A Beauty Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 1) (11 page)

Chapter 6

            
 
Emmy woke up to the sound of scratches on the front door, the creak of it being opened, and slobbering.  She knitted her brows together as she threw her legs over the bed and stretched as she stood.  Before she went to see where the noise came from, she threw her hair in a messy ponytail.  Her feet were wrapped in socks and proceeded with caution as she stepped out of her room.  Since the cabin was made from wood, each step danced on the threat of causing a squeak to cry out and let anyone who might overhear become aware of her whereabouts.  She wasn’t familiar enough with her new environment to know where to step, but each step was slow and deliberate to avoid it as best she could.

When she reached the top of the stairs, her eyes took in a sight she never would have thought she’d see: Jason was kneeling down, still clad in that robe, his chin length hair standing in every direction, in front of the open door, where the dog from yesterday
was eating what Emmy could only assume was the leftover beans from last night on the front porch.  She could hear the slobbering, the lapping of the water Jason had offered the animal, Jason’s low murmurs as he petted the dog between the ears.

A warm feeling gripped hold of the insides of her stomach, and as she continued to watch, her body leaned against the frame and one arm crossed her chest to hold onto the other.

There was something gentle about him in that moment.  He knew the dog would be back every day, now that Jason had offered it food, water, and affection.  Of course, just because he had been nice to an animal did not mean he wasn’t a murderer or had redeemed himself, but the fact that he did so while he thought she was still asleep, as though he had nothing to prove to anybody, did something to Emmy’s thought process.  She couldn’t hate him.  Perhaps she could not even dislike him, even if she wanted to, even if it was the safer option.  But he couldn’t be a monster, not if he genuinely cared about this animal.

He shocked her again when he stood back up and took a step back.  He waved his right arm – drowning in the sleeve of the robe – indicating the dog could come inside.  Emmy’s eyes narrowed at the scene.  She thoroughly believed that animals were good judges of character, even better than other humans.  If the dog chose to take its chances out in the woods, with the bears and the cold, it would tell Emmy that while Jason was generous, he wasn’t safe.  The dog waited for a moment, its big brown eyes looking from Jason to the inside of his cabin, its eyebrows twitching with each glance.  Finally, it eased its way into the home and began to pant, as thought it was already comfortable with its new home.

“Good boy,” Jason said and she could hear the smile in his voice as he closed the door behind him.  He took care not to step in the small, plastic bowl that was still occupied with water and patted the dog’s head once again.

It was only then that his eyes noticed Emmy standing there.  She wasn’t quite as quick to react as she hoped to be, and instantly picked up the shoulder of her sweater and fixed it so her skin wasn’t showing.

“I thought we could keep him,” he said, indicating the dog.

Emmy wasn’t sure what to make of the statement.  The fact that he used we instead of I caused her heart to harden.  But not as much as it should have.

“I’ll get dog food the next time I go to the store,” she replied.  She began to walk down the stairs and she offered him a smile.  It was small, but it was real, and he smiled in return.

She experienced a different feeling when he smiled at her, like light shining through the cracks of the walls around her heart, and she had to look away in fear that his mere smile might cause them to crumble.  “Have you decided on a name?” she asked, looking back at the dog, her voice sounding strained.  The dog looked happy to see her again, wagging his tail, his eyebrows pushed up as high as they could go.  She smiled at the sight and couldn’t help but pet him once she reached him.

“Not yet,” Jason said.  He didn’t talk fast often so at least she could understand what he was saying.  “I figured what with you being an expert in dogs you’d have some suggestions.”

The two began to walk into the dining room, the dog right on their heels.  Emmy made a note to pick up the plastic bowl and replace it with a bigger one in the kitchen.

“I’m no expert,” she said.  She was surprised to see Jason up so early.  Normally she had a couple of hours to herself in the morning where she could plan on what to make for breakfast and make him coffee so he had food and a hot drink by the time he woke up.  Now, he took a seat at the dining table, the dog already lying by his feet, while Emmy walked to the cabinets.

“My grandfather’s the real expert,” she went on.  Oatmeal sounded good.  She remembered her grandmother’s oatmeal, made from scratch.  Papa would always put much more sugar than Grandma would allow and more than enough cream.  Emmy was in charge of the raisins, and after mixing everything together, got the best oatmeal she ever had.  Maybe she could try making some for breakfast.  “He researched dogs before settling on Bingo.”

“Bingo?”  His tone was light and amused.

Emmy felt herself smiling as she grabbed the oats from the back of the cabinet, strands of her hair falling into her face. “Australian Shepherd,” she said.  She grabbed another bowl and, after filling it up with water, began to boil the liquid.  “He wanted the smartest dog he could find, and managed to find a breeder who just had a litter of puppies.  Bingo was the only one who didn’t jump up and bark and that was why Papa picked him.”

“Papa?”

She flushed at her slip of the tongue.  “It’s what I call him,” she murmured, turning away from Jason in order to find the sugar.  “My grandfather, I mean.”

“You sound close,” he mused. 

“He’s my…”  Emmy paused, setting the sugar next to oats.  She turned so she could look him in the eye.  “He’s my everything.”

