Sunglasses 13: Brazilian Wake-Up Call

“Unnnh,” I complained. It was backed by an answering groan from Mel.

My head was throbbing like my skull had shrunk in the night and my brain was trying to punch its way out. I cracked my eyes and morning light needled in.

“Ow.” I slammed them shut.

“My head,” Mel muttered. “It's like a hangover…”

“A snack hangover.” The prime suspect was obvious. “Pickle-flavored pork rinds.” My accusation came out in a rasp.

“Bleah.” Leather squeaked as Mel rocked her head against the seat. “Why did we eat the whole bag? How? Never again.”

I made agreeing noises while squinting at my phone. At least the pain was receding fast, and the pleasant surprise of waking up with Mel's hand in mine was pretty generous compensation. 

“Um…” I stared fuzzily at my lock screen. “It’s only seven-thirty. I thought wake-up was at eight?”

Mel’s fingers briefly squeezed mine, sending both tingles and blissful proof that the hand-holding was mutual. Then she let go to grab her phone. 

Its screen illuminated her features. Seeing Mel’s “just woke up” face felt like a special privilege. “I did set it for eight.”

“Maybe something else woke us up?” The car windows were coated in thick condensation. I leaned close, but couldn’t see outside.

A red hand thumped against the glass!

“Jesus!” I threw myself back from the window.

It wasn’t until an unusually strong arm stopped me from hurtling into the opposite door that I realized I’d propelled myself onto Mel’s lap. The fear that put me there immediately made room for a secondary wave of face-burning mortification.

While I flopped like a landed fish, two hands—one red and one green—swirled against the outer window to clear it. Gloves. Red and green gloves, not skin. Suddenly, two pale faces, a man and a woman, pressed against the glass with manic grins.

“Bom dia!”

Even with a barrier between us the loud unhinged greeting made me twitch. Mel’s hand tightened around my shoulder. Still breathing hard, I turned to look into her amused expression. Her eyebrows went up.

“Jumpy?”

Slowly, it occurred to me that Mel had to know these two, because she wasn’t freaking out. As I looked again, the expressions worn by the strangers went from “cheerful” to “confused.” They glanced at each other, then their faces quickly withdrew from the glass. Almost immediately I heard rapid talking in a language I didn’t recognize.

“Shit…sorry,” I mumbled. I started awkwardly trying to slide off of Mel, but my legs were sprawled across the opposite seat and it wasn’t easy to find a handhold that didn’t count as a grope. “I’m not trying to crush you.”

“I could lift you with one arm, Cal,” she answered, but not unkindly. It was a gentle reminder that shifters had incredible strength in every form. I was immediately relieved.

“Oh yeah…okay. I feel better.” I gave her a rueful smile. “Since your legs feel fine, that means only my pride got crushed.”

One of her fingertips gently circled the top of my shoulder. Her expression turned fond. “Want some help, or would accepting my assistance be ‘unmanly’?”

“Are you joking? Please direct my body back to its seat.”

“Happily.” The word had a pleased lilt, and I got the impression I’d passed some sort of test. With apparently zero effort, Mel practically lifted me over to the passenger side. I got my legs back on the floorboard and eased myself down.

“Thank you.” Now I wasn’t sure whether I was breathless from the surprise wake-up ambush or having Mel’s hands on my body. Bit of both.

“You know, that would make some guys feel threatened.”

She was right. It was easy to find stories online about regular humans turning into toxic assholes over stuff like this. Some men couldn’t handle their shifter girlfriends being stronger than them.

The hint of worry in Mel’s eyes—currently brown and still a little bleary—invited a reply. I searched my feelings as the last dregs of my headache faded like morning fog. All I encountered was the same rush I’d had since Mel said “get in” last night.

“I’m not threatened,” I said truthfully, “just impressed.” A self-conscious smile surfaced. “But I'll warn you now, I’m still going to feel protective about you from time to time. I hope that's okay.”

