Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections Read Online Free PDF Page B

or Mr. Good-For-a-Good-Time but never Mr. Right.
    Zan frowned. That idea never upset him but now it did. He wasn’t going soft, was he? He took another deep breath, taking the woman’s lingering scent. The rebellious part of him wondered if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.
    “Look,” Alton said. “She’s upstairs now. Give her a few days. She’ll grow on you. She’s right for us.”
    “And if she don’t grow on me?”
    “A week. We can send her back on the next shuttle. That’s all I’m asking.”
    Zan nodded. Alton would do his best to woo the woman and keep her on their modest ranch. Zan would do his best to run her off.
    “Deal,” he said with a grin.
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
    Sophia
     
    Sophia couldn’t get the stupid, goofy grin off her face. Alton was easy on the eyes, infuriating but a good cook. She pondered his virtues while brushing out her short, dark hair. The whole marriage thing might not be so bad after all.
    Bathed and dressed, Sophia moved her luggage into the empty room. The room faced south and a soft, gentle light spilled into the room. The windows protested as she opened them but the fresh air was worth the struggle. She surveyed the room: bare hardwood floors, plain white walls and not a stick of furniture. It would do.
    She took out the painting and unrolled the canvas. The frame assembled easily and the entire unit went rigid. She carried the painting down the stairs. The living room needed color. She pushed open the heavy curtains. Sunlight streamed in, dust motes hanging in the air.
    “Hey, Alton,” she called. “Mind if I hang my painting?” There was no response beyond the clattering in the kitchen. “Sure, Sophia,” she said in a mock, high pitched voice, “that sounds great.”
    Sophia knew exactly where her painting belonged. She placed it above the fireplace mantel. She ran her finger along the dark walnut frame, rubbing the chip in the lower left corner.
    Her mother had painted three year old Sophia, dark hair in braids and wearing a calico dress. In the portrait, young Sophia was in a derelict barn, sunlight and grass flooding and the skeletal remains of the barn. She held a single black eyed Susan. The sense of hope and joy saturated the painting and made it brighter than the muted color palette. Sophia never tired of the painting. It brought back the sense that her mother was in the room with her, whether she was a giant space station or an alien planet at the edge of the universe.
    Sophia gazed out the grimy front windows. Endless prairie golden in the late summer sun, rolled out interrupted by telephone poles and the occasional crude hallmarks of civilization. She never dreamed her painting would match the view out the window.
    “What is that?” Alton asked, coming into the room.
    “Art.”
    “I realize it’s art, Miss Sassmouth, but what is it specifically?” He stood in front of the mantle, taking in the painting.
    “That’s Mrs. Sassmouth to you and my mother painted it.”
    He nodded. “Did you find everything you need upstairs?”
    “What’s the story with the empty room?”
    “It’s empty,” he said with a shrug.
    “I want it.”
    “We already have —”
    “I want my own room. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.” Separate beds was a nice thought but being in the same room as the gorgeous male was too much temptation, let alone sleeping in the same room.
    He rubbed his chin then said, “Agreed.”
    “Really?” Just like that? No fighting, no bargaining? A smile spread across Sophia’s face.
    “Really.”
    “Can you help me move the bed?”
    “No.”
    Sophia’s smile fell. Oh, that was his angle. She could have the room but if she wanted a nice, comfortable bed to sleep in, she had to do it in his room. No deal. “I need a bed.”
    “Yes, you do.”
    “Why can’t I move one of your two beds?”
    “Reasons.” He folded his arms across his broad chest, the expression on his face suggesting he was tickled pink.