Authors: Rose Wulf
“What were you
thinking?” the man demanded with a rough, aggravated growl in his voice. His
words were spoken in an appropriately low tone, but Brooke was near enough that
she caught them.
Emma opened her
mouth before she opened her eyes, saying, “I saw an
oppor
—”
She cut herself off when she registered the sight of Brooke even as Brooke came
to a stop at their table.
This time Emma’s
companion cut an irritated, evaluating glance in Brooke’s direction, but he
remained silent. His eyes moved away from her as soon as she’d set his tea in
front of him, and he offered no words of gratitude.
“Thanks,” Emma
supplied as her own tea was placed in front of her. She kept her eyes focused
on her drink.
Feeling like she’d
intruded, Brooke took a deep breath before she pulled her notebook from her
apron and asked if they were ready to order. And as soon as their orders were
placed, she scurried away.
The man sitting
across from Emma had given Brooke one more look before she’d walked off, and
though she wanted to be annoyed or upset by the superiority in his eyes, all
she’d felt was discomfort. Her stomach had twisted in an incredibly unpleasant
way, and she suddenly wanted to find Paula and tell her she wasn’t feeling
well. Home sounded like the place to be. But of course she couldn’t; she needed
her paycheck, after all.
Still, she
sincerely hoped that she would never see that man again.
****
Brooke didn’t have
to work until mid-afternoon on Sunday, and though she’d originally intended to
use the time to run necessary errands, she’d agreed to meet up with Blake at
the beach instead. She’d hesitated at the idea of the beach initially, as it
was open to the public year-round, but conceded when Blake had pointed out that
with him there, the beach was probably the safest place to be. It wasn’t like
it was her secret—or her life—potentially on the line, anyway.
The parking lot was
empty aside from Blake’s Mustang when she swung back into the space her Honda
had last occupied the night before. She climbed from the car, not bothering to
lock it, and started for the shoreline as she pocketed her keys.
There was more than
one reason she was excited to meet up with Blake this morning. Sure, discussing
everything crazy that had happened the day before was important. And she was
certainly interested. The problem was that she was
interested
in Blake, too. Very, very much. She already knew he was
a good kisser, and as ridiculous as it was, her lips were practically aching to
feel his again. And meeting like this, they were going to be all alone on the
beach. Just the two of them and the rolling tide. That was a pretty clichéd
romantic setting all in itself.
It was all she
could do to keep from jogging to the shore when she spotted him, sitting on the
edge of the tide with his feet in the water.
As she drew nearer,
she slowed, taking in the sight of him with his elbows resting on raised knees
and his chin cradled between his linked thumbs and index fingers. It was a
thoughtful, reflective position. Sobering. She almost felt bad for some of the
thoughts that had been swimming around in her head a moment ago.
Almost.
“Hey.” Brooke
settled next to him on the sand. She kept her feet curled up and out to the
side at her knees so as to keep her shoes from getting wet.
Blake turned his
attention to her, his posture relaxing as a smile lifted his lips. “Hey, thanks
for meeting me.”
She returned his
smile. “So what did you want to talk about? Did something else happen?”
“No. I just thought
maybe we should talk one-on-one, you know, after you’d had a chance to sleep on
everything.” He paused and studied her, looking for something. Whether or not
he found it, Brooke had no idea. “How are you handling all that?”
Releasing a breath,
Brooke said, “Me? I’m handling it okay. I mean, for me it’s more surreal and
startling to learn about the existence of people with powers like yours. I’m
not being targeted, remember? So it’s only scary in the abstract.”
Blake arched a brow
at her choice of words. “Abstract, huh? And how’s that?”
Brooke allowed her
smile to feel a little flirtatious as she leaned forward and brushed her
fingertips along his cheekbone. “I don’t want anything to happen to you is
all,” she whispered.
Blake swallowed and
the tide rolled in a little higher, just barely brushing her knees. Then he’d
threaded his fingers into her hair and crushed his lips to hers, his other arm
winding around her waist to hold her in place.
It was all she
could do to swallow the moan in her throat as she kissed him back. His hair was
soft over her fingers when her hands slipped behind his head, and his tongue
was hot in her mouth when her lips parted. She’d nearly forgotten how good he
tasted.
She could’ve sworn
she purred as his tongue stroked hers, desire burning low and hot in her belly.
