divesting myself of the vision.
“Are you all right?” Clayton cupped his palm against the side of my throat, pausing with his thumb pressed against my pulse, measuring its frantic beats. “We can always do this another day.”
Hope threaded his voice, but I needed fresh air and open spaces and had no qualms about using him to get them. “I’m fine, just getting my sea legs under me.” I turned to Emma, wiggling fingers in a goodbye wave she didn’t notice. Her eyes were locked on Clayton like a sniper with an easy target within range.
Angling my body between Emma’s and Clayton’s, I took the last two steps quickly, bumping into him in my hurry to separate the two. Even with both feet planted firmly on the ground, he kept possession of my hand, interlacing our fingers. Emma kept her eyes glued to that meeting of skin. I tried pulling away, but his grip only tightened.
“You can let go now.”
His lips curved upward in a slow smile. “But I don’t want to.”
Using our joined hands, he tugged me along in his wake, evidently just as eager as I to escape Emma’s gimlet glare. At the Jeep, he released his hold only long enough to open the passenger-side door before settling his hands at my waist.
“Hold on to me.”
My arms circled his neck, linking at his nape and twisting in his hair. “You don’t have to help me, you know. The seat isn’t that far up.”
Clayton ignored me. Digging his fingers into the soft flesh of my hips, he lifted me gently into my seat. His upper body following mine inside the Jeep’s interior.
We stayed that way—Clayton bent over me, linked to me where my hands smoothed over the tense muscles bunching his shoulders. His hands were pinned between my body and the seat, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think for a second I held the advantage.
The cab felt cramped and airless, too small and confining for the desires this male roused in me.
I didn’t want to hold my breath and hope his gaze would seek mine. And when it happened, I didn’t want my lips to telegraph their happiness with a smile, but they did.
Emma called from her station by the front door. “This is not what we agreed on.” Her threat almost succeeded in dousing the fragile happiness igniting inside me. “You’re taking her on a hike, not a date.”
I don’t know if he heard her and didn’t care, or if he didn’t hear and I didn’t care, because he chose that moment to brush his soft lips over mine in a chaste kiss.
I wanted to blame pheromones or nature or circumstance for the wet rush of desire flooding my core, but I knew I would have wanted him the same no matter the time or place he’d found me. I pulled back, breaking the kiss and trembling anew because that knowledge frightened me. I had pined away five years of my life for another male, the brother of the demon whose essence lingered on my lips.
“You taste like citrus,” I said stupidly.
His forehead braced against mine as he chuckled. “And you taste…addictive.”
Our breaths mingled in a pleasant way.
“You did kiss me a lot last night.” I couldn’t help it sounding like an accusation.
His nose bumped mine. “Good-night kisses.”
“And now? What sort of kiss was that?”
“I forgot to kiss you good morning.” His lips covered mine again. “I was…distracted.”
Blood flushed my cheeks, making his Jeep’s paint job pale by comparison. So much for pretending he hadn’t seen me naked. I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“I’ll remember enough for the both of us,” he teased, dimples deeper than I’d ever seen them. “You’re beautiful. All of you.”
I rested a hand on the soft fabric over his chest. His heart hammered against his rib cage. “I don’t know how to do this, how to be with you this way.”
Whatever he might have said was overshadowed by Emma grabbing his leather belt. “Back off,” she said, using the belt to haul Clayton backwards out of the Jeep.
Emma slammed the door shut hard enough to make me jump. Her gaze pinned Clayton to the spot. “Don’t make me regret
entrusting her to your care.”
The muscles in his jaw worked, but he bit back whatever words he might have spoken with obvious effort. His eyes met mine, and I had no doubt his attempt at civility was for my sake.
Her hard eyes turned on me. “Be safe. Remember what I taught you.” Her gaze wandered back to Clayton. “If you have to put him down, make sure he doesn’t get back up.”
Clayton turned his back on her and stalked towards the Jeep. I scooted until the door cut into my side, as far away from his anger as I could get, which only incensed him further. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I won’t let myself hurt you.”
