Alpha Star: Big Sky Alien Mail Order Brides #1 (Intergalactic Dating Agency): Intergalactic Dating Agency (5 page)

Sin squinted back and wiggled his fingers near his own face. “What’s up with…?”

“This planet is…more enticing than I had anticipated.”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“There's just…so much.” Ivan let out shuddering breath.

“But nothing to eat, hmm?” Sin rested one hand on Ivan’s shoulder, stealthily testing the tension in the vrykoly’s big frame.

Ivan leaned away from him. “I can control it.”

“If you want me to find someone for you—”

“No, Captain. I do not want that.” The black traceries faded from his skin when he took in a steadier breath. “Have you received your new match?”

Sin’s lips twisted. “Interesting story, that.”

He explained quickly, glad it was Ivan and not Honey hearing about the debacle. The vrykoly at least didn’t laugh. Of course, he never laughed.

“If the scanner in the data-cube found her to be a match, does her name matter to you?”

Sin scraped one hand over his hair. “Her name, not so much. Whether she can believe in aliens, that’s the question.”

“There is nothing to believe,” Ivan said. “We
are
.”

“You know how these closed planets are.”

“No strafing?” Ivan pitched his voice to match Honey’s lighter tones.

Sin gave him a more honest smile. “Eh, we don’t need the practice anymore.” His amusement faded when he thought about
why
they didn’t need to worry about keeping their weapons true. “But I could use your expertise in the cruiser. I’m going back to retrieve my profile.”

Ivan rose even as he asked, “Shouldn’t the IDA staff be responsible for rectifying this mistake?”

Unwilling to explain his interest in continuing the fleeting conversation he’d had with his wrong bride, Sin shrugged. “If I get the cube for them, they owe me.”

“They already owe you because you paid them to find you a match.”

“Now they owe me more. It’s the merc way.”

“I thought we didn’t need the practice.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t relax until I have a bride actually in hand.” Sin flexed his fingers. He didn’t really have enough hands to lose any more.

“And so he thought you were going to just
marry
him, like, on the spot? Or—what,
mate
him?”

“I know, right?” Zoe pushed a bag of caramel-drizzled popcorn from the vintage machine across the counter to Tisha, who was rifling through the new box of vinyl records Mr. Evens had dropped at the shop earlier in the day. “He said his ship was waiting.”

“Weird with a capital what the fuck.” Tish shook her head, the tight coils of her bantu knots almost bristling with her pique. “I swear this place is too bizarre sometimes. No man gets to steal my best roommate.”

“I thought my sweet sister-in-law was your best roommate.”

“She was, when she brought the fresh trout. But you gave me popcorn, so…”

Zoe snorted. “You’re too easy.”

“But all evidence aside, not cheap.” Tish grinned. “And also not finding anything past the eighties in this bin. Someday streaming will come to this broke-ass little town, but until then, I guess I need to sneak up to Bozeman for music.”

Within a week of accepting Delaney’s invitation to share the three-bedroom cottage, Zoe had wondered why Tish didn’t sell the place and move to a real city permanently. Del guessed it was because the house had belonged to Tish’s beloved grandmother who’d raised her, but Zoe suspected it was something more. She didn’t pry though, because as quickly as Tisha had proclaimed the three of them Sunset Falls cutest girl band without any actual instruments, there was always an unspoken divide among them, a reluctance to talk about the various hurts that had brought them together.

Luckily they had plenty enough to bond over when it came to the town’s lack of wifi, culinary choices, and men.

If nothing else, Sinclarion Jax would make a great shared joke/complaint once she told Delaney about it. Though Zoe had hung out with Delaney and Will only a couple times before their whirlwind wedding, Del had been a staunch defender of Zoe’s right
not
to be harassed into dating charismatic flyboys, even though she herself had chosen one in Will. And now… Now she probably believed even more than Zoe that marriage wasn’t for her.

Zoe frowned to herself. “Speaking of weird,” she said. “Does Del seem off to you the last few days?”

Tish tucked the records away and turned to lean her elbow on the counter. “She vanishes before dawn to stick hooks in cold, slimy things for fun and profit, and yeah, that does seem off. And awful.” She ate a handful of popcorn. “But now that you mention it… After work a couple nights ago, I found her sitting out on the back step.”

