Crymsyn Hart (3 page)

George squinted at the computer screen. Her eyes hurt from staring at the monitor for so long. All the data they had collected, from the weather, balloon had been stored and logged. She’d been going over some of it, but there were other things that kept distracting her. Jeremy kept nodding off and snoring. She’d poke him and he’d be useful for another five minutes before he was brain dead once again. Finally, she’d had enough and sent him home telling him to come back tomorrow afternoon when he’d had a good night’s sleep. Since his departure, she’d lost track of time and now it was dark outside.
Shit. Trina’s going to be waiting for me. Her and that stupid bar she likes to hang
out at.
I’m not sure why she likes it. The place is filled with hicks.
George had tried to get out of it, but there was no saying no to her best friend once she started using her puppy dog eyes on you.

Checking her watch, she had enough time to get home, shower, and change.

Throwing her things into her bag, she raced to her car and began her half an hour drive home from the college. While she did, her mind wandered back to the man on horseback that she’d seen in the field.
It’s just my imagination. I didn’t see anything. I don’t
need to dredge up the past.
There was no man. Just like the shadows I see in the clouds. They’re
easily explained away. He turned and winked at me though. Jeremy even commented on it. There
has
to be something to it. He took control of the storm and made it go away so it wouldn’t hit the
van. No. George, get a hold of yourself. It’s bad enough half the teaching staff thinks I’m nuts
because I can sense storms and know when they’re going to turn. Sometimes I think they want
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to put me in their labs and dissect me. I wouldn’t be surprised. Bert glances at me like I’m some
kind of lab rat. I remember the time he tried to hook electrodes up to me to see if I had different
brain waves and then he asked me out for dinner.

She shivered just thinking about her co-worker. While she recalled buried memories, others were pried loose and brought to the surface. Her father’s laughing and smiling face. The way he smelled of fresh hay. The sound of his screams interrupting her peaceful place while she watched the twister which was coming toward her. He was running, yelling for her to get out of the way, but she couldn’t move. Fear and awe had held her to the spot. Then at the last second there was a man with a white horse who came to her right before the cyclone hit.

She slammed down on the memory.
No. I just made him up. He wasn’t real. That’s
what the years of therapy were for. I’m not to blame for my father’s death. It was a force of
nature. Nothing I could’ve done would’ve saved him. Even though he was trying to save me.

She pulled up outside her house. She had inherited the old farmhouse after her mother died a couple of years ago after a long, hard fought battle with breast cancer.

Watching her mother’s struggle with the disease, through the chemo and the hair loss was heartbreaking, it was a dark time in her life. Knowing her mother had gone to a better place and was no longer suffering was the only source of comfort she had after her mother passed. She threw herself into her work. That was when she had come up with the idea of trying to see if there was an instrument that could predict oncoming storms, but nothing had panned out so far. Just a lot of failed experiments. A light breeze blew across her face ruffling her hair. She glanced up to the clear night sky and breathed in the wonderful crisp air. Sometimes she wondered what was beyond. She wasn’t sure if something watched out for her or not, but she wanted to believe her parents were happy wherever they were.

She grabbed the mail and headed inside. Checking her watch again, she only had half an hour to get ready and then leave.
I can do this.
She dashed upstairs, went into the shower, and rummaged through her closet. Inside she pulled out typical cowgirl attire.

Short denim skirt, black T-shirt, black cowboy boots, and then she pulled her dark brown hair into a ponytail. She studied her reflection. Her eyes were her best feature.

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She didn’t require much make-up because of her tanned skin from spending a lot of time outside studying weather patterns. Years of helping out on the farm had given her an athletic body. She ran two miles in the morning and three times a week worked out at the school gym. She grabbed her purse and then bolted out of the door.

When she arrived at
Spunky’s
, she noticed Trina was already inside.
This is a first.

Normally she’s always late.
Great. Now I’m never going to hear the end of it.
She dug into her purse and splashed on some perfume and put on a little lipstick and eye shadow before getting out of the Jeep. She walked in amazed they had actually carded her. The band was taking a break so the cacophony of voices was the only sound. She scanned the crowd and saw Trina by the bar flirting with a couple of guys. She rolled her eyes. Her friend was always flirting. Her big brown doe eyes and round face pulled men right to her. George, on the other hand, repelled any potential suitor that hung around her for more than a few months. She figured it was her electric personality that ran them off and that she was only good for attracting storms.

Her best friend smiled and waved her over to the bar. When she got close enough, Trina wrapped her arms around her in a bear hug. George had to pry herself away to catch her breath. “Where the hell have you been?” She hung her head. “I lost track of time at the office. Sorry.”

“You and your weather experiments and balloons. Did you run into a twister today? I heard one touched down fifty miles from here,” Trina teased.

Her friend had no interest in her storm chasing and wished that she wouldn’t do it at all because she didn’t want her to get hurt. “Yeah, we got some readings. That was what I was doing before I lost track of time. How was your day?” She shrugged. “Sucked until I met these two here.” Trina nodded to her left. “This is Cliff.” She gestured to her right. “This is Daniel.” Cliff had short black hair, was stocky, with a pockmarked face, and was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. He smelled of horses. She noticed Cliff’s gaze was fixated on Trina’s low cut pink top. Both of them were probably hands on a local ranch or a farm.

Daniel was taller than Cliff. Wiry, but his tight shirt hinted at muscles underneath. He 22

had a faraway look to his eyes. She wasn’t sure of the color of his hair because it was under his hat, but it was short. He gave her a hesitant smile and tipped his hat.

“Hey guys. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Cliff answered.

Daniel remained silent.

