Sol, p.7
Sol, page 7
No, no report or algorithm would prove them more perfect for each other than the love shining in her Earther eyes.
But then that misty gaze sharpened on him. “Why?”
“No reason, really.” He stepped back. “Good luck with that…” He gestured at the chaos hanging around her.
“Don’t believe in luck,” she muttered. “Just figuring it out.”
But belief was the problem, wasn’t it? He made his way back to the center of town, following his datpad tracking signal until he caught a glimpse of Brin’s van parked across from the Twinkle.
Brin didn’t believe. She’d made that very clear. And his task now was to make sure that didn’t change.
So he mustn’t change either.
Fighting the midday crowd at the Twinkle meant there were two people standing at the counter and every table was occupied. But his gaze passed over all of them to lock on Brin.
She’d commandeered one of the best spots at the window, and the daylight—as strong as it would get at this point in the solar cycle on this world, poised on the liminal edge of rising and falling—backlit her profile in primitive, precious hues of silver and gold.
Within him, the fynix shuddered, making his steps falter, and she looked up when he was still halfway across the room.
Her gaze slammed into him like a plasma grenade, and the hot thrill that followed the sweep of her eyes should’ve immolated him on the spot. Let her explain his spontaneous combustion…
Then a tiny smile trembled on her lips, as if she was trying to hold it back but couldn’t, and the fervor within him mellowed to something deeper, though no less dangerous.
Ignoring the line at the counter (he didn’t think he could risk another pastry anyway) he strode toward her.
The table she’d chosen was the smallest but it still had two chairs, and no one had taken the second; as busy as the Twinkle was with people trying to beat their afternoon energy crash, they were in Sunset Falls, after all. He paused with one hand hovering over the curved metal back. “May I?”
Her lips curved a little more. “I think we’re past those sorts of pleasantries.”
He pulled back the chair with maybe slightly more screech than was strictly necessary. “That was last night. And you left. Today is a different day.”
A hint of a flush chased around her cheeks. “I…sleep better alone.”
She’d tossed all night. “I hope you were warm enough,” he said blandly.
This time her smile was wry, and she gave him a look. “Not even close.”
Because she hadn’t been close to him.
He wanted to say it, but he didn’t. “I talked to my contact in the sheriff’s office about your gear. She said she had the deputy’s report and she’d forward a note to the nearest pawn shops. But actually, the closest one of those is Evens’ place, so…”
Brin sighed. “Thanks for trying. I have theft protection and recovery on my laptop, but nothing’s come back to me yet.”
Yeah, there’d been a lot of nothing lately. “If you’re willing to give me your account info, I might be able to run a different kind of trace.”
Rather than enthusiastically jumping on his offer—and why not when she’d so enthusiastically jumped on him last night?—she sat back in her chair. “You never really told me what you’re doing here in Sunset Falls.”
He attempted a smile. “You never really asked.”
She did not return the grin. “What are you doing here in Sunset Falls?”
Harder to avoid the question now. Well, he’d done that to himself, hadn’t he? While he knew the laws of closed-world contact and had studied the basics of clandestine operations as part of his battalion training, a Xymiran fynix was not considered a beast of deception. “As Devon told you, I work for Mr. Evens.”
Brin eyed him with none of the lascivious interest from before. “Doing what? You clearly don’t work behind the counter since you had to think while ringing me up yesterday.”
By the Changeling God, she was a problem, and yet he admired that about her. “I work in private security. Mr. Evens has had some security issues himself”—considering Evens had gone missing, that wasn’t even a lie—”and I’m helping him with that.” Not much of a help yet.
She seemed to weigh his answer, like a questionable rock she was thinking of cracking open to see what was inside. She hadn’t pressed him for the history of his scars, just taken pleasure in what their bodies could do together, but then she’d refused to spend the night in his warm nest, preferring to suffer in the cold outside. Why was she so suspicious of his offerings?
I’m not sure I ever believed in ghosts, but that’s when I figured out why people lie.
She would only believe in what she could see.
That should make his task easier, yes?
Looking deep into her eyes, he too sat back, casually hooking one arm over the back of his chair so that his jacket gaped open. While his high-necked tunic didn’t reveal anything, he wanted her to remember what was underneath. “I’m only being nice so that you’ll have to see me again.”
She blinked, and then a laugh jolted from her. “At least you’re honest.”
He wasn’t, not really, so he shook his head. “I can’t promise I’ll find what you’re looking for, but if it’s out there…” He let that hang as she had.
Because there was more out there than she believed, and he had to find it before she did.
Chapter 7
He wasn’t being completely truthful with her, Brin could tell.
But no one was ever completely truthful, were they?
She huffed out a breath. “I hate the idea of bricking my laptop when I already have half a show edited and ready to go. If you’re willing to take a shot at it, that’d be nice. As for the reason you’re being nice…” She gave him a not-nice grin. “We’ll see.”
The way his hand flexed once, it seemed her answer mattered more to him than he was pretending. But since she wasn’t getting far on her own, she’d follow this chance as far as she could.
