by Lexi Blake
“Princess has been so calm all week. She’s been real regular, if you know what I mean. I think it’s going to be a nice winter. You know she can tell the weather,” the man was saying as he held what looked like a furless rodent but was probably some sort of chihuahua. And if this was what the “dog” looked like calm, he would hate to see her agitated. Her whole body shook and she had the weirdest bug eyes. Yet the man in coveralls held her close and petted her scraggly head. “She loves the sweater you knitted for her, Miss Nell.”
Nell beamed under the praise. She seemed to thrive on it. As every good sub did. “She looks adorable in it.”
Sure enough the dog/rodent/weather clairvoyant was wearing a tiny sweater. It was purple and probably organic cotton.
“Who’s your fellow here?” The bald guy turned his way and held out his free hand.
“Henry Flanders.” He shook the man’s hand. It was getting easier and easier to say that name. If he wasn’t careful, he could fall into Henry Flanders’s life and not want to come back out.
He hadn’t meant to see Nell again. He’d realized the danger she posed and yet the first chance he’d gotten, he’d taken it. He should have driven her right back to the resort and passed her off to her mother, but no, he was sitting in a diner that served burgers and fries, cream pies and sundaes, and something called elk risotto ala Hal. Yeah, he wasn’t trying that.
“Long-Haired Roger,” the man replied. “And obviously this is Princess. Hey, I need to talk to Nell for a second. Would you mind holding Princess?”
Yes, he minded. He didn’t hold lapdogs. On occasion he set carefully trained attack dogs on the bad guys, but he didn’t give Fido a cuddle after he’d taken out some assassin’s throat.
He should tell the weirdo to hold his own dog, but Nell was looking at him expectantly. She slid out of the booth and stood next to the poorly named Long-Haired Roger, staring at him like what he did next would help form her opinion of him.
So he found himself holding that shaking thing in his hands as they walked away. Roger drew Nell over to the counter where he leaned over and started talking to her.
He was not comfortable with pets, didn’t understand them at all. He held the dog in both hands because Nell would likely protest him if he dropped the thing.
He hadn’t ever had a pet. He vaguely remembered a cat from his childhood. An orange tabby who would curl up in his mother’s lap as she read at night. It would purr, and the sound soothed him.
Be gentle, Johnny. We have to take care of her.
God, he hadn’t thought about that cat in years.
He shook his head and the dog was staring right at him, big bug eyes looking into his soul. The dog didn’t care that he’d killed before, that he wasn’t a good man. The dog only cared that someone fed it, took care of it. It didn’t care about anything else.
It was only a trick of nature that made those eyes look kind, like the dog gave a damn. It was shaking, but it didn’t bark or whimper. It simply was. It accepted itself.
He pulled the dog in close, tucking her against his chest. It was only so she would stop the shaking thing. And his arms would get tired if he held her like that for too long. It wasn’t because she looked so pathetic. It wasn’t because she needed comfort.
The dog lifted her head and then he was getting doggie kisses.
He glanced down and it was another biologic trick that the dog looked grateful and happy. There wasn’t any true emotion in the animal. Dogs were like any other creature. They were looking out for themselves.
Except he was almost sure that dumb cat had mourned when his mother died. She’d wandered through the house searching for her just like he had.
“Oh, look at that.” Roger was standing by the booth as Nell slid back in across from Henry. “She’s really taken to you. You must be good people, Henry Flanders. Princess is an excellent judge of character.”
She was a terrible judge of character, but he found himself a bit reluctant as he gave the dog back. “That’s good to know. I’ll put that on my CV.”
Nell beamed at him before looking back at Roger. “That’s his curriculum vitae. He’s a college professor.”
She said it like she was proud of who he was.
He didn’t know who he was. What would she say if she knew his real résumé? If she read his true bio.
