LINDSEY Johanna - Heart of Warrior Read online

  “You will build your home here in this town?”

  “Yes, I’ve already bought the land. I could get started on it already, but that would be building it piecemeal in my spare time, which would take years. I prefer to have enough money to spare for all the materials and extra help I’ll need when more than two hands are required, enough so I can quit both my jobs until it’s done. And doing it myself, I’ll make sure it’s done right.”

  “I find it admirable that you know how to create a house from nothing.

  She blushed profusely. That had to be the first time a man had ever complimented her about her job choice.

  But then he spoiled it by adding, “And do not view it as a punishment.

  “I think we need another time‑out,” she said. “Either things are done really weird in your country, or you’ve been given the wrong definition for punishment. The only work around here that can be considered punishment is forced labor in prisons. Now some folks might not like their Jobs, some might even hate them, but doing them anyway isn’t punishment, it’s more a necessity until something better comes along. Punishment, on the other hand, is pretty much universally reserved for disciplinary measures. No one

  around here is going to punish someone by forcing them to build a house for them. Do you see the difference?”

  He smiled at her in answer, but also added, “I see that you have a good understanding for what must be done when one breaks rules. And I am told ‘chore’ would have been a more appropriate word to express my thoughts in the matter of how you view your job.”

  She chuckled. “No, I don’t see it as a chore; I actually like building things, whether it’s cabinets, tables, or an entire house. I work mostly for Arbor Construction here. I like their foremen, get along really well with their crews due to long association, and they know I do good work, so I don’t have to constantly prove myself like I did in San Francisco when I lived there.”

  “Prove yourself how? In challenge?”

  She blinked, then grinned at him. “Another of those misdefined words? No, occasionally there’d be no work in the city, so I’d have to go to the union to get work, and those jobs were usually with small crews that I didn’t know and I’d have to go through the whole proving process again each time, because not once did they ever accept me as one of them. So when Arbor relocated here and offered me a chance to move with them, I jumped at it. It meant steady work with the same crews, instead of being sent who-knew‑where by the union. And I love it here. I come from a small town and prefer them small, where you actually get to know your neighbors and develop a real sense of community.”

  Something she had said surprised him, which he mentioned right off. “You have lived elsewhere than in this town? Marriage brought you here?”

  “Good heavens, no, I’ve never been married,” she replied, amused at how easily he’d gotten that information out of her without actually asking if she were married. His two questions combined, though, led her to guess, “I take it your countrymen tend to stay where they’re born?”

  “Indeed, only would marriage separate a woman from the place of her protection.” And then he sighed. “I am reminded that our

  cultures are very much different, that women here even live alone.

  She matched his sigh with the conclusions that remark drew. “Just how antiquated is your country?”

  He grinned. “Barbaric, you would call it.”

  The grin suggested that he was joking. She hoped he was joking. She decided to accept that conclusion and forget about getting it clarified. Unfortunately, a picture of men riding around on camels and locking their women up in tents was hard to shake. She tried shaking it by continuing the job discussion.

  “I’ve tried other jobs, but haven’t found any that give me as much satisfaction.”

  “What other jobs?” he asked with interest.

  She started to just tell him when she realized that those other jobs were in that same “for men only” classification, or might as well be when so many people still viewed them that way. So a little explanation was required first, if she didn’t want to start blushing again.

  “I have three older brothers. With no sisters, I tended to follow along in their footsteps, and did in fact enjoy the same pursuits they did growing up, you know, fishing, hunting, sports. You could say tomboy was my middle name.”

  Is it?”

  She chuckled, because that had been a serious question, but rather than explain what a tomboy was, she just said, “No,” and continued. “We lived on a farm. My oldest brother, York, was the tractor‑fixer in the family, so it wasn’t surprising that he became a master mechanic who now owns his own gas station back home.

  Learning what I did helping him on weekends, it wasn’t surprising I became a mechanic’s helper myself for a few years. I could have gotten certified, but I knew that wasn’t a job that I wanted to stay with when getting the grease out from under my nails became a never‑ending source of annoyance.”

  That was said to amuse him, but his expression didn’t change,

  remained merely attentive. Too attentive, actually. It was hard to tell if he were really interested in what she was saying, or just wanted to hear her talk. For all she knew, he could just be dissecting her words to better his grasp of her language, using her to teach him, so to speak. Or his interest could be purely on a base level, because he might be attracted to her, but that was wishful thinking on her part better left unexplored for the moment.

  She got back to the resume explanations. “My middle brother, Kent, moved to this state quite a few years ago. He’d always wanted to see more of the country and figured he might as well

  get paid for it, so he drives the b i g‑load trucks cross‑country. Visiting him one summer convinced me to move here as well, and after accompanying Kent a few times on his longer hauls, I decided to try my own hand at it. That job only lasted about a year, though; it was just too boring for my tastes, and boring on the road can be real dangerous.”

  “How do you equate danger with boring?”

  “As in falling asleep at the wheel.”

