Wingman: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency) Read online

  “That was amazing!” Kevanne hugged him. “Thank you so much for performing. The people loved you!”

  “I’m happy to help,” he said sincerely. Performing had enabled him to fly in public and repay a debt. His unwarranted distrust of Chameleon had almost ruined the relationship with Kevanne. Fortunately, they’d gotten together anyway. Genmates were like that. You couldn’t keep them apart. If Chameleon had found a genmate on Earth, could it happen again?

  Chameleon grinned at him. “You met a woman!”

  He shrugged.

  “You met somebody?” Kevanne’s eyes lit up.

  “I saw him having lunch with a woman and her daughter then going for a horseback ride,” Chameleon said. “They looked pretty close.”

  Not as close as he’d wanted to get—not that it had done him any good. “She left.”

  “You’re going to see her again, aren’t you?” Chameleon said.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Did you ask her out?” Kevanne asked.

  “Out where?”

  “On a date!”

  “A date?”

  “To go somewhere? Have dinner? Go to a movie?”

  “Was I supposed to?”

  Kevanne thumped her head with her palm. “Short answer: yes. If you meet someone you like, and she’s single, you ask her to go someplace with you. That’s how you get to know each other.”

  “She did tell me she didn’t work on Monday and Tuesday nights.”

  Kevanne rolled her eyes. “Did you get her phone number at least?”

  “No.”

  She snorted. “Do you have any idea how to find her?”

  “I know where she lives and where she works.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Here’s what you need to do…”

  Chapter Seven

  Delia grabbed her purse from the drawer behind the counter and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m leaving, Marty. See ya tomorrow.”

  Her boss, the owner of the Whitetail Tavern, looked up from the register as it spit out a report. “Thanks, Delia. Crazy night.” He grinned. “Great for business though.”

  It had been twice as busy as usual, due to the number of people drawn by the lavender festival. The town relied on such events to attract visitors and money into the area. The antique store, Millie’s Diner, and the bait shop had remained open until late. The Whitetail, which always stayed open until the wee hours, had been packed. Her feet hurt, and her arms ached from lugging heavy trays of drinks all night.

  She wanted nothing more than to pick up Izzy and fall into bed.

  Trudging up deserted Main Street, she passed the shuttered, dark shops. Revelers had cleared out, and the boulevard was devoid of cars. Though the walk was short, she wished she’d driven. After a day in the sun, and then working all night, she was dead on her feet.

  It seemed like everyone from Argent and scores of out-of-towners had convened at the Whitetail.

  Except for Wingman. She’d spent the evening glancing at the door each time it admitted a new customer, hoping against hope it would be him. Stupid. He’d ignored every single hint she’d dropped. She’d pretty much decided the chemistry had been one-sided.

  He’s not interested in me. I’m like a teenager crushing on a guy I hardly know.

  Head down, she focused on putting one tired foot in front of the other.

  A blur passed in front of the street light, and then a hulking winged shape landed in front of her. She shrank back, emitting a small scream.

  “It’s me! It’s me!” said a familiar voice.

  She pressed a hand to her throat. “You scared me to death. What are you doing here?”

  Wingman folded his wings. “I came to see you.”

  “It’s, uh, 2:30 in the morning.” And just like that, her mood lifted.

  He grinned. “Too early?”

  She smiled back, her pulse racing with the kind of infatuation she hadn’t felt since Josh had made a nerdy science joke across the chemistry lab table.

  “I came to see you earlier, but from the number of cars parked outside the Whitetail, I figured you’d be too busy to talk.”

  She motioned. “Can we walk? I’m headed home.” Pleasure at seeing him had boosted her energy, but her feet still hurt, and walking was less painful than standing still.

  He fell into place beside her, his feather-soft wings brushing her arm, making her wonder what they would feel like against bare skin. Don’t get your hopes up just because he dropped by. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But she couldn’t help it. She felt like a teenager again, letting a boy carry her books to class.

