The Spirit Tree (17 page)

“Tessa, take another week. Dad will understand. Plus, we can’t have you seeing clients when you look like you lost the featherweight championship.” Hailey hugged me one more time, and the happy couple left.

I stared at the front door. My bedroom called to me. Whatever ground I’d gained with Hailey quickly retreated now that I was alone with Bryson.

Bryson asked, “Did you mean what you said?”

“When?”

“We could hear most of the conversation. That’s why we turned on the television.”

“You eavesdropped on a private conversation?”

Bryson’s shoulders slumped. “Forget it.”

“Yes, I meant it.” I lowered my head. Bryson stared with a skeptical expression. The silence between us stretched out until I couldn’t take another second. As a counselor, I prided myself on my ability to wait out a patient. I was comfortable with silence, unless of course it was
my
personal life under discussion. “I need time. I had a life before this happened to me, and I want it back. At least some of it, anyway.”

“You made that perfectly clear.” He sounded tired.

“That’s not what I meant.” I walked to the couch and plopped down, drawing my feet under my body. “As much as you drive me crazy, I feel comfortable with you.”

He sat on the other side of the couch, facing me.

“I’m not used to leaning on people, especially not someone I’ve only just met. I know I need to lean on you, though, and it’s making me nuts.” I hoped he understood what I was trying to say.

“I can see that.” He held his emotions so close to the vest, I couldn’t read him.

“I’ll stop being such a jerk. You don’t deserve it.” I chewed the skin on the edge of my fingernail and frowned. A nervous habit I thought I’d kicked a few years ago—wrong again.

“I’d appreciate that.” He leaned forward and took my hand. I blushed. Did he take my hand to keep me from chewing my cuticle, or because he wanted to hold it?

Bryson stood and drew me to my feet. “Take off the robe.”

“What? No. I don’t think we should fool around, Bryson.”

“I wasn’t propositioning you.” He shook his head. “You need to shift.”

“Oh.” The heat in my gut, the small coil of my power, flared to life. I closed my eyes and focused. The room grew brighter, and my vision changed from human to something more precise. I stepped from the robe and opened my wings.

I stretched my neck and rolled my head. Bryson’s smile lit up his eyes. In that moment, I felt strong and beautiful. The instinct to fly rose up, but closed windows and a ceiling fan presented new dangers.

“Stay focused. Shift back,” Bryson urged.

I struggled to push aside the needs of my spirit animal. I dipped my head and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was human. The horror movies had it all wrong. My bones didn’t morph, and I didn’t produce supernatural goo when I changed forms. It felt like putting on, or taking off, a well-worn coat.

“Your face is fixed.” Bryson didn’t drop his eyes to my bare chest. He maintained eye contact, unaffected by my nudity.

“My headache is gone.” I bent down and picked up my robe. Smoke rose from the sleeves and hem. “And this is ruined.”

Bryson looked over the menu as if studying for a final exam. He flipped back and forth between three pages in complete concentration. He’d taken nearly five minutes to decide on a beer, partly because the drink menu was twice as long as the dinner menu. The Willow Tree Café had the best German food for miles, and a fun, laid-back atmosphere.

“Can I make a suggestion?” I grinned and pointed at a sampler platter. “The menu says it’s for two, but it’s enough food for four people.”

Bryson read over the description and flipped the page one last time. “That works, as long as we can get an order of sauerbraten to go.”

I sat back in my chair. “Sure. We’ll be eating leftovers for a week, but I’m game.”

“Pssht. I’m starving. I could eat it all right now.” He took a gulp from his mug. “I love German food. It was one of the perks of being stationed in Germany.”

“You were in the military?”

“Twenty years in the army, four stationed in Heidelberg.” He smiled at the waitress as she set a breadbasket on the table. I chuckled when he placed the order in German. The waitress seemed surprised but fell into a conversation. The only word I caught was
Heidelberg
, which he’d just told me was a place.

“What do you do now?” I sipped my gummi-bear martini.

“This and that. I haven’t had a day job in years.” He finished his beer and motioned for the waitress to bring another. “What made you go into psychology?”