“You feel protective about me?” she asked. At my nod, her eyes briefly swirled with primal magenta. The sight stole my breath.

“Sometimes. It’s silly, but—”

“It's not silly,” Mel answered quickly. “I mean, you got Ángel to fuck off last night. That was impressive as hell.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “I feel protective about you too,” she said softly.

Before I could reply, the conversation outside the car intensified. I couldn’t tell whether it was an argument or aggressive agreement. There was a lot of gesturing. I looked at Mel. 

“What are they saying?”

She smirked. “How would I know? I don’t speak Portuguese.” She popped open her door. “Come on.”

I waited for Mel to come around before I opened my side and stepped out. My breath streamed into the frigid morning air. I looked at her. “I'm guessing that protective part of you wants me to wear my jacket, right?” 

Her answer was an abashed smile. “Please? I still feel awful for almost freezing you last night.”

I chuckled. “Sure.”

Since I was already uncertain about Mel’s colorful new friends, I was happy to delay meeting them. I pulled my coat out of the back while she approached the others. By the time I got it on and walked over, they were all talking quietly. They must have settled on Spanish, because I still didn’t understand the words.

Even though the sun was well below the trees, everyone but me wore shades. Mel had her aviators on, while the couple—I was pretty sure they were a couple—preferred chunky black frames with dark lenses. I took advantage of the focused conversation to study them without seeming rude.

With identical shiny blue track suits, the newcomers were loud in more ways than one. The woman’s red gloves and green headband were the opposite of her companion’s green gloves and red band. Both had large tinted googles on their foreheads. Their hair was half covered, but hers was coiled in a brown braid, and his was black, gelled, and spiky. Each had expressive eyebrows that made their headbands and goggles jump as they spoke.

Not to be rude, but they kind of looked like background extras from an eighties sitcom about goofy skydivers.

Gravel crunched as my foot shifted. All three abruptly noticed me. Mel took a step back, pivoting to open the huddle. She gave me a tight smile, but said nothing. To say the mood was “strained” was putting it lightly. Then she glanced expectantly at her friends. The other woman stepped forward.

“Bom dia,” she repeated, offering a somewhat stiff wave. “Good morning.” At least her smile wasn’t totally forced; their appearance made me guess that this duo was cheerful as a rule. 

“Um, Bom dia,” I said, trying to sound as friendly as I could. I wanted to make a good impression. Whoever they were, these two mattered to Mel. Besides, apart from their anxious expressions, I saw no judgement or disapproval like with Ángel. “I’m Cal. Cal Keller.”

“Adriana Moraes.” Her accent was strong, but not thick. With her face relaxing into a more genuine smile, Adriana turned to the man and reached out. He took her hand. “This is Luiz, my husband.”

Luiz waved at me, a friendly waggle right out of my own “jazz hands” playbook. Finally, a fellow awkward waver.

“Olá, Cal.” He grinned. “We surprised each other, eh?” His accent was identical to his wife’s.

“Adriana and Luiz are storm chasing friends,” Mel explained. “And, um”—she adjusted her aviators—“we’re all cousins.” Her lips pulled into a near grimace, like she was aware of how that sounded and the questions it raised.

I nodded and smiled. I wanted Mel to understand that I wouldn’t press her, that I took her privacy seriously. “So was this a planned meet-up?”

Tension eased from Mel’s body, and it had a soothing effect on my own. “No, but we all know about this place,” Turning to the Moraeses, she asked, “How did you guys get here so early?”

“It was Luiz’s idea,” Adriana said. “After last night…” she abruptly trailed off, sweeping me with a speculative look. It was about as subtle as an A-Team episode.

“He knows,” Mel said quietly. The simple sentence made Luiz’s eyes pop and Adriana suck in a surprised breath. She fired off something in Spanish, and Mel cut her off with a curt headshake. “He knows what Ángel did to me,” she clarified in a somewhat offended tone.