  “It was insanely busy.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and peered at him. “I’m glad you were thinking about me.” She tossed him another hint. “I was thinking about you.” Better make it perfectly clear.

  “My friends told me I’d been remiss in not asking you out.”

  “Your friends?” Had he come because his friends had told him to? Hopes crashed and burned on the street. She stomped toward home.

  “Because I didn’t know how to approach you. I’m not familiar with Earth mating customs,” he said.

  Earth mating customs? Disappointment evaporated, and her lips twitched with amused understanding. How would an alien know what to do? She’d be clueless on his planet.

  “So, would you and Izzy like to go out on a date? Maybe Monday? You said you were off.”

  That he’d included Izzy and remembered her work schedule set her heart to racing. “I’d like that.” Izzy would be thrilled. Izzy’s mom was thrilled, too.

  “I’m told the lakes here are beautiful,” he said.

  “They are. Lake Argent especially so. I could pack a picnic lunch?” she suggested. “There are a lot of nice private picnic spots.”

  “Hot dogs?” His eyes lit up.

  “If you like.”

  “I know you work late, so you’ll be sleeping in the morning. What time should I come get you?”

  “A little before noon.” She’d set her alarm for early on Monday and prepare. “What kind of transportation do you have? Do you have a car?”

  “I have a hover scooter.” He waved his arm across a horizontal plane. “It glides. But I doubt it can hold all three of us.”

  “I’ll drive.” Wincing, she shifted from foot to foot to ease the throbbing. Her feet were usually sore after a shift, but after walking all day, then running around at work, they were killing her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Long day. I’ll be fine as soon as I get home and can take a load off.”

  “You should have said something sooner. I’ll fly you home.”

  “Fly me—”

  He bent, lifted her against his broad chest, and leaped into the moonless sky with a great flap of wings. Up, up, he flew higher than the rooftops, higher than the treetops. She locked her arms around his neck and hung on, burying her face against his broad muscular chest, afraid to look down. “Don’t drop me!”

  “Never.”

  Cool evening air breezed over her face like a breath from heaven while his heart thumped a reassuring steady beat. Apparently carrying her and flying was no great exertion for him. The strength of his hold emboldened her to peek at the ground. The shadow of night-darkened homes, their shades shuttered, although TVs flickered in a few windows. Under a streetlight, a raccoon nosed in a fallen trash can. The neighborhood was so still and silent, she could hear the whoosh of his wings.

  Carried in his arms, she felt as if she was floating. His clove-and-cinnamon scent infused her senses, causing her head to whirl.

  With only a soft bump, he landed in front of her house. Her body slid the length of his as he set her on her feet, but instead of releasing her, he enveloped her in a cocoon of soft feathers. Surprised, she peered up at him. His eyes flashed with fire, and a devilish grin teased his mouth.

  He’s going to kiss me! Her stomach fluttered, but then he opened his wings and she felt foolish and disappointed.
<
br />   “Home. Safe and sound,” his voice rumbled.

  “That was incredible. Thank you.” For him to carry her and fly, he had to be incredibly strong. Yet, for all his muscular bulk, he walked and flew with grace.

  “See you tomorrow?” he said.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.” She turned toward Mrs. Beckman’s house.

  “You’re not going in?”

  “I have to get Izzy.” She gestured to the neighbor’s bungalow.

  “I’ll walk with you. I’ve heard stories it’s unsafe for a woman to go out alone at night.”

  It was only two houses down, but warmth blossomed at his protectiveness. “That’s sweet. Thank you.” Outside the chain-link gate, she paused. TV light flickered through gaps in the drawn curtains. “I’ll get her. I won’t be long.”

  She thanked her good fortune to have gotten a sitter close to her home and job. Retired now, in her younger years, Mrs. Beckman had worked swing shift, so late nights didn’t bother her. Delia rapped on the door before opening it with the key she’d been given. “Trudy? It’s me!” She poked her head inside.