John Bishop is excellent at manipulating situations to get what he wants. He’s made a career out of finding his enemies and making them pay. Strengths: internal decapitation, ability to get excellent young men to leave their futures behind in order to follow him into questionable service. Weaknesses: None until he met an overly idealistic brunette and her weird-ass town.
“That’s impressive, but then we always knew you would end up with a smart guy,” Roger said, settling Princess against his chest. “Well, I better skedaddle. We’ve got to meet this one’s momma. Liz Two gets upset when we’re not on time. ’Night, Nell.”
He started to leave, but Henry noted he stopped at every table to say something to the patron sitting there. “Long-Haired Roger?”
Nell simply smiled in that “take his breath away, goddess of all things” beautiful way of hers. “He used to have long, flowing hair back in the sixties. It was lovely until it fell out. Some people say it was due to genetics, but I worry about being around all those chemicals. He owns a mechanic shop in town. He’s been around a lot of chemicals in his time. It could have affected him on many physical levels.”
“And the dog, too.”
“Oh, Princess is a rescue dog,” Nell explained. “She’s got several ailments. The shaking is her way of trying to regulate her body heat. She’s also been diagnosed with anxiety. Roger is always trying to make sure she feels safe and secure. And I’m not sure she’s a good indicator of our weather. She pretty much shakes all the time. He wanted to talk to me about her birthday. It’s coming up. He wants another sweater and some booties for her paws. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise by asking in front of her.”
He ignored the obvious problems with that scenario because he had other questions. “Is there a Liz One?”
She nodded. “Yes. But we don’t talk about her around Roger because she’s Liz Two’s sister and they’re currently feuding and have been for over three years. Liz One wanted to name her daughter Princess and feels like Liz Two should have respected that and not named her dog Princess.”
“What did she name the daughter?” He wasn’t sure why, but he was curious. Bliss was a mystery to him, more so with every single person he met.
Nell shook her head. “Oh, she doesn’t have one. But she might one day. I mean she’s forty-nine, but it’s been known to happen. Also, her husband had a vasectomy, so I think it’s more like a wish, but she takes that name seriously. I’ve been trying to orchestrate a peace summit between them, but I can’t get either sister to agree to a place. Do you know what you want? Or did you eat something at Hell on Wheels? I didn’t think about that when I suggested having dinner.”
He wouldn’t have eaten anything at that rattrap bar. “I didn’t eat anything. I’ll probably have a steak or a burger if it won’t bother you.”
It shouldn’t matter if his eating meat would bother her or not. He should eat whatever he wanted to. He didn’t ask permission. And yet he found himself wanting to please this one petite woman.
He was in trouble with her.
She seemed startled that he’d asked the question. “Uhm, I’m not going to tell anyone else how to live. You should eat whatever fills your soul, and if that’s another soul, then…uhm live and let…I’ve heard the burger’s good.”
“Then why do you protest me every Thursday?” A woman with a battle helmet of bleach blonde hair stood at the head of their table, a notepad in her hand. She wore skintight jeans, embroidered cowboy boots, and a Western shirt that had to contain most of a craft store’s rhinestone section. The woman, who he guessed was likely in her mid-forties, frowned down at him. “Don’t you let her lie to you.
She tells everyone how to live.”
“But I also eat lunch here every Thursday,” Nell argued.
“You eat where you protest?” He didn’t understand her.
She had flushed a pretty pink. “Protesting makes me hungry, and Stella’s always has a vegan option. And that was all due to my protesting, might I point out. Change has happened right here. I changed Stella’s heart and her mind.”
The woman named Stella shrugged. “She did change my menu. I can only listen to “We Shall Overcome” so many times. It was easier to offer a daily vegan special. And honestly, it’s not so bad. We’ve got tourists who come here specifically because we have a vegan menu. The only other café close by with vegetarian options is the Sunshine Café.”
Nell shuddered. “It’s in Del Norte, right next to the big game processing store.”
