Werewolves Don't Wear Cowboy Boots

Chapter 2: Redheads and the sun are not friends

Colum was only too happy when the day's work was done and he could wipe the sweat from his brow, knowing a cool shower was well within his reach. He was no stranger to hard work, but this heat, on the other hand ...

A companionable hand came down on his shoulder, startling him something fierce, and he looked up at the dirty, grinning face of James Barlean. Despite his soiled appearance, the sandy-haired boy still managed to look as if he was eager to put in another day's worth of work. "You doing OK?" He tilted his head as he regarded Colum, doubt creeping into his expression. "You look pretty burnt."

Possibly he was, but Colum shrugged in an uncomfortable sort of way to dismiss any concerns. Being fair skinned, he always flushed easily. But then, James clearly had the sort of complexion that never had to worry about that.

"Come on," James said, waving a hand as he started walking toward his truck. "You should probably drink some water."

Colum would have declined the offer, but he was very thirsty, and the boy seemed quite intent on his mission. So he followed and accepted the water with a soft "thank you."

"Welcome," James said, glancing around as Colum took a drink. "Where's your car, anyway?"

"Bridget," Colum said, then realized maybe not everyone was as used to his minimalist conversation as his sister. He elaborated, "She needed it. She said to call her-"

"Oh, there's no need for that," James interrupted, opening his driver side door. "I can give you a ride. Just tell me where to take you."

Colum was still debating whether to accept the offer when James turned to him with an expectant expression, as if saying, 'Well, what are you waiting for?'

"I ..." He cleared his throat, looked down at the water bottle in his hands, then looked back up with a small nod. "Thank you."

He walked around the vehicle and climbed inside, marveling at the way dust seemed to cling to every surface inside the cab. James started the truck up, and they pulled away from the farm with the rumble of the engine and country music filling Colum's ears. It was a noisy ride to the little farm house where he and Bridget were staying, and while James chattered, Colum resorted to hand motions to point the way.

"Oh. You're at the King place!" James exclaimed as he pulled into the driveway. "You should've said so."

Colum wasn't certain how he was meant to have known it was 'the King place,' and therefore wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Should he apologize? Or explain why he hadn't been more specific?

The beat up old red Honda was sitting outside, which meant Bridget was undoubtedly inside. She was better at this sort of thing, assuming she was in the mood to be charming rather than surly. Colum cast an uncertain glance toward the house, then motioned weakly. "Would you like to come in?"

His companion's face lit up with a wide smile. "Well, sure."

Immediately, he regretted asking, but he could hardly take the words back. He climbed down from the truck and made his way inside the house, holding the door open for James to follow. They entered through the back, as was his custom, and just the other side of a small, enclosed back porch was the little kitchen. It was warm and smelled of bread. For a moment, he breathed in the scent and it made him feel like he was home. And then Bridget looked up from her seat at the kitchen table. She was wearing shorts and an old shirt, both covered in flour, and had one leg tucked underneath her as she read a book. Judging by the way she slammed it shut and tossed it into the other room as if she had something to hide, he could only imagine it was one of those romance novels she pretended she didn't read. She was looking at them both with color in her cheeks, likely due more to anger than embarrassment.

Colum opened his mouth to say something, found he didn't know what to say, and then nodded instead.

James gave a slight wave and broke the silence. "Evening. Bridget, right? How're you doing?"

Her eyes darted to Colum and then back to the American. "Grand. And yourself?" She did not sound 'grand' at all.

James offered her a lazy smile. He either didn't notice her frostiness, or he was immune to that sort of thing – whichever the case, it was a talent Colum wished he possessed as well. "I'm alright. I thought I'd offer to give your brother a ride home so he didn't have to bother you. I like what you've done with the place."

Bridget had a way with adding flare to things on a budget, and with just curtains and some items picked up on the cheap from a local thrift store, she'd made the place less barren. All the same, James had only seen the kitchen, and even with Bridget's best efforts, it was a spartan affair. She must have taken the compliment for condescension, because Colum could see the way she tensed up.

"Would you like to stay for tea?" Colum asked quickly, wanting to avoid any unpleasantness. He just hoped James didn't notice the way Bridget's eyes narrowed with the suggestion.

"Oh, no, thank you," James said, shifting a foot backward. Maybe he had noticed her expression after all. "I should be getting home. But I was telling my mom about the Irish folks I met, and she said to invite you out to supper if I ever run into you again. I don't suppose you'd care to join us tonight?"

Colum glanced toward a calendar hanging on the wall, then looked down at his shoes and gave a slight shake of the head. "That's .... a very nice offer, but maybe not tonight."

"Oh, well, another time." James glanced between them, looking almost uncertain all of a sudden. "I should get home before she starts to wonder where I've been. But ... if you change your mind, or you ever need anything, just give me a call." He fished around in his pocket until Bridget, with a sigh, found him a pen and paper to write his number. He handed the paper to Bridget when he was done, then walked to the door with a wave. "Well, see you all later."

Colum thanked him once more and let him out the door before returning to the kitchen to find Bridget looking at him with arms crossed over her chest and an expression that was anything but amused.

"Did you have to invite him in?" She asked, then sighed when he responded with a helpless sort of expression. "Used up all your allotted words for the day, have you? Well, at least I can throw this away now."

She moved toward the trashcan with James' number, and Colum frowned. "I wish you wouldn't. He seems nice, and we could use a friend."

Bridget looked at him with a long-suffering expression, then rolled her eyes and retrieved her book instead, thrusting the slip of paper in as a bookmark. "I'll save it, then. But he's not my friend, anyway."

*****

Note: And that's a wrap on the second chapter. I hope you can bear with me as I introduce the characters and set things up. If you're reading, go raibh maith agat! Or (because Bridget is seriously judging me right now), thank you.