Challa (9 page)

“How do I smell to you?” she whispered.

“Like honeysuckle.”

“Honeysuckle?”

The question took him by surprise. Leaning back, he looked into her puzzled gaze. “You don’t know what honeysuckle smells like?” Challa shook her head, and Compton forced himself to keep from smiling, afraid she would take his response the wrong way. “There’s a vine of honeysuckle growing in my backyard. Come with me and I’ll show it to you.”

The invitation felt natural. Another step in the order of the way their relationship should advance. Hello. Let’s have lunch. Care to go with me to a movie? Come over to my place.

Oops. Skipped step three.
At the same time he realized he could count on less than one finger how many women he had invited to his home.

He no longer wondered why this woman managed to have such a hold on him. She did, and that’s all there was to it. She had him in the palm of her hand, and he was right back to being the overweight, zit-faced nerd from high school.

“Compton?”

Compton started. He had happily started to drown in the pool that was her scent and her silky hair. Opening his eyes, he saw the tiny smile curling the edges of her lips. If they hadn’t been standing in the middle of town square in broad daylight in the middle of the day, he would have chanced a kiss.

“Compton?” she repeated, searching his face.

“Yes?”

“I-I need to go. I have a show tonight.”

He straightened and reluctantly released his hold on her arm. Oddly, he felt disconnected doing it, as though a switch had been flipped.

“Will you be there?” Challa asked almost timidly.

“Be there?”

“Yes. Please? Come to the show tonight.” She seemed to be pleading with him. Compton started to assure her he would come whenever she wanted him to. In fact, she didn’t have to ask. She could take his attendance as a given. Unaware of his thoughts, she hurried to add, “I’ll be doing show number two.”

Compton frowned. “Show number two?”

She nodded. “Last night was what we call show number one.”

“The one where you try to intimidate everyone?” He grinned back.

This time Challa giggled, and Compton knew he was head over heels in love. “If you think
that
was intimidating, just you wait until tonight!”

“Then count on it, Challa. I’ll be there. Promise.”

“I’ll be searching the crowds for you!” She backed away another step, gave him a little wave, turned, and started walking away, when Compton realized she didn’t have any sort of transportation.

“Challa! Wait up! Don’t tell me you’re planning on walking all the way back to the carnival, are you?”

“It’s not far. How do you think I got here in the first place?”

“Let me drive you back,” he offered, hoping she’d say yes. It would mean maybe ten more minutes together, but it would be ten minutes they wouldn’t have otherwise. And, who knows? Alone together in the cab, they would have a small measure of privacy.

She paused for a second then accepted. “All right.”

“Great!” He held out his hand, which she took, fingers lacing between his. Together they went to get Compton’s truck where it was parked near the hardware store.

Chapter 10

Intimidation

“Compton, please stop here and let me out.”

He gave her a questioning look but went ahead and slowed down. Pulling over to the side of the road, he took care to avoid sinking into the ditch and stopped. Challa got out and closed the door, and waited for Compton to lower the window.

He could see the carnival another quarter of a mile down the road. It stood out like a sore thumb, bordered on three sides by fields of low-lying soybean and cotton, making it easy as pie for people to spot it as soon as they left town. Come sundown when the tents and rides lit up, even a blind man could find it.

“Challa, let me take you the rest of the way.”

He could see the wind kicking up dirt on the road and in the fields. Little dust devils whirled past. In a matter of minutes, gray clouds like balls of dirty lint had rolled in from the west. Challa leaned in the window.

“This is fine. I can walk the rest of the way.” Her hair lifted and swirled about her shoulders like a live animal. Her tone told him she didn’t want him to drive her all the way back to the carnival. For some reason she either didn’t want to be seen with him, or she didn’t want someone to see them together.

He started to say something when a couple of fat raindrops splattered on the windshield. Compton shook his head. “Storm’s coming in. Get back inside, Challa, or you’ll get drenched.”

“It’s okay, Compton. I need to—”

The rest of her reply was drowned out by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. At the same moment, a wall of water fell from the sky and Challa gave a little shriek of surprise as she was drenched from head to toe.

Compton leaned across the cab and shoved open the door. Challa scrambled back inside as another peal exploded directly overhead, followed by an increasing deluge. Quickly, he raised the window before pulling her against him. As the storm surged around them, they watched from within the warmth and safety of the cab.

She was shivering in his arms, but his body heat was providing her with some measure of comfort. Her red hair, now the color of wilted rose petals, hung in thick, ropey strands. Her thin sundress clung to her body, revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and only the tiniest slip of a thong. The realization raised his libido to an uncomfortable level. Even so, there was no way he was letting go of her. Not when she had willingly come into his arms and was happy to remain there while the roaring rain beat incessantly on the truck.

He felt her move slightly. A pale, cold hand reached up and found the neckline of his shirt, which was now as wet as she was. In fact, he was just as soaked to the skin as she was. None of it mattered. His arms were all the way around her slender body, and it would take a crowbar to pry him away from her.

Challa moved slightly, adjusting her position where she was nearly sitting in his lap. Her fingers touched his throat, their tips like small ice cubes. “I love the way you smell, too,” she whispered.

The confession surprised him. Lowering his face, Compton found her staring up at him. This close he could see the purple flecks moving in her irises, floating like tiny specks of ice in a glass of sapphire-colored water. Mild shock went through him as he wondered how that could be possible. However, his mind was still reeling from her simple statement.

“My smell?”