Realization crossed the couple’s faces. Luiz said something to her in Spanish and Adriana nodded, adding, “Perdón, Mel.” She turned to me, and I could see that her cheeks were pinking in embarrassment. “We are not meaning to be rude to either of you. We are sorry, Cal. We are, um, fora do eixo…off-kilter? All of Mel’s friends are upset with how she was treated.”

“Yeah,” I said pointedly, “we are.” Adriana blinked, nonplussed, but my assertion put a small smile on Mel’s face. It warmed my heart.

“That is why we came,” Luiz said quickly, focusing on Mel. “We assumed that you would drive towards today’s chase. I was for heading right to Krimm’s, but my clever fofa had a brain flash that you might be here.”

Adriana’s blush deepened. “Do not call me ‘fluffy’ in new company.” Despite the warning, she seemed pleased. Touching Mel’s arm, she added, “We were so happy to spot your car that we stomped on the brakes.”

“I can see that,” Mel said.

For the first time, I noticed the older model Jeep Wrangler in the middle of the lot. It was parked at an angle and furrows in the gravel suggested it had slid to a halt with locked wheels. 

The sound of the jeep skidding must have woken us up.

“Our blue baby…” Luiz lamented. “We just had her waxed.”

“It’ll be trashed by the end of the season.” Mel had no sympathy.

Like its owners, Adriana and Luiz’s jeep was…distinct. The fabric top was plain khaki, but the car’s paint job made up for it. Despite Luiz describing it as “blue,” the actual color was an eye-gouging teal. The spare tire cover and rear-mounted antenna sported Brazilian flags, and a dizzying carpet of stickers plastered the rear bumper.

Something from yesterday clicked. I took a step forward and gestured at the Jeep. “You two gave Mel her bumper sticker.”

Luiz and Adriana both lit up like they were on the same circuit. “Correto!” The perfectly matched replies made them gape at each other. “Jinx.” Pause. “Double jinx!” Luiz suddenly grabbed Adriana and lifted her up. She set her hands on his shoulders and kicked her legs gleefully as they spun and laughed.

“Wow…” I said quietly, sidling closer to Mel. “What was the phrase you used yesterday?”

“Color-matched Brazilian puppies.” Her mouth crooked up. “Now you understand why I couldn't refuse the bumper sticker and its hideous kerning.”

Luiz set Adriana down, keeping hold of her hand. “We must show Cal the Funnelmobile, fofa.”

Adriana swatted his elbow with her free hand—presumably for the endearment—and enthusiastically waved me closer.

Mel fell in behind me as I approached the “Funnelmobile.” In the morning light its garish color made it quiver in my vision, like it was vibrating too fast to see. But everything was pristine and gleaming. There were no less than two STORM CHASIN’ AND HEART BREAKIN’! bumper stickers amidst the riot of decals on the back.

“Why do you guys do this every year?” Mel’s smile was ironic. “This is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it, and it’s going to be splattered in grime in less than a week.”

“That is why we do it,” Adriana said, and gave a wink.

“It is how we fill up our ‘hardcore meter,’ ” Luiz agreed, flexing his arm. He gently patted the roll bar through the roof cover. “The Funnelmobile is the best chase car in Tornado Alley.”

Mel scoffed. “It’s got a cloth top. It’s hail bait.”

“It is stripped-down on purpose,” Adriana insisted. “Fast and sleek, just like minha joia.” She ran her hand down Luiz’s shiny sleeve.

“Hey, you can't call me ‘jewel’ in new company.” Luiz chuckled as she pinched his cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Mel said, but her voice sounded wistful. Something in my chest clenched at it. Before I had time to decide it was a bad idea, I reached out and took her hand.

Her head whipped in my direction. Mel stared at me, lips parted, then looked back at the Moraeses. Oops. She probably didn’t want to telegraph anything just yet. I started to edge away, but all at once her fingers threaded between mine and held tight.