“So what do you guys do?” George asked. Trina handed her one of the beers she had on the counter. She took it, but wasn’t in the mood to drink. Her mind was clouded enough from the events of the day. She thought coming here would get her mind off her brush with death and the unexplained cowboy, but it hadn’t.

“We go to OU,” Daniel answered softly.

“Really? I’m one of the professors there. What are you studying?”

“Religious Studies,” he replied.

“Nice. Good luck with it.” George saw the band reassembling on the stage. She really wasn’t into Daniel knowing he was at least ten years younger than her. She didn’t go for younger guys, at least not a decade younger, and it would be awkward if she ran into him on campus. Plus she could be fired for dating a student. She wasn’t about to let that happen.
Trina really knows how to pick ’em.
The band started playing a song. The lead singer’s voice had a sultry deep tone that she enjoyed. It was a cover of a song that she knew. Her thoughts traveled back to Jeremy in the van that morning. She knew it was real. It hadn’t been her imagination.
The guy probably went back into the cornstalks and that
was it.

“George, did you hear what I said?”

She blinked and focused back on Trina. “Nope. Sorry. What was that?” The boys had headed toward the dance floor waiting for them.

“They want to dance. Come on.” Her friend tugged her hand.

Her feet remained planted. “I’m not really feelin’ it. Why don’t you go and dance with them? Honestly, they’re a little young for my taste.” Trina leaned in and whispered. “They might be young, sweetie, but that makes them all the more delicious. I can’t wait to be a sandwich in between those two. You sure you don’t want a crack at them?”

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She smiled. “No. You go ahead. I’m not in the mood for dancing.” Her friend narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re okay?” George saw the other men’s eyes wandering. “Yeah. Fine. Go ahead and have fun.” Trina winked and then headed toward the boys. George set her beer down on the bar and watched the people strolling in. The crowd was a variety from college aged kids to middle aged guys. Some bikers and a few others that looked like they had never been in a country western bar before wearing chinos and button down polos. She shivered with the breeze which blew in from the open door.

“What will it be?”

George turned and faced the bartender. “Ahh. Tonic water please.”

“No gin added to that?”

“No, not tonight. I’m driving.” She took the tonic water he poured. A tingle ran up her back. The same thing she encountered when a storm was forming.
Nothing was
predicted.
The feeling got stronger until the hair raised on the back on her neck.

“Excuse me.”

The pit of her stomach dropped. Her glass barely touched her lips when she heard the husky voice. Everything in her froze. She turned around slowly to see who was behind her. Her gazed stared at the black, but well-worn cowboy boots that somehow seemed familiar. Dark blue jeans encased muscled calves and thighs. His pants weren’t too tight and just hinted at the curves and bulges they concealed. A stretched black shirt hugged a broad chest which only enhanced the flatness of his stomach. Sandy brown hair brushed the top of his shoulders. Full lips that might turn up into a sneer in a heartbeat were smiling at her. Dark blue eyes gazed at her holding more wisdom than they should have.

“Can I help you with something?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I was wondering if you might want to dance.” She glanced at him and tried not to melt right there on the barstool. The band was starting a slow song. Couples were getting snuggly on the floor. A pang of longing 24

went through her. He seemed handsome enough. He waited patiently. She sipped her drink one more time and placed it on the bar. “That’d be nice.” He offered her his hand. She took it. Once she did, a bolt of electricity zapped her and made her stagger. He caught her and held her close. “Are you okay?” She reached the top of his chin and tilted her head back so she could gaze into his eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw a tornado reflected in them. Shaking her head, she dismissed the vision. G
et a hold of yourself
. “Yeah. Tripped. That’s all.” He led her onto the dance floor and rested his palm against the small of her back.

The heat of his hand burned through her thin shirt, but the overwhelming sense that a storm was near made her head spin. Her stomach knotted the way it got before a boomer rolled in. Her muscles were tense and she didn’t know why. There was a static charge in the air. She rested her hands on his shoulders and moved in time to the music.

Over her partner’s shoulder, she saw Trina sandwiched between the two college boys.

Her friend gave her a thumbs up.

“What’s your name?” her mystery man asked. His hot breath tickled her ear and made her shiver inside.

“Georgiana. Everyone calls me George. You?”

“Wyatt.”

She nodded and settled against his shoulder inhaling his musky scent. She tried to ignore the static charge in the air and relax into the dance. For whatever reason, she was comfortable with him. Not many men made her feel that way. If they did, then the relationship lasted a few months before they left. He pressed her a little closer against him until her breasts brushed his shirt, but he made no further move. His hand remained on her back and didn’t try to slip down and cop a feel. His other hand rested on her hip. She appreciated he was being a gentleman. Then the song ended.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“I’m good thanks. I had quite a day and I’m not sure alcohol needs to be involved in it. What about you?”

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He chuckled. “I thought men bought drinks for ladies and not the other way around.”

“Ha. I’m no lady.”

Wyatt laughed. “You sure look like one to me.” His lips were only inches from hers.

The pull between them was dizzying. She was already tipsy even though she was stone cold sober. Gathering her self-control, she placed a hand on his chest.

“What would you do if I wasn’t?”

His gaze darkened. “You really don’t want to know. If you’re playing around with me, I’ll—”

George felt him stiffen up.
Crap
. “I’m just kidding. Sorry. I’ve had a-ahh…well a fucked up day. Thank you for the dance.” She began to walk away, but he caught her arm and spun her back around.

“I know you were. I was just joshing. I’m sorry you had such a crazy day. We should compare stories. Maybe you can come back to my place and tell me all about it.” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you? Do you honestly believe I’ll go home with you just after one dance and the offer to buy me a drink?”