Psy (Alien Castaways #3) - Cara Bristol Page 0,6

her until Psy had walked in. I love working here.

“I meant in general.”

Sometimes I want more, she said carefully.

“And you should! You should demand more! A woman your age shouldn’t spend her weekend canning jam! You’re entitled to a vibrant, joyful life in which you chase every dream you can imagine. That might not be the life Rosalie envisions for you, but it’s what you deserve, and only you can make it happen.”

Her mother didn’t much care for Verna, and Cassie was getting the impression the animosity was mutual. She loves me, she defended her.

“I don’t doubt that for an instant.”

She worries because of my disability.

“Poppycrap! Pardon my French. So you can’t speak? So what? Most people talk too damn much, myself included. You’re intelligent, talented, empathetic, kind, and beautiful. It’s no wonder Psy was smitten. Any man with a pulse, human or alien, would be.”

Flabbergasted by the compliments, she had no idea how to respond. She appreciated the flattery, but if she was such a prize, wouldn’t she have met somebody by now? It had been five years since she graduated high school. She could catch a man’s eye, but once he discovered communicating with her took work, he lost interest.

Except…she remembered a few who hadn’t. She’d been at the mall, at the bank, in a grocery store and having a good conversation with a man, him speaking, her writing, when her mother had cut in, telling her they needed to leave.

What if the interruptions had been intentional?

She cringed with guilt for the disloyalty. Her mother wouldn’t do that—she commiserated that Cassie hadn’t yet met anybody special. She’d been thrilled when Cassie had had a boyfriend in high school—and sad when he broke up with her.

“Listen,” Verna said. “If I spoke out of turn, forgive me. Like I said, people talk too damn much, and I’m one of them. I care about you, and I want to see you happy.” She gave her a brusque hug and then said, “Here’s the important question—what are you going to wear on your date?”

Chapter Four

Cassie placed the bear on the kitchen counter.

Her mother stood at the stove frying chicken. “What’s that?”

Verna gave me a cookie jar, she wrote.

Her mother glanced at the message and harrumphed. “That’s one way of getting rid of junk she can’t sell.”

She just got it. If you don’t like it, I’ll keep it in my room. She left out what she’d seen in her mind when she’d laid eyes on the cookie jar, having learned long ago mentioning a vision triggered her mother’s protective instincts. Out of self-preservation, she’d lied, telling her the hallucinations had ceased. She felt guilty, but it did make life easier.

Dinner smells good. What can I do to help?

Her mother motioned to the pot of boiling potatoes. “They’ll be done in five minutes, and you can mash them.”

Cassie nodded. Be right back. She grabbed the cookie jar and took it to her room, making space on her dresser. The bear’s nose and one ear were chipped, its smile goofy. She had to admit it was kind of ugly. Still, she liked it, and now that she had a physical manifestation of her vision, maybe another one would come to her. None of her visions were the same, but she couldn’t shake the hunch they were related in some way. Each one revealed another piece to the puzzle—only she didn’t have enough pieces yet to figure out the picture.

However, nothing compared to what she’d seen through the mind link with Psy. Literally, he had shown her a whole new world, but the best part had been the ability to communicate with another person on an intimate level.

Cassie hugged herself. Verna had been right about one thing. He did look human, and while his eyes were unique, they weren’t weird, they were soulful. With his thick, near-black hair and remarkable eyes, he was beautiful yet masculine, with a trim, wiry physique. She guessed he fell shy of six feet, and since she was almost five foot six, he stood at the perfect kissing height. His full, soft lips and white-white teeth hadn’t escaped her notice, either.

What if she’d forgotten how to kiss? Years had passed since she’d made out with her high school boyfriend. What if she fumbled? Bumped his nose?

Talk about jumping ahead! Maybe Psy didn’t want to kiss her. Maybe his people didn’t kiss at all. They hadn’t gone on a date yet.

First things first. Like dinner. She washed her hands in the hall