Page 8 of Brandt's Rule

“You’re a pretty woman. You attract attention. You can’t ever be too careful. Get yourself a phone. In the meantime, I’ll give you the number to the land line here in case you want to have someone get in touch with you. Give me that paper back. I’ll write it down.”

“Thanks. That’s really nice.”

A bell sounded downstairs and Bailey responded right away. “Here’s the number. Mine is on the front, yours is on the back. I gotta go. Somebody just came in. Here’s the key, it’s yours until you say it’s not. I’ll put the chains back up on my way back down.”

“Thank you, Bailey.”

Bailey hurried downstairs to take care of her customer, and Tempest locked the front door and turned around to admire the small apartment again. Smiling at being in her own space, albeit temporarily, for the first time in her life, she decided to bring her things up and leave them here instead of riding all around town with them tucked in her saddlebags. She tried the back door, unlocking it and going down the back stairs to get some of her things from her saddle bags and moving them upstairs to the space she’d be staying in while she was in town. As she put her clothes away and her spare pair of sneakers, and bedroll, she was drawn in by the sight of the kitchen, then the bathroom. She walked around the kitchen marveling at the new appliances, then tried the water and realized how much hotter it was than the water at home, which was warm, but nothing like this. The immediate feel of the warmth suffusing her body from just cascading over her hands had her craving the feeling all over. Deciding that she needed a shower after days on the road, she stripped out of her clothes and instead of using her magic to clean herself, she stepped under the hottest, most powerful spray of water she’d ever experienced and groaned as she did.

She spent far too much time luxuriating in the shower, simply enjoying the heat of the water and the way it loosened her muscles and joints, completely relaxing her. As she stood under the water she thought of Maverik and the days she’d already spent searching for him. She’d been in several small towns, following the feeling that lay down deep in her gut. It didn’t tell her exactly where he was, just that she was on the right track and getting closer. At least she knew he was still alive, and that was something after all these years. She didn’t know if he’d even remember her, or care that she’d tracked him down if he did. But she knew she needed something other than Whispers for herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t call Whispers home, or that she’d ever felt deprived. It was just that she always craved more. She’d known since meeting him that she was meant for more than a quiet, simple life in Whispers. She remembered vaguely the time she’d spent in Paris with her parents. But even the memories of Paris didn’t pull her toward them as the memory of Maverik did.

Was it because she needed to be sure that he was okay after all this time, or maybe to see what had caused him so much pain back then? Because even as a child, she’d felt the pain radiating from his soul that day. Or maybe it was to see if he’d ever had another kid, been able to find happiness after the initial loss of his daughter. She honestly didn’t know. But she understood fully that his memory represented a whole host of possibilities for her future. She’d always imagined what his life was like, wondered if he’d found what he was looking for. And over time she’d begun to idolize him, come to consider him the link that would get her to where she wanted to be. He was the whole reason she’d bought a bike like his as soon as she was able. Meeting him that day had shown her that it was okay to embrace the wildness inside you. It was okay to be different. It was okay to be who you were meant to be, even if it was a little bit frightening. When she felt her most alone, she thought of him and his kind words to her that day. They’d gotten her through. Eventually she realized that somehow he was tied to where and what she was supposed to be. At least she hoped he was. Otherwise, what the hell was pulling her toward him?

Trying to work her way through the confusing thoughts that always filled her head when she thought of Maverik, she decided that she’d waited this long. Another few hours wouldn’t matter. And she managed to ignore the fact that no small amount of apprehension was responsible for her putting off tracking him down just a little longer. So, she spent a little longer in the shower, pampering herself and taking a minute to center herself before she set out to find a man who was a mystery to her, yet represented so many as of yet unknown things in her future. If he wasn’t all she believed him to be, she’d be lost. Not knowing where to turn next. And that thought was almost paralyzing.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back beneath the steamy spray of the shower again. “Fates, help me. I’ll be living in a coffee shop for the rest of my life. Frozen coffee and hot, steamy showers. It’s not really that bad. Everything I need is here. Right?”

Chapter 3

Brandt was up on the roof, just over the crest on the opposite side of the building when the rider pulled off the highway and followed the red dirt road to the build site. He’d heard the bike in the distance but paid it no mind until it became apparent whoever its rider was, was approaching. He paused and scooted up the roof to look out at the rider as they got closer and eventually came to a stop.

“I got it. Finish up what you’re doing,” Jobe called out as he walked out of the interior of the building, wiping his hands clean on his jeans from the sheetrock mud that was clinging to them.

He watched as the rider came to a stop, then turned off their engine, sitting on their bike for a moment as they took their time looking around. There were multiple trucks parked scattered around the site, but none of them seemed to hold the rider’s attention for long. It was almost like they weren’t finding what they were looking for.

He took a few more steps toward the rider, now using a stained white towel to better clean his hands. “Hey. Can I help you with something?” he asked.

The rider turned their head and looked at him before standing and swinging their leg over the bike before beginning to walk toward him. It was at that exact moment that Jobe realized the rider was female. Males didn’t have long, lithe legs like that.

Up on the roof, Brandt was still watching, growing more and more antsy by the moment, though he was at a loss to figure out why.

Jobe relaxed only minimally realizing he was dealing with a female.

“Hi, I’m looking for a friend of mine. I was told that he might be working on this site, or if not that someone here might know him.”

“Okay. And who are you?” Jobe asked.

“Just a friend.” She unstrapped and removed her helmet, shaking her lustrous silver hair out as she tucked her helmet under one arm and extended the other to shake Jobe’s hand.

Jobe extended his hand, shaking her hand as he watched the very unique female standing before him.

Brandt’s fingertips actually began to sink into the wood of the roof he was shingling the instant the woman removed her helmet. “My fucking dream…” he muttered.

“You want to not tear the wood off the roof?” Remi asked.

Brandt didn’t even look at Remi, but his chest rumbled slightly in response.

“Who are you looking for?” Jobe asked.

“Like I said, a friend of mine. He’s older than I am. Has a prominent scar across his face,” she indicated with her hand where the scar crossed Maverik’s face, “and he used to wear his hair in a mohawk, and ride a motorcycle. His name is Maverik.”

Jobe’s gaze wandered over to her bike, then back to her, noting that it was almost identical to Maverik’s. “Used to?”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve seen him. Actually, a really long while.”

Jobe nodded thoughtfully. “Nobody fitting that exact description pops right into mind,” he said, knowing better than to offer up any of their family members to somebody they didn’t even know.

“Are you sure because I kind of get the feeling that he’s around here, often.”

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