Wingman: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Page 4

  “Looks like we got here in time. There are three horses left.” She strode up to a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. “Are you in charge?”

  “I am. My name’s Joe.” He stood next to a roan mare with a white patch over one eye.

  “They’re gentle, right? I’m not a rider, and my daughter has never been on a horse.”

  He patted the mare’s neck. Her tail was in constant movement, flicking at flies, but her big brown eyes looked calm and docile. “Most gentle horses you’ll find. That’s the only kind we have at the Hoppin’ Joe Ranch. This one’s a real sweetheart.”

  Wingman hadn’t been on a horse, either—had never seen one until he’d showed up at the lavender farm this morning.

  “They’re slowpokes!” piped up a little girl, perhaps a year or two older than Izzy, sitting astride the horse next to the mare.

  “This is my daughter Molly,” Joe said.

  Slowpoke sounded perfect.

  Molly looked at Izzy. “She can ride next to me, Dad!”

  Joe set a small riser next to the horse. Izzy inserted her foot in the stirrup and then boosted her into the saddle. He adjusted the stirrups and demonstrated how to use the reins. “You won’t need to do anything. I’ll lead the pack up front. One horse will follow the next.”

  “I’ll help her,” Molly said.

  “What’s my horse’s name?” Izzy asked. She grinned for a quick photo Delia snapped with her phone.

  “Honey Pie,” he replied, and then boosted Delia onto a horse. “This here is Daisy.”

  Wingman approached the horse next to Delia’s. He extended his wings to give himself clearance then placed his foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over the saddle. Once seated, he folded his wings. The lower vanes rested against the animal’s belly in front of its haunches.

  Joe eyed him. “You sure you don’t want to take off those wings?”

  “I’ll keep them.”

  “His wings won’t spook the horses, will they?” Delia asked.

  “No, ma’am. I was thinking more about his comfort.” He shrugged.

  “What’s Angel’s horse’s name?” Izzy asked.

  “Rocket,” Joe replied, moving down the line to double-check the cinches.

  “Glad I didn’t get that one.” Delia’s light tinkling laughter caused a funny curl in Wingman’s stomach.

  Joe hopped on a large beast at the front, whistled, and the animals plodded forward.

  They left the open field of the festival and entered a woodsy trail. He knew where they were because the Castaway had landed not far from here.

  Contrary to his name, Rocket was as gentle as the other beasts, and Wingman relaxed into the ride. The two girls began chattering, Izzy peppering Molly with questions about horses and the ranch. A happy smile danced on Delia’s lips, lighting up her whole face, and he discovered he couldn’t look away.

  Avians tended to have sharp features, hawk-like eyes under close brows, beak-like noses, and small mouths with long, thin tongues. Surprisingly, he liked Delia’s softer appearance, her wide, expressive eyes, her full mouth.

  His own countenance and features were more relaxed, less birdlike than a typical Avian’s. He was not viewed as attractive—not ugly but not handsome. Thus, he’d considered himself fortunate to have caught Lissa’s interest. She’d been beautiful. While they’d been in the early stages of courtship, their future had showed promise, and he’d loved her.

  Delia caught him staring, turned her smile on him, and his heart skipped a beat. Searching, but failing, to come up with a witty comment, he jutted his head at the two girls. “They seem to be getting along.”

  “Yes. Izzy has someone her age to talk to. I’m so glad we came, and you and I had a chance to talk. I am so sorry for yelling at you and freaking out—”

  He waved aside her apology. “You were protecting your child.”

  “Thank you. It’s hard being the sole parent. I thought raising a child would get easier as she got older, instead, it’s more challenging. I hate to stifle her inquisitiveness, her boldness, but I want her to be safe.”

  “She said her father lives in Heaven?”

  “Josh died when she was a baby. It’s been just us two ever since.”

  So heaven wasn’t an Earth province but referred to death. His translator couldn’t keep up with all the idioms. “I’m sorry.” He empathized with her loss. He’d lost so many people.

