Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections (3 page)

“Listen,” she started, “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

That wicked smile returned. “Think nothing of it. I’ve been staking out the herd for the last week. We got a lot of calves ready for branding. If someone’s going to move, it’ll be soon. I hoped to have it resolved before you arrived.”

“Just you?” Didn’t he need a team or something?

“We’re a small sentry post but resourceful.” He moved close to her, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace.

Sophia gulped. “So you’ll be finished in a few more days.”

“Mostly likely. Thank you for your understanding. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t go telling everyone about our operation.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” He stretched an arm around Sophia, who tensed, waiting for a touch or caress. He reached for the wide brimmed hat on the counter. All her muscles relaxed in disappointment.

“One more thing,” he said, placing the hat on his head.

“Yes?”

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. His lips claimed her, deeply powerful, like a thirsty man taking a drink after a long day’s work. Sophia’s body responded, humming with fire and her skin tingling. She rocked on the balls of her feet, standing on tiptoe to get more of the tall handsome man. Damn.

Just damn.

Alton pulled away. Sophia whimpered quietly. It’d been too long since she had a man kiss her like that. “That’s me being neighborly,” he said with a wink.

Sophia stood dumbfounded.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and wash or unpack,” Alton said. His strong hands guided her through the door and up the stairs.

Finally, alone and watching water fill the tub, Sophia found her voice. “Like hell that’s neighborly.”

Chapter Five

Alton

The sound of an engine pulled Alton out of the barn. The flatbed vehicle rattled across the field toward the house. Zan was back.

Alton climbed the steps of the porch and into the kitchen. He turned on the stove and cracked two eggs into the skillet. Zan wasn’t going to be happy with him or the surprise upstairs, but Alton might buy some time by shoving food in his face.

A grin tugged at his lips when he thought about Sophia and the fearless way she stood in the kitchen, wielding a baseball bat. She was a lovely creature. The mighty appealing expanse of her creamy thighs was almost as appealing as the way the Terran woman charged through a strange house wearing nothing more than a thin shirt.

She had spirit.

The house already felt like a proper Corravian home: a Brace of two males and their woman. Finally.

Zan would complain, maybe threaten to walk out and break up their Brace. Alton wasn’t Zan’s first Brace partner. He understood his partner’s reluctance to take a wife. Never comfortable with emotional risk, Zan had been hurt before.

His partner was stubborn. Obstinate, even. When his mind was made up, changing it was like catching a greased hog.

He’d come around. Alton was certain of it.

If Zan did leave… Alton refused to consider that scenario. He’d make it work. Hell or high water, whether Zan liked it or not.

Zan

Zan knocked the mud off his boots before stepping into the house. The aroma of bacon and eggs nearly masked the scent of a female. Nearly.

The large Corravian male paused in the door. His nostrils flared and he breathed deep the bright, citrus soapy smell with undertones of something he couldn’t place, something that stirred yearning in his chest. Yes, a female. No self respecting man washed in something that fruity.

Alton, the other half of his Brace, said nothing but put a plate of grub on the table.

“You think you can butter me up with home cooking?” Indignation was hard to pull off as he tucked into the meal but Zan fancied himself talented.

“I cook every day,” Alton said.

“But this is special, isn’t? You want to impress her.”

Alton sipped his coffee before answering. “You’re a right bastard first thing in the morning.”

Zan sighed. It had been a long night and an early start with only a short break for sleep in between. “You sent me off chasing my tail.” Alton sent him off yesterday to fetch supplies from the depot two towns over. Roads on Corra were nonexistent and it was a long journey there and back. All that so Zan wouldn’t be there when the woman arrived.

“Not true. We needed those parts for the pump. You like water, don’t you.”

Zan stuffed a slice of toast in his mouth. “It was a dirty trick. You didn’t want me here last night. Were you selfish and did you have her already?”

“She has a name.”

“Not interested,” Zan said flatly. He wasn’t interested in a wife. Not now, not ever. Their assignment was too dangerous to risk a defenseless female. Alton sometimes had an itch to scratch. He didn’t begrudge his partner having a bit of fun but it was rude not to include him. “Was she good?”

“Watch your mouth, that’s our wife you’re talking about.”

Zan stopped chewing. Wife? “You never.”

“I did.”

That bastard, just sitting at their table, in their home, smiling like a fool. A married fool. “Explain,” Zan growled.

Alton sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I understand you said we were never interested in marrying.”

“I ain’t.” He wasn’t the marrying type. Relationships never seemed to work out for him.

