by Cara Bristol
At first, Barb accepted the interruptions good-naturedly, but as they’d continued to occur, she’d become impatient.
“I have an idea. Come with me.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me to one of the ubiquitous shops. Inside the store, she made a beeline for a shelf piled high with hats. She handed me a black one with big round ears, a larger version of the one worn by the small kit. “Try this on.”
I put it on my head. “The way it fits, it covers my horns.” I peered into a mirror.
“Perfect,” she said, and pulled a short-sleeved gray tunic from a rack. It had a picture of the same big mouse that appeared all over the park. She held the tunic up to my chest. “This looks like it will fit.”
She snatched the hat from my head and, taking the shirt, marched to a pay station. The cashier accepted her plastic card and bagged the tunic and hat.
Outside the store, Barb handed me the sack and pointed to a restroom. “Go take off your tunic, and put on the shirt and hat.”
I came out dressed in the new clothing. I felt rather silly, like I was in costume now, but my mate’s wide, happy, sultry grin made it all worth it.
“Great fit,” she said. “Hubba-hubba.”
It stretched so tight across my chest and upper arms, I feared wide movement would tear the seams, but it was cooler than my own tunic, which I’d rolled up and stuffed in the bag. And the appreciation in her gaze as she eyed my chest and biceps caused my horns to twitch underneath the big mouse ears.
“You look so sexy in that hat.”
I surveyed the crowd. “Everyone else with this kind of head covering is a kit.”
“But to see it on a big, buff dude is what makes it so studly.” She slipped her arm through mine and hugged me. “And because you’re wearing it to please me.”
“I would do anything to please you,” I said seriously.
Her eyes darkened before she averted her gaze. “That means a lot.”
“Why don’t we go have some fun?” I suggested because I could tell my words had unsettled her. I needed to be as patient with her as I was with Boots.
“Let’s do it!” She tossed her mane of hair and grinned.
I still drew a few stares and pointed fingers, but no one approached anymore, so we were able to better enjoy the park without continual interruptions.
We went on many rides, some of them fast and twisty, reminding me of the snow skimmers we used on Dakon. Barb screamed with delight, and I laughed with pleasure at her enjoyment. Other attractions featured slow cruises through dramatic but not real settings inhabited by singing and dancing toys. Adults and kits—and my mate—seemed fascinated.
As we exited into the sunshine after a boat ride featuring animated pirates, my mate grabbed me in a hug and meshed her mouth to mine. “Thank you for this wonderful day, for giving me what I never had.”
I kissed her back. Linking our hands, we began to stroll.
“What do you want to see next?” she asked, “the Haunted Mansion? Indiana Jones Adventure? Splash Mountain? Star Tours?”
“You pick,” I said. I’d never seen her so engaged and excited.
I contemplated how much humans enjoyed make-believe—artificial scenery, costumed characters, talking cartoon animals. Entranced by fantasy, they didn’t recognize reality when they saw it. The mothers with kits who had approached me assumed I was a human in an alien costume. Not a one recognized I really was from another planet.
A human in a dog costume with a big head and a goofy face accompanied by a human dressed like a yellow-beaked fowl waddled past us. Amusement park goers waved at them enthusiastically.
“Humans like to pretend to be what they are not,” I commented.
Silence stretched so long, I wondered if she’d heard, but then she said, “It’s safer that way.”
“Safer than what?”
She shrugged.
I gave her hand a squeeze, and we continued walking.
Barb took a breath. “Than being seen. You can escape from the drudgery or the pain of your regular life. When you pretend to be what you’re not, you don’t have to face what you are,” she said.
“I like who you are,” I said softly and carefully. “All the parts that you’ve shown me.” She was still guarded, but, more and more, she’d lowered her walls—or at least given me a peek over them. Sometime after we’d entered the Magic Kingdom, she’d dropped her Texas accent.
She looked up at me and bit her lip. “You tempt me to be what I am.”
I smiled and hugged her. “Good.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t have the best track record with men,” she said.
“I’m not just any man,” I said. “I’m your mate.”
Chapter Ten
Barb
Balancing a tray of barbecue on my shoulder, I started to squeeze by Holly who carried six mugs of beer. “The jerk at table twelve asked to speak to you.”
I stopped and adjusted the tray. “To me? Why?” I asked and then noticed her scowl. “You weren’t rude to him, were you?”
“Of course not!” She shot me her fake smile. “I was as sweet as the mud pie on the menu. The guy’s too good-looking for his own good and knows it. He tried to pick me up and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She shook her head disgustedly.
A different matter altogether. “Do you need me to boot him out?”
“Nah. I can handle jerks like him. He just asked for you by name.”
“He didn’t give any indication what he wanted?” I craned my neck, but table twelve was out of my line of sight.
“Nope. But, he’s a Dakonian, if it matters.”
“Okay. Let me take care of this order, and I’ll talk to him.” We’d been getting more and more aliens coming in for the barbecue. After about a month and a half, some of the novelty of Kord working here had died down, so we weren’t as slammed as we had been. However, two girls had caught some gastrointestinal bug and called in sick, so Holly and I were filling in.
