Chapter 5
Mariska
Jeltom refused payment with a shrug and a casual shake of his head.
It made his braid flick back and forth over his chest, tempting me with all that sexy muscle barely contained beneath his sleeveless shirt.
Looking past him into the rest of the barn wasn’t much better for calming my libido.
Not only had he managed to fix the pressing machine already, but he’d also restacked all the barrels from last year’s failed batch.
He had somehow also fixed the hole in the roof, and it made all the difference.
It didn’t look quite so much like everything was falling apart around me.
“Well, if you don’t want your money yet, would you like to come in for dinner?
” I asked. I surprised myself with that request, so hellbent had I been on keeping everyone out, and now I was inviting him in?
Into my domain, my sanctuary? Jeltom seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil; he just nodded once, gruffly, and mumbled something about washing up.
“Okay,” I said brightly. “Show yourself in.” The door didn’t lock anyway, so that wouldn’t be hard.
I slipped from the barn with my belly all messy and confused.
I had the hots for the grumpy mechanic, and he was the opposite of all those kind, overtly helpful gestures of the Aderians in town.
He hadn’t asked if I wanted him to restack my barrels of failed wine, he’d just done it.
I didn’t know how to feel about that, but I did know that I was beginning to believe I’d be able to keep my cozy little homestead after all.
I had finished the pastries and piled them onto a rack to cool on my modest kitchen table.
One of the two chairs I owned was crooked, so I was going to make sure I sat in that one.
It was a weirdly nervous dance around the table as I set plates and prepped a salad, making sure I was always near that chair in case he came in.
It took a while, and it was making my nerves simmer in my veins, worry snowballing into anxiety.
Had I made a mistake inviting him for dinner?
When he came inside, the thundercloud floating above his head was so massive that, conversely, I felt my nerves settle—and the beginnings of a smile.
“Why does your front door not lock?” he snarled, as he stomped out of his dusty boots and padded in socks into my kitchen.
He flung a hand at the offending door, and then inhaled with fury when he realized the kitchen back door didn’t have one either.
I’d left it propped open to let in some of the cool evening air, because the kitchen had gotten a little stuffy from the oven.
I shrugged. “I was told that’s normal on Llykhe, especially in rural small towns.
I asked the General Store owner for one, and he…
uh… said I didn’t need one?” More accurately, he’d laughed and patted me on the head, telling me I didn’t need to worry about such things out here.
He’d tried to smooth my ruffled feathers right after, because he could sense my irritation.
I was pretty sure I’d stalked out in a huff, the silly human who did not understand anything and needed handouts.
That’s when the offers for help on my farm had started.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jeltom said, and I felt so vindicated that my smile grew—grew so wide my cheeks ached. I must have looked like a lunatic to him, but I couldn’t help it. At least one other person thought locks were a perfectly normal thing to have. I was so relieved.
He seemed to lose some of that ready anger, however, and gazed with a little more attention around my kitchen.
Then, face turned toward the table, he must have seen my pastries, because his stomach abruptly rumbled loudly.
He did not apologize for that but grabbed a chair and sat down.
He sat down in the wobbly one, but it didn’t appear to wobble for him.
His brow furrowed, but he said nothing at all now, just waited.
Oh, right, he was waiting for me like a good guest, and I’d completely forgotten how to play hostess.
I pretended the chair issue wasn’t happening—like he was—and flitted about the kitchen to pour him a cool glass of water and pile pastries and salad onto his plate.
“I hope you aren’t allergic to anything?
I forgot to ask… I probably don’t cook to your taste, because I only know Earth recipes.
” I snapped my mouth shut and abruptly plunked my butt down into the seat across from him.
Damn it, why did I talk this much when I was nervous?
Or maybe it was just because he was so stoically quiet. I was tempted to fill the silence.
“It’s fine,” he said. Not “This is great, I love your cooking, the food looks amazing”—just “It’s fine.
” I tried not to feel deflated on the spot, and then the feeling never progressed anyway.
Jeltom had stuck a first bite into his mouth, and I’d never seen an Aderian look pleasantly surprised before, but he definitely did.
Then he shoved in a next bite, and another after that.
He was holding onto manners by a thread, but I had a feeling he might have forgone cutlery if he’d been alone and shoved the whole pastry in his mouth in one go. Okay, pride restored, he loved my food.
I had barely touched mine, so fascinated had I been, staring at how he wolfed down every scrap and crumb.
Reaching out, I shoved one of mine from my plate onto his without a word.
That’s when he smiled, not a wide one, not one of those politely friendly ones.
A true smile, a hint of his appreciation, and dang it, but that was so sweet, so sexy.
I had made my grumpy mechanic smile by feeding him, and there was something so primally fulfilling about that.
Once we’d both finished our meals, he rose to carry the plates to the counter and rinse them in the sink.
The evening was coming to an end, and I discovered I dreaded the moment he left.
I was nailed to my seat, watching his broad shoulders as he moved about my kitchen like he owned it, like he belonged there.
There was tension in his shoulders, something very straight about the way he held his spine.
I almost wondered if he wasn’t dreading the moment he had to leave as much as I was.
There was no way I’d ask him to stay, though, and I couldn’t afford to ask him to do more work.
“Put your chairs under the doorknobs when I leave, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow with locks,” he said, finally shoving himself away from the counter and heading for the door.
