by Reina Torres
He answered the call with a smile. “I know, I know, Papa. I’ll be there!”
Blyss knew that Owen and his father were there as a part of their rescue, but she hadn’t planned on seeing the show. Watching Owen wrestle alligators when he was trying to subdue and move them out of residential areas was one thing. At least then she was there as his back up. His wing-woman. Or, maybe tail-woman since it was the tail of a gator that could literally knock a person off their feet.
But she knew that Owen loved making a show of it for the crowds. She just wasn’t comfortable with the danger as entertainment.
Before she took more than a couple of steps, she felt Owen’s large hand wrap around her upper arm just above her elbow. He didn’t tug or pull, just held her there until she turned around to look at him. Owen lifted his chin toward the south end of the field, and she looked.
Standing along the edge of the pen was Owen’s father, Leon, and one of their volunteers, Nora Jennings.
The two waved at her and then made it clear that they wanted her to come down to the pens to say hello.
Blyss should have tucked tail and run, but that was before Owen gave her a knowing look as the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. “Don’t run away from me.”
That just made her heels dig in, and she hated it. Hated that he had this unsettling effect on her.
But she argued with herself, at least several times a week that it was just that, an effect. Like pollen makes some folks’ eyes swell, or strawberries make Miranda break out in hives.
Yes, she was allergic to Owen Mercier.
But his father was another story. That man was sweeter than honey and as full of piss and vinegar as any Cajun man she’d ever met. So even though she wanted to spend more time with Owen as much as she wanted to gargle with broken glass, she walked beside him to the enclosure.
“It is about time, ma vie. I was going to have to step in and wrestle the monster myself.”
Nora huffed and gave Leon a baleful look before she turned to look at Blyss. “At least with you here, I know the old man won’t do something stupid.”
“Old man!”
Blyss watched as Owen’s father clapped his hand over his heart and stared at Nora with eyes as big as saucers. “I’ll have you know that I have been doing ‘something stupid’ for many, many years now. Don’t think I won’t pull one out of my hat to prove a point!’
“And that,” Nora concluded with a nod of her head, “is why I’m glad you’re here, Blyss.”
The older woman walked over and Blyss walked easily into her arms for a hug, even though they’d never really had such a show of affection.
It all became clear a moment later when Nora started to step back and slowed down so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. “Save me from these two.”
“Save you?” Blyss shook her head. “What’s up?”
“Testosterone,” she said clearly and loud enough that the two Mercier men looked up. Leon with mock surprise and Owen with a killer smile that left Blyss more than a little tense. “These two should open their own frat house.”
Blyss grasped her arm in a plea. “Don’t give them ideas!”
“Too late.” Owen winked and Blyss knew it was folly, but she felt like it was for her benefit. “We already have that.”
Blyss shook her head again. The Bayou Boys Gator Refuge could be seen as a frat, even though the men lived in separate houses on the property. Still, there were plenty of women who showed up on the regular for shows and educational programming even though Blyss knew that many of the eager ticketholders were hoping for a different, more personal, hands-on education with Owen.
And just that mental image dimmed much of her natural hunger for Owen. She just didn’t want to be the next in a long line. So far, she’d managed to avoid going down that path, because unlike the hordes of women he’d probably taken to his bed, her heart was already lost to Owen.
It had happened years before when she was still in high school and he’d gone and joined the Army.
He’d left Texas back then, intending to make the Army his career, and left her heartbroken. The only thing that made it possible for the two of them to work together now was the fact that she’d never told him in words, and he’d probably thought she was just the quiet girl from the neighborhood.
She could handle his flirtation the same way she handled drunk and unruly hunters, with sheer grit.
“Hey, Blyss.”
She turned and saw Owen pull off his shirt and toss it at her. “Hold that for me, eh?”
He turned away and pulled on a shirt with the refuge logo on it and didn’t notice that she’d taken a second too long to pick it up off her shoulder. Why did the man have to act like an ass and smell so damn good?
Chapter 2
It had been awhile since Owen Mercier had felt his blood rush through his veins like it did during that last show. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest the whole time, and the alligator they’d brought along for the event had known it too.
Chauncy was a good ol’ boy. They’d had him for a few years. and he was usually the easiest guy to bring out for a demonstration. But, Chauncy had been a handful… or rather, he’d wanted a mouthful.
The rush of air that Owen still felt brushing against his skin was a reminder that he needed to keep his mind, his focus, on the job. Not the woman standing off to the side, his shirt in her hands, looking like a damn beauty queen.
His lips quirked up in a half smile. She did look damn good in anything she wore, even her starched shirts and uniform pants that made her ass look so fine. And he’d wished she’d been working the event, because with her hair up in that squeaky-clean bun and her drab uniform, she was already a distraction.
But Blyss Hardy could fill out a dress. Dark green with some kind of flower printed all over, sandals with ties around her ankles. Oh, he’d gotten a good look at that when he’d been on Chauncy’s back, trying to show the crowd how they subdued gators in the wild. And Chauncy, knowing his mind was elsewhere had almost managed to buck Owen off with a hard swish of his tail.
