Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Theron
She is the first woman I ever searched for. Aila brought out the hunter in me right from the start. This is so much more than our second chance. This is me coming back for a second helping.
I’ve never done this before.
Strangely enough, Aila doesn’t have any questions.
It is my understanding that women like to fill a vacuum with conversation.
But the ride back to the inn takes place in relative silence.
The only sign of life that Aila gives is a small gasp when I hug one of the sharp corners without dropping my speed.
A quick inhalation of breath as gravity pulls us closer to the ground—and then she cuts the sound off.
I am reminded of the night I first laid eyes on her.
How brave she was to serve others as if it were a battle.
A smile for regular clients. A hesitant appraisal for strangers.
And a stern frown for those who had overstepped their mark before.
So sassy and brave.
Landslide passes by in a blur. I know every blade of grass on this tidal island. On a map, it might look like a lonely sandbank lurking in an off-shoot creek from the lake—and that’s the way we like it—but up close and personal, Landslide is more than the sum of its parts.
This is where I can operate in plain sight.
The chalet inn is lit up brighter than a Christmas tree. Aila turns to look at it as I slow down and we ride past. The Riders’ bikes are relegated to the back of the clubhouse, out of view of the inn’s guests.
Kicking the stand down and edging back, I fight the restless feeling I get when she releases the hug-hold she had around me.
Shaking back her hair, Aila hops off the bike. She’s smiling, but shy.
Shrugging out of my jacket so it will come as no surprise if my skin is cold, I find myself at a loss for words.
I’m new to all this. In all the long years of my existence, the only women I have willingly seen more than once are the ones on Landslide. And out of them, only Celia Heiner is still alive in the true definition of the word.
Fumbling, I drop my jacket and bump my head on the bike’s handle after bending down to pick it up. I think they call it being a klutz.
“My mom is going to go ballistic when she gets here, you realize.” Aila breaks the ice.
“My bike has an age limit, just like one of those movies with nudity, violence, and sss…”
I leave the word hanging.
Is Aila going to chew me out? In my experience, most young women feel a certain fondness for their mothers.
“Sex?” Aila smiles. I like her smile. A brief compression of dimples in her cheeks and suddenly her eyes are smiling, too. “No one under the age of eighteen?”
“Yep.” Moving closer, I put my arm over her shoulders.
We begin walking to the side door of the inn together.
Bright lights and the buzz of conversation beckon us inside.
Music is playing in the background. One of Luna’s favorite tunes.
I can’t resist adding something extra to my explanation. “And no one over the age of eighty.”
Ducking out from under my arm, Aila bends forward, doubled over with laughter. The sound of her giggles is so infectious, I start laughing, too. It feels good. I haven’t laughed out loud for four years.
Wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, she warns me. “Please don’t tell that joke to my mother. It would be a one-way ticket into her black book.”
I’m intrigued. Sounds like Aila is trying to share her special blend of dignity with her mother. Stepping aside, I let her enter ahead of me.
It must be close to nine-thirty at night, so the inn’s pub is pumping. Every local is here except for the Heiners. At their age, they have to go to bed early. Running the general store during the summer keeps them busy, and they ain’t going to see sixty-five again.
I wait for Aila’s reaction when she clocks that she’s one of only three women in the pub bar area. The rest are men.
“Reminds me of Harry’s Saloon.” Her remark is casual as she perches on one of the bar stools. “Is that why you were there that night? For the nostalgic vibes?”
Again, we laugh in unison together. It feels good. The discomfort I felt after knocking my head against the bike handle has gone.
Luna is at the end of the bar counter, giving Aila and me room to chat before coming to take a drinks order. I see her eyes dart over to us, appraising our body language. Her expression is enigmatic.
May as well be honest. Who was it who said you don’t have to have a good memory if you tell the truth?
“Nah. Actually, I was in La Pas to go hunting.”
“In summer? Is this the part where I’m supposed to jump in and tell you all the best places to go poaching?” Aila comes right out and says it. “Because I can’t help you. Mom and I only lived in La Pas for a few months before moving on.”
I’m intrigued. I begin to say it. “If you move around so frequently, maybe you should give guys your real name if you want people to stay in contact—”
But Aila speaks at the same time. “What made you just up and duck out on me that night?”