It was such a contrast to the cold water that continued to tease her knees.
Blake’s fingers dipped beneath her lightweight sweater, his soft touch teasing
her skin and finally pulling free the moan she’d been fighting. He sucked on
her tongue, putting more weight into his touch, until his thumb found the right
spot to have her arching into him.
He released her
lips as her breasts pressed firmly into his chest, trailing his kiss down the
side of her throat. She held onto him, moaning again as he shifted to cradle
her body more properly against his.
“Blake,” she
breathed as his tongue danced around the hollow at the base of her throat.
He rumbled and
lowered his head, tongue and lips sliding to her collar bone and down to the
line of her scoop-neck sweater. And oh, how she wanted him to keep going. To
tear off her clothes and kiss the rest of her aching body with the same tender
hunger he was bestowing to her collar and neck. How she wanted to feel his
heady touch in private places. Brooke doubted she’d ever been so immediately
hungry for a man.
Blake made a sort
of groaning sound and removed his lips from her skin. “God, you’re
distracting.”
“That’s a bad
thing?”
He grinned. “Not
really. I just feel like there’s more that should be said first.”
“And you can’t talk
while you’re kissing me.” Her words were resigned, because she knew he was
right. She just didn’t want him to be.
“Exactly.”
Looping her arms
loosely around his shoulders and making no move to otherwise adjust herself,
Brooke said, “So talk. What’s on your mind?”
The question was
ridiculous, of course. She
knew
what
was on his mind in more ways than one. She just suspected she hadn’t properly
absorbed it all yet. There was still some sort of surreal distance between her
sense of reality and the ideas the Hawke family had discussed the day before.
People who can throw lightning. Really?
But then again, the man she was currently embracing could
become
water—she’d seen it herself. So was the rest really so far
out there?
Blake released a
breath and pulled her in enough to rest his head on her shoulders. “Everything,
I guess,” he admitted. “I really want my uncle to be crazy, but … that’s not
his style. He’s a realist, even if his ‘realism’ sounds impossible.”
“And you’re
worried,” Brooke guessed gently, her fingers weaving through his hair and
massaging his scalp in an attempt to comfort him.
“Yeah.”
“Blake, that’s
natural,” she said. “They’re your family, and you just found out you might have
enemies who can generate your kryptonite at will. That’s heavy.” As she said
it, she realized she was exactly right. She could only imagine how terrifying
that would be for him and his brothers. To go from
knowing
they had more power than the people around them—
knowing
they were stronger—to learning
they had invisible enemies designed specifically to hurt them.
Although that might be over-simplifying…
Blake straightened
after a moment, taking his time dragging his gaze up to hers. “I know. And I
swear I really did want to make sure you were okay, all things considered.” He
paused and brushed his lips lightly over hers again. “But it’s possible I was
also hoping for a distraction.”
Swallowing a
schoolgirl giggle, Brooke raised exaggeratedly dramatic eyebrows at him.
“Weren’t you just complaining about that?”
“I was confused,”
Blake insisted, sliding the hand still beneath her sweater a little higher. “I
understand now.”
“Understand what?”
she challenged, fighting her natural response to his touch.
Blake met her
challenge with a confident grin and caught her mouth in another hot, demanding
kiss. Brooke immediately melted, letting him take her weight as one of her
hands dipped beneath his collar and down his back. She couldn’t wait to get him
out of his shirt—couldn’t wait to see the body underneath.
His tongue stroked
hers, sliding and curling over and over with a rhythm that made a very
different part of her anatomy clench in anticipation. So she adjusted her grip
to tug on his shirt, needing to touch more of him. To see and feel and taste
his skin. Blake wasted no time heeding her request, pulling back to yank his
shirt over his head and toss it to the sand. Brooke followed suit, enjoying the
look that heated his blue eyes when his gaze fell to her chest and the lacy bra
she’d chosen for the day.
Her hands landed
back on his shoulders and slowly slid down to his chest. His chest was smooth
and taut.
Perfect swimmer’s body.
She
couldn’t help but wonder if his body was actually a side-effect of his power,
but it didn’t matter. After his initial sharp intake of breath at her touch,
and a moment where his eyes closed as he let her fingers explore, Blake’s own
hands came up and landed on her bare waist.
