Page 9 of It’s You

J ack met her eyes.

I won’t let it hurt you, do you understand? I’ll die before I let it hurt you.

Then he looked back at the animal behind her.

Darcy’s body trembled as her blood turned icy cold in her veins.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to remember what you were supposed to do when you encounter a bear, but her mind was blank.

Her heart was beating so fast, she was afraid she might go into tachycardia and faint.

She swallowed again, bowing her neck, wide-eyed with terror.

If she moved any more than that, the bear might charge.

She heard grunting and a pushing noise and raised her gaze to look at Jack from under lowered lashes. She watched as his eyes trailed slowly upward. A low, angry growl came from behind her, but it was positioned higher than before, and Darcy knew the bear was standing on its hind legs now.

Jack’s eyes flicked to hers.

Slowly. Get behind me, Darcy.

Then back to the bear’s face.

She wanted Jack to look at her again so that she could tell him she was frozen. She could barely breathe, and her legs had locked in place. She couldn’t move.

He flicked his glance to her again, seizing her eyes.

GET. BEHIND. ME. NOW.

NOW, DARCY! NOW!

Jack’s voice was amplified like a scream in her head and provided the shock she needed to pivot quickly behind him, gasping as she covered her ears and peeked at the bear over Jack’s shoulder.

The black bear stood over seven feet high on its hind legs and stared down at Jack, who was motionless in front of her. It growled, agitated, throwing its head around and pawing the air with its claws extended in extreme frustration or fury, bellowing as it swiped at the air between it and Jack.

Jack took a deep breath, then spoke low and soft, throwing his words over his shoulder. “Darcy. Walk back to the pond. Slowly.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“I can’t just leave you, Jack!”

“It’ll be okay. Go now.”

“Jack,” she whispered, tears and fear for him making her voice jagged.

“Go! Now!” he snarled over his shoulder, angry and insistent.

She turned and started back to the lake, walking slowly, rigidly, fear still making her body feel stiff and unfamiliar as tears coursed down her cheeks.

After about twenty paces, she turned back.

The bear lumbered back and forth in front of Jack, growling and grunting, as if an invisible wall separated him from Jack, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

It didn’t make any sense. Why wasn’t the bear charging?

Suddenly, the bear stopped pacing. It stood on four legs directly in front of Jack, staring up at him. From where she stood, Darcy heard Jack hiss something that sounded like “Ship awaaaaaaaay…”

The bear stared at Jack as he repeated the hissed words once more. She watched, frozen and fascinated, as the bear took a step back, then another, until it whimpered and turned, racing into the woods away from Jack, back muscles rippling at the force and speed of its gait…its escape .

Jack stood still, watching its retreat, before turning to follow her.

Darcy gasped. As he faced her, she noticed his eyes, glowing like embers, like golden lightbulbs in his head, alien or otherworldly.

He stopped in his tracks when he realized she was watching him, and after several blinks, his eyes returned to normal.

That was it for Darcy. She’d had enough.

She turned and ran around the pond, arms crossed protectively over her chest, hurrying back toward the church. Her brain assaulted her with questions.

What just happened? Had Jack actually scared the bear into retreating? What was it he said? What did that mean, and why did it make the bear run away, whimpering in fear? Why were his eyes glowing?

I am losing my mind. This is what it feels like to go crazy.

Without looking back, she ran past the bench at the pond, practically sprinting the rest of the way to the meadow at the edge of Proctor Woods. To the relative safety of Honoria’s reception.

She’d spent about an hour with Jack, but instead of answers, she had more questions.

Why had he kissed her so many years ago if it hurt him to look at her?

Why did he leave? Why in the world was he back now?

How had he kept that bear at bay? Men didn’t scare bears away, and people’s eyes didn’t glow like molten lava.

She’d had enough confused feelings and unanswered questions for one afternoon. A walk in the woods hadn’t provided the usual balm. It had only served to upset her. She was more turned around than ever and wanted to talk to Willow.

If she hadn’t finally looked over her shoulder to see if Jack was following her, she would have seen, and definitely avoided, Vale. Instead, she slammed into his back at full force.

“Damn it to hell!”

Vale Proctor turned to her, and Darcy realized that her clumsiness had caused him to spill a glass of champagne down the front of his crisp white dress shirt. He lifted his white head, and Darcy met his narrowed eyes as his nostrils flared in an indelicate sneer.