  “Thank you. It happened years ago.” She paused. “Have you ever been married…mated?”

  Was she asking because she was interested in him? She sat tall on the horse, her breasts bouncing with the gentle movement of the animal. He remembered the matching birthday dresses, hers, Izzy’s, and the doll’s. Today she wore faded tight blue jeans and a short-sleeved scoop-neck shirt. The dress had showed off her legs and curves but so did the clinging shirt and tight jeans. Avian females weren’t nearly as rounded, as soft.

  “Almost. Her name was Lissa…I had hopes…maybe…but she died.” They probably would have mated if the bombardment hadn’t occurred, but if she had been his genmate, would he be so attracted to Delia now? He wasn’t sure anymore.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We hadn’t known each other long, but there was potential,” he said, unsettled by his uncertainty.

  “Is there a difference between mating and marriage?”

  “I don’t know much about Earth marriages, but ’Topians bond for life. The life-link is programmed into our genetics. When we meet a genmate who has a receptive, complementary life-link, the bonding just happens.”

  “And you had this with Lissa?”

  “We were exploring the possibility.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “If you’re genetically bonded, doesn’t it happen automatically?”

  “For many it does. For others, the life-link takes time to develop.” That’s what he’d always told himself because he and Lissa had been an exception. He’d observed how fast the bond had formed with others. His parents had met and mated on the same day. He pointed to some wildflowers, their faces raised to the sun filtering through the trees. “It is like growing plants. They begin as seeds. Some mature fast, others slowly, but they all grow roots into the soil.”

  “Josh and I fell head over heels. We met in high school science class—we joked we had chemistry right from the start. I thought we would be together forever.”

  “Has there been no one else?” Unlike ’Topians, humans could have many intimate relationships during their lives—or so he’d heard.

  She shook her head. “For the longest time, I couldn’t even contemplate dating. Now, I could be open to a relationship again, but having a child complicates things. We’re a package deal. Some men are scared by that.”

  Their eyes met. Hers were brown, questioning yet vulnerable. He could see old hurts and new hopes in their depths, emotions mirroring his own. He’d come so far, been through so much. The air grew hot with portent and potential, and that funny sensation tugged at his heart region, while tingles sizzled from wing tip to toes. “I’ve never been scared by packages,” he said.

  “You don’t know what’s in the package.” Her voice was low. “You might be surprised.”

  “Isn’t that the fun part—being surprised?”

  She laughed then. “Kind of like leaving the house for two minutes and coming home to find an angel in your living room.”

  “She was supposed to tell you.”

  “She did tell me. I didn’t believe her.”

  Wingman rocked with the movement of the horses, their hooves clopping a steady, soothing beat. In front of them, the girls conversed like they’d been friends forever, Molly talking about some sort of summer camp she would be attending.

  “Is it all right if I tell Izzy you’re an alien?” Delia asked in a low voice, but the girls weren’t paying attention to them anyway.

  Their horses swatted their tails at the insects buzzing in the warm air, and he felt relieved he’d been able to shed the heavy c
ape and release his wings. At the festival, he’d flown around the arena, but he’d pretended to be tethered to the crane, still cloaked by lies. In speaking the truth, more than his wings had unfurled. Something in his being had been liberated. In a short time, it had become important for Delia to know the real him. He hated pretending to be somebody or something he wasn’t.

  He listened to Izzy rattle on about her puppy, the ice cream man, her birthday party, and moving from Pittsburgh. “I would prefer she know I’m an alien than believe I’m an angel, but please don’t tell her I’m ’Topian. My people are in danger. Earth has provided a haven, but we don’t broadcast to the galaxy we’re here.”

  “I doubt she has any galactic connections, but she’ll tell anybody anything—except for the important stuff! I still can’t believe she didn’t tell me about the kidnapping attempt right after it happened. I’m so grateful you intervened and made sure she told me. Many people might have watched and done nothing.”

  “The situation felt wrong right from the start,” he recalled. “And then when he grabbed her…children are precious. The bonding between parent and child is as strong, if not stronger, than the mating bond. I could not imagine a greater sorrow than losing a child.”