  For some reason, his blank look said even that needed an explanation for him. Brittany decided to let Coach Martha deal with that one, and she must have, since he nodded understanding after a moment.

  “You did not want to do something different from your brothers?”

  She grinned at him. “Why waste valuable knowledge already learned?”

  She had thought about joining the military, actually, but didn’t volunteer that information. She was rather well‑suited for it with her size, after all, but had nixed that idea, preferring to follow her own strict regimen rather than one forced on her. And she liked building things, liked leaving her mark in such a way.

  “I did finally go my own way. My youngest brother, Devon, is what you might call a born farmer. He really loves growing things. I don’t. In fact, I couldn’t wait to spread my wings and get away

  from the farm. But Devon is still there helping our father, and will probably take over after our parents pass on.”

  “One grows, one builds, one fixes, one transports. You have a family well‑suited for trade.”

  “Diverse, I think you mean.”

  He shrugged, allowing her own interpretation. Annoyed for a moment that he wasn’t going to make the effort that she had in explaining things, she almost wished she could borrow his “coach”.

  “And the other job that ties you up?” he asked next.

  “That one’s a piece of cake, at the local spa in the evenings and on Saturdays. just one person could handle it, but there’s two of us, so there isn’t all that much to do, other than man the desk and offer guidance when someone wants to start up a strict exercise

  regimen. My coworker, Lenny, and I get along pretty well, too. We have an understanding: he doesn’t try to hit on me, and I won’t drop weights on his feet every chance I get.”

  Again, that was said just to amuse him, and again, it did
n’t. Actually, he sat forward and said in a concise, somewhat ominous tone, “The man you share this Job with hits you?”

  Brittany rolled her eyes, explaining, ” ‘Hit on’ has a completely different meaning from the ‘hits you’ that you’re using. No, Lenny has never hit me. But he has tried a few times to get me to go out with him.”

  “Go out where?”

  “Dating?” He wasn’t the only one drawing a blank‑his earphone was quiet, too. “Oh, come on, you have got to understand dating. You know, girl and guy getting together to get to know each other better.”

  “You speak of fun?” he said with a big grin.

  It was that big grin that had her replying cautiously, “Well, sure, at least, it can be hoped a date will turn out to be fun, but that certainly isn’t always the case, and some can turn out to be a real pain in the‑”

  She cut herself off. He was looking alarmed. And she heard the distinct sound of laughter coming out of his earphone. She gave up. She was either having her leg pulled halfway across the state, or whoever had taught him English didn’t have a good grasp of it themselves.

  She said, “We should probably stop at the library in the morning to get you a real English dictionary. It might take you a few weeks of studying it, but you definitely didn’t learn all you should have the first time around.”

  “I am aware that we are having difficulty communicating, but I would not be able to read one of your books. I was taught in audio, not visual.”

  She sighed. “Was your teacher a complete idiot, or one of those rinky‑dink language‑?”

  The screeching out of the earphone was seriously loud this time, causing Dalden to yank it out of his ear before it did some real damage.

  Brittany raised an eyebrow at him. “Let me guess. The gal on the other end of the line there was your teacher?”

  He winced, but nodded. She chuckled, adding, “Okay, I’ll assume, since you’re still being taught by Miss Coach, that you haven’t had a full language course yet, and you’re actually doing pretty well, if we go with that assumption. It’s not a major problem, Just time‑consuming, all this explaining stuff. No biggie.”

  The earphone had gone silent while she spoke, prompting him to risk putting it back on. It buzzed for a moment at a normal volume. The woman Martha was obviously temperamental, but able to recover swiftly and get back to business.

  He said now, “I am told that your language is more familiar to us than was first realized. Taken from the computers, the language was basic. Hearing you speak it, the similarities are becoming noticeable.”

  “Similarities to what? Your own language?”

  “No, to the ancient language of my mother’s people, which I have full understanding of. If such continues apace, and other of

  your words have the same meanings, I Will have the correct translations momentarily. Thus we will have no further difficulties in communicating.

  “Huh?”

  He held up a hand, silently asking her to wait on any further explanations. The noise coming out of his earphone now was a steady buzz, a nonstop low‑volume sound like a high‑speed acceleration on a tape recorder, much too fast to be understood. It was probably broken. Good. She didn’t really mind explaining things to him. But she did mind third‑wheel Martha continuously butting in. How were they supposed to find any time alone to get to know each other better with that ever‑present eavesdropper connected to his ear?

  Chapter Twelve

  CAN THAT BE TURNED OFF?”

  Brittany blushed as she asked it. She shouldn’t have asked. It smacked of her obvious preference to be alone with Dalden.

  Yet he didn’t seem to notice any ulterior motive to the question and simply answered, “Only partially can Martha be disabled. The unit can be made so she cannot, or will not, speak, but there is no way to keep her from hearing when she is already hearing.

  Brittany assumed that something got lost there in the translation, because it almost sounded as if Martha had some other means out of his control for listening in on him, which conjured up an image of her apartment being bugged with a spying device, which was absurd. And she was not going to start looking under tables.

