Page 6

I opened the sliding glass door and entered my house. The fatigue that accompanied time travel was beginning to rear its ugly head. Food and sleep were first and second on my priority list.

“Gertie, I’m home,” I hollered out in my best Ricky Ricardo impersonation. Gertie worked at the library on the SMU college campus. Sometimes she stayed late on Saturdays, but I expected she’d be home by now.

Gertie rounded the corner from the den. Her freckled face broke into a wide smile and she wrapped me in one of her full-on hugs. Gertie always hugged tight. It was one of the things I loved about her. There were no secrets with Gertie. She wasn’t afraid to show everyone who she was or tell them what she thought. Her life was an open book and mine was written with disappearing ink. I trusted her completely.

“Hey, glad you’re back safe and sound,” she said as she released me.

“Yeah me too.” I moved toward the fridge. My trip to Purley had been a little unnerving. Meeting the younger version of Caiyan called for a glass of wine.

Gertie wore a cute pair of Lululemon leggings and a flowing top that accentuated her blue eyes.

“Cute leggings,” I said.

“Thanks, I hope Brodie feels the same. He’s on his way over. We’re going out to eat and then to a movie. Want to come?”

Brodie always stopped by his farm in Australia when he returned from a travel. His family thought he worked in sales and traveled with his job. He left the running of the farm to his brothers but helped out between moon cycles.

“No thanks. I’m beat, and I’m starving,” I said and reached for the refrigerator door.

“About that…”

I opened the refrigerator and surveyed the contents. Empty, except for a sad head of lettuce, a six pack of Brodie’s favorite beer, some questionable yogurt, a can of whipped cream, and a box from the Cheesecake factory.

“You didn’t go to the grocery store?”

“I know it was my turn, but I met some girlfriends after work for drinks, and we ended up catching a concert at the House of Blues. There was so much pot passed around we got high off the secondhand smoke. Afterward, we came back here and had pizza and cheesecake.” She motioned to the stack of dirty dishes on the counter. “I saved you the leftover cheesecake, and I picked up a can of that whipped cream you like when I stopped for beer and gas on my way home from work today.”

Whipped cream from the gas station might be a little risky, but what the hell. I was a girl who looked danger in the face and told it to F-off. I uncapped the can, squirted a large dollop into my mouth, and devoured the delicious topping.

“For the love of all things sanitary, please don’t suck that out of the can,” Gertie said as she filled the sink up with hot, soapy water.

“What are you doing?” I asked, then replaced the top on the can of whipped cream and returned it to the fridge.

“The dishwasher is broken,” she said as she submerged the first dish in the water.

“Did you call my dad?” My parents were our landlords, and my dad doubled as the handyman. He lived an hour away in a hoity toity over-fifty community, but he still worked at his feed store in Sunnyside during the week.

“No. I didn’t want to bother him on the weekend.”

I grabbed a can of vegetable soup from the pantry and dumped it into a bowl, then set the microwave for three minutes.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I said, taking a dish from her and drying it with a towel. I stacked each dish on the counter.

The microwave signaled my soup was done cooking. I left the dirty glasses for Gertie, retrieved my soup, and sat down at the table to eat.

A gurgle and a crack sounded outside, and Brodie’s bathtub materialized in my backyard.

Gertie squealed a little noise of delight as she dried her hands and met him coming in the door. He pulled Gertie in for a giant hug followed by a deep kiss. When they came up for air, he noticed me.

“Hey Jen, I heard ya had a second travel.”

News travels fast at the WTF. “Mortas took a late jump. Ace went with me.” I scanned his face. “We saw Caiyan.”

He paused. If Caiyan was communicating with Brodie it didn’t show on his face. I corrected myself. “It wasn’t Caiyan, but a younger version of him.”

“Did he see ya?” Brodie asked me.

“No, he didn’t make us.”

“Good.”

I filled Brodie in on the details of my travel, but he didn’t know anything about Caiyan’s trip or the sword.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Gertie asked, her arms securely wrapped around Brodie’s waist.