“Well I am,” Alton said. “I ain’t getting any younger. I want children, Zan. Our children.” Corravian pregnancies required the sperm from two males. Often, in Corravian culture, men formed a partnership, a Brace, for the sole intention of settling down with the right woman and fathering children.

“You know how I feel,” Zan said. Alton wasn’t Zan’s first Brace, but it was his most successful. The previous one, short lived and disastrous, put Zan off the idea of bringing little Zans into the world. “We have a good thing. No need to make changes.”

“Good? We work well together, sure, but I need more. You need more, too.”

“Don’t tell me what I need. How is it even legal? I didn’t agree to marry and I sure as hell didn’t sign a marriage license.”

Alton had the decency to flush a dark gold. “About that… You really should pay better attention to what you sign.”

“You tricked me. I’m almost impressed.” Almost. Zan pushed his plate away and kicked his boots up on the table. Alton hated that. Zan grinned, watching Alton struggle not to say anything about mud and germs.

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Am I? Am I getting germs all over your kitchen table?” He uncrossed and crossed his legs again, knocking dried mud onto the table.

“We eat here, you savage. How about I just serve you a plate of mud, since you like dirt so much.”

Zan chuckled. There was his uptight Alton, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Who’d you convince to marry us?” Zan asked.

“A human.” Zan’s eyebrows shot up. There weren’t a lot of humans on Corra. Some, not a lot. “I used a mail-order service,” Alton explained.

“Couldn’t find anyone crazy enough to give us a go?” The pair of men could find willing partners when the need for intimacy struck them, but there was not a single woman in the surrounding countryside insane enough consider Zan husband material. Maybe Alton. He was Mr. Responsibility and Mr. Good-With-Kids. Zan was Mr. Bad-Idea or Mr. Good-For-a-Good-Time but never Mr. Right.

Zan frowned. That idea never upset him but now it did. He wasn’t going soft, was he? He took another deep breath, taking the woman’s lingering scent. The rebellious part of him wondered if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

“Look,” Alton said. “She’s upstairs now. Give her a few days. She’ll grow on you. She’s right for us.”

“And if she don’t grow on me?”

“A week. We can send her back on the next shuttle. That’s all I’m asking.”

Zan nodded. Alton would do his best to woo the woman and keep her on their modest ranch. Zan would do his best to run her off.

“Deal,” he said with a grin.

Chapter Six

Sophia

Sophia couldn’t get the stupid, goofy grin off her face. Alton was easy on the eyes, infuriating but a good cook. She pondered his virtues while brushing out her short, dark hair. The whole marriage thing might not be so bad after all.

Bathed and dressed, Sophia moved her luggage into the empty room. The room faced south and a soft, gentle light spilled into the room. The windows protested as she opened them but the fresh air was worth the struggle. She surveyed the room: bare hardwood floors, plain white walls and not a stick of furniture. It would do.

She took out the painting and unrolled the canvas. The frame assembled easily and the entire unit went rigid. She carried the painting down the stairs. The living room needed color. She pushed open the heavy curtains. Sunlight streamed in, dust motes hanging in the air.

“Hey, Alton,” she called. “Mind if I hang my painting?” There was no response beyond the clattering in the kitchen. “Sure, Sophia,” she said in a mock, high pitched voice, “that sounds great.”

Sophia knew exactly where her painting belonged. She placed it above the fireplace mantel. She ran her finger along the dark walnut frame, rubbing the chip in the lower left corner.

Her mother had painted three year old Sophia, dark hair in braids and wearing a calico dress. In the portrait, young Sophia was in a derelict barn, sunlight and grass flooding and the skeletal remains of the barn. She held a single black eyed Susan. The sense of hope and joy saturated the painting and made it brighter than the muted color palette. Sophia never tired of the painting. It brought back the sense that her mother was in the room with her, whether she was a giant space station or an alien planet at the edge of the universe.

Sophia gazed out the grimy front windows. Endless prairie golden in the late summer sun, rolled out interrupted by telephone poles and the occasional crude hallmarks of civilization. She never dreamed her painting would match the view out the window.

“What is that?” Alton asked, coming into the room.

“Art.”

“I realize it’s art, Miss Sassmouth, but what is it specifically?” He stood in front of the mantle, taking in the painting.

“That’s Mrs. Sassmouth to you and my mother painted it.”

He nodded. “Did you find everything you need upstairs?”

“What’s the story with the empty room?”

“It’s empty,” he said with a shrug.

“I want it.”

“We already have —”

“I want my own room. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.” Separate beds was a nice thought but being in the same room as the gorgeous male was too much temptation, let alone sleeping in the same room.