She leaned forward. “So here’s the thing. I’ve been going through my notes—and this is going to sound like a conspiracy theory, but…I think ‘New Fan’ who emailed me to tell me about this UFO story and Farah, the person telling me about the alien matchmaking service when my van was broken into, are the same person.” She quickly explained the too-similar talking points while Sol sat quietly, his gaze focused on her intently.
Maybe a little too intently? She trailed off. “Um, do I need a tin foil hat?”
“I’m sure Devon could help you with that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Only if I admit that maybe they were right about Sunset Falls being too weird for me.”
The amusement in his eyes dimmed, and he glanced away. “Ignore the weird. Stick with what you know.” He looked down at his smart watch. “If you want to give me your account info?”
After a quick glance around—ugh, now she definitely looked like a conspiracy theorist—she murmured her laptop login and password.
When he glanced up again, his gaze was hooded. “Any other tech that was taken have an uplink?”
She’d brought her phone into the diner with her… “Oh! I had a mobile hotspot in my computer bag.” A little burst of excitement went through her. “The laptop was powered off, but I had the hotspot on to keep my music going while I was driving. I don’t remember turning off the hotspot when I went inside to eat.” Then her enthusiasm faltered. “But there’s no way to track a hotspot, and my carrier isn’t going to care enough to help me locate it.”
Sol lifted one eyebrow. “I care enough.” He poised a finger over his watch. “What was the contact data on that device?”
She frowned. “I don’t have that one memorized. Damn.”
He pulled a micro-thin cable from the watch with an odd jack on the end. “May I have your phone?”
Uh… It was one thing to let him jack into her, but this? Warily, she nudged her phone across the table. When the unfamiliar connector capped the headphone input, the screen of her phone flared white. “Hey…”
“It may take a minute to track,” he smoothly interrupted as he unplugged. “Longer if we have to wait until the person activates the device.”
He wasn’t even going to question her allegations? She frowned at him. “Really, why are you helping me? You know I’d sleep with you again anyway.”
His dark eyes glinted. “I told you it’d be cold out.”
That wasn’t the only reason, and he knew that too, obviously, but she wasn’t going stoke his ego when he was being deliberately evasive. “Maybe I just need more quilts.”
“Maybe you just need mine.” He smirked at her.
“Well, that’s not going to keep me warm tonight at the UFOooooktoberfest.” She hesitated. “Want to go with me?”
His smile dropped. “UF…Ooooo?”
She fumbled the quarter-page flyer from the side pouch of her messenger bag. “I didn’t make it up.”
He angled the flyer toward him, brow furrowing. “What does the ooooo mean?”
“You know, the sound ghosts make.” She frowned back at him.
He tapped a fingertip on the UF text. “I thought this was about aliens.”
Who was being weird now? “It is, but with Halloween coming up, plus the brewing and distillery fest, I guess they were getting all the foolishness out of the way at once.”
He pushed the flyer back to her. “I wouldn’t think you’d want that.”
“It’ll be perfect.” She leaned toward him. “Because if I was that lady who told me about the Intergalactic Dating Agency, I’d definitely be there. And if I see her…”
Sol grimaced. “And if I told you that wasn’t a great idea?”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not going to attack her or anything, just get my gear back. And find out why she sent me this way and then made my job that much harder.”
As he considered, his eyes flicked toward the window, catching the light in a way that found the deep ring of blue in his irises again, like a secret revealed. “Fine.”
“Really fine?” She smirked back at him.
“But if you see her, you must tell me first.” His expression said his command was non-negotiable.
As if merely saying something made it so.
She huffed in the back of her throat, and he must’ve taken that as assent because he pushed to his feet with a nod. “I will accompany you to the festival,” he announced. “But you’ll need more than a quilt to keep you warm.” He gave her a look. “Unless I am in it too.”
Gathering her things, she rose. “I imagine tromping around the lake in a quilt for two might look a little weird.”
“But it would be warm.”
Weird and warm sounded…kinda nice, actually. But the show had to go on.
She detoured past the counter where Devon was swapping shifts with the would-be musician and stuffed a few more bills in the tip jar since she’d been lost in her notes for too long.
The barista gave her a look while never pausing an expert espresso pull. “Still here? In Sunset Falls, I mean.”
Brin nodded. “I just want to apologize to you about my attitude before. You were absolutely right that there’s more to this place than meets the eye.”
“Hmm, and what could’ve convinced you?” Devon glanced past her slyly at Sol who was waiting at the door.
“Well, yeah,” Brin drawled. “But also…” She tried to find the words, then just gestured out the window and repeated her own nebulous thoughts. “It’s kinda nice, actually.”
With an imperious nod, Devon seemed to forgive her. “Go to the Gloaming Spirits Distillery booth. Tell them I sent you.”
Brin grinned. “Free samples?”
“Secrets.” The barista turned to the next person in line. “Next!”
Brin got out of the way.
Sol’s jaw was tight as she strolled up to him. “What was that about?”
“Secrets,” she said.
If anything, his expression turned harder yet, but he didn’t ask for an explanation. Just as well, because he wasn’t sharing his, and she didn’t have one anyway.