Awkward laughter aside, I think we might both be nervous. I’ve never had to dance around a direct confrontation like this before.
Gesturing in Aila’s direction, I concede. “You go first, darlin’. I was only going to bitch about you giving me a fake name.”
Covering her eyes with her hand, Aila groans. “Argh! Yeah, I guess I forgot. I use my biological dad’s surname on my profiles.”
That makes me lift an eyebrow, but I’m okay if she doesn’t want to go into more detail. Aila takes the opportunity to tell me off. “But you wouldn’t have needed to look for me if you had just stuck around that night.”
She’s blushing at her boldness. She has no idea I know the reason for her rosy cheeks. I was in her bedroom that night—in mind and spirit, if not in body.
“You were busy.” I don’t need to remind her. Again, she astonishes me with her reluctance to share anything.
“Mm.” The only sign that she remembers what happened in the parking lot that night is the small frown between her dark eyebrows.
It’s worth it to give her memory a prod. “You must have made a killing in tips that night.”
Aila’s eyes narrow. “That’s a very specific comment, Theron.”
My name sounds like music on her lips. Fuck. She’s got me all riled up and we haven’t even begun drinking yet. “Probably because I would like a specific answer.” Lifting my finger, I show Luna we are ready to make an order.
We are interrupted by the commotion at the door.
Amelia O’Hara is in the building. Leaning heavily on Ben Magoo’s arm, Aila’s mother is all smiles.
The way we abandoned her at the jetty has been completely forgotten as Amelia scopes out the masculine aura of the men in the room. Local men and Riders.
Lumbering around the room, Ben introduces Amelia to everyone.
Credit where credit’s due, Aila has an attractive mother.
She’s vibrant and vocal, the personification of the images on her social media.
Russet hair billows like clouds around her head.
Blue eyes crinkle and smile. A wide mouth with teeth only slightly stained by red wine and coffee.
Her teeth alone are enough to tell me that Amelia O’Hara never sticks around anywhere long enough to set up a dentist appointment.
Glancing at Aila, I try to read her face. But meanwhile, she’s reading the room on behalf of her mother, checking the warm welcomes and analyzing them for pity, scorn, or disingenuousness.
What I know about family dynamics is close to zero, but aren’t overprotective instincts meant to go the other way around?
Who’s looking out for Aila?
Finally, Ben brings Amelia over to our side of the bar counter. Giving my arm a playful smack, Amelia pretends to be pissed.
“I have a bone to pick with you, Mister. Riding off into the sunset with my daughter on the back of your rickety motorcycle? I could have been eaten by lions or tigers or bears. If it hadn’t been for Ben here, I might have died of fright.”
I don’t think anyone notices when Amelia winces slightly and shakes her hand free of pain. It must have really stung her when she slapped my inflexible arm muscle like that.
When neither Ben nor I get the analogy Amelia is making, Aila steps in. “Oh my? Dorothy and the scarecrow, anyone?”
The two women look at Ben and then me before making eye contact with each other.
“I guess they don’t have The Wizard of Oz on DVD here!”
Ben still doesn’t get the reference. “We don’t have predators on Landslide, Amelia.
Had something real nasty stalking the cattle back when I was a boy, but whatever it was must have crossed back over the land-bridge.
” He gives the explanation in an earnest way, like he’s scared Amelia will change her mind and ask to go back home.
Luna is back to take orders. Ben opts for a bottle of the beer we make in the microbrewery in the basement. Amelia says, “Sounds lovely. I’ll have the same,” before batting her lashes at Ben.
Aila looks over at her mother. The two women make eye contact.
I see the secret communication between them. Amelia darts her eyes in Ben’s direction and then makes a small up-down motion with her chin. Aila gives a subtle nod to let her mother know she understands.
Jumping down from the bar stool, Aila pretends to yawn. “I’m all tuckered out from the boat ride, thanks. Guess I’ll be heading off to bed.” Nodding at Luna and Ben, Aila mouths the words “good night” to me.
Amelia is all smiles. “Ben was so kind as to carry our cases to our room, Aila. He’s my hero.”