He rubbed his chin then said, “Agreed.”

“Really?” Just like that? No fighting, no bargaining? A smile spread across Sophia’s face.

“Really.”

“Can you help me move the bed?”

“No.”

Sophia’s smile fell. Oh, that was his angle. She could have the
room
but if she wanted a nice, comfortable bed to sleep in, she had to do it in his room. No deal. “I need a bed.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why can’t I move one of your
two
beds?”

“Reasons.” He folded his arms across his broad chest, the expression on his face suggesting he was tickled pink. “But why don’t you take the truck and go into town. Pick up anything you need from the General Store.”

“Including a bed?” What kind of a bed she could expect to find at a General Store, she had no idea.

“If that’s what you want, yes. Also, nice smelling soap, bed sheets, clothes. You know, lady things.”

Sophia scanned the room. The morning light didn’t do it any favors. The house needed a few more
lady things
and a deep cleaning to make it a comfortable home. “You got the credit for me to go on a shopping spree? You don’t even know me.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a soft smile returning to his face. “You’re my wife. I trust you.”

He really shouldn’t. People who trusted easily were targets for predators. She should know.

“The location’s programmed into the navigation panel,” he said and tossed her a set a keys and a credit stick. Then he withdrew a blaster from the holster at his hip and handed it to her. “You know how to use one of these?”

Sophia nodded, placing the blaster pistol in her bag.

“Get whatever you need,” Alton said. “The house ain’t fancy but I’d like you to be comfortable here.”

“It’s not… that bad.”

He laughed, loud and booming. “It looks exactly like a pair of feral bachelors have lived here for a decade. I’m sure a sweet little thing like yourself was expecting something more refined.”

Sophia thought back to the lower levels of Aldrin One, the smelly dive bars, and her tiny apartment. “I like the fresh air and sunshine well enough to tolerate a feral bachelor.”

The truck’s auto-nav system brought her into town without issue, rolling past empty fields. That wasn’t right, Sophia realized. She was viewing Corra through her city-eyes. There were fields of crops she didn’t know the name of and fields of alien animals she didn’t recognize but they were far from empty. Occasionally a forlorn farmhouse appeared.

A tall white wall appeared after a bend in the road. The settlement inside the walls was a cluster of low, square buildings. Some were empty. Simple and stark. Every sign was in Corravian script and no sign of Universal anywhere.

The truck pulled up to a low, white building identical to all the other low, white buildings in town. This must be the place. Sophia entered, a bell jingling above the door. She stepped into the dim store. Conversation stopped. Eyes and horned heads turned toward her. Every single Corravian wore a pair of tinted lenses, propped up on top of their heads. She was the only Terran in the crowd.

A faded poster showed a Corravian warrior grappling with a giant insect. Must be a mornclaw warning notice. No giant bug wrestling. Got it.

Forcing a sweet smile on her face, she approached the counter.

The Corravian male behind the counter gave the air a sniff. His horns stood tall, curly wildly in his graying flaxen hair. “You smell like you belong to Altonan Zan but I ain’t never seen you around.”

Sophia didn’t question the odd pronunciation of Alton’s name. She fished the list from her pocket. “I just arrived. Could you help me with my list? Alton said you could help me find anything I needed.”

The male grabbed the list. “I have all this in stock.” He came around the counter with a cart. They worked their way through the store, filling the cart. Sophia picked up cleaning supplies, “nice smelling” soap and lotions, a rug, blankets, pillows, curtains, and a dozen smaller items to make the house comfortable. In dry goods, she added a few bars of chocolate, because chocolate. A girl never knows when she will need it. Finally, the male added a tight roll of foam to the pile.

“What’s that?”

“A bed.”

There was no way that little thing of foam was a bed.

“It expands. It’s comfortable. You sleep on it. Don’t get too picky, princess. It ships cheap out here to the frontier.”

Once all the shopping was loaded into the truck, her stomach rumbled. Lunch time. The only meal option in town was a no-name cafe. The sign had a picture of a spoon, which she interpreted as “Food here.” There was a good sized crowd and the cafe had a comforting, inviting scent of good, plain food. A waitress, Corravian with violently blonde hair and too much makeup, hustled between tables.

Much like in the General Store, conversation ceased and heads turned. They must not get a lot of Terrans in town. Or new people, period. The waitress waved Sophia to the counter.

“Don’t mind them, sweetie,” she said in Universal. “Everyone knows everyone in a small town and new people confuse us.” She handed Sophia a menu written entirely in Corravian.