I nodded at his far-from-soothing words. They implied he could hurt me. That he had definitely thought about it, or the possibility of it. I swallowed the anxious lump rising in my throat.
Clayton’s head dropped against his seatback, eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply before pushing out a slow exhale, as if cooling his temper. He repeated the process a few times, tilting his face carefully away from me.
Then I understood. The topless ride, his short temper and his failing attempts to curb it. They conveyed his struggle against my pheromonal calling card.
The day was clear and cool, probably cooler than warranted the top being removed. Clayton didn’t want to be trapped with my scent. I sniffed discreetly, but smelled only the spice of his cologne and the Jeep’s new-car smell.
“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” My hesitancy brought his head up.
“I’m fine.” He twisted the key and the Jeep rumbled to life. He threw it in gear and sped away from where my sister sat on the lowest porch step, holding her head in her hands. I touched the side-view mirror with my finger, stroking her cascade of golden ringlets through the reflection and leaving a smudge behind.
“You’re being quiet.” Wind whistled past my ears, making him raise his voice to be heard over the road noise.
“I don’t really have anything to say.” I picked at the zipper on my backpack, half tempted to pop in ear buds, switch on my iPod and avoid the uncomfortable conversation he’d started. “What about you? You’re not saying much.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel. “I’m thinking. That’s all.”
“Can I ask you something?”
A moment passed. “Yes.”
“If you want to be with me, then I have to ask about Dana.”
When his eyes met mine, they flickered darkly. “Do you really want to know?”
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have pushed, but this mattered to me. It should have mattered to him. “I have to know if you have some sort of relationship with her. The children—”
“Look exactly like their father.” His teeth snapped together hard. “Do you want to know who their sire is?” When I didn’t answer, he snorted derisively. “I didn’t think so. No one really wants to know. They’re too happy whispering behind my back to ask for the truth.”
“Dana has done everything but screen-print paternity T-shirts with your face on them. If it’s not true, then you should set the record straight.” A loose strand of hair whipped around my face, forcing me to catch it and tuck it back in place. “Jacob told me the children were Harper’s.”
Clayton’s eyes darkened still, filling with anguish. “This isn’t about me at all, is it?” He slammed his palms against the wheel. “This is about whether or not Saint Harper jumped the fence during his visits to the colony.”
I shifted in my seat, turning my back to him. “That was cruel, and I didn’t deserve it. Neither did your brother.” Drawing my knees up to my chest, I rested them against my door and fished my iPod from the backpack’s front pouch, uncoiling the tiny earphones and tucking them into my ears.
Heavy metal bouncing inside my head drowned out any possibility for talk. He might have called my name, but I acted like I hadn’t heard. We drove through the suburbs occupied by colonists, then through the more human-rich areas until we were caught by the single red light strung across the town’s only major intersection.
On the street corner, a small assembly of the colony wives stood, waiting to cross as they cuddled newborns or bounced toddlers on their hips. Some clutched bags from the day’s shopping excursion, while others held chubby hands.
While stopped, I took the chance to swap out ear buds, having forgotten about the frayed end of cord attached to my favorite pair. I rooted through the deeper pockets of my bag, searching for the unopened set I’d bought earlier in the week.
Lynn, one of the cooks employed by my sister, paused and tugged on her friend’s sleeve. “Do you see that? Madelyn is in the Jeep with Clayton.” Her friend’s neck craned for a better look. “I wonder if Dana knows.”
The friend clicked her tongue slowly. “He probably feels sorry for her.” The woman bent down to retrieve her bags from the sidewalk. “I heard she’s deformed or something. It’s why she never leaves her house. None of the males want anything to do with her.” Bags in hand, she lobbed her parting shot. “She’s just some hoity-toity princess, too good to socialize with the rest of us. You’d think that apron she wears every day would clue her in on the fact she’s not royalty any longer.”
Lynn shared in the laugh that followed as they crossed the street. She would have to be blind not to realize the top was down and that I’d heard their every word. Tears pricked my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them see me cry. Maybe once Clayton drove off, I could blame them on windburn.