I delivered the order to my table, brought them extra Texas Toast, napkins, and ranch dressing instead of ketchup for their fries then hurried over to table twelve.
The Dakonian sat alone, facing down an all-you-can-eat platter. He was shoveling brisket into his mouth as I approached.
“I’m Barb. Can I help you?”
He looked up, swallowed, wiped his mouth with a red-checkered napkin, and grinned. “You look just the way Kord described you.”
“You know Kord?”
“He’s my brother.”
“You must be Braxx! He’s mentioned you often.” Now I saw the resemblance. How could I have missed it? “It’s great to meet you!” I said. If not for Braxx, Kord and I wouldn’t have ever connected. “He told me signing up for the Intergalactic Dating Agency was your idea.”
“Idea. Push. Same thing.” His eyes twinkled. “I signed us up and then told him. He wasn’t too happy with me at first, but now he’s met you, and he thanks me.” He grinned and then sobered. “He would never have signed up on his own, and I would never have come by myself.”
“I understand.” Leaving one’s home planet took guts—more guts than I had.
“My brother’s support and company made it easier,” Braxx said. “Families on Dakon are small compared to Earth’s but close. Life is hard but enjoyable because we do have family. Everyone celebrates when a couple mates, and they help the new couple get established. Having someone close to me to go through this journey enabled me to do it. I’m so happy coming to Earth has worked out for him, and he met you.”
“How is the IDA working for you? Have you met someone yet?”
“Up until today, I would have had to say no, but the Fates have smiled on me. Today I met my mate!”
“Wonderful! I’m happy for you.” I could see Holly on the other side of the room, watching and frowning. She’d taken a big dislike to Braxx. And he seemed so pleasant. “Um…there wasn’t a problem with the food or waitstaff, was there?” I asked.
“No, the serving wench was quite fine.”
“Serving wench?”
He rubbed the translator implant behind his ear. “Is that not the right word?”
“We say server or waitress.” I stifled a grin. If he had called Holly a serving wench to her face, it was no wonder he’d gotten her back up.
“She is comely, too, with a robust figure and sturdy hips.” He glanced in Holly’s direction.
She spotted him and turned her back, giving him a good view of those “sturdy hips.”
“Well,” I said, “I’ll let Kord know you’re here.”
Braxx looked at me again. “Actually, I came to meet you, the female my brother speaks so highly of and who will become the mother of his kits.”
Whoa, whoa. Stop the runaway horse. Kits? As in children? Had Kord been talking with his brother about us making babies? Was that his expectation? I could never be as bad a mother as my own—for one thing, I was sober—but that didn’t mean I’d be good enough. I had no idea how to parent—and until I figured it out, I had no right to bring a child into the world and subject him or her to my craziness.
“Is that what Kord said?” Panic flared, and I tugged at the too-tight bandana around my throat. Kids? I couldn’t do kids. Not even hypothetically.
“Not in so many words, but since you and he are Fated mates, it’s only natural. It is why we came to Earth—to get a female and settle down and have kits.”
“I reckon you’re puttin’ the cart way before the horse, sugar.” My drawl poured out as slow as molasses, but my gaze darted around the room like a squirrel in traffic. It pinged off the red EXIT sign and then skidded off my customers, impatient to be seated. “Listen, it’s been nice meetin’ ya, but I’d better fetch some vittles.”
I spun around and bumped into Kord. I hadn’t realized he was there. “What did you say to upset Barb?” He glared at his brother.
Braxx widened his eyes. “Nothing. I introduced myself since you haven’t seen fit to do it.”
“I’m not going to if you’re going to upset her.”
“Y’all don’t need to fight,” I said. “I’m right as rain.”
“Rain?” Kord shook his head. “I was in the alley feeding Boots. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. But I can tell you’re upset because your accent is back.”
I wasn’t even aware I’d slipped into it. “Just playin’ for the crowd. I mistook Braxx for a regular ole customer,” I lied. “I’ll let you two boys catch up.”
Kord reached for me, but I dodged and scooted to freedom.
In the kitchen, I took several deep breaths before grabbing the orders for table seven.
“Are you all right?” Slade, the cook, eyed me over the deep fryer.
“Fine.” I faked a smile. “Just a little frazzled. Things are hoppin’ tonight.”
“No more than usual. A little less than usual, I’d say. The crowds are more manageable,” he commented.
And he could tell that holed up in the kitchen? I almost snapped at him, but I bit my tongue. Slade could tell how busy we were by how many meals he fixed. Besides, it wasn’t his fault Braxx had dropped in and upended my apple cart. I should have considered the ramifications of dating Kord, but I’d allowed the scorching hot sex to fry my brain. Allowed the unexpected comfort of companionship and togetherness to fuzz my logic and math skills. Kord had related the critical population imbalance of males and females on his planet, requiring men to find partners elsewhere so they could reproduce. I hadn’t connected the dots. One and one didn’t make two—it added up to three or four or even more when you started having kids.
