Page 3 of Marcus-stiltskin

I take the bracelet from her and slip it on my wrist. It tightens around my wrist on its own.

“So…see you Monday?” she asks.

I nod. Like I have a choice? I can’t go around killing people with invisible fire. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Two

In Which We Learn We Must Never Forget the Power of a Nice Rack

The rest of the night is a bust. Customers are few and far between, so no one is upset when the second cousin twice removed who’s running things for the night closes the bar down at ten. Things usually pick up by eleven on weeknights, but none of the girls are in the mood to stick around and see what other kind of drama the night will bring.

We all wipe off layers of makeup, change into comfortable clothes and head over to the tiny gas station-turned-Korean Restaurant that shares a parking lot with the club and stays open late Wednesday through Saturday nights. It’s run by a Korean woman named Soojin, who’s probably old enough to be my mom, but has better skin than anyone my age.

“There’s a table over by the counter!” Soojin calls to Marti, Ginger, Cara, and me as the bell on her door announces our entrance. “I’ll be right there!”

The place is way busier than the Wild Hare was. Several of the small tables are filled with couples and small groups of people. The road that runs past the Wild Hare runs parallel to amajor highway, so it’s not weird at all to get people just passing through.

“Can y’all watch my purse? I need to hit the bathroom.” I ask as everyone puts their stuff down.

Cara nods, moving my purse closer to her. I turn around just in time to get the second shock of the night.

“Sarah?” asks a gorgeous man with light brown skin and a fresh military-style haircut. The girls at the table all look up, their curiosity peaked by the deep male voice that knows my real name.

It takes a moment for my brain to make the connection between the man standing a few feet away from me at the counter waiting to pay his bill and the embarrassing memories that have hounded me on countless sleepless nights. It’s been a dozen years since I set eyes on this man and he hasn’t changed a bit. Well, no, that’s a lie. He moves a few steps closer to me, a metal prosthetic leg slowing him slightly, but the smile… the smile, is still the same.

“Sergeant Jones?” I ask, mesmerized and horrified at the same time, my chest tightening up at the thought of the very last time I saw him, even as a thrill of excitement fills my belly.

There was a time in my life when I was absolutely obsessed with Sergeant Marcus Jones. He and my big brother, Lugh, were in the same Army unit together and I was a dumb teenage kid convinced we were meant to end up married someday, despite the fact that there was at least a good ten-year age gap there. I’m sure at some point over the years he picked up on the crush I had on him, but there was no doubt after David, my little brother, got ahold of my diary and read it aloud at a barbeque for Lugh’s unit. Whether that is still on his mind right now, I couldn’t tell you, as his eyes lock on mine.

But things are so very different now.

Twenty-seven-year-old Sarah knows about things she was only beginning to understand at fifteen–that can’t-get-enough-of-someone’s mouth feeling when you’re really into them, the afterglow that comes after really good sex, and the contentment of wanting to just lay tangled up with someone forever.

I’m definitely old enough to imagine all these things with Marcus Jones. My face heats up as his eyes flicker over me. One thing is for certain–whatever I felt about him back then hasn’t changed a bit.

He laughs as I shimmy through the maze of tables and chairs to get to him. I’ve barely made my way around the last table when his muscular arms are wrapping me in a quick brotherly bear hug before stepping back and releasing me. “Just Marcus these days,” he says as he pulls back.

A group of decorative pillar candles in glass jars are sitting on the edge of the counter Marcus is leaning against. All of them ignite as he smiles back at me. “Fuck,” I blurt out. Did I cause that? Maybe they’re battery powered. I lean a little closer to him and rest my arm on the counter, stretching until my wrist makes contact with the first candle.

Instantly, the candles go out.

Peachy.

So it’s not just anger that causes me to catch things on fire. Will the next person who cuts me off in traffic have an engine fire? Will I be the cause of the next local wildfire? Hell, will the next guy I have sex with lose his dick?

“Is everything okay?” Marcus asks.

I focus back on him. “Yes. Of course. Fuck, it’s been so long. What are you doing here?” I ask and instantly regret it. One day, I’ll learn to interact with other humans appropriately, including not asking rude questions. “I mean, it’s awesome to see you, but like, how did you end up here in Black Raven County? It’s not exactly the Mecca of Civilization.”

He chuckles. “Well, I missed Lugh’s wedding because of this,” he says, motioning down to the prosthetic on his right leg. “So I thought I’d come out for a visit, see what he’s been up to. Meet the woman who’s willing to put up with him for life.”

I laugh. “You’ve never met Jacqueline? She is a saint. You’ll love her. Does he know you’re here?”

If he does and he didn’t warn me, I WILL kill him. Okay, maybe not kill–he’s got kids to raise after all–but we will definitely have words.

“Sort of. I’ve been planning on coming out here for a while, but I’ve been pretty flakey since this happened.” He motions down to his leg again and I suddenly feel like a jackass. The man’s lost part of limb and here I am worried that he still remembers something stupid that happened when I was a kid.

“I think you’re allowed to be flakey when you go through major medical stuff. So, uh, where are you staying?”

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