Brooke was
distracted by his touch, and her exploration stalled. His hands were wandering
up as hers were wandering down, and something inside her pulsed eagerly. She
wanted to skip the foreplay and get right to the main event as badly as she
wanted to linger in this slow, deliciously torturous moment for a while longer.
With such confusing, conflicting desires, all she could do was moan low when
his knuckles brushed the underside of her covered breast.
One of Blake’s
hands anchored back over her hip, his lips landed on her throat, and his other
hand dipped beneath the cup of her bra to palm her breast. Her next moan was
longer, possibly louder, and her arms curled around his torso so that she could
hold onto his back.
And that was when
Brooke’s cell phone rang.
Her first instinct
was to ignore the offensive device—she wasn’t expecting any calls, after
all—but Blake had immediately ceased his caresses and lifted his head. There
was no reason not to at least check the Caller ID.
Releasing a
frustrated breath, Brooke eased back enough to extract the phone from her jeans
pocket and look at the screen. And then she cringed. It was Paula. Flicking a
semi-frightened, conflicted glance up to Blake, she answered the phone.
“Hey, Paula.”
Blake immediately
grimaced.
Chapter Eight
When Brooke answered the phone, Blake knew their stolen
moment was done. Especially when the caller turned out to be her boss—and the
Queen of Gossip—Paula. If Paula had any clue what she’d interrupted, the whole
town was bound to hear about it, which made Blake incredibly glad they were
alone.
“Ah, Paula,” Brooke hedged, guilt taking root in her
expression. “I don’t know if I can… Well, I was just, uh, doing laundry. I
can’t leave my stuff in the laundromat all day.” She was silent as Paula spoke
again, but Blake could only make out the other woman’s voice. After another
moment she sighed, the sound heavy with resignation, and Blake reached for his
shirt as she said, “No, no, I understand. Okay, I can be there in about half an
hour.” She accepted what Blake assumed was an apology and disconnected.
“Going in early?” He shook the sand out of her sweater as
best he could. Sand wasn’t exactly his element.
Pouting adorably, Brooke returned her phone to her pocket.
“Yes. Two people called off last-minute. Damn them.”
Blake laughed as she took her sweater and tugged it on
unceremoniously. “Don’t worry,” he teased as he stood and extended a hand to
her. “I’m not
gonna
leave town while you’re working.”
At this, Brooke finally laughed, accepted his outstretched
hand, and replied, “You’d better not. I hear your brother is friends with the
local police.”
“I can’t tell if that was meant as a reminder or a threat,”
Blake said as they began the climb up to the parking lot.
“Maybe it was both?” Brooke returned lightly.
When they made it to their cars—parked one space
apart—Blake turned to her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist. “Don’t
work too hard,” he murmured as he dipped his head for another, sweeter kiss. He
held himself in check this time and pulled back, adding, “And I’ll see you in
class tomorrow.”
Brooke graced him with a smile and played with the collar
of his shirt. “Yes, you will,” she promised.
****
“You were right,” Georgia declared before Brooke had even
finished securing her apron around her waist. She was standing several feet to
the side, leaning against the row of old lockers that the employees used to
store their things during their shifts.
Brooke looked over, feeling entirely confused, and cocked
an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Right about what?”
“That guy who was with Emma last night.” Georgia gave the
faintest shake of her head, as if she couldn’t believe that Brooke didn’t know.
“I saw her this morning at the grocery store, so I asked her about it, and she
was really … weird.”
With her hand poised to pick up her notepad and pen, Brooke
paused and asked, “Weird how?”
Georgia lifted her hands, fingers splayed, and moved them
back in forth in front of her chest, palms down. “Shifty-weird. Not that I like
describing any of my friends as ‘shifty’, but I don’t know how else to say it.
She kept looking around while we were talking, like she was afraid someone was
spying on her, and she didn’t really say much, either.”
The image in Brooke’s head had her suddenly wondering if
maybe Emma didn’t need supervision—and it certainly clashed with the image
she’d had of Emma prior to this conversation—so she hesitantly asked, “Did she
… look sick, or anything?”
“Sick?” Georgia repeated, her head tilting ever so
slightly. “No, of course not. Just … paranoid, I guess. Oh, but she did clear
up one thing. Although it took me
forever
to drag it out of her, I swear!” She shrugged and added, “Whatever.”