But she’d find out.
He held the door for her and they stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sun slanting over the green treetops was pleasant, but a chill wind whispered along the pavement at her ankles, and she tugged her heavy sweater closer.
“The feed and hardware store is just down the way and will have protective clothing,” he said. “If you don’t mind walking.”
She fell into step beside him, admiring again the appeal of the little street—and yeah, maybe admiring the man too. Even without a quilt around them, she was, like, twenty degrees hotter next to him, her pulse winging her blood around her body like she was a supercollider trying to find the God particle.
She frowned to herself. They had found the God particle, actually. And it wasn’t really a god, just a subatomic boson with a less sensational name. How much of searching yielded more mundane answers? And why wasn’t that enough? Why did people keep looking for the next thrill, the newest phenomenon, not caring for what was right in front of them? Poor scientists, just trying to explain the real-world wonders.
Poor little girls on their rickety bikes, crashing into other people’s secrets.
She shook off the pointless memory. The day was too nice, and she had an even better night planned. Speaking of plans…
She glanced up at Sol again. “So you never told me what kind of security you do.”
“Secret,” he said brusquely. When she snorted, he slanted a look at her. “Not my secret.”
He wasn’t her story, she reminded herself. So she switched back to her own conundrum. “Why do you think that woman would go to all the effort of contacting me, bringing me here, and distracting me at some dive diner to take my stuff? My gear isn’t worth that much.” She frowned and sucked in a breath through her teeth. “It’s kind of freaky to think that somehow she knew where I was going to be and had accomplices to break into my van while she distracted me.”
Sol glanced down at her reprovingly. “You’re jumping to a lot of assumptions here. And does the why matter if you get your belongings back? I think this is more proof that what seems like a mystery is just another con.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I suppose. It just…makes my teeth itch.”
He jerked his chin back. “Teeth can itch?”
“No! My point exactly. Teeth shouldn’t itch, and misdemeanor burglary isn’t the kind of story I’m interested in.” She huffed out a breath. “True crime gets clicks, but it’s ghosts, goblins, and little green men that have the real staying power of capturing the imagination.”
They walked in silence for half a block before he cleared his throat. “Why does everyone always say they are little and green?” He sounded a little aggrieved.
“Watch my show.” She winked at him.
He huffed out a laugh. “Do you really think you can change people’s minds just by disproving phantoms and monsters and aliens?”
She glanced up at him and then away. “No,” she admitted it last. “The truth is, you can’t prove a negative. The universe is too vast in one direction, too infinitesimal in the other to ever say never.”
He let out another sound under his breath that was less like a laugh and more of a sigh. “But you keep going, even though it’s hopeless?”
“Not hopeless,” she protested. “Every misidentification or hoax I find is one more…” She faltered.
He stopped in his tracks. “One more what?” He straightened to his full height. “Are you trying to find the one that’s true?” his tone pitched to the incredulous.
“No! Of course not,” she blustered. “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said about my work? Each story just gets me closer to completing my alphabet book of anomalous phenomena.”
“But you’ve already done UFOs,” he pointed out.
Had he watched her whole playlist? Because she hasn’t yet put them all in order to market it as an A through Z primer. “Well, I didn’t have an alien dating service,” she pointed out, trying to keep the blush out of her face. “So I could slot it under the D for…dating.”
But he was watching her too closely. “Why did this story of alien dating interest you? What set off your instincts? Are you secretly looking for an alien mate?”
“Of course not,” she burst out. “I’m not even looking for a date on this planet.”
He glowered. “That’s good, considering you have a date with me.”
She laughed, and the tension between them dissolved like the morning frost. “Well, I know you’re the real thing,” she pointed out.
He stalked along beside her, half scuffling his heavy black boots. “You shared the story of your scar with me,” he said softly. “And I did not give back in kind.” She waited for a heartbeat, but when he didn’t suddenly gush all his secrets, she shrugged. “You gave me orgasms,” she said magnanimously. “That’s all I was asking for.”
He scuffed one booted a little harder, as if that was some sort of insight into his psyche, but didn’t reply until he gestured across the street to the big, red, farm-like building of the feed store. Having spent her share of time in small towns, she’d come to love the eclectic places. They tended to be a little more utilitarian than shops like Evens’ Odds & Ends, but if she needed a tool or beef jerky or a referral to the nearest reliable mechanic, feed stores had never steered her wrong.
Also, they had the second-best gossip to cafés.
This one had the prerequisite slightly bristled older man in a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans working the counter. He smiled at them. “Hey, Sol. Got a project?”
“Always.” Sol angled toward him, hooking a thumb at Brin. “Need overalls, muck boots, those good heavy socks your husband makes.”
“On Evens’ tab?”
Brin protested. “I got this.” But Sol’s deeper voice carried over her. “If you would.”
She grumbled along behind him as he led the way toward the back of the store. The scents of alfalfa and sawdust and leather tickled her nose, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers over the tight, bright wool of the Pendleton blankets as they passed the display. One of those would keep her very warm.
