Bonded by Accident

Come to think of it, the men on those bodice-rippers looked a lot like Slade, whispered a little voice in her head. Brandi caught herself wondering what her grandmother would have thought of the big Kindred before she pushed him firmly out of her head and hustled Emmie out the door.

She got Emmie strapped into her booster seat and then settled herself behind the wheel of her ancient Chevy Malibu. The car was so old it would have been considered a classic if it hadn’t been so rust-eaten and junky. Brandi had gotten it third-hand from a friend of a friend for a good price—all she could afford—and she prayed daily that it would just keep running a little while longer.

The air was out because it had a Freon leak so she had to drive with the windows open, but that was just too bad. She couldn’t afford either expensive repairs or a new car payment right now—not on top of Emmie’s after-school care which ate up almost all her disposable income.

Usually the old car was clunky but reliable but today it seemed her luck had run out. When she twisted the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered and tried to crank but when it finally started, a warning light came on and black smoke started to seep out from under the hood.

“Oh no!” Brandi turned off the ignition quickly. “What in the world? What could make it smoke like that?”

“What’s wrong, Mommy? Is the car sick again?” Emmie asked.

“I’m afraid so, sweetpea.” Brandi felt her heart sink. Who could she get to fix the ancient car this time? Right up until he’d gone to jail, Earl had done all her auto repairs. Even after they divorced he was willing to keep on servicing her vehicle as long as he got to see Emmie. Now that he was out of her life, Bud was pretty good at fixing the old car when it broke down. But her stepfather was in the middle of his shift at the Firestone warehouse and she knew he couldn’t leave to fix her car.

What was she going to do?

Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe the car would be all right if she gave it another try, Brandi thought desperately.

Experimentally, she cranked the ignition again and was met by another belch of black smoke from under the hood.

“Looks like you’ve got a problem.”

The deep growling voice was unsettlingly familiar as it came floating in her open window.

Brandi killed the engine again and looked over to see Slade standing there, just to one side of the double-wide. He was dressed in the usual uniform of the Kindred—black leather trousers and boots—but instead of wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt as he had yesterday, he had on a short-sleeved cotton t-shirt which showed off his muscular biceps and clung lovingly to his sculpted pecs.

Brandi bit her lip in consternation.

Oh hell, what am I going to do now?

The big Kindred was standing there with his arms crossed over his broad chest looking like seven miles of bad road, as her Grandma Ida would have said, and since her car was broken, there was no way to get away from him.

Then the passenger side door clunked open and a small blur shot from the car and made a bee-line straight for Slade.

“Daddy-man! Daddy-man!” Emmie shrieked and threw herself directly at him.

The startled look on Slade’s face was almost comical but he reached down with lightning-quick reflexes and caught the little girl up in his massive arms.

“Daddy-man!’ Emmie cried again. Throwing her arms around Slade’s thick neck, she began covering his rough cheeks in kisses.

For a moment Brandi was so stunned she couldn’t even react. Emmie had always been a very demonstrative little girl but only with people she knew. With strangers she was shy and retiring, preferring to stay bashfully behind Brandi until she could be coaxed out. The “Stranger Danger” routine had been thoroughly drummed into her head, both at school and by Brandi at home, and normally the sight of a strange man—especially one as big and intimidating as Slade—would have sent her running to hide in Brandi’s shadow.

In a million years, Brandi never would have predicted this reaction from her young daughter. Yet here it was, happening in front of her face…

And you’re doing nothing about it! whispered a fierce, scolding voice in her head. That’s your child, Brandi and you barely know that man!

“Emmie!” she gasped, her paralysis breaking at last. Charging out of the car, she ran over to where Slade was still holding her daughter in one muscular arm, a bemused expression on his face. “Emmaline Clair Dixon!” she exclaimed, reaching for her daughter. “What do you think you’re doing? Get over here right now.”

But to her further surprise, her daughter resisted being pried out of Slade’s arms.