“Yep. Positive,” I said, envying the couple. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

Gertie grabbed her Hobo bag and chose two bottles of beer from the fridge and two boxes of candy from the pantry to sneak into the movie.

“That’s my girl,” Brodie said as he watched her dump the items into the bag. “Always saving me coin.”

“I’m not paying those high prices,” Gertie said. “We’re on a budget.”

“Ooh, can we stop and get some of them lime chips?” Brodie asked. “They’re bloody good with the chocolate covered raisins.”

I smiled at the two of them. They were so cute. The couple left a few minutes later, leaving me in peace. I finished my soup, washed my bowl in the sink, and placed it on the dish cloth next to the plates to dry.

After watching an episode of Outlander — ha time traveling through the stones, that girl had it easy— I wandered into the kitchen.

A bottle of nighttime cold medicine promising a good night’s sleep sat next to the dish rack. I could take some and be out for the count. A long, restful night’s sleep sounded perfect.

I took the recommended dosage of the green cold medicine and added an extra capful for good measure. I wanted the stuff to knock me out and make me forget how much I missed Caiyan. The big L word hovered on the edge of my vocabulary.

As I set the bottle down, a fifth of whiskey next to the coffee pot beckoned me. Mamma Bea always told me two fingers of whiskey would do a body good. There were lots of promises coming from my kitchen. I took a shot from the bottle, enjoyed the burn, and followed it with a drink of water.

Attack cat meowed below me. I dumped a few treats onto the Corian countertop, and he jumped up next to me. I didn’t stroke his fur because that normally resulted in a swat from him and blood drawn on my part. The gray tabby preferred to be touched by the select few.

He licked his paw while I put away the cold medicine, indifferent to my presence.

“Not even a thank you for the treats, you flea bag.”

An angry hiss startled me. I glanced at him. His ears were back, and his tail bottle brushed as he bared his teeth at the ceiling.

The creak of footsteps echoed against the hardwood floors above me. Someone was upstairs. My nine-millimeter handgun was hidden in a Nine West shoe box in my shoe closet adjacent to my bed. If the intruder was in my bedroom, I’d have to find another means of protection.

I inched my way up the stairs, avoiding the third and eighth steps I knew from my childhood days of sneaking out of the house were the creaky ones. Another noise came from the direction of my bedroom.

My bedroom door hung ajar. If I leaned in and turned on the lights, I could surprise the unwanted guest, but first, I needed to arm myself.

I ducked into the nearest room and searched for a weapon. When I was younger, this room belonged to my sister. After she left for college, I converted it into my closet. Clothes hung from rollaway racks around the perimeter of the room.

I picked up a belt. What was I going to do, whip the intruder? A box of Manolo Blahniks four-inch stilettos sat in their box on the makeshift center island I had purchased from IKEA.

My shoes were housed in floor to ceiling shoe racks in my bedroom. My dad built them for me when, in fourth grade, I discovered shoes were my passion. And still are.

These new additions hadn’t made it to their place with the rest of my precious footwear collection. I found the fun, gold pumps on clearance at Nordstrom’s Anniversary Sale and needed to try them on with a dress I planned to wear to the next wedding I attended.

Many of my high school friends were either getting engaged or married. It was an age thing. The dreaded “if you don’t get married by age thirty, your life as an old maid begins” syndrome.

I opened the box and pulled out the right shoe. The thin heel gleamed like a dagger in the moonlight streaming in through the window. I could gouge an eye out with it. I jabbed it in the air, practicing my gouge.

The sound of the slider on my closet door forced me to raise my weapon. Not only did someone break into my room, the thief was stealing my shoes!

I held the shoe at the level of my eye and slowly eased my way toward my room. Peeking inside, the familiar scent of cinnamon and pine crossed my bedroom along with the silhouette of a figure heading toward my balcony. I flipped on the light switch.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He stopped short and turned toward me. His eyes ran the length of my body and leveled at the shoe held in my hand.

