Kim nods. "I'll contact her. Give me a few weeks, though. Sophie and her mate don't stay connected and only check for messages infrequently. I think they like their quiet."
I shudder at the thought. "I get enough quiet every day as it is. I'm desperate for company."
"Mmm, speaking of company, don't look now," Kim murmurs. "Your big hunk of an officer is heading this way."
I glance out the windows of the general store, and sure enough, Rektar is headed in this direction. God, he looks good. I bite back a whimper at the sight of his big shoulders. A lot of taller guys are built like an inverted triangle, but Rektar is just a big square. He's just wide and thick, and all of it's muscle, and I love the sight of it. I love his plain, unadorned horns and his no-nonsense haircut. I love his boring “custodian” uniform because it means he's a good, law-abiding sort of guy. He's not the type to enslave women and drag them away from their planet, or the type to sneak into a woman's barn and try to scare her.
He's the Dudley Do-Right of outer space and I have such a crush on the man.
Everyone in town knows it, too. I've made it clear to everyone that I find Rektar attractive…clear to everyone except Rektar, it seems. I think about how astonished he looked last night when I touched him. I must not be good at getting my feelings across. Even now, I wonder if he's coming here to tell me that I'm free to go back to my place…without him. That he's ashamed of what happened between us and never wants to see me again.
That would hurt.
Kim pats my shoulder and murmurs something about checking with the shopkeeper about spices. I'm not paying much attention. My entire focus is on Rektar, because he's looking through the window, scanning for someone. Looking for me, I hope. His gaze locks with mine, and I see something…different in his eyes. My heart thuds with hope. Maybe…maybe…
Rektar opens the door to the store and steps inside, heading for me. "Are you finished with your business here, Lucy?"
I glance around, pretending to consider, but I know the answer already. I'm just killing time, waiting to talk to him again. Waiting to figure out what's going on between the two of us. He's giving me such mixed signals I don't know what to think. "I'm not buying anything today," I tell him. "What's up?"
He straightens, tugging on his uniform, and then gives me an impassively blank look. "Join me. We are heading to the registrar's office."
And I'm disappointed again, because he's now deliberately staring at my chin, not looking me in the eye. This man. I swallow back my frustration and adjust my shawl. "Do I need to sign something?"
"Yes," he barks out. A moment later he pauses. "No."
I clench my jaw, because I'm getting a little tired of being jerked around. I march out of the store, and he's right on my heels. The registrar's office is a tiny hole-in-the-wall-type location sandwiched between a meat processor and the bank, and it's an end of the street I don't often head down. Rektar puts a hand on my shoulder, guiding me along the walkway, and I feel less like a friend and more like a prisoner.
Heck, I don't even want to be his “friend.” I want to be something more, but this morning, he's acting like he can't decide if I'm a leper or a temptress. "You going to tell me what we're doing, or do I have to guess from your attitude?"
Rektar's silent as he leads me toward the building and then opens the door for me. "We are getting married," he admits, ushering me inside.
We're what?
I stare at him in shock. "Excuse me?"
"We are marrying. You need a mate to protect you. I will take on that duty." He sets his jaw and stares at my chin. "I will not brook any argument on this. It is imperative that you remain safe. This is the best way to do it."
As marriage proposals go, this is an absolutely terrible one. It's what I wanted, though. I'd just hoped…I glance over at him but he won't look at me. I sigh. Maybe I just hoped for too much. I'm getting married to the man I want, all right, but he's acting like it's his duty as custodian rather than what he wants as a man. "Can we talk about this?"
"The registrar is very busy," Rektar says, taking me by the elbow and guiding me inside. "We can talk after the marriage."
A szzt male—the race with the sharp, terrifying teeth and large pebbled orange heads—jumps to his feet as Rektar approaches. "A human ceremony?" the male asks. "I am becoming quite familiar with those." He gives us an unctuous look, ushering us toward a tiny makeshift area at the back of the office. There are wilting flowers on a table and a basket of fruit atop a hastily embroidered tablecloth, and I guess that's where all the “special” ceremonies are held. It'd be kind of sad and funny if I wasn't so frustrated at the moment.