They exchanged meaningful glances. Tish was in charge of closing the Sunset Saloon so she didn’t get home until the back end of late, and Del was
not
a night person.

“I asked her what was up, and she said the stars. Har har.” Tish shrugged. “I thought maybe it was one of her hippie rituals or something, so I left her alone.”

Zoe pursed her lips. Del’s interest in the supernatural had started after Will’s death. While it sort of made sense—they’d had less than a year together before his accident—thinking there were spirits “out there” or whatever gave Zoe the creeps. “Well, if you see her before I do, tell her we got in some new estate jewelry she might like. I’ll hold the tray until she can look it over.”

Tish shuddered with an exaggerated shimmy. “Dead people diamonds. Almost as bad as fishing.”

“At least the fish are real.”

“She’s good at picking them, which is more than I can say for you and your crazy foreign prince. Although I bet he woulda given you a fake diamond if you’d said yes to his mess.”

Waving her hand, Zoe retreated behind the counter. “I don’t need more mess.”

With a crafty look, Tish rested her chin in her palm. “You said he was hot. Maybe you should’ve played along to get along.” She waggled her sculpted brows suggestively.

“Hot? Yeah, I guess.” A flush rushed through her body, and Zoe blew out a hard breath between her lips as if she could douse the flames.

There’d been a time when hot might’ve been enough, but she was done with adventuring. She rearranged the bric-a-brac on the counter to avoid looking at Tish. “Who needs crazy hot when I have these fine new additions to Mr. Evens’s meteorite collection?” She straightened a shallow box of dark gray rocks. The chunks felt too heavy for their size, and their surfaces were both deeply pitted and smooth, almost shiny. The shop’s owner had magpie taste in the wares he chose for sale, but Zoe had unloaded a few of the fragments on tourists once she added a sign saying “Get Your Own Piece of Big Sky!” When she rolled them between her fingers, she could imagine how they’d tumbled through the atmosphere, half on fire.

Tish poked at the rocks. “Did he get these from the meteor last night?”

Zoe lifted her brow. “Oh, you heard about that too? Some tourists were talking at the coffee shop. Must’ve been a big one.”

“Yeah, I saw it when I was taking out the trash after closing,” Tish said.

“What did you wish for?” Zoe asked her.

“Wish?”

“You know. On a falling star.”

Tisha snorted. “You believe in that shit? You’re worse than Del.”

Zoe shrugged. “I dunno. Isn’t it kind of fun to dream sometimes?”

Gazing past her, Tish’s hazel eyes reflected the filtered September light. “When dreams are all you have, you mean?” She straightened, giving herself a little shake. “Then I guess I’d wish for a hot fella too. Crazy is fine as long as he treated me right.” Her pensive expression turned sly. “Maybe I’ll take your prince, you don’t want him.”

The burst of instinctive objection welled up in Zoe’s throat. Sinclarion Jax was
her
crazy hot foreign prince. “Well, I saw him first,” she said airily. “But judging by all Mr. Evens’s meteorites, there’re plenty more wishes to be had.”

Although as someone who’d been hit in the head with a brick, maybe she shouldn’t wish for more falling rocks.

Tisha checked her watch. The mechanical movement piece was too heavy for her slender wrist, but moderns clocks and watches in Sunset Falls sometimes had trouble keeping time. “I gotta get to work,” she said. “I’m opening and closing the saloon today, but then I might take a few days up at the cabin since I have a break between renters.” She glanced at Zoe. “You think you can get a day off? If Del doesn’t have any fishing freaks scheduled, might be fun to get away. We can grill some trout while we grill the girl about what’s bugging her.”

“Let me check with the boss. He’s been on another one of his wacky alien-hunting expeditions, so he owes me some time off.”

They hugged, and Tisha left with her popcorn and a promise to leave the extra cabin key where Zoe and Del could find it. Since Zoe had already priced and shelved the best of the new inventory and balanced the books, she cracked open her romance novel. Mr. Evens’ Odds & Ends Shop wasn't so busy that she couldn't stay on top of her latest book boyfriend.
On top of
… If only. Maybe it was her recent encounter with the crazy hottie, but for the first time she was thinking seriously—Wine & Whine Wednesdays with her dear roommates aside—about just how long it'd been since she had anyone on top of her besides her paperback hero as she fell asleep in her rented double bed.