  An old movie, the sound turned low, played on the television as Trudy snored in her recliner. Delia hated to disturb her, but she couldn’t collect Izzy and leave. She tiptoed to the chair and touched her shoulder. “Trudy.”

  The older woman awoke with a start, her eyes owlish behind bifocals. “My goodness, you scared me.”

  “Sorry for waking you.”

  “No, no. I’m glad you did. I need to talk to you.” With a snap of her feet, she folded the footrest and stood. She twisted her hands. “I won’t be able to babysit next week. My son called out of the blue to say he’s coming for a visit. Until he leaves, I won’t be able to watch Izzy. I’m sorry. I know this puts you in a bind—” She shook her head. “No, I can’t do this to you. I’ll tell him not to come. That would be best—”

  “No. He’s your son. Of course he should come,” she insisted, but her heart sank. How would she find a sitter for an evening shift on such short notice? Izzy was supposed to start day camp, too.

  Still new to the area, she hadn’t met Trudy’s family and didn’t know much about them, other than there were three, one daughter and two sons, all of whom lived in other states. Given Trudy’s age, her “kids” were probably early forties, so older than Delia by about a decade. She bit her lip. “How long will he stay?”

  “Only about a week.”

  Maybe Marty would switch her hours. Asking for favors when she hadn’t been on the job long wouldn’t earn her any brownie points, but what else could she do? The Whitetail opened at 11 a.m. If she took the first shift while camp was in session, it might work. She’d still have to reduce her hours, and the daytime tips wouldn’t be as good, but she’d have some money coming in. Before she did that, however, she would pursue other options. “I don’t suppose you know of anyone who could fill in?”

  Trudy shook her head. “No. Sorry, I don’t. I’ll tell Scott not to—”

  “Don’t be silly. You need to see your son. I’ll figure something out.” Although Scott had thrown a wrench into her precariously balanced life, she couldn’t expect Trudy to turn her kid away to watch hers. She’d check in town for babysitting ads. The bait-and-tackle shop doubled as a hardware store and community center with a bulletin board where locals could post flyers. That’s how she’d found Trudy.

  Maybe she’d get lucky again. Fingers crossed.

  “I’ll get Izzy and let you get to bed.” She’d expected picking up Izzy to be a quick pop in, pop out, but this had taken longer than she’d anticipated. She wondered if Wingman was still waiting. Just when things seemed to be going so well.

  She started down the narrow hall to the guest room then peered over her shoulder. “Is your son married? Does he have kids?” Maybe Izzy could meet another kid to play with.

  Trudy pointed the remote at the TV and turned it off. “It will just be him. He’s divorced. His two daughters live with his ex-wife. They’re still battling custody. She won’t let him see the kids.”

  “That’s too bad.” For Trudy who wouldn’t get to see her grandkids and for Izzy. Two daughters sounded perfect. Well, at least Izzy had Molly, and she’d meet more kids at camp. Talk about serendipity. She’d found out about the camp in the nick of time.

  Wearing summer pj’s, Izzy slept dead to the world, curled on her side, Jessica in matching jammies, next to her. Delia tucked the doll in her armpit and then picked up Izzy. She was growing up, getting bigger. She wouldn’t be able to carry her much longer.

  “I’ll get the door,” Trudy whispered when she emerged from the bedroom. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s only a week—and I enrolled Izzy in day camp at the school, so if I change my hours at work, it should be fine.” I hope. Leaving the house, she stepped carefully down the footpath. The move from Pittsburgh had nearly depleted her emergency fund. With only part-time employment, covering her bills would wipe out the rest.

  Sometimes she felt like she was hanging on by her fingernails.

  It was a relief to see Wingman had waited. He opened the gate. “I started to worry maybe you had snuck out the back way,” he joked. “Here—let me carry her for you. She looks heavy.”

  As they transferred the sleeping child, his hand brushed Delia’s breast. Despite her worries, tingles shot through her at the point of contact. She flexed the ache from her arms.

