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Sure enough, just as Espie said it, the lights surrounding the small park flickered to life, illuminating the grassy field and the smattering of trees around it. One of the football jerks hooted at something; she resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder again, instead digging her beat-up copy of Frankenstein out of her backpack.
There must have been bloodhound shifter among those men who could sniff out exactly when the club was trying to do something, because the second they started to break down the allegories within the text, the footballers made their way even closer. Espie kept glancing up occasionally as their voices grew louder and more intrusive. The game was obviously getting more intense. That, or they’d stopped caring if they were encroaching on a peaceful little book group who had clearly been there first.
Espie slammed her book down, no longer listening as her friends attempted to talk to each other in raised voices over the commotion, and just as she was about to whirl around and snarl at the closest idiot to shut the hell up, she heard someone yell, “Heads up!”
The book club members instinctively ducked, hands and books flying up to shield themselves from the impending ball. Espie turned around, ready to catch the damn thing and shove a bear claw through it. She could do it. None of those sweaty, rude humans would notice.
Just before the ball made impact, however, a large pair of hands reached into her field of vision and caught it, sparing her from touching the roughened pigskin.
“Sorry about that,” a deep, somewhat breathless voice rumbled. “Didn’t mean for it to head this way. I’ll tell those idiots off.”
Espie tried to glare up at the source of that voice, but she couldn’t seem to focus. Every single one of her senses was firing on overdrive, and the lights around the park were suddenly blinding, in stadium quality illumination, instead of the warm yellow bulbs that were washing over them. She could hear the rustle of every leaf caught in the wind, every flitting piece of grass.
And that smell. Crisp, yet familiar, like the clothes you take out of the bottom drawer that smell distinctly like you. Only this wasn’t a scent Espie had smelled before: it wasn’t a scent that had ever crossed her path, yet somehow she knew it intimately.
Heart hammering hard in her chest, just like she’d run the whole length of the mountain range and back, Espie lifted her dark eyes to the man hovering overhead.
“I…It’s…” Her mouth felt too dry to speak, and her brain was too jumbled for intelligent conversation. All she could do was stare at the gorgeous creature that stood there, gripping the football with both hands.
Large hands with long fingers. Well worked. He sported dark body hair that trailed up muscular, sweat-drenched arms to a grey t-shirt that had seen better days. There was a smattering of facial scruff that covered a somewhat pointed chin, with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His light brown hair curled slightly and a very noticeable lock popped out over his forehead – just like Superman.
Espie swallowed hard, difficult as it was, and continued to gawk almost shamelessly. She had never experienced such a surge of instant attraction before in her life. Her senses had gone crazy, both heightened and dulled at the same time, like the rest of the world was almost too loud, but all she could focus on was him.
“It’s not cool,” Maida interjected. Her best friend’s voice broke the spell, forcing Espie to breathe normally again.
“Yes. Tell the other goons to go play somewhere else.”
The man placed his hand on his chest and gave them a little bow, followed by a smirk. “Apologies on behalf of bunks six and eight, at least. We didn’t mean to interrupt your…er...”
Hazel eyes with flecks of green scanned over the blankets and plates of half-eaten food (and, honestly, not very well done cloud paintings), and he cleared his throat. Espie’s eyesight was still on overdrive as she tried to absorb every inch of him. He cleared his throat. The sound sent a pulse of longing through her system.
“Well, sorry for ruining your picnic thing.”
He gave the group one last salute, shot an almost befuddled look at Espie, then jogged back to rejoin the rest of the boys. Espie watched, utterly transfixed, as he ordered them back across the field. Halfway over, he glanced back, and even though the distance obscured his features somewhat, she had no doubt he was looking directly at her.
“Bunks six and eight?” Maria scoffed. “What did I tell you? Miners.”
Espie grabbed Maida’s hand before she could get drawn into the group’s whispered conversation, and when her best friend looked at her in alarm, Espie’s eyes widened somewhat.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she whispered, the shock of her realization adding a tremble into her usually firm voice. “That gorgeous miner? He’s my fated mate!”
Maida threw her hands over her mouth to hold back a delighted squeal. “Oh my God, Espie, what are you going to do? How can you be fated to a miner?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, rubbing at her temples. “But if the universe says we belong together, then it must also have some way to make that work.”