I jumped when his hand landed on my shoulder, startled by the unexpected contact. When I glanced at him, his eyes were soft and troubled. Great, he’d heard the women too.
I didn’t want to hear his two cents, so I tapped my earphones and held up the iPod, hoping he would take the hint. He nodded and looked both ways to make certain the last of the women and children had crossed before reaching over to swipe away a tear I hadn’t noticed falling down my cheek. Illusion ruined, I unplugged and curled up tighter in my seat until my chin stabbed the top of the knee it rested on.
The Jeep lurched as Clayton accelerated, leaving behind what had happened. All the hustle and bustle of town melted to serene, peaceful forest. Foliage became denser, darker. Nothing but sky and air remained this far outside the city limits.
Out here, I could breathe.
Clayton braked at the junction of a small fork in the road. “Is there a trail you prefer?”
I pointed towards a sign labeled “The Emasen Bluff Pass”.
Taking the gently sloped path winding around the mountain’s base, we circled into a clearing leveled with gravel and marked as an RV camping site. He parked and I opened my own door, stepping out before he could reach me.
With knees straight, I bent down to touch my toes and hung there, pulling my leg muscles taut before beginning a few rudimentary stretches and working the kinks from my back. When I straightened, Clayton leaned against the Jeep, arms crossed, watching me with interest. My backpack dangled from his fingers.
I closed the space between us. He held out the pack and helped me shrug into it. I looked towards the mouth of the trail. “Are you coming?”
His hand sought mine and meshed our fingers together in silent apology. I couldn’t hold on to my anger while his thumb rubbed gentle circles over my skin. I resisted the urge to smile as we passed a wooden trail marker spray painted with the words “Happy Hiking”.
Two steps up the path a blur of red fur whizzed past my ear. Tiny, needlelike claws dug into my skin as whatever it was skidded to a halt across my shoulders.
I screamed and threw my pack to the ground, running farther up the trail while swatting my neck and back and shoulders. The tiny animal scurried over my body unhindered by gravity, making my skin crawl everywhere it touched. “Clayton, help me!” Continuing to jump and shake, stomp and squirm, I tried to rid myself of the rodent.
“What kind of game is this?”
I stopped screaming and forced myself to look down where a red squirrel hung from my pants leg. “Figment?”
“Yes?”
I stumbled backwards until I bumped into a sapling tree. “You just scared ten years off my life.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you could do that.”
“What?” I forced myself to hold still while she climbed to a higher, more secure location. “No, not literally, I just mean that you scared me very badly.”
“Are you all right?” Clayton asked.
“Yes, just surprised is all.” I glanced at the furball sitting on my shoulder. “I think I liked it better when she was a fox.”
The russet squirrel hiked up my side, gripping my hair with one of her furry hands as she leaned out and wiggled squirrelly fingers at him. I felt oddly flattered by the gesture she emulated.
Shock didn’t begin to cover how I’d felt after being assaulted by a flying squirrel, but Clayton didn’t look surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. “Thank you for coming.”
Figment chattered happily. “You are most welcome.” She sailed from her perch, gliding over to Clayton and landing spread-eagle across his abdomen before scurrying up to nestle against his neck. He scratched her tiny head, something I had never thought to do, and she purred as she had for Emma.
This was exactly why I didn’t need a pet. I didn’t know how to work one properly.
“Well,” I said, straightening my clothes. “Now that the gang’s all here, we best get started. I’d like to reach the top before it gets much later.”
Clayton hooked a finger through the belt loop of my jeans. “Lead the way.”
Figment leapt from his shoulder and scurried back up into the trees. I watched her zigzag from limb to limb until my eyes crossed. “Man, she has some serious energy.”
He gave my pants a tug. “Light is radiant energy.”
I snorted. “Smart ass, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”
We continued to ascend until the twinge in my knee became more of a sharp pang. My steps lagged and he, of course, noticed.
“Is your leg bothering you?”
I tried to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. I guess my knee got mangled worse than I thought. I should have been over this by now.”
Everlong Page 13