  “She is everything to me.”

  They’d ridden in a circle, looping around the big lavender field. The paddock came into view. The ride was almost over. The horses knew it, too, and picked up the pace, eager to return. He wished the ride didn’t have to end, but two more performances were scheduled. He wondered what he could do to further the contact. When Avian genmates met, the biological imperative pushed them together, eliminating the need to decide what to do next. He had no idea what human mating rituals entailed. “I’ve, uh, enjoyed our talk,” he said as the horses came to a stop.

  “I did, too. Very much.”

  Starting at the front of the line, Joe helped the women and children off their horses. Izzy started to swing her leg over.

  “Wait for the man!” Delia said.

  “I’ll help her.” He dismounted the way he’d seen Joe do then lifted Izzy from the horse. She huddled with Molly who’d dismounted all by herself.

  “What’s your phone number?” The girl produced a phone.

  Izzy extracted her own device, and the two exchanged information.

  He assisted Delia with the dismount.

  “Thanks. It’s a long way down,” she said.

  Her scent like flowers and vanilla seduced his senses, and his hands lingered on her bare upper arms for a second longer than necessary. Her skin was as smooth as he’d imagined. He didn’t want things to end here but was stumped. What do I say?

  He glanced at the two animated girls. “Your daughter made a friend.”

  “She did.” Delia sounded pleased, but when she brushed her hair out of her eyes, her smile seemed to be for him alone. His breath caught in his throat, and his gaze drifted to her mouth. His body, from head to wing tip, hummed.

  Molly rejoined her father, and Izzy tugged on her mother’s arm. “Molly says there’s a summer day camp she’s in that I can go to. Can I go? Huh? Can I go? There’s a booth where you can sign up. Please, Mom?”

  “We’ll check it out,” she replied, and then looked at him. “I guess, I’ll uh, see you around, maybe? I, uh, work nights at the Whitetail, but I have Mondays and Tuesdays off.”

  “I’ll be performing the rest of the afternoon,” he said.

  “Well, um, it was nice, uh, meeting you.”

  Mother and daughter rejoined the festival.

  Chapter Six

  Izzy rattled on a mile a minute about her new friend. Delia was thrilled she’d hit it off with someone her own age, but she listened with half an ear as they went to find the summer camp booth.

  She’d thought she’d hit it off with a tall, winged alien, but then…nothing. Could she have dropped any more hints? Could she have made it any plainer she’d like to see him again? She’d all but asked him to ask her out.

  Maybe he didn’t like me.

  Could she have misread the signals? The chemistry had simmered all day. She’d become hypersensitive to his nearness, his voice, his scent. He’d invited himself to eat with them and then to go horseback riding. She’d caught him staring at her. That indicated interest, didn’t it? He’d brushed against her several times—she’d assumed accidentally on purpose. Maybe it had been accidental.

  Her shoulders slumped with dejection. Men had approached her over the years, but she’d been mourning. Wouldn’t you know the first man she was interested in didn’t return the feelings?

  “Can I have a horse?”

  “No. You got a puppy.”

  Perhaps he, like so many other men, wasn’t willing to take on a ready-made family. Izzy could be a handful, which he’d already had an opportunity to experience. But he’d said he’d liked package deals! Of course, he was an alien, so perhaps he hadn’t understood what package deal meant.

  Maybe I should have been more direct. Come right out and asked him out. Then again, if he’d wanted to see her again, why wouldn’t he have acted on her hints? He didn’t even ask for my phone number!

  Her six-year-old daughter and her new friend had swapped numbers. “I’m pleased you brought your phone,” she said. “You should carry it all the time.” It hadn’t occurred to her until she saw the phone that she should have told her to bring it in case they got separated at the festival.

  Izzy enjoyed playing games, but the phone was more for emergencies and Delia’s peace of mind. She needed to be able to reach her at any time and vice versa—something she felt even more strongly about after learning about the near-kidnapping. Thank goodness, Wingman had been in the neighborhood.