Shit. Amelia sure does slather on the compliments with a heavy hand, but from the look on Ben’s face, I can tell that he’s loving it.
Touching his cap, Ben gets all bashful. “It was nothing, Amelia.”
I’m not going to fuck things up by going in quite so hard with Amelia’s daughter. “Let me show you where the rooms are, Aila.” Nice and easy does it. I do not need Aila thinking I’m like one of those slimy Harry’s Saloon bar flies.
Before we can duck out, Luna calls me. “Theron. You forgot this.” She’s holding a bottle of special fluid for me. Aila waits for me at the door as I snatch the bottle out of Luna’s hand.
“Is that a craft beer?” Aila wants to know as we step into the night.
“Yep. But it’s strictly MC only. D’you mind if I slam this?”
A little smirk on her pretty face, Aila shrugs. “If you think you must.”
I don’t know what to do. The closeness we achieved on the bike is fading. It’s as if Amelia was able to stick a spoke in my wheel with her loud entrance. Aila is acting totally distant towards me now.
Damn, but I should have prepared for this. Luna often makes jokes about something called the “friend zone.” Is that where Aila wants to put me?
She seems to perk up out of her somber mood when she sees the inn’s front entrance outside. “It’s been made to look like a Swiss chalet. I love it.”
Clutching at straws, I take a shot in the dark, trying to find a common interest without looking like a bumbling fool. “I traveled through the Alps when I was younger. All the houses were made from wood, but the foundations and chimneys were stone. The people cherish their cows more than anything.”
Yep, they sure did—a thousand fucking years ago! I have no clue what the country is like now.
Aila gives a light laugh. “Well, the Swiss do love their cheese.”
The light wool jacket she’s wearing should be thick enough to allow me one brief touch without her reeling back from the chill of my skin. Taking her arm, I guide Aila through the unlit corridors and stairs to the room Luna set aside for the O’Haras.
“Switzerland is a land of lakes and mountains.” I want to punch out the wall with frustration. Making small talk is not my strength. “It was very beautiful, even in those days.”
Enough with the Switzerland chitchat. Why can’t I think of anything else to say?
Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I step to the side. Aila stops next to me and doesn’t go in. We are only inches apart, the perfect oval of her face shines pale in the darkness as she shakes her hair back.
The surge of bloodlust crashes like a great wave in my chest. I can’t stop my fangs from sliding out. Now is not the time to turn on the light.
“Thank you for picking me up and showing me to my room. Would you like to have breakfast with me tomorrow?”
She has no idea she’s with a creature of the night. But I would go into the sunlight for Aila if it meant getting an invitation to her bedroom.
A hot blush of embarrassment floods her cheeks as she waits for my answer. “Or… or not. Sorry. I know nothing about you. Do you have a partner?” A deep breath and then she regains her composure. “Would you like to bring her along, too?”
There has never been anyone like you, Aila. Never been anyone who comes close to you.
Swallowing down the drool, I clamp my mouth closed and mutter through clenched teeth. “I will come alone—for that is what I am.”
But it doesn’t bring a smile to her face when I say that. In fact, Aila looks frightened. Stepping quickly into the room, she closes the door in my face.
Her withdrawal brings out the monster in me. How can she be so immune to my dark glamour?
I sense that she is still standing there behind the door, waiting in the gloom to hear the sound of my footsteps walking back to the bar.
I will not give you the satisfaction of sending me away! Not after four long years of seeking, waiting, and wanting…
Pressing myself against the door, I breathe in her scent. I no longer care that it petrifies her that I am still here.
A tiny whimpering sound as she hears my harsh panting.
“So…” All my polite words have left me as I grapple to give the impression of humanity. “Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?”
A painfully long wait. I have never felt the sting of rejection before, because I have never cared enough about anyone to bother. This is different.
I think I might even be sweating tiny droplets of blood as the desire pulses in my veins.
A small noise as Aila licks her lips. “Go away, Theron. I share a room with my mom, for God’s sake. I’ll have breakfast with you tomorrow if you promise not to look at me as if I am on your menu.”
“Sorry.” I’ve never said that word before, but it seems appropriate. “Until tomorrow then.”