Had he been standing within striking distance; the full-grown gator would have knocked him on his ass.
He’d managed to cover the moment by laughing and giving the crowd a cautionary comment on how nature was always unpredictable, but he knew he hadn’t fooled his father one bit.
That was more than evident when the show had ended, and the crowds wandered off toward the other attractions. Sure, Leon walked up with a smile, but the seemingly jovial smack on Owen’s back had fallen with enough force that there was no mistaking his father’s mood.
“You tryin’ to get yourself maimed, boy?”
Owen, even in his thirties, wasn’t going to sass his father. Especially not when the man was right. So, he ground his back teeth together.
“You ‘bout gave me a heart attack watchin’ you act like a fool.”
“I had it-” His father’s fingers bit into his shoulder stopping his words.
“You don’t believe that, and neither did she.”
“She?”
Owen’s eyes narrowed as he turned to look at Nora off to the side quietly putting away the leftover brochures from their table.
Tsking, Leon abruptly let go of him and pointed off toward the trees on the other side of the enclosure.
Blyss stood in the shadows, her eyes cast down at the grass and weeds around her feet. His Henley shirt clenched in her hands, he hoped he was wrong and that her hands weren’t shaking.
“Shit.”
Leon cuffed him on the arm. “Watch your language, son.”
Rubbing at the spot, he nodded. “Sorry, Papa.”
The thin line of his lips said that his father wasn’t the least bit mollified, but when he spoke, he didn’t continue scolding him. “Now, you help me and Nora load up and you can go talk to Blyss. Rocco can help us unload when we’re home.”
They walked side by side back to the truck and started to stow the smaller gear. They
would wait until the last minute to put the gators into their enclosures for the trip. The last thing they wanted to do was hurt them and tried to put the least bit of strain on them during transport. It was why they didn’t work during the hottest part of the day during any event.
It wasn’t healthy for the animals.
And by the look on Blyss’ face, he’d hurt her somehow.
“I’m an ass.”
His father’s snort was more than enough to sting like when his mama used to get out that old bottle of Mercurochrome, that looked like it came straight out of the Victorian era, and put it on his cuts. “Glad to know you can see it.”
As they reached the first container, Owen walked around to the far side and bent down to grasp his end securely.
At his father’s nod, they lifted it up carefully and started walking it over to the trailer. Feeling the first drop of sweat slip down between his shoulder blades, Owen met his father’s eyes. “You planning to give me some helpful hints, hmm?”
Leon was the first to put his end down and stepped back to rub his palms along his pants legs. With a thoughtful shrug he waited until Owen set his end down. “Best I can tell you, ma vie, is don’t be an ass.”
And that, as far as his father was concerned, was that. Or at least his last words on the subject until they were done loading up the three gators they’d brought with them. Nora and a few of the volunteers had packed up the fence that they’d used to surround their working area. Even she gave Owen a pointed look that promised a world of hurt later if he didn’t do something to make… whatever it was, right.
He waved them off as the truck pulled away and turned back toward the trees.
Blyss was still there, but her demeanor had changed. Gone was the shell-shocked look that he’d seen before. She’d shaken out and folded his shirt, laid it over her arm and was standing silently under a tree.
He had a feeling if he touched her, she’d fold in on herself and walk away.
Then he’d never get a chance to figure things out.
Not just with her, but himself too.
Blyss Hardy tied him up in knots. Real fancy ones, too.
Letting out a breath through his nose he walked over, measuring his steps. Approaching her in her line of sight. No sudden movements.
“I’m not a gator.”
He heard her mumble the words under her breath and he stopped short. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” she turned to face him, “you don’t need to approach me like I’m going to knock you down to the ground.”
Oh, there were a lot he could say in reply. So many things with a hint of naughty in it, but it wasn’t the time. His normal laissez-faire attitude wasn’t going to work. Not with her.
“Okay. But does that mean you don’t want to, or there are just too many people here to be witnesses.”
She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know.”
He stayed still for a moment until he saw, or thought he saw, the beginnings of a smile.
“You take too many chances.” Blyss started walking and he did to, trying to make sure he was walking along with her. “You’re crazy, you know that, right?”
“One person’s adventurous is another person’s crazy.” He was side by side with her and that was probably why he didn’t see the elbow, only felt it in his ribs. “Hey!”
She looked up at him, chin high, eyes blazing. “Adventurous?” She punctuated her words with a wide-eyed look. “If you want adventure, go hiking. Ride a horse!” She stopped short of a family group and turned to stare right at him. “You were almost bitten, Owen!”
Without thinking, he lifted his right arm to point out his old scar, only to realize too late that it was exactly the wrong thing to do.
“See?” Her voice was softer, almost inaudible. It was only the way she enunciated her words that let him hear her. “That bite should have been enough to make you cautious.” He started to say something to ease her worries, but she cut him off. “But you like the rush. You like living life on the edge. Headfirst off the cliff. Speeding through the desert sans seatbelts. Do you ever think about what it would do to the people who care about you, the people that love you?”