  They found the summer day-camp booth. The series of one-week sessions at the Argent school would begin the week after next. There would be a field trip to one of the lakes, either Lake Argent, Pend Oreille, or Coeur d’Alene.

  “I want to be in Molly Attison’s camp,” Izzy said.

  “I can’t tell you which child is enrolled in the camp or in what session,” the counselor said. Izzy’s face fell with disappointment, but Delia appreciated the security.

  “However, the camps are organized into age classes.” She peered over her glasses. “Five-to-eight-year-olds are in the same group.”

  Izzy beamed. “I’m six. Molly is seven and a half.”

  “Sign her up for the first one-week session, and we’ll see how she likes it,” Delia told the counselor. Since she worked nights, and camp occurred during the day, she would see little of her daughter for an entire week, but the interaction with other kids would be good for her. This was exactly the sort of thing she needed.

  “You and Molly got along well,” she commented as they left the booth and headed for the exit. They’d seen and done everything that had interested them. She’d peek in the gift shop on the way out.

  “She’s nice. I like her.”

  “I’m glad. You need friends your own age.”

  “She’s not my age. She’s seven and a half!”

  She hid a grin. “I meant friends who are children. Don’t ever invite grown men to the house again. It’s not safe.”

  “I thought you liked Angel.”

  “I do like him. Since meeting him, I realize he’s a nice man, but it takes time to get to know a person. So, promise me? Don’t befriend strange men—or women for that matter.”

  “All right.” She kicked at a rock then peered up at Delia. “Angel likes you.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He’d allowed her to walk away without attempting to see her again. Her spirits sagged a little. It wasn’t meant to be.

  “He does! He stared at you with goo-goo eyes.”

  Not likely but her lips twitched with amusement. “And what do goo-goo eyes look like?”

  Izzy made a face reminding her of Charlie, the new puppy.

  She laughed. “I would have noticed that.”

  Izzy smiled smugly. “You’ll see.”
>
  “Speaking of Wingman…he isn’t an angel.”

  “Then how can he have wings and fly?”

  The gift shop had come into view, and it appeared crowded. Apparently, many people had planned to do the same thing—stop in on the way out. Delia pulled Izzy to the side. “He’s not from Earth. He isn’t human; he’s an alien.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Like a Martian?”

  “Like that—but not from Mars. A different planet.”

  “Did he fly here on a spaceship?”

  “Probably.”

  “Can I see it?”

  “No,” she replied while acknowledging the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree. She would love to see an alien spacecraft herself.

  “Does he have a ray gun?”

  “I don’t think so.” She hoped not. Any alien with a “ray gun” wouldn’t be arriving with the best intentions.

  Izzy touched the balloons on her head. “The clown who made my tiara and the blue man with the lizard tail must be aliens, too.”

  “That’s right,” she said.

  “Can I still call Wynn Angel?”

  “I don’t think he would mind.”

  “When are we going to see him again?”

  Probably never. “I don’t know. Let’s take a peek in the gift shop.”

  * * * *

  Wingman did the last loop-the-loop of his third and final show and landed in the arena to loud applause.

  He’d missed flying, stretching his wings, soaring on the wind, feeling the sun on his back. Avians were meant to fly—not to curl up and hide in a farmhouse. He’d flown more today than he had in months.

  The lavender fest had been a debut of sorts. Now that he’d “come out” to the people of Argent, he’d be able to fly more often. He should be thrilled, yet he lacked an essential something.

  An essential someone.

  He’d been flying in his second show, when a sense of loss had swept over him. From the air, he’d spotted mother and daughter leaving the lavender farm.

  He’d messed up. Unsure how to proceed, he’d let Delia get away. Thankfully, the festival was closing because smiling and acting happy had become taxing. He unhooked, shrugged out of his unneeded harness, stowed it in a storage container next to the unused crane, and waited for Chameleon and Kevanne. They’d watched from the audience during his last set and were headed his way.