“What did she clear up, exactly?”
“That weird guy she was with is definitely
not
her boyfriend,” Georgia replied as
she fell into step beside Brooke.
“That’s good.” She paused, waiting for Georgia to continue,
but when it became obvious she had nothing more to say, Brooke asked, “Did she
get any more specific?”
“Nope,” Georgia said. “I barely got her to say that much
before she said something about a tight schedule and went running for the
check-out aisle.”
“You’re right, that is weird. I hope she’s all right.”
“Me, too,” Georgia replied, her lips scrunched for a moment
in thought. She smiled again and picked up a tray. “Anyway, off to work!” Then
she flounced into the main room, leaving Brooke standing behind her and shaking
her head.
Paula came around the corner before Brooke could gather
herself enough to follow after her friend, and she swallowed back her
apprehension as she smiled at her supervisor.
“Brooke! Thanks so much for coming in early,” Paula said
with a genuine smile.
“It was no trouble,” Brooke replied. “Is anyone waiting on
me?”
“Shelly just sat the
Buchannons
at table seven,” Paula stated easily. But before Brooke could take more than a
step away, she added, “Oh, and before you leave tonight, you have to tell me
what you were doing earlier with Blake, got it?”
Brooke froze.
How
could she possibly—
Realization swept through her, and she barely bit back
a groan. Paula had to drive that way to get to the diner; if she’d had to run
home or been late, she could’ve seen their cars in the parking lot. And she
would make far too much out of any situation that involved Brooke and Blake
interacting no matter what the reason. Turning back to smile again, Brooke
said, “It was really nothing. I should go greet Mr. and Mrs.
Buchannon
.”
“I suppose you should,” Paula agreed with a knowing smile.
She said nothing more, and Brooke took the opportunity to slip away, praying
her face wasn’t crimson.
When Brooke was within sight of the table, she realized it
was not just Mr. and Mrs.
Buchannon
this time. They
had brought their two daughters, Chloe and Clarabelle, as well. Chloe, the
recently engaged elder sister, was sitting beside her father and opposite her
sibling.
“I’m feeling special,” Brooke declared as she stepped up to
the table.
The family turned
their attention to her and smiled. It was Katherine who spoke first, saying,
“Brooke! We haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks now, how are you doing?”
Brooke returned
their smiles. “Oh, I’m doing fine, Mrs.
Buchannon
.
But I’m horribly curious, what brings all four of you out my way?”
“That would be my
fault,” Clarabelle declared with a light laugh.
Chloe spoke up
before her sister could continue, leaning forward slightly and saying, “It’s
Clare’s twentieth birthday, so of course we had to celebrate.”
“Birthday, huh?”
Brooke teased easily. “Well, I firmly believe in going all-out on birthdays myself,
so I’ll see if I can’t help a little.” Throwing in a wink for good measure, she
added, “But you should definitely come back again next year, too.”
With a laugh,
Clarabelle said, “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good,” Brooke
replied with a nod. “Now then, as the Birthday Girl, you get to order first. So
tell me, what would make you happy today?”
****
“We should make a
list,” Logan declared as the conversation again fell silent. He, and all of his
brothers, were gathered at Blake’s house Monday evening. They had agreed to
meet up to talk more about everything they’d learned after Angela’s near-death
experience.
“List?” Nate
repeated, clearly confused. “You mean like a grocery list of possible
suspects?”
Logan narrowed his
eyes slightly and shifted on the couch, leaning forward and resting his elbows
on his knees. “No, genius. I mean a list of people that we know
know
our secret. People we’ve told.”
Dean shifted his
weight on the couch. “What good’s that going to do?”
Swinging his
serious gaze around the room, Logan replied, “It’s a solid place to start, for
one. We could eliminate the people we know are out of town—and have been. And
the people who’d have struck years ago if they were guilty.”
“What about the people
we’ve lost contact with?” Dean asked slowly as he leaned forward, removing his
feet from the coffee table in the process.
All three brothers
looked over at him with silent expectation.