Sophia flipped the menu over, as if her language was hiding on the back. “Do you have this in Universal?”

“Wrong continent for Universal,” the waitress, voice cheerful. So much for Corra being an integrated Terran-Corravian community. “Either tell me what you’re in the mood for or trust me to bring you the perfect meal.”

“Surprise me,” she said.

The waitress served Sophia a bowl of chili with a side of cornbread, or its Corravian equivalent. Fragrant steam curled up from the bowl. It smelled amazing and tasted better. She might live in a hovel but at least the food on Corra was damn good.

“Hey!”

Sophia’s spine stiffened at the familiarity in the voice. That was the voice of someone who recognized her. Shit.

An older Corravian woman with iron grey hair and an eager expression approached Sophia. A pair of heavy, yellow tinted goggles covered her eyes.

“You’re that new Terran whore in town.”

Charming. “Look, lady, I’m just trying to eat some lunch.”

“Alton brought you here.”

Sophia sighed and pushed her bowl away. Word really does get around fast.

The woman shoved a pamphlet toward Sophia. The cover had a pastel illustration of an idealized Corravian male and baby animals.

“Why are you giving me this?” Sophia asked.

“As an elder and a mother,” the woman said, “I want you to appreciate that we don’t tolerate the mixing of the species here.”

Sophia’s eyes glazed over. Day One in a small town and she found the crazy person. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“You’ll dilute our superior Corravian genes with your weak Terran blood.”

“Lady, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but who I dilute genes with is none of your damn business,” Sophia said without thinking. Seriously, what the hell?

The woman fumed, her nostrils flaring.

“Esterlin Hass! Leave this nice woman alone,” the waitress snapped, setting down a glass of iced tea.

“You’re not the boss, Miri,” Esterlin said, vitriol flashing in her eyes. She ran her tongue over her teeth, eager for a fight. “I want to hear your Brace tell me to leave.”

“Wells! Molig!” the waitress called loudly. A male stomped out from the kitchen, white apron stained from hard work and a towel tossed over his shoulder. He had tall, twisting horns, the kind designed for a fight. He took one look at Esterlin and jerked a thumb at the door.

“Your fundamentalist behind isn’t welcome here, Esterlin,” Miri said.

“I have a right to be served here!”

“Not when you harass my customers and my sister-in-law.” Her voice was tired, like she had to remind the older woman frequently.

“I’m a paying customer,” Esterlin said.

Miri slapped a bill on the counter. “Consider this one on the house. Now get out.” She stared at Esterlin until the woman left, door slamming. Turning to Sophia with a warm smile, “Sorry about that. She gets worked up. How about some sweet patta pie to finish your meal?”

“You’re my sister-in-law?”

Miri blushed, sliding a slice toward her with a thick dollop of homemade whip cream. “Alton’s my little brother. I didn’t want to mention it while you were eating.”

“Oh, but I have so many questions.” So many. “How did you know I married Alton?”

“You smell like him.”

Oh. She did spend the night in his bed. A blush crept over Sophia. She focused on enjoying the pie. The crust was flakey and buttery. It was divine.

“Everyone in town’s shocked he found a mate. No one had any idea!”

“The pie is really good. I’ve never had sweet patta before,” Sophia said, trying to change the subject. She didn’t want everyone to know she was a mail-order bride. It seemed so… The right word to describe the situation eluded her. Desperate? She was desperate to leave Aldrin One. Alton was desperate for a mate. Desperate seemed about right.

“How did Alton find a Terran like you?” Miri asked.

“You asking because I’m Terran or because you’re curious?”

“Because I love my little brother and he’s wanted a mate since females stopped being icky.”

Sophia smiled at the honestly. “We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance.”

Miri snorted. “Well, that’s vague and mysterious.”

“My name’s Sophia Barber, by the way. Pleased to meet you.” Sophia extended her hand.

Miri stared at the extended hand, blinking slowly. She took it with her left hand, gripping it by the fingers and gave it a weak pump. “Miri. My Brace is Wells and Molig there in the kitchen. They don’t say much but they cook like nothing else.”

“Do all Corravian males cook?”

“Alton trying to impress you with his cooking? Is it working?”

The blush returned. Miri gave a joyous laugh. Another diner signaled her, grabbing her attention. She moved away, water jug in hand, cackling with laughter.

A man leaned against the lunch counter next to her. Sophia kept her eyes fixed on her slice of pie. “Hey, ain’t you…”

Oh stars. Not again. Had no one in this tiny town ever seen someone from Earth before? Or was it the novelty of a new person in town that got them all in a flap?