His tilted his head up, his eyes still locked on Emmy.  He looked almost wistful, but his eyes had a touch of sorrow embedded in them.  “I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to anyone in the world,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Emmy turned back to the pot and found the water was already boiling.  She poured her guesstimation of four cups of oats in the water before capping the canister and putting it back in its proper place.  She opened the fridge and found cream but no raisins.

“We have no raisins,” she stated before she realized what she had said.

We.

She had said we.

She needed to stop that before it got out of hand and she didn’t even realize it.  Clearing her throat, she closed the fridge, rubbing her palms on her cotton-clad thighs.  “I’ll just put it on the list,” she said.

Silence hung between the two of them.  Even the dog had stopped panting and was resting his head on his paws.  Emmy could see ribs protruding through his skin.  She would make sure to get extra dog food so he could put some fat on his bones.

“So you named Bingo?” Jason asked as she stirred the oats.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, nodding her head.  The sleeve slipped down and revealed her bare shoulder, which she readjusted as quickly as she could.  “I was in first grade,” she gave as explanation.  “My grandfather said I could name him.  Bingo stuck.”

“First grade, hmm?”  He caressed his bottom lip with the pads of his index and middle finger, appearing to be deep in thought.

“Trying to figure out my age, are you?”  The words were out of her mouth before she realized she had teased him.  She glanced at him, a sharp movement that was only supposed to last a second in order to gauge his reaction to her familiarity with him.  It lasted more than a second, however.  His blue eyes were warm again, and more than that, they sparkled, something she hadn’t encountered before this.  It was hard not to look at him, especially not with those dimples winking at her.

“I know better than to do that,” he said.

The coffeemaker beeped and Emmy shut it off, grabbing a mug from one of the cabinets positioned above the stove.  She poured him a glass, filling it up about three-quarters of the way before stopping, and adding a bit of cream.  He liked his coffee predominantly black, but because he was impatient and wanted to drink it when it was hot, she would add cold cream to cool the liquid a bit.

She blinked and nearly dropped the mug.

“Are you all right, Emmy?”

His voice caused her realizations to disappear and her grip on the mug tightened so he wouldn’t notice her fingers shake.  How did she already know that about him?  A man’s coffee order was only supposed to be known by his wife or his barista.
 
Althoug
h
, she reasoned as she handed him the mug
,
you are kind of like his barista.
 
True, but she had never expected to learn his preference so fast.  Something about the knowledge felt intimate, and she wasn’t comfortable that it was now ingrained into her mind.

She never answered his question, and instead turned back to the oatmeal.  It was almost done.

“I’m twenty-two,” she finally said. 

He nearly choked on his coffee.

“Are you okay?” she asked, hurrying over to him.  “Was the coffee too hot?”

He shook his head as he coughed.  Emmy reached over and began to pat his back.  She wasn’t sure if her gestures were helping, but he wasn’t pushing her away.

“No, it’s not that,” he murmured once he could, capturing her eyes again.

He wasn’t wearing glasses, she noticed.  Why had it taken her so long to realize this?  She gulped, realizing that his eyes looked bigger without his glasses.  They seemed soulful, human.  She was suddenly aware of how close she was to his sitting frame, her hand still resting on his back.  Immediately, she dropped it and headed back to the stove, turning it off.  It didn’t take long before she had two bowls of oatmeal on the table, a cup of coffee for herself, and the sugar and cream between the two.

“I hope you like it,” Emmy said as she sprinkled sugar on food.  “My grandma used to make it for me when I was young.”

“Wait.”  He stood up, causing the dog to pick his head up and watch his new master head over to the same cabinet where Emmy found the sugar.  He grabbed something and walked back to Emmy’s chair.  He leaned over her shoulder so his hair touched her cheek.  When he spoke, his breath invaded her bare shoulder.  “May I…?”

Emmy couldn’t find her voice, but she nodded. 

He sprinkled something on her oatmeal before pulling away and sitting back down in his seat, letting her breathe again.

“It’s cinnamon,” he explained, doing the same to his own oatmeal.  “A little trick my grandmother taught me.”

This time, Emmy couldn’t stop the smile on her face if she tried.  She poured a good amount of cream and after stirring, began to eat.  It wasn’t her grandmother’s oatmeal, but it wasn’t bad, and with the addition of raisins, it would be better.

“So,” he said, looking up at her.  “A name for a dog.  Any suggestions?”

“Well, what do you want to call him?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.  Why did he want her opinion on this anyway?  She knew if she did contribute to naming the dog in some way, she’d get attached and it would be harder to leave when it was her time to go.  However, she also knew that whether she chose the dog’s name or not, she’d end up attached to him anyway.  There was no shorter way to her heart than animals, especially dogs.  “I can’t explain how it happened with Bingo.  As silly as it sounds, the name just came to me and it fit.  He was Bingo, he was always Bingo, and I was lucky to figure out his name.”

“So he’s hiding his name then?”  He seemed amused by this and looked down at the dog.  He was smiling again – he seemed to be doing more of that as well – and then, glancing up at Emmy, said, “That sounds a lot like Rumpelstiltskin, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re going to name your dog Rumpelstiltskin?” Emmy asked, hiding her smile with a big bite of oatmeal.

“He is a bit of a trickster, isn’t he?” Jason asked, flicking his head so some of his feathered bangs might get out of his eyes.  No such luck.  “And he’s hiding his name from us.  We could call him Rumpel for short.  What do you think?”