  The subject went no further, though, because noises were finally heard from behind Jan’s bedroom door, a bit of swearing, then the door opened and Jan stumbled groggily out, rubbing her eyes. Seeing Brittany first, she said, “I had the weirdest dream,” then noticing Dalden on the coach, “okay, so maybe I didn’t. Who the‑”

  She didn’t go any further, was absorbing Dalden’s looks by slow degrees, to the point that her eyes got wider and wider. If someone could be said to be drooling without actually drooling, Jan was doing it. At least, she was until Dalden pushed off of the couch to turn to face her, so he didn’t have to crane his neck to look behind him.

  His neck‑craning was nothing compared to hers. Jan was on the petite side and had to look up at Brittany if they were standing too close, but Dalden’s seven feet were a bit intimidating. She’d been amazed at his handsomeness, but his size had her literally backing up until she was almost back in her bedroom.

  She stopped at the door and said, “Holy cow!” And then as an explanation occurred to her, “One of your brothers, right? You could have warned me he was coming.”

  Jan had never met any of Brittany’s brother’s, but for some reason she assumed they were all a lot taller than Brittany was. Which wasn’t the case at all. York was six‑six, but both Kent and Devon were a bit shorter than that.

  Brittany replied, “I’m happy to say he’s no relation.”

  ” Oh?” Jan’s eyes swung to Brittany and, seeing the blush, added, “Ohhhh,” which made the blush even brighter.

  Brittany made introductions and offered a bit of explanation about why Dalden was there. She then escaped to the kitchen with the excuse of getting dinner started, and stayed there until her cheeks cooled off. It was appalling that she’d blushed more in this one day than she had in the last several years.

  She didn’t have to worry about leaving Jan alone with Dalden. That longer “oh” had been clear understanding on her part. Jan even managed to disappear for most of the evening. She was a compulsive matchmaker, after all, had been trying to fix Brittany up with one guy after another in the three years they’d shared the apartment, and wasn’t about to be a third wheel tonight when it was so obvious that Brittany was attracted to their guest.

  Brittany cooked one of the most lavish meals she’d ever prepared. She even broke out the cookbook for it, not wanting to make a single mistake. Realizing afterward what she’d done, going to so much anxious effort to impress Dalden, she was disgusted with herself. If he couldn’t like her the way she was, then there was no point in even thinking that they might be able to form a relationship, even if only a brief one. She wasn’t going to change for anyone, was very comfortable with her life and her goals.

  He was impressed with the meal, though‑at least, he cleaned his plate thrice over. She knew men his size could eat a lot at one sitting, her brothers being testament to that, but even she was amazed at the amount of food Dalden consumed. Fortunately, she had prepared enough side dishes that she didn’t run short. Still, there were no leftovers, and thank goodness Jan had a sweet tooth, so there was half a chocolate cake available for dessert as well. With half of that and a full carton of milk, she was reasonably sure her guest was finally replete.

  And then she got nervous.

  It was natural, she supposed, with a few hours yet to kill before her usual bedtime, that she’d start thinking about sex. Not that it hadn’t been in the back, or forefront, of her mind all day, when she’d never before met someone she was this powerfully attracted to. And since that attraction had seemed to be mutual, she was pretty much expecting Dalden to make a move on her at some point in the evening.

  For an immediate distraction, she turned on the television. It wouldn’t be the first time she had used it to ease awkward moments with new acquaintances. But Dalden di
dn’t seem the least bit interested in it, was staring at her instead, which just increased her nervousness.

  “What would you like to watch?” she asked him.

  He chuckled. “Is that not apparent?

  “Back came the pink cheeks. “I meant on the TV,” she explained. He finally glanced across the room toward where she nodded and, after a moment of visually examining the floor console sitting there, rather than what was on the screen, said, “It is a strange-looking computer.”

  “It’s not a computer‑” She paused with the incredulous thought. “Oh, come on, don’t try to tell me you know about computers, but have never seen a television set before, when television has been around long before computers.”

  “I am told it is a means of entertainment.”

  “But you didn’t know that until Martha just told you, did you? How is that possible?” she asked, then answered her own question. “Okay, so maybe you live out in the boonies somewhere, and maybe your village doesn’t even have electricity. But, newsflash, most computers require electricity, too. So how can you know of one and not the other, when most households have a TV or two or three, long before they even think about buying a home computer?”

  He didn’t reply. He got to his feet, moved to stand in front of her, and pulled her to her feet as well. One hand came to her cheek, and tilted her head so she would meet the eyes looking down at her. That easily all thoughts of questioning him gone. She’d wonder later if it were deliberate on his part, to avoid answering her, but at the moment she was knee‑deep in anticipation and simply didn’t care.

  “I like your concept of dating, now that I understand it,” he told her. “But I think you will like the concept of my fun even better. We each of us know what the other wants, thus would dating best be seen to after we first have fun.”