Stella waved that off. “Now I can force the mayor to eat a meal that won’t send him immediately into a heart attack, though he complains something fierce about it. And Mel’s happier because at least once a week I serve something with beets.”
“Is this Mel person a beet farmer?” Henry asked.
“Aliens are afraid of beets,” Stella explained.
“And I would protest that we’re being very unwelcoming of our alien friends except I really don’t think we have a large population showing up here in Bliss.” Nell handed Stella her menu. “I support Mel in his beliefs, though. Also, beets are one of nature’s superfoods.”
“Yes, they make my teeth super pink,” Stella pointed out. “And Mel firmly believes Bliss is the potential epicenter of a coming invasion. The mountains attract them or something. Now I know what this one is having for dinner. Hal made you quinoa and black bean delight. Your favorite.”
He didn’t get it. Despite the fact that the blonde was obviously annoyed by Nell, she was smiling at her and offering her exactly what she wanted. He lived in a world where that would be seen as weakness.
Nell practically glowed as she blew a kiss back toward the kitchen where a rough-looking older man stood, a big spatula in his hand. “You’re the best, Hal. Thank you. I love it so much.”
The gruff-looking dude who had likely seen combat at some point gave her a wink and a nod. “Always for you, sweetheart. Does your friend want some, too? He looks like he can eat. Luckily I made extra for you to take back up the mountain. Despite what Princess’s bowel movements might indicate, the weatherman says we’re in for a bad storm. Lots of snow. I hate the thought of you stuck up there eating nothing but granola.”
Stella looked expectantly at him. “You want a helping, professor? I heard you teach history somewhere along the West Coast.”
So the rumor mill was strong in this town. He shouldn’t be surprised. Nell seemed to be firmly planted in the small town. They would look out for their own. He should remember that.
Nell was staring at him. “Like I said, I’ve heard the burger’s pretty good.”
He handed the menu back to Stella. “Sure, I’ll have two and some fries.”
Nell was suddenly looking any way but his and he almost told Stella he’d changed his mind. But he didn’t because he wasn’t about to change his life for some woman he’d recently met. He wouldn’t do it because he wanted so badly to be the one to make her smile. That was ridiculous.
Stella nodded and strode back toward the kitchen to put their order in.
“So tell me all about this place.” It was better if she talked. It would definitely be more truthful if she talked since everything that came out of his mouth would be a lie.
For the briefest moment, he thought about talking about Buttons with her. That had been the cat’s name. He considered telling her about how Princess had made him think about his mom’s cat and how he wished he knew what had happened to her after his mother passed. He could remember vividly the social worker putting the cat in a cage and telling him no one would take them both in. She’d promised to find them both a home, but it wouldn’t be together.
It had been that final piece of his mother carted out and carried away in a cage to a future no one thought he had a right to.
“Bliss is the best,” Nell said with a sigh. “I bless the day we met Pam Sheppard. We would never have come here without her. We would still be in a tiny apartment in Denver. Don’t get me wrong. Denver is beautiful, but it’s still a large city.”
She went on and he shoved down the impulse to tell her something real about himself.
He couldn’t tell her anything real because he was leaving. Henry Flanders was going to disappear, and John Bishop needed to never have existed in her mind.
But he wanted to tell her.
He sat back and let her talk, his mind whirling with the idea that she really could be his weakness.
Two hours later, he walked behind her as she stopped at the door to her room. He’d spent the whole dinner utterly fascinated by her.
And that was a problem.
He’d thought he could fuck her and enjoy her and walk away. He’d planned on her being nothing more than a fun vacation fling. Hell, part of the whole vacation was getting to be someone else for a few days. He did it all the time. His job was about sinking into another persona and fooling everyone around him.
He'd wanted to be John Bishop. Not the operative. No, it was far worse than that. He’d wanted to be the John he’d been before the Agency had gotten hold of him, to tell her about his childhood and find some comfort in her empathy.
Nell Finn was a dangerous woman.
