Page 19 of It's You
“Go! Now!” he snarled over his shoulder, angry and insistent.
She turned and started back to the lake, walking slowly, rigidly, fear still making her body feel stiff and unfamiliar as tears coursed down her cheeks. After about twenty paces, she turned back. The bear lumbered back and forth in front of Jack, growling and grunting, as if an invisible wall separated him from Jack, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest.
It didn’t make any sense. Why wasn’t the bear charging?
Suddenly, the bear stopped pacing. It stood on four legs directly in front of Jack, staring up at him. From where she stood, Darcy heard Jack hiss something that sounded like “Ship awaaaaaaaay…”
The bear stared at Jack as he repeated the hissed words once more. She watched, frozen and fascinated, as the bear took a step back, then another, until it whimpered and turned, racing into the woods away from Jack, back muscles rippling at the force and speed of its gait…itsescape.
Jack stood still, watching its retreat, before turning to follow her. Darcy gasped. As he faced her, she noticed his eyes, glowing like embers, like golden lightbulbs in his head, alien or otherworldly. He stopped in his tracks when he realized she was watching him, and after several blinks, his eyes returned to normal.
That was it for Darcy. She’d had enough.
She turned and ran around the pond, arms crossed protectively over her chest, hurrying back toward the church. Her brain assaulted her with questions.
What just happened? Had Jack actually scared the bear into retreating? What was it he said? What did that mean, and why did it make the bear run away, whimpering in fear? Why were his eyes glowing?
I am losing my mind. This is what it feels like to go crazy.
Without looking back, she ran past the bench at the pond, practically sprinting the rest of the way to the meadow at the edge of Proctor Woods. To the relative safety of Honoria’s reception.
She’d spent about an hour with Jack, but instead of answers, she had more questions. Why had he kissed her so many years ago if it hurt him to look at her? Why did he leave? Why in the world was he back now? How had he kept that bear at bay?Men didn’t scare bears away, and people’s eyes didn’t glow like molten lava.
She’d had enough confused feelings and unanswered questions for one afternoon. A walk in the woods hadn’t provided the usual balm. It had only served to upset her. She was more turned around than ever and wanted to talk to Willow.
If she hadn’t finally looked over her shoulder to see if Jack was following her, she would have seen, and definitely avoided, Vale. Instead, she slammed into his back at full force.
“Damn it to hell!”
Vale Proctor turned to her, and Darcy realized that her clumsiness had caused him to spill a glass of champagne down the front of his crisp white dress shirt. He lifted his white head, and Darcy met his narrowed eyes as his nostrils flared in an indelicate sneer.
“Why, Darcy Turner,” he purred, taking in her ensemble with one slow, lecherous, humiliating scan. “What a singularly unpleasant surprise.”
“Vale,”she puffed, catching her breath. “M-Mr. Proctor. Sorry!”
“Who you running from, gal? Another unlucky suitor?”
Darcy put her hands on her hips and tried to catch her breath. She glanced up at his saturated shirt, his ribbed T-shirt materializing underneath as the wet stain spread.
“C-Can I get you a towel?” she asked. She scanned the woods behind Vale’s head. No sign of Jack. Her shoulders drooped in relief,but also in disappointment.
“What for? I’ve already been marinated in spirits.” Her cardigan had unbuttoned during her escape, and Vale gestured to her chest. “Showing off your…charms?”
Darcy looked down and noticed the tan skin of her right areola peeking out from the border of her awful dress. She tugged it up and rebuttoned her sweater.
“Now, Darcy dear, wherever were you coming from?” he asked again, beady eyes sweeping slowly from her breasts to her face. “What unlucky man was just left heartbroken in the woods?”
“This one.”
Darcy whipped her neck to the side and saw a composed Jack standing beside her, offering his hand to Vale.
“Jack Beauloup.”
Vale’s thin, waxy lips tilted up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Vale. Proctor.”
He took Jack’s hand, but released it quickly, as if it offended him to have to shake it in the first place.
Jack grinned, but Darcy saw his eyes flash. With what? Anger? Good Lord, were they going to do that weird glowing thing again?