The gnarly scar on her skull—not to mention debilitating grief and guilt—had ruined the chance of a hookup with some cute doctor or fellow trauma patient while she’d been in the hospital and rehab. And in the six months since, even with the thick, wavy brown hair she’d inherited from the Puerto Rican side of her family finally covering the scar, she just hadn’t gotten around to making sure
all
parts of her still worked. The lingering confusion and shakiness left her unwilling to open herself up to anyone new, and the nightmares that still sometimes brought her bolting out of sleep took up enough room in her bed.

She sighed and settled in for the condolence of at least some vicarious sex, keeping one ear peeled for the ring of the cowbell above the front door.

Just when she was getting to the good part, the raucous clank of the bell startled her upright. Her pulse stuttered. So much for listening for customers. She slid the book under the counter, naked chest cover down, and pasted on a welcoming smile between the warm flush in her cheeks.

Until she saw who walked in.

The breadth of him in the doorway blocked out the daylight, as if night had fallen early, and the silver studs on his jacket glinted like stars. “Zoe Nazario.”

“What do you want now?” She rose warily from her stool behind the counter, glad for the wide bank of glass and garbage between her and the crazy hottie. Maybe it was because he had startled her, or maybe because she’d just been reading the good parts, but her heart beat faster. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His jaw flexed. “Yes, you were clear that I was not to your taste.”

Thanks to the romance novel, her rattled brain immediately served up an image of her slanting a kiss over the hard set of his mouth. She curled her lips inward to stop her panting tongue from flapping out. The salty-sweetness of the popcorn she'd eaten earlier tingled on her tongue. Oh sure,
now
her brain decided to work, firing all sorts of senses and images at her. She struggled to remember why she’d decided dating was such a bad idea.

“—So if you’d give it back.” He stared at her expectantly.

She stared back. He’d been talking and she’d been distracted. Oh yeah,
that
was why—one reason, anyway—she wasn’t seeing anyone. Seeing anyone while she could barely see at all and couldn’t keep up with her own brain, much less someone else’s, was a sure-fire disaster. “Give what back?”

He lifted his chin, watching her from his greater height as if he suspected she was messing with him. She wished it was that simple.

“I wasn't listening,” she said. “Give what back?”

His brow furrowed. He clearly wasn't used to being ignored or questioned. “Since you rejected my profile, I would like it back.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which made his broad shoulders seem wider, blocking even more of the light.

“Your profile?” God, she hated echoing everything he said. He must think she was an idiot. “I told you I'm not part of any dating service.”

“So you said, and so you should return the profile to me.”

She crossed her arms, once again echoing him. She dropped her arms to her side awkwardly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“That's a good thing for you.” He took a deep breath that raised his crossed arms. “Maybe you found it. It looks like a small cube—”

“Oh!” She glanced at her sweater hanging from the end of the counter.

He followed her gaze and strode toward her sweater.

“Hey. You can't just—”

He lifted the heavy wool, feeling around the folds.

Okay, now her whole body was tingling at the thought of how his hands would feel on her, as if she was in the sweater right now.

His big hand delved into the front pocket and emerged with the little box. The shiny chrome looked brighter against the blackness of the glove he was wearing. Just on the one hand, she noticed. More weirdness.

“I was going to put it in the lost and found,” she mumbled.

He glowered at her. “I'm not lost,” he said.

“I didn't say
you
,” she said.

“Actually I know exactly where I’m going,” he spoke over her, a hint of growl in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes. “Well, that’s a good thing for you,” she tossed back at him. “Away from here, I hope.”

“Very far.” His fingers tightened around the box like a sprung trap.

“You should probably get going then.”

He slipped the little cube into the pocket of his coat. “I will.” Spinning away from her, he strode back along the counter toward the door. Abruptly, he halted.

For a breathless moment, she felt the strange, mistaken connection stretch between them. He slowly pivoted and reached for…

The box of gray rocks. He lifted the largest chunk, hefting it in his hand. His fingers tightened around the rock. And crushed it.