“The ‘Funnelmobile’ is pretty fast…for a top-heavy Jeep,” she said casually. She hid her nervousness well, but I felt the tremble of her thumb against my skin.

Her taunt had the intended effect. Adriana and Luiz stopped looking at each other and turned back to her. With comically identical timing, their gazes zeroed in our joined hands. Adriana went rigid while Luiz’s eyebrows hitched until his goggles reflected a flash of sky.

Silence.

“Well…” Adriana finally managed. Her gaze was still locked on our brazen hand-holding. “I’d…like to see your delicate little roadster go fast on a dirt road.”

“It goes as fast as I need it to,” Mel countered. Her fingers loosened slightly as her grip grew more natural. She was warming to the subject.

“So does the Funnelmobile.” Luiz slid his arm around his wife’s waist. “We got up to 150 kilometers per hour on the Interstate last year.”

“Impressive.” Mel’s offered a predatory smile. “I’ve often said to myself, ‘Damn, those two are fast,’ when I see how long it takes you to get smaller in my rear view.”

“If we seemed to fall behind, it must be because we turned off on a better route,” Adriana challenged, resting her hand on her hip. The mood was definitely thawing as the sass rose.

Mel snorted, amused in spite of herself. “I don't need to find the best road when I can intercept at 105 miles per hour.” She squinted and tapped her chin. “I'm not sure what that is in ‘diet miles,’ but I know it's faster than 150 kilometers.”

“Diet miles?” Luiz echoed. His expression slowly turned delighted. He laughed. Adriana snickered, then her own throaty laugh broke loose. It was infectious. Mel and I joined in before we knew it.

My mind was in a volatile swirl. I felt an almost manic excitement that Mel had acknowledged…something…happening between us. But it was offset by concern over the emerging “who can shatter the speed limit more” contest.

As the laughter settled, I asked, “Do you really storm chase at a hundred miles an hour?” My banter felt a touch brittle.

“Ah ah ah, now you have frightened Cal.” Adriana said in a teasing tone.

“I'm not scared.” My voice was an octave too high. Shit. I cleared my throat. “I live for danger. Last night I ate pickle-flavored pork rinds.” 

Adriana’s nose wrinkled. “That is…real food?”

“ ‘Food’ is a stretch,” Mel answered drily. She pulled me close until our arms were brushing. Tipping up her chin, she spoke softly into my ear. “Despite the automotive dick measuring, I always drive safe. I’ve never wrecked the Rally, and I won’t get close enough to any storm to put you in danger.” Her warm breath raised the good kind of goosebumps. “You’re safe with me, okay?” 

Mel’s confidence and husky words poured reassurance into me. “Okay,” I breathed.

“Ah…” Luiz looked at Adriana with a knowing smile. “Whatever she whispered, it was the right thing.”

“Okay okay,” Mel said with laugh, “none of that.” Her cheeks were showing a distinct touch of color. “I can only handle so much of you two this early. Is everyone else heading to Krimm’s?”

The couple nodded. “But we don’t know where Ángel is,” Adriana said. “His friends were still there when we left, but his truck was gone.”

“I’m not worried about Ángel,” Mel answered.

“So you two will be joining us in Pierre?” Luiz said.

She nodded. “If everyone is leaving Hoisington now, we still have a shot at an early afternoon intercept. Cal and I will get rooms”—I felt a twinge of disappointment at the plural—“and meet-up with you at Krimm’s.”

“A good plan,” Adriana confirmed. She glanced at Luiz. “Souvenir hunt?”

“Yes.” His gaze kindled like a pirate with a treasure map. “That should give these slowpokes plenty of time.” Mel gave him the finger and he laughed. “It was nice to meet you, Cal.”

“Likewise,” I said, relieved I didn't have to lie. “And I love your Funnelmobile…just not as much as the VAM Rally.”

Adriana gave an amused huff. “But of course you are playing favorites.” Her grin practically sparkled as she waved. “Adeus, Mel, Cal.” 