I missed his question, surprised by his casual attitude toward being unemployed. No wonder he hadn’t complained about sleeping on the couch, or in Mae’s bed. Maybe he lived at the tribal house.

“Tessa?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you choose psychology?” Bryson nodded to the barmaid as she set his mug on the table. The woman tried to make eye contact with Bryson, hanging around the table. Heck, she even glanced over her shoulder to see if he was watching her departure.

“I like figuring out what makes people do the things they do.” I smiled. “For instance, the barmaid was trying to flirt with you. You, on the other hand, were clueless.”

Bryson laughed and leaned across the table. “Not clueless. She’s five three, greenish-blue eyes, has a tattoo on the side of her neck, and her earrings are in the shape of crescent moons. I didn’t encourage her because I’m here with you.”

My mouth fell open. “Wow. I’m embarrassed.”

Bryson shook his head, his smile brightening his eyes. “No, you aren’t. You blush when you’re embarrassed.”

“I don’t know if I’m flattered or freaked out that you notice so much about me.”

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. “It’s part of the job.”

Was I just part of the job? I sipped my martini, considering his words. The elders had ordered him to guard me. From previous conversations, I knew they’d spoken to him about the two of us collaborating to ensure the survival of our race. That couldn’t be all there was to it, but I didn’t know how much he cared about me as a person versus me as a Nunnehi mate.

“Excuse me, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

Bryson stood when I did. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all.” I smiled and walked away.

When I returned, the waitress brought the food to the table. Perfect timing, because I didn’t want to discuss his job duties. Bryson surveyed the enormous platter of food. He reminded me of a kid at Christmas, trying to decide which present to open first.

“Ladies first.” He motioned to my plate. I served myself a little of each of the items.

Bryson filled his plate and put a different flavor of mustard on each of the sausages. He made an art out of eating—each bite a mixture of meat, mustard, and sauerkraut.

He said, “Man, you weren’t kidding. This is really good.”

Something about watching a guy stuff his face made me happy. Maybe it was because I was raised in a house where dinner was an event, and nothing ever came out of a box unless it was pizza. “Save room for dessert,” I told him.

“No worries there. I have a separate stomach for sweets.” He winked and took another bite.

I mulled over his words. “Do birds have two stomachs?”

Bryson laughed, deep and loud. His smile softened the hard lines of his face as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I didn’t mean it literally.”

“Have you ever been married?” My curiosity got the better of me. I hadn’t seen this side of Bryson, though in all fairness, I hadn’t given him the chance.

“Once, but it was a while ago. She was a shifter, a fox.” Bryson must have seen the question on my face, because he quickly added, “Literally. Her spirit animal was a fox.”

I grinned. “Thanks for clarifying. What happened?”

“She died.” His smile dimmed, and he turned his attention back to his plate. “She was coming home from work. The roads were icy. She died at the scene.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached for his hand. “Do you have children?”

“No kids. Just dogs. They’re easier, and no one complains if you leave them in a crate while you’re working.”

“I love animals. I’d love to have a pet, but I’m allergic to cats, and I’m not home enough to take care of a dog.”

“What do you like to do for fun?” He crossed his fork and knife over his empty plate and sat back in his chair.

“I love the beach, camping, hiking, movies, and concerts. Anything, I guess. How about you?”

He titled his head. “With your skin, I imagine you burn easily.”

“Burn, freckle, peel. But I lather on the sunscreen and suck it up.” I debated opening the button on my jeans to make more room.

“I like to be outdoors, but I have been known to attend the ballet and theater now and then.”

“I was in theater all through school, at least when I was with Mae. I wanted to go to Florida State and major in fine arts, but I bombed the audition.”

“There’s this great community theater about an hour from here. I’ll get us tickets, if you want to go next weekend.”

“That sounds like fun.” We smiled at each other across the table.

The polka band started, and our conversation slowed. Music filled the restaurant, and several patrons danced. Bryson scooted his chair close to mine and leaned close. “I’d ask you to dance, but I’m no good at the polka.”

“I can do the chicken dance, but that’s about it.” I watched the band, distracted by how close he sat. I hadn’t noticed how good he smelled. I hadn’t noticed a lot of things about Bryson.