Dean sighed and
looked away, saying, “It’s possible I said something to one or two of my
ex-girlfriends…”
Blake sighed and
shook his head. “You told Lila, didn’t you?” He was referring to the
cheerleader Dean had dated for over a year in high school. They had been very
solidly together, until one day Lila had shown up at school holding another
guy’s hand. Dean had lost his temper, words had been exchanged, and it had
taken all three of them to keep him from hurting the guy. Dean and Lila hadn’t
spoken since.
Dean cringed and
nodded. “Yeah, I told Lila.” He fell silent for a minute, but it was obvious
from his tone that he wasn’t done. And then he quietly added, “I told Emily,
too.”
“God, Dean,” Nate
exclaimed, slumping back against the couch beside Blake. “Did you tell that
reporter girl you dated freshman year of college, too?”
“Of course not,”
Dean defended immediately, glaring at his sibling.
Blake lifted one
hand and massaged his forehead for a long minute as he interrupted their
budding argument to say, “It doesn’t matter now. You’ve lost touch with both of
them, right?”
Dean shifted his
attention to Blake and nodded. “Yeah. But last I heard, Emily moved out of town
anyway.”
Inclining his head,
Blake replied, “I heard that, too. So probably we wouldn’t have to worry about
Emily.”
Nate sat up once
more. “But shouldn’t we consider their families, too? I mean, anyone we told
could have talked to their parents, or siblings, or close friends.”
Logan nodded.
“That’s part of my point. The list is a starting point, not a hardcopy of our
only suspects.”
“Okay,” Dean
acknowledged, “but we still wouldn’t have to worry about Emily. Her family
never lived near here, and from what I remember, her closest friends didn’t
live in town, either.”
“That’s good,”
Blake said. “Then you’re probably right. And I remember hearing that Lila left
town after high school.”
“Who’d you hear
that from?” Dean asked curiously, unaware that his brother had more information
on his ex than he himself did.
Blake shrugged.
“Mom heard it from Katherine
Buchannon
. Remember
Lila’s mom was close to Katherine before she died?”
Dean made an
embarrassed sound and leaned back into the couch, and as his feet returned to
the coffee table, he declared, “Nah, I’d forgotten. But that rules out Lila’s
end, except for any guy she might’ve talked to.”
Logan smirked now
and cut a look to his brother. “I hate to break this to you, but she probably
didn’t go around bragging about you to her
other
boyfriends.”
“Shut up,” Dean
returned, rolling his eyes.
“How ‘bout you,
Logan?” Nate asked, shifting the focus away from their hot-headed brother.
“I’ve only told one
person,” Logan assured them. His eyes were downcast and his voice stable, but
tight. They all knew who he was referring to.
After a long
moment, Nate said, “I told two. In middle school I told Kirk, and in high
school I told Laura.” He shrugged. “I haven’t talked to Laura in a while, but
since her family moved a couple years back to be closer to her, I’d guess she’s
clean. And I’ll vouch for Kirk.”
“I think we all
trust Kirk,” Blake assured him. Kirk was Nate’s long-standing best friend, the
kind that was as much family as a person could get without being blood-related.
Dean looked over to
Blake and declared, “That leaves you, bro. So who’ve you told besides Jason and
Brooke?”
Jason was Blake’s
own best friend. The two of them had been partners in crime since the eighth
grade. It had been their third year of high school when Jason found out about
Blake’s secret, but the choice to tell Jason had been taken from him. Jason had
only grinned after he found out and, voice weak from the water he’d
half-drowned in, he’d said, “I’m one lucky son of a bitch, aren’t I?”
None of them
doubted Jason—not any more than they doubted Kirk.
And Blake just
assumed they were all giving Brooke the benefit of the doubt.
“Okay,” Dean
finally said. “I’ll ask the hard questions.”
Blake lifted his
gaze to Dean but said nothing.
“You obviously
trust Brooke,” Dean began, sitting forward again. “We don’t really have any
reason not to, either. But what about her family? Is she from around here? Did
she come here to see where her parents or aunts or uncles grew up?”
Remembering what
Brooke had told him about her past, Blake shook his head. “She’s not from here,
and even if her family were I doubt she’d know. She lost her biological family
when she was young. She didn’t say anything about her adoptive family, really,
but I think she’d have mentioned it if they’d suggested the area.”
Silence held for a
moment as the brothers processed his point. At length, Logan said, “I’m
comfortable with that, then.”
Nate and Dean
nodded, and Dean resettled into his preferred position.