“Why, Darcy Turner,” he purred, taking in her ensemble with one slow, lecherous, humiliating scan. “What a singularly unpleasant surprise.”

“Vale,” she puffed, catching her breath. “M-Mr. Proctor. Sorry!”

“Who you running from, gal? Another unlucky suitor?”

Darcy put her hands on her hips and tried to catch her breath. She glanced up at his saturated shirt, his ribbed T-shirt materializing underneath as the wet stain spread.

“C-Can I get you a towel?” she asked. She scanned the woods behind Vale’s head. No sign of Jack. Her shoulders drooped in relief , but also in disappointment.

“What for? I’ve already been marinated in spirits.” Her cardigan had unbuttoned during her escape, and Vale gestured to her chest. “Showing off your…charms?”

Darcy looked down and noticed the tan skin of her right areola peeking out from the border of her awful dress. She tugged it up and rebuttoned her sweater.

“Now, Darcy dear, wherever were you coming from?” he asked again, beady eyes sweeping slowly from her breasts to her face. “What unlucky man was just left heartbroken in the woods?”

“This one.”

Darcy whipped her neck to the side and saw a composed Jack standing beside her, offering his hand to Vale.

“Jack Beauloup.”

Vale’s thin, waxy lips tilted up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Vale. Proctor.”

He took Jack’s hand, but released it quickly, as if it offended him to have to shake it in the first place.

Jack grinned, but Darcy saw his eyes flash. With what? Anger? Good Lord, were they going to do that weird glowing thing again?

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Your woods, Mr. Proctor?”

“Once upon a time, Mr. Beauloup.” Vale cocked his head to the side. “Unusual name. Beauloup.”

“Canadian.”

“ French Canadian, I’d say.” His eyes narrowed, looking at Jack appraisingly. “Maybe even a half-breed snow frog from Queeb.”

Darcy gasped. “You’re drunk, Vale.”

Jack’s smile faded, and even though they weren’t touching, Darcy perceived his body stiffen up beside her.

“Ain’t drunk, gal.” His eyes flashed at her, furious.

“Some folks I know might take offense to that colorful description,” Jack replied smoothly.

His voice was lazy and deliberate, but his eyes had narrowed.

Darcy looked closer, and she could see the copper flecks darting and jumping under thick black lashes.

She flicked her eyes to Vale. Couldn’t he see it too? If he could, he didn’t let on.

“Don’t mean no offense, son. I’m an old-timer. Bitter from life’s…misfortunes.” Vale flicked an insulting glance to Darcy, raking his eyes up and down her body. “Good luck with this one.”

Darcy dropped her gaze in embarrassment, but was distracted by Jack’s corded hand curling into a fist. Oh, no. No. Did he mean to hit Vale? No, Jack!

She looked back up at Jack’s face, trying to catch his eyes, needing to tell him Vale wasn’t worth it, but Jack’s glare was trained on Vale.

She had to distract him before he did something stupid.

If he wouldn’t look at her, she had only one other option.

She reached her hand out tentatively and gently covered his fist with hers, touching him voluntarily for the first time in twenty years.

She shuddered briefly at the feel of his hot, taut skin under her cool fingertips, but was almost immediately distracted by his reaction.

He gasped softly, and she felt the tightly coiled muscles in his fingers relax as he turned his head slowly to look at her.

Surprise and disbelief crossed over his features before his eyes narrowed, and she saw sparks quietly bank into burning embers as his fingers unfurled.

She looked down to see him twist his hand until their palms were facing, then laced his fingers through hers.

Her breathing sped up, and she felt a flush or warmth start at her palm and travel past her wrist, up her arm until the heat of his skin had touched the tip of every toe, every finger, the soft skin of her neck, the vulnerable smooth skin of her lips, which parted in surprise.

And her poor, over-taxed, befuddled brain could only wonder if touching palms feels this good, what in the world would it feel like to?—

“Oh, ho! So it’s like that, eh?” Darcy turned to see Vale’s black, rat eyes dart back and forth between her and Jack. He inclined his head to Jack. “My sympathies.”

Jack whipped his glance from Darcy to Vale. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes. Yes, you will be. Take care, Mr. Beauloup.” Vale’s eyes narrowed at Darcy before smirking at her with a delicate snort. “She’s a…heartbreaker.”

Darcy had no idea the word heartbreaker could sound so dirty.

“Don’t go disappearing now,” he said meaningfully to Jack. Then he dumped the rest of his champagne on the ground by their feet and sauntered back to the party.