  “Everything all right?” he asked as they strolled toward her house. He held Izzy as easily as she carried Jessica the doll. Her daughter looked like she belonged nestled in his arms, and her heart ached for what she couldn’t provide—two loving parents.

  “Fine.” Childcare was her burden, not his.

  “You were in there a long time.”

  “Trudy and I had a little chat. Sorry I was gone so long.”

  “You look upset.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Just a little complication. Trudy can’t babysit because her son is visiting.”

  “And you need someone to watch Izzy.”

  “I’m going to see if I can switch my hours around at work.”

  “I can watch her.”

  She squirmed with discomfort, hoping she wouldn’t hurt his feelings or insult him. “Wingman—I appreciate your offer so much. It means a lot to me, but I can’t accept. I like you…a lot, but we just met…and…” I’m 99.99 percent sure you’re a good, decent guy, but I can’t leave my daughter with you on the remote chance you’re not. “Uh, until I know you better—” Her face flamed. She was botching this.

  “Say no more. I understand.”

  “Do you? I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. You’re a good mother, and you’re doing what’s best for your child.”

  Sometimes she didn’t feel like a good mother. Sometimes she felt barely adequate. She had put up with Colson’s hang-up phone calls, had tolerated him popping up at random places, but when she caught him talking to Izzy outside her school—that scared her to death. Her restraining order wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on, so she’d uprooted Izzy and fled far, far away to a town the douchebag had never heard of.

  Raising a child seemed like a battle, her against the world. She was the sole parent, the only defense, and the weight of responsibility and inadequacy threatened to drag her under. No matter what I do, it’s never enough. Her eyes smarted with tears, and she blinked.

  “Hey, hey…” He stretched out a wing and pulled her close, cocooning her and Izzy in feathers scented with cloves and cinnamon. “It will be okay. Things have a way of working out.”

  “I know.” She sniffed back tears and inhaled his scent. He smelled so good. How could she be so upset at losing her sitter yet want to jump his bones? “I have a week to figure something out. I’m just tired. I’m sure everything will look brighter in the morning.” She unlocked her front door, switched on a light, turned, and h
eld out her arms. “I’ll take her now.”

  “I’ll carry her in for you.” He pulled his wings in close and tight.

  “All right. Thank you.” Bone weary, she didn’t want to risk dropping her. She led the way to Izzy’s room. After she flung back the covers, he settled Izzy onto the mattress. Delia tucked Jessica next to her, pulled up the sheet, and kissed her daughter’s forehead.

  “She’s a solid sleeper,” he observed in a whisper.

  “Dead to the world,” she said. “I wish I could sleep like that.”

  They tiptoed out.

  Back in the living room, he asked, “Is it an Earth custom for children to dress like their toys?”

  “It’s an Izzy custom. Jessica is her favorite doll. Emma and Emily dress like her, too, but I don’t have to sew their outfits.” Her mouth quirked with humor.

  “Emma and Emily?”

  “Her make-believe friends. You met them at her birthday party.” She could laugh about Izzy’s imaginary world now that she seemed to have made a friend in Molly and would be attending camp.

  “Ah. The empty chairs. Your daughter is a bright little girl with a vivid imagination.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And she has an amazing mother.” He stepped close, ducked his head, and kissed her.

  His lips were gentle, soft, like the feathers he wrapped around her. He flicked his tongue at the seam of her mouth, but she needed no coaxing to part her lips and commit to the kiss. She’d been dying to kiss him, touch him since he landed outside of the Whitetail.

  Their tongues danced as their mouths moved in sync. Kissing him was better than she’d imagined, his spicy taste and scent intoxicating her, causing her head to reel until she realized her feet had left the ground. He’d lifted her up, the better to kiss her senseless. Held in his embrace, she felt her problems float away. They’d be back tomorrow, and she could deal with them then. For right now, she would enjoy the comfort of a man’s strong arms and soft lips.