“I’m fine. Excuse me.” I grabbed the plates from under the heat lamp and scurried through the swinging door.
“Sorry for the wait,” I told table seven. “Dessert is on the house.”
Cursing my weakness, I peeked at table twelve where Kord sat with Braxx. They were talking, laughing, their rapport and connection obvious. They’d come to Earth together, supported each other. I recalled how Braxx had signed Kord up with the IDA without his permission. They’d probably fought over it, but they’d reconciled because they cared for each other and had the other’s best interests in mind.
My heart twisted. I envied their closeness. I’d only had experience with the fighting part. There’d been no support, no love in my parents’ house, or, if there was, it was a dark, ugly kind of love that hurt rather than healed. I might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I had enough smarts to recognize that wasn’t love. What if I had a child, and I hurt him or her? I would never strike a child, but words and neglect could leave scars just as deep.
I tore my gaze away and fled for the kitchen. Avoiding Slade’s scrutiny, I grabbed two more orders and delivered them with apologies and complimentary dessert.
If only my problems could be solved with pecan pie.
Chapter Eleven
Kord
My mate scurried around the restaurant, acting busier than we were. I’d finished tending to Boots and had gone back inside to catch part of her conversation with Braxx. Her accent had been so thick, her phrasing so odd, I could hardly understand her—other than it indicated she’d raised her guard again. What had he done to upset her?
I leaned my elbows on the table and regarded my brother through narrowed eyes. “Tell me again what you two talked about.” Could he have offended her in some way? Said something unfavorable about me?
He spread his palms. “Just how you and I came to Earth together, how our family and our people support one another. That I was happy you two had found each other, and I hoped you would have many kits together.”
I couldn’t see anything wrong with what he’d said. Maybe my nervousness caused me to fabricate nonexistent problems. “I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to ask Barb to be my mate,” I said.
“You haven’t done that yet? I thought you two were Fated.”
“We are. But Earth has different customs.” On our planet, a couple became life partners when the man asked the female to be his mate, and she agreed. On Earth, a couple were required to “date” for a while—although no guidance was given on how long—then obtain a special license enabling them to hold a ceremony in which an officiant read specific bonding words.
“Complicated,” I added. “Our ways are much simpler.” Better. I withheld speaking my judgment, along with the embarrassing admission my female had needed to adjust to the idea of mating with me. Transition periods were unheard of among couples on Dakon because both parties understood immediately they were meant to be together. Earth people, as I’d come to discover, had mastered the art of ignoring the obvious.
Hence, my trepidation. As long as Barb remained unconvinced, another male could attempt to claim her. So, I needed to seal the deal, but what if she said no? Rejection would be worse than not asking her.
“Their ways are contrary and convoluted,” Braxx said, shaking his head. “Confounding.”
I laughed. “Truth.”
“I thought getting a mate on Earth would be easier,” he said.
“So your IDA dates still aren’t going well?”
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “No better matches than before. Some Earth women are more interested in shoveling rocks than they are in mating.”
I laughed at his preposterous joke.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Some Dakonians in my barracks have run into the same problems, and they have a name for these women—illuvian ore diggers.”
I scratched my head. “Why would they prefer to dig for rocks? Shoveling stone is hard labor offering little reward.”
“I don’t get it, either, but when a female asks about a male’s living accommodations and possessions, it means she likes to dig up rocks.”
“I’m sorry your experience isn’t going well for you,” I said.
His face brightened, and he straightened in his chair. “Fortunately the Fates have smiled—or maybe taken pity on me.” He chuckled. “I’ve met my mate!”
“How’s your dinner?” Holly broke in with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She crossed her arms, glanced at me then seemed to glower at my brother.
His horns began to twitch.
I widened my eyes. Holly was Braxx’s Fated mate? His goofy smile stretched so wide, I feared he’d split his face open. I hoped I didn’t look that stupid when I gazed at Barb.
I was dumbfounded.
But, why not Holly? Though I’d never considered her mate material—because I’d had my heart and horns set on Barb from the beginning—she was a quality female, and one did not question the Fates. They knew better than any Dakonian who would be suitable. All you had to do was accept their guidance. Simple.
Is there anything else I can get for you?” Holly asked.
“Just you,” Braxx grinned. His horns were going crazy on his head. It was embarrassing.
Her smile tightened to a grimace. “Sorry. I’m not on the menu.”
“We do have off-menu items,” I volunteered. Barbie Q’s had a short list of items you could order if you knew to ask for them. They weren’t printed on the sheets we handed out. Judging from her scowl, Holly did not appreciate my attempt to help.
“You know this guy?” she said to me.
“I apologize. I should have introduced you. This is my brother Braxx.”
She harrumphed.
“What are you doing after work?” he asked.
“Organizing my socks by color.”
“How about afterward?”
“I have a lot of socks.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Listen, do you want anything from the menu or not?”
“No, nothing from the menu.”