“This is me.” Nell stopped in front of the door and her sweet face was turned up to him, an air of expectation making her blush.
She thought he would insist on coming inside with her, make his play to spend the night.
Who the hell would he be in the morning if he spent a whole night in Nell Finn’s bed?
He wasn’t sure he could afford to find out. He stood there, completely at a loss for once in his adult life.
Nell tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted from one foot to the other, a nervous energy surrounding her now. “Uhm, would you like to come in for some tea?”
If he walked into her room, he wouldn’t come out until morning. Hours before it was everything he’d wanted to do—the only thing he’d wanted. Now, after spending real time with her, he was unsure.
She was a mystery, and he wasn’t sure he could untangle her. She might always be a mystery to him because she might just be his polar opposite. She believed in so many things.
He wasn’t sure he believed in anything.
“I should get to bed.” He took a step back, well aware this rejection was going to hurt her. He didn’t like the fact that the idea made him queasy.
Her eyes widened and he saw the moment it sank in that he was leaving, that things weren’t going to go the way she wanted them to. “Oh. Of course. It’s getting late. Well, uhm, good-bye then.”
She didn’t move to open the door. It was obvious she was waiting for him to make any kind of move. She was offering herself up and he was a fool to not take her.
But she was a trap, a pretty, sweet and comfortable trap, and he couldn’t afford to get caught.
He nodded and forced himself to turn away.
He heard the door close between them and the snicking of the lock.
It was better this way. He could go back to his room and think about heading back out in the field. He wasn’t cut out for vacationing, it turned out. He would call up Taggart or Tennessee and see if they needed any aid. Once he was back in his world, things would normalize again.
Yet when he got to his room he didn’t pick up his phone. He sat on the edge of his lonely bed and stared at the TV for a while. He thought about trying to sleep, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Hours after he’d dropped Nell at her door, he was still thinking about her and knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. Suddenly the small room that had been cozy before now seemed too tight and he needed to get out.
He walked down the quiet hallway, not really considering
where he was going, and found himself in a courtyard, the chill of the air penetrating through his coat.
Yes, he would make that call soon.
He sat down on one of the picnic tables as the snow began to fall and looked up.
The stars twinkled above him, a carpet of diamonds shining down. He never looked at the sky unless he was trying to figure out how someone could send a bullet his way.
It was beautiful.
He laid back and stared and wondered what Nell would think.
Chapter Five
Nell walked out of her room and wondered if she was doomed to always be stuck in the friend zone. She moved down the hallway toward the door that led to the courtyard, a restless energy taking over. Was she one of those women who fell firmly into that class for all men? Like she was perpetually placed in “you’re like a sister to me” mode.
It was precisely what she’d been thinking for two hours since Henry had dropped her off at the door of her room at Mountain and Valley without so much as a hug. It wasn’t how she’d expected to spend her evening. He’d been so passionate in her cabin. He’d held her and she’d felt the hard ridge of his erection nudging her and she’d thought, “Finally.”
And then nothing.
Their date hadn’t gone the way she’d thought it would. They’d sat in a booth at Stella’s for three hours and not once had he touched her. He’d been a perfectly pleasant companion. He’d let her do most of the talking, urging her to give him her thoughts on topics that ranged from politics to TV shows, but he hadn’t reached out and brushed his hand along hers or let his knees rest against hers.
She opened the door to the courtyard and breathed in the chill of the night air. It was time to face a few logical facts. She wasn’t a great beauty. Sure, she wasn’t an ogre or anything, but she didn’t have Holly Lang’s figure-eight body or the model good looks of the blonde they had rescued at the bar. Even Callie had a nice set of breasts and sweet good looks. Nell wasn’t going to lie to herself. She was sort of plain and earthy and, beyond that, she could be obnoxious when it came to her beliefs. Not an appealing combination for many men. Lots of times men walked away the minute she opened her mouth.