“Yeah. Like oranges,” she softly confessed.

Oranges? Not like Old Spice?

She shifted again in his lap, and nothing mattered anymore except for her buttocks grinding down his erection. There was no thought prior to what he did next. It was merely the right thing to do, and he did it without regret.

Her lips were cold and trembling when he kissed her. Challa reacted, pulling back slightly, but only slightly.

Compton kept a tight rein on his emotions, and an even tighter rein on what his body demanded that he do. It would take very little effort to push her down across both seats, but he wasn’t about to jeopardize their budding relationship with any crass actions or threatening moves. No, if it took handcuffing his wrists to the gun rack behind the seats, Compton swore to himself he would take things as nice and easy as he could physically manage in order to win her trust.

In order to win her.

It took him all of two seconds to learn that Challa had not kissed many men, if any. Her mouth was responsive, yet she timidly imitated his actions. On the plus side, her lips were growing warmer. In fact, the steam coming off their clothing was leaving a thin film of moisture on the windshield and windows.

Her hands continued to press against his sternum, her fingers clutching his button-down, short-sleeved shirt as if she was afraid he would let her go. Her breathing was steadily growing faster and shorter, and she moved closer to him.

The interior of the truck smelled like one vast pool of fragrant honeysuckle warmed by the sun. Not cloying, but light and sweet. He doubted it was her perfume, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility of it coming from her clothing, or her soap or shampoo. But there was no doubt in his mind that the scent was as much a part of her as her skin, her hair, and her lips.

Her tongue licked the corner of his mouth. Compton felt his erection shift in his lap, nearly standing on end like a loaded missile. Beneath his hands he could feel her skin and the thin dress she wore. The flex of muscle beneath the incredibly soft texture of her back was like a potent drink going straight to his head. Besieged by the hundred and one sensations of her mouth, her skin, her body, her hair, her breath, her fingers, her hands, and her scent, Compton moaned.

Challa gasped in reply. The next thing he knew, her arms went around his neck, and she was pressing her whole body along his.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…

The words slid through his mind like a litany. This woman wanted him, and by her responses alone he could tell she was just as inexperienced as he was in the art of lovemaking. Maybe less, maybe more. But he would swear her trembling and hesitant kisses were not the actions of a woman who frequently gave herself to any road show Johnny who waited after the end of each performance for a chance to get to know Challa the Alien Girl…and hopefully get a piece of ass in the bargain.

Yeah, Compton. And what do you think your chances are you’ll actually get laid?

The snarky comment had the same effect as a cold shower. Compton regretfully pulled away from Challa’s full lips as a groan rattled in his chest. He bowed his head, to feel her lightly kiss his forehead.

“Compton?”

Looking back into her face, he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Challa, listen.”

“I never th-thought…” She hiccupped, and a teardrop slipped down her face. Another drop glittered like a faceted diamond on her long, dark red lashes.

Compton paused and debated whether to tell her what he’d felt he had to tell her. That he wasn’t quite the man she may believe he is. That he had a history she had to know about if they wanted to take this relationship any further.

Especially if their relationship was going to become sexual.

If it could become sexual.

Another thought surfaced, and Compton found himself at a loss for words. What were the chances Challa was a virgin?

Almost like a second thought, he remembered what she had started to tell him.
Breathe, Compton. Breathe and concentrate on what she’s trying to say.

“You never thought what?” he whispered, wiping away the runaway tear with his thumb.

“I never thought I would find you.”

“What are you talking about, Challa? I don’t understand.”

Her chin was trembling. Her face was so close he could see his reflection in her pupils. Compton had the nearly irresistible urge to kiss her again, but he forced himself to resfrain from doing so until after she’d finished what she needed to say.

Her voice hitched again. Another tear fell, this time on the other side. “My life mate. You’re human. I never—”

A horn blatted loud and close by. It startled the both of them, and Compton grabbed the steering wheel with one hand to steady himself. The rain had let up enough for him to see the red taillights of the car that had just passed them receding in the rearview mirror. Overhead, the clouds appeared to be breaking up. The storm had spent its fury. Compton glanced down at where Challa remained partially sitting in his lap. She gave him a questioning look.

“Storm’s over. Are you still cold?” He didn’t want to ask her what she meant by her last remark. In fact, these past few minutes seemed too surreal to be believable. He needed some time to think things over. Put his feelings in perspective. Most of all, he needed to make some hard decisions about himself…and Challa.

She shook her head to answer him. Compton swiveled around and started up the truck. Challa tucked herself against his side and laid her face on his shoulder. Gradually, carefully, he pulled away from the side of the dirt road, which was now more of a muddy lane, and slowly drove the rest of the way to the carnival.

He turned to pull into the grassy field where he had parked last night, but Challa pointed at the cluster of trailers and RVs at the other side of the main tent.

“Can you drop me off there?”

“Not a problem.”

Compton took care to watch out for muddy ruts. The ground was saturated to the point where he found himself driving in nearly an inch of rainwater.

“Let’s hope this field has good drainage, or else your customers are going to find themselves slogging through ankle-deep mud,” he commented. From the corner of his eye, he could see Challa silently acknowledge him with a nod of her head.

“Here. Stop here,” she suddenly said. They were parallel to an old tan and white Winnebago. Compton hit the brakes and put the vehicle in park. He turned toward her.

Challa looked up at him, expecting some sort of goodbye, but not sure of what to say or how to go about it. Smiling, Compton leaned over to kiss her one more time before she exited the cab.