“Death by shoe, I dinnae think ye’d do much damage, Sunshine.”

His black t-shirt stretched across a well-toned chest.

I fought the urge to move toward him and lowered my shoe. “Why haven’t you contacted me?”

“I couldnae. The Mafusos have a babysitter that follows me wherever I go. I finally ditched him, and here I am.” He opened his arms, presenting himself.

He was being held prisoner. Well, almost. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, but I did warn ye, I’d be deep undercover.”

“With the Mafusos.” My words came out in an accusatory ire.

“Aye.”

I huffed. “Why are you leaving?’

“I’m naugh leaving.” He bit his bottom lip, then released it and moved toward me slowly. “Look, I need to speak to ye.”

His dark, mussed hair and the way his emerald eyes held mine sent tingles to my nether regions. I couldn’t control my desire to kiss the pouty lip he had released.

The shoe clattered to the floor as I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around his middle. My mouth pressed to his, and he enveloped me in the kiss that I’d been dreaming of for months. My lady parts wanted him naked. His tongue trailed over mine as his passion ignited a fire inside me. Zap, tingle. We hadn’t missed a beat. The sensation went all the way to my toes.

“Ye missed me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Where have you traveled? And why haven’t you sent any word?”

My inner voice screamed at me to stop being an inquisitive bitch. She wanted some action, and I had to admit I did, too. He avoided my question with a long, deep kiss.

“You missed me, too.” I unhooked my legs from his waist. Leaning against him, wrapped in his arms, and pleased to feel his hardness pressed against my thigh, I ran my hand down to encourage.

“Jen, seriously.” He pulled away from me, turned and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, finally admitting, “I’m starving, have ye got any food?”

OK, not like Caiyan at all, putting food before sex.

“I havenae had a bite all day.”

I eyed him. The Caiyan I knew never postponed naked for Newtons. “Uhm, I’m…not sure. Gertie didn’t do the grocery shopping while I was…away.” I turned, and he followed me downstairs.

He leaned against the counter and watched me ramble through the pantry. I surfaced with a box of macaroni and cheese.

“Sorry, it’s all I’ve got. We could order out?”

“’Tis fine,” he said.

I put a pot on to boil, but my instincts told me he had something on his mind. If I waited, maybe he would tell me why he was acting all kinds of strange. I opened the fridge and offered him one of Brodie’s beers.

He opened it and took a long pull from the bottle. The way he looked at me through heavy-lidded eyes made me wonder why we were down here in the kitchen instead of upstairs satisfying my extreme urges.

My mind churned with reasons why he hesitated after so many months apart. I absentmindedly pulled the whipped cream can from the fridge and upended it into my mouth. I heard him mumble, “Shite!”

When I glanced over at him, his lips parted slightly as he watched me lower the can and swallow the mouthful of white cream.

He had me naked on the kitchen table faster than I could recap the can. He retrieved the whipped cream can from the floor where I had dropped it and sprayed a happy trail from my belly button down to my boy howdy. Much to my satisfaction, he proceeded to have a Jen sundae. When we came up for air, the can of whipped cream was empty, and the pot had boiled dry.

He ran a finger down my cheek. “I thought aboot ye often, Sunshine.”

“Me too. I mean, I thought about you, too.” I gathered my clothes and turned off the stove.

He beckoned me with his index finger to follow him upstairs to shower. I smiled. The old Caiyan had returned. We were back, the old us. My hunger satisfied by a can of Reddi-wip.

After a hot shower, more kisses, and more everything else, we headed back downstairs for real food. I made the mac and cheese and we stayed in the kitchen leaning against the kitchen cabinets, the table covered with the aftermath of whipped cream and love.

Caiyan wore his jeans low on his hips, his muscled torso covered by the soft cotton t-shirt. Curls of his hair, jet black from the wet of the shower, framed his face.