I blinked at his back. “Thanks for dinner,” he mumbled, and then he was out the door.
I rushed to my feet to stare after him, confused, certain I’d heard wrong.
He was striding across my yard and going into my barn again.
Probably to check on the pressing machine before he left, maybe to collect his tools.
The light of the falling sun painted one anthracite a reddish pink, and the gold bands in his long braid glimmered like fireflies.
He was tall, so confident as he strode across my yard, and even that bit of gray in his hair could not dissuade me of the notion that he was in the prime of his life.
Powerful, the ultimate protector, the one to keep me safe.
Damn it, I was a modern girl in an even more modern world; I shouldn’t want a man to protect me, but I did.
The truth was, I was so tired of carrying all my burdens on my own.
I just didn’t think, as sexy as he was, that Jeltom would be the one for me.
He was so perfect, so tall, he’d never want frumpy, slightly overweight me.
And let’s not forget his weird comment about my eyes, he must think they’re hideous with their white sclera.
I did not check if he left the barn again.
I couldn’t wait that long while my thoughts were this much of a mess.
I needed a distraction. So I did as he’d told me to, closing my door and shoving the back of a chair under the handle.
I didn’t think that would be much of a barricade for a guy like Jeltom, but it did make me feel a little safer.
Once I’d done the same to the back door and double-checked my windows, I pulled out my comm and called my friend.
Jessica answered on the third ring, which was fast, considering how far a distance we were crossing with a single call.
She wasn’t on Llykhe—she wasn’t even on an Aderian world—but all the way over on Ker, the capital of the Kertinal Empire.
That’s where all of us had ended up after we’d been rescued from a ship by their military.
We’d been taken from Earth, put in stasis, and sent to the Zeta Quadrant, though nobody had explained to me why.
We all had theories, but mostly, we agreed that it had probably been to sell us.
So we considered ourselves lucky for having been rescued; this was a second chance at life.
Jessica was a prime example of that mentality.
She lived her new life on Ker to the max.
“Girl!” she squealed when she answered the call.
“I haven’t heard from you in ages! How are you doing?
” I had barely enough time to tell her I was fine before she announced with a shriek that her boyfriend had asked her to marry him.
For a while, she’d dated everyone interested around the compound—Kertinal or human—and for one short stint, the Rummicaron intern.
Last year, she’d settled in long term with Jared, and the two clearly couldn’t be happier.
It was one of the reasons I’d chosen to leave.
It sounded mean, but it just wasn’t the same being miserable and lonely on your own as when you had a friend sharing in the misery.
My mouth felt too dry as I went through the motions, telling her all the right things.
I was a terrible friend, but it just made me sad how alone I was.
It was my own doing—I was the one who had left—but still…
“Listen to me,” Jessica said. “Blabbing on and on about my life and wedding plans, when all I let you say was “Fine,” and we both know that means you’re anything but fine.
What’s really going on with you, Mar?” And that right there was why she was such a good friend.
Sometimes she got a bit self-absorbed, but she always cared.
“I don’t know,” I said, biting my lip. “It’s hard to run this farm, I guess?” I ended up explaining that the machine had broken down and that I’d had to hire a mechanic to fix it. Of course, the first thing Jess asked was if he was hot. My stuttering gave it away.
“Ah, he is! You need to ask him out, introduce him to some Earth customs! Did you know that it’s going to be Valentine’s in a few days? Letty is taking her Kertinal beau out for it. He’s taking it very seriously—so cute.”
I remembered Letty. She was a quiet, middle-aged woman with an always-serious face—unless you managed to make her laugh.
She had the most infectious laugh, and it would often have half the mess hall in stitches if she started.
I kinda missed Letty’s laugh. “Good for her,” I said, my mind whirring with weird, half-baked ideas.
“You don’t know Jeltom, he’s so serious and gruff. ”
Jessica laughed. “Don’t you know, quiet waters run deep?
Aren’t Aderians all empaths? I wonder what they’re like in bed.
” I chortled with a true burst of happiness as I considered that, but then I shook my head at my friend.
I didn’t think Jeltom could be an empath, he was so different from the others.
Not all of them were, anyway; it was barely acknowledged out loud that the majority was.
The Aderians were very tight-lipped about that sort of thing.
It was very nice to discover that Jessica was willing to stay on the call with me all evening.
It was daytime where she was, but she’d canceled her plans before I could object.
And then it was just like the old days, the two of us huddled on the couch together, plotting and fantasizing about the future.
I hadn’t known Jess before the whole stasis thing and the rescue by the Kertinal.
Our pasts were so similar, though, that we’d naturally gravitated to one another.
By the time the cold had settled deep into the bones of the house and my toes had gone numb, I had to call it a night.
“Jess, I have to get some sleep,” I muttered through the laughter.
She had outlined the umpteenth ridiculous Valentine-themed plan for me to seduce Jeltom.
I couldn’t stop giggling, even as I was convinced I could never do it.
That next morning, though, when I spotted him through my window in my front yard…
my thoughts on that changed. What did I have to lose, anyway?
I couldn’t keep running. I couldn’t stay hidden forever, not if I wanted to put an end to the loneliness the way Jess was doing.
Okay then. Was I really doing this? Yeah.
When I opened the front door, I realized I was.