Blyss went silent, stepping back away from him as if she needed the physical space. She held his shirt tightly against her middle and turned away.
“Look, I need to go. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
He was left standing there, watching her walk through the crowd.
Well, not really walk. She had to dodge around different groups, and it wasn’t until she had to turn her head to avoid saying goodbye to the Game Wardens at the hunting license kiosk that he saw her lift a hand to swipe at her eye.
“Damn it! I’m a fucking idiot.”
If his father had been there, Owen was sure the man would have shrugged it off. Leon would always tell him that he was a big pain in his father’s ass. It was funny when he said it, but watching Blyss walk away did something to his heart.
It made him afraid.
And that was something that Owen Mercier didn’t do. Fear was a foreign concept that hadn’t troubled him before. Not even when he was in the Army. He was always looking forward. Always keeping his eye on the prize. On his orders.
Complete the mission. Protect his unit. Get home.
Everything was a goal.
A way to keep moving.
And in that way, he kept things doable.
One obstacle, and then the next.
One woman after another.
But Blyss.
Watching her walk away.
Knowing she was upset enough to cry.
Swearing under his breath, he started to move through the crowd, almost sprinting through any open area while he tried to get a view of the parking lot. It worked for the most part, but the food trucks parked along the edge of the parking lot made it nearly impossible to see beyond their big, boxy, silhouettes.
The lines of people waiting for food looked like a labyrinth of sorts and he knew it would slow him down. Instead of trying to work his way through, he jogged through the trees, ducking his head to avoid the lower branches. Being tall wasn’t always a good thing.
Once he broke free of the copse of trees and set his feet on the hot asphalt of the parking lot, he stopped short and scanned the area looking for her.
Her older model Honda CRV was two cars down from the end of a row. The white body was a stark contrast to the large orange truck next to it.
“Blyss!”
He saw her look up and over the top of the roof at him. Her eyes widened, and then she dropped her gaze back down.
She was probably looking for her keys.
Smiling to himself, he was thankful for her habit of keeping a couple dozen items in her bag at any given time. Darting out, he had to stop short when a Mini Cooper pushed out of its parking spot suddenly. Waiting for them to move and clear the way was like watching sand shift, endless.
He pushed his way through the row in front of him, leaning this way and that to avoid mirrors and one rubber saguaro cactus impaled on an antenna.
Owen knew he wasn’t going to get to her before she got in her car, and he knew she’d slam her door in his face, so he opted for the next best thing.
Just as Blyss’ car started up, he slid into her front passenger seat and closed the door.
“Owen-”
He pulled the seatbelt across his chest and sank the metal piece home into the buckle.
“Get out of my car.”
“I have something I need to say.”
“Well, I don’t want to listen to it.”
“Then don’t listen, Blyss, but I’m going to sit here and say it anyway.”
Before he could say anything more, she reached out and hit the button for the stereo.
Trace Atkins’ voice purred out of the speakers. “There ought to be a law, get the sheriff on the phone, Lord-”
He pushed the button and the car went quiet again.
Blyss
turned to him and opened her mouth to argue, but before a single sound came out, she sat back against her seat and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Well, that was not what he was expecting from her.
“You’re what?”
Her jaw tightened a tiny bit.
“I’m sorry, Blyss. I wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just don’t know how to be with you.”
He could almost see the physical impact of his words on her and the recoil that happened after.
“What I mean is, things used to be easy between us. I would be an outrageous flirt, and you’d tell me where to stuff my ego. I’d act like you cut me to the quick, and then we’d have a good laugh.”
She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “That… that was years ago! Back in high school!”
Talk about confused. He didn’t know what to think. “Really? I felt like that was still us when I came home from the Army.”
“Maybe for a while,” she conceded, although it didn’t take the stung look out of her eyes, “but not now. It hasn’t been that for almost a year now. Didn’t you know?”
He wanted to bite out the words that were sitting on his tongue. He wanted to glare and groan and ball his hands up.
Didn’t you know?
No! He wanted to yell. No, I didn’t know. If I knew, then I wouldn’t feel like I’m standing on a tightrope in the middle of the Grand Canyon. There wasn’t a good way to get down without breaking bones and looking even more ridiculous than he felt.
“Things have been- It’s been hard for me. I spent so many years away that when I came home for good, home was San Antonio instead of Houston, instead of the Bayou. I came back home and everything around me was different. Everything but my papa, and you, Blyss.”
Suddenly the car was like a box. A stifling, sweltering, cement box.
And with that feeling, the world started to close in.
Owen reached for the door handle. “I’ve got to go-”
“Owen?” He felt her hand on his arm. Her skin against his.
It anchored him to the ground, and leaned him into her touch.
“Owen? Is something wrong?”
“I need,” he stopped and struggled for a place to focus his eyes, “I need some air.”