“Where have you been traveling?” I asked. With my guilty pleasure satisfied, I wanted answers.

“I cannae tell you.” He placed his bowl in the sink and rinsed it out. “Yer in danger jest by me being here.”

“How can I help you, if you don’t confide in me?” I rinsed out my bowl and placed it on the countertop next to the dishes. Frustrated with his secrecy, I turned and caught him staring at me. I stifled a yawn. The cold medicine was kicking in, delayed by the adrenalin rush sparked by our sexcapades. I wanted to go upstairs, snuggle together under my down comforter, and fall asleep satisfied in his arms.

“Jen, I have to gain the Mafusos’ trust in order to get my key back.”

“But you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on? What if they leave you stranded in another time? I could find you, if you would quit being a bullheaded ass and talk to me.”

“Jen—” He stopped and raked a hand through his hair. The mussy, dark hair made my lower half tingle. I wanted to kiss the scar that cut through his top upper lip. I ignored the want and waited for answers.

He stared at me.

“Jake thinks the reason you’re helping the Mafusos has something to do with the sword you swiped from the Appomattox museum.”

“I dinnae steal it, I borrowed it. Besides, it belonged to a friend of mine.” His eyes grew sad with the last words he spoke.

“You mean Mr. Raney?”

He paused, considered. “It was you in the town. The blonde in front of the five and dime.” He smiled. “Seems like a long time ago for me, but only a few days for ye, yeah?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t recognize me and mess up our meeting in Scotland.”

“Aye, I dinnae until now, but I never forget a pretty face. The sword belonged to a friend who died a long time ago. He left me a message to help him, and I failed. If Mortas finds the sword, he could cause damage beyond repair.”

“So, this quest you’re on is tied to the sword?”

He didn’t answer. Months ago, under the influence of the Thunder key, Caiyan was using the sword as a bargaining tool with the Mafusos to swap for his key.

“Didn’t you tell me you stole the sword from the museum to sell to the Mafusos?” I arched an eyebrow at him. Esplain, Lucy.

“Jen, ’tis for yer own safety that I keep my reasons to myself, and ye need to tell yer boss to stay clear until I’m done.”

“Jake is your boss. Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

“Was my boss. Ye need to think of me as a brigand now.”

“There’s no reason for you to do this. We can find you another key.”

“Jen,” he began again. “I need my key to—”

“I know, so ye can protect me,” I mocked. “I don’t need you to protect me. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

He huffed. “Gian-Carlo has made a deal with me. If I complete a mission, he weel return my key.”

“That’s it?” I placed my hands on my hips.

“Naugh entirely. I have to show my commitment to the family by—” he paused, then sighed. “I wanted to tell ye myself.” He stalled, and my stomach clenched.

“Jen.” He turned and walked a few paces away from me. He ran his hand through his hair in an agitated gesture. “I need to tell ye something.”

“Tell me what?”

“Now, dinnae get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“Jest hear me oot.” He backed the farthest he could away from me.

“Spill it.”

“I have to marry Mahlia.”

I’m not sure when the first plate left my hand, but the third one missed his face by mere inches. He backed out of the kitchen, dodging plates as I flung them like Frisbees.

“Jen, ’tis for the greater good,” he yelled.

“The greater good?” I shrieked. “You couldn’t tell me this before we had sex?”

He stood speechless.

I launched another dish, and he ducked. It shattered against the wall and fell like rain, meeting the other victims on the tile floor.

“Jest calm down,” he said.

My face heated as my blood pressure rose to a level a normal person would have called the paramedics.

“Calm down?” My voice screeched. “I am calm!” I threw another dish, and it felt exhilarating. I continued to chunk the dishes until my arm ached and there weren’t any dishes left on the counter. Sometime between me telling him to never come back and cursing at him, he fled.

White shards of ceramic sprinkled across the floor, and the back door stood open. I moved toward the open door and kicked something. The empty can of whipped cream rolled across the tile. I bent over and picked up the can, sat down at the table, and cried.