Two rounds of drinks and an apple strudel later, we wandered onto the street. Bryson took my hand and led me toward the parking lot, his to-go order dangling in one hand. “Want to walk a bit?”

“Sure. The lake is a block that way.” I pointed north, trying to think of something to say. I had so many questions, yet nothing sounded right. I stumbled on the uneven sidewalk, and Bryson put his arm around my shoulder.

“You’re a little tipsy?”

“No, I’m a little drunk.” I laughed, enjoying the comfort and safety of being tucked close beside him. We walked along the lakeshore. Moonlight was dancing across the water.

Bryson stopped walking and pulled me close. I turned my face up toward his. He brushed his hand across my cheek, cupped the back of my head. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” My stomach did a somersault and landed in my feet. Bryson slid his arm around me. The plastic bag made crinkling sounds as it brushed against my back. It distracted me, until he pressed his lips to mine. He teased my lips with his tongue, urging me to open my mouth. Bryson kissed me both gently and fiercely. He held my head firmly in place as he explored my mouth. When he pulled back, he ran his thumb over my lower lip, kissed the top of my head, and held me close.

“We should get you home,” he whispered into my hair.

“Uh-huh.” My head spun, but not from the alcohol. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had plans for me at home. The last thing I needed was to do something we might regret. Just because he said we should go home didn’t mean we would fall into bed. Did it? Did I want to?

“Tessa, relax. I can hear the gears turning in your head.” He turned toward me and smiled. “Stop thinking so much, and be here. With me. Right now.”

I laughed. “You and Hailey are going to get along great.”

Bryson drove back to my apartment and parked. I waited for him to check the surroundings without complaint. For the first time A.C.—“after Charlie,” as I began to think of it—I felt normal.

“Thanks for dinner. I didn’t expect you to pay.” I smiled when he took my hand.

“I don’t feel right letting a woman pay. I know it’s old-fashioned, but so am I.” He put my key in the door and motioned for me to stay in the hall while he went inside. “All clear.”

“Still, it was my suggestion, and it was expensive.”

He was unemployed. Besides, I owed him a huge debt for everything he’d done for me. “I mean, I don’t know if the elders are paying you for being my bodyguard, but you’re unemployed. I feel bad.”

“Unemployed?” He looked as if I’d lost my mind. “Why do you think I’m unemployed?”

“You said you hadn’t had a day job in years. I assumed.”

“I’m a sculptor. I do well for myself. Well enough that I don’t have to punch a clock.” He grinned. “Now you’re embarrassed.”

My cheeks burned. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. “I’m usually better at figuring people out. You have me all out of sorts.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He plopped down on the sofa. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure. Just let me change first.” I went into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers and an old concert T-shirt.

When I returned to the living room, Bryson was laughing at the screen. “I love
The Princess Bride
,” he said. I sat beside him. He pulled me close.

The next morning I woke in my bed and smiled, listening to Bryson snore from the other room.

“Tessa? It’s Aaron. We have a lead on the missing kids. Can you come to the station around ten?”

Bryson watched me out of the corner of his eye. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d overheard Aaron. The volume of his voice made my hangover worse. I turned my back to Bryson. “Yeah, sure. Be there in an hour.”

“Great. See you then.”

The call disconnected, and I set the cell phone on the counter. “There’s a lead in the case. Aaron needs me at the station.”

“I’ll come with you.” Bryson flipped the eggs he was cooking and put two pieces of bread in the toaster. The only salvageable food in my fridge: eggs and bread.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” I sipped my coffee. “I need to shower.”

“Eat first. It’ll help your hangover.” Bryson dumped half the eggs onto a plate, along with toast. “Or you could shift, and cure it in a few minutes.”

“That would be cheating. Hangovers are God’s way of making us not drink so much next time.”

“If you say so.”

I ate standing at the kitchen counter. My mind raced, distracted only by the pounding in my head. Bryson finished his food and moved to the sink. When we’d first met, I’d thought he was a Neanderthal, but the more I learned about him, the more he intrigued me.