Werewolves Don't Wear Cowboy Boots

Chapter 1: Girls just want to live somewhere that doesn't look post-apocalyptic

12 years later

Middle of nowhere, America

A farm boy wearing wrinkled flannel had his eyes fixed on Bridget as he pumped gas into his truck. She would have called it leering, but he had that "my momma raised me right" look about him that kept it just this side of creepy. She smiled coolly but didn't speak. That always resulted in the boys, first, asking "Say what?" and, second, looking at her like she was some strange, exotic creature they wanted to mount on their wall – or somewhere in their room. And Bridget was not interested – not in him, and not in anything else here. New York City had been interesting – dirty, and with its fair share of truly awful boys, but so alive and exciting she didn't mind the rest. And then her brother decided to move on, because it was too expensive or not wholesome enough or whatever reason. So now they were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by wheat fields and wind and people who pronounced wash as "warsh." Everyone was friendly, life was simple, and it reminded her sickeningly of home. Except home, for all its dreary days and rain, was at least scenic. This place was brown and barren, and it looked like someone had dropped an atomic bomb on it sometime in the recent past.

A wave of irritation mixed with relief washed over her when the door to the convenience store jangled pathetically, and her brother walked out with two bottles in his hand.

"Took your time, didn't you?" she said as Colum offered her one of the bottles. She was very aware of the way Redneck No. 1's stare intensified upon hearing her accent. Despite her complete lack of interest, she couldn't help posing appealingly as she opened the water and took a drink, running her fingers through her red hair to push it out of her face.

"You from Australia, ma'am?" the boy asked.

Bridget fixed him with a steely gaze, her smile sharp. "And yourself? You must be from Canada, I suppose."

Colum coughed, nearly choking on his water, then looked at Bridget in a particularly pained sort of way. She knew the look only too well. "We're from Ireland," he said, before Bridget or the boy could say any more. He smiled, but in true Colum fashion, he was so awkward it was likely lost on any stranger. He tried to be friendly, but he was so shy it usually came off as standoffishness.

The boy looked at Bridget with a stunned expression, as if he knew she meant to be rude, but dealt with that sort of thing so rarely that he didn't know how to respond. Colum's contribution seemed to leave him only marginally relieved. "Oh. I'm from just down the road. Grew up here. What brings you to Oklahoma?"

Bridget would have happily responded with a cutting remark about the fabulous night life or the flourishing fashion culture, but Colum pleaded with his eyes and she thought better of it.

"We wanted to see America, and a friend who helps with the harvest brought us here," Colum said.

The boy perked up at that, and Bridget could have kicked her brother. This looked like the start of a conversation, which she certainly didn't want, and she wouldn't have thought her bashful brother would be inclined to start one either.

"Are you working the harvest too?" the boy asked, taking a step closer to them. "Which family?"

"The Browns," Colum said softly.

The boy let out a whoop of pleasure. "I'll see you around then. I work for the Browns myself. Name's James Barlean." He held out a hand, tanned and calloused.

Colum shook with him, his own demeanor much more reserved and solemn than their new acquaintance. "Colum. Connelly. My younger sister, Bridget."

Always so wordy, Colum was.

"Pleasure to meet you." James turned his gaze on Bridget and let a smile spread slowly across his lips. "And you, Bridget. I apologize if I offended you. I've never met anyone from Ireland before. Or Australia, for that matter."

She wanted to turn to her brother and ask if it was necessary to be nice to the new boy, but she knew the answer he would give well enough. She nodded in James' general direction in acceptance of his apology, though she didn't quite meet his eyes.

James smiled all the brighter. "Well, I'll let you get to it. I suppose I'll see you both around, though. Have a good day!"

He gave a cheerful wave, and Colum and Bridget climbed into the awful little car they'd driven all the way from New York.

"You could have been nicer to him," Colum said as he started the engine.

Bridget made a noise in the back of her throat. "I'm not interested in being nice to some boy working in a farm in the wilderness."

She thought, but didn't say, 'Ask me again after I've seen him working with his shirt off.' She didn't care for striking up a relationship with anyone living in this place, but she had noticed James' tanned and fit physique. She would not, however, mention that to her brother – nor would he care to hear it. She rolled the water bottle across her forehead, letting the condensation slide down her face, as they pulled away from the gas station. "I wish the air worked in this car." There were many reasons, but, surprisingly, the least of them was the way her hair tangled from driving with the windows down.

"You always did say you wanted to move somewhere warm," Colum said with false cheer.

Bridget shot him a look. "Warm. Not surface of the sun. And I was picturing somewhere glamorous, like California or Florida or Italy or Greece. I did not mean I wanted to move anywhere warm at all, even if it's a desert."

"It isn't a desert." His voice was soft.

"It might as well be." Bridget rolled her eyes and looked out the window at the brown, desolate landscape going past. "Did Bran really think this through? At least in the city you could blend in with the crowd, but here? Small towns full of people with small minds. We know well enough how that sort of thing turns out." He said nothing, so she turned to face him and caught the expression on his face – pained, worried, and trying very hard (and failing) not to show any of that. She snorted and looked away again.

"Give it a chance, Bridget," he said in his quiet way. "You might even find you like it here." 

*****

Note: I don't really know what to write at the end of these. The first chapter is done, and some of the characters properly introduced. Hope you enjoy. :)