“I’m driving,” Luiz announced.

“I’m driving,” Adriana countered.

The two quickly lapsed into Portuguese for an exchange. They threw out their hands in a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Luiz groaned as his scissors were smashed by Adriana’s rock. He sulked to the passenger side while his wife whooped in triumph.

The Jeep pulled out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel, a brightly-colored hand waving from each window.

“I like your friends,” I said, watching the teal blur drove away.

“Don’t make up your mind until you’ve endured an hour of them at dinner—after a long chase.” But her smile didn’t match her grumpy tone.

“Can I ask you something?” I said. When she nodded, my insides tightened in anticipation. “Are Luiz and Adriana mate bonded?” At that moment, I wasn't sure what I wanted the answer to be.

“Mate bonded? Uh, no. They aren't.” Mel’s hand loosened and dropped away. “They, um…we…” She set her hands on her hips and stared past me, towards the empty baseball field. “We don’t mate bond. No one in our family does.”

“Oh.” The tension in my stomach turned sour, giving me the answer to my unspoken question: I’d wanted her to say “yes.” 

“It’s just one of those things,” Mel continued, sounding strangely apprehensive. “Probably something in our genetic code. We, uh, must not be compatible with mate bonds.” She laughed, but there wasn’t any mirth in it.

“Oh,” I repeated stupidly. My throat worked. “I was just asking because they seemed really happy together.”

“They are,” Mel said. “That’s how they always act, too. Adriana and Luiz are ‘obnoxious couple goals’ personified.” Another strained laugh. “Mate bonds sound great and all, but they’re not everything. Some shifters go on and on about them. Kind of annoying.” Her feet scraped as she pivoted on the gravel, facing away from me. “Humans don’t mate bond with each other, and I know at least three happy human couples in St. Louis.”

“Mel—”

“Luiz and Adriana have the worst PDA. You haven’t seen anything yet. It’s nonstop. Which is eye-rolling, but—”

“Mel—”

“—kind of sweet? Gives hope to lonely people. Not me. I don't mean it like that. I’m not lonely, but I can see how those two would make a lonely—”

Mel’s words cut off as I stepped behind her and gently touched her shoulders. Her body jolted. For several frantic heartbeats I thought I’d fucked up, but then her shoulders lowered. With a sigh, Mel leaned back against my chest. My brain shorted at the comforting press of her body. This close, the floral scent of her hair was distinct even in the cold. My eyes fluttered closed as I inhaled the fragrance.

“Cal?” Mel said.

“Yeah?”

“I would consider it a personal favor if you could forget my weirdo babbling just now. Seems like we're prone to doing that around each other.”

I laughed, and slid my fingers down her arms. “You may have picked up the habit from me, but I don't think you were babbling.”

“I definitely was.” Mel moved restlessly. At first I thought she was about to pull away, but her arms crossed over her midsection to locate my hands above her elbows. She slowly drew my arms around her, interlacing my fingers below the gentle swell of her breasts. Her shoulder blades wiggled against my sternum as she nestled deeper into the hug. I struggled to even my breathing.

So this was Heaven. An empty baseball field in the Midwest. Who knew?

“So about the babbling?” Mel said. I risked holding her tighter, and was rewarded with the brush of her messy brown hair on my cheek as she cushioned her head on my shoulder.

“Babbling?” I said roughly. “What babbling? You’ve been quiet this whole time.” Her hair was driving me wild. 

Mel’s breathy laugh was the first genuine one she'd had since I asked about mate bonds. “Thank you,” she said.

I took a deep breath. “For what it's worth, I don’t think anyone needs a mate bond to be happy. Raymond, my boss, has an amazing marriage and family. He’s super happy. And I think your friends obviously are too.”

“They are.”

“So…there you go.”

Her amazing hair tickled my chin as she nodded. Then, with a quiet exhale, Mel stepped away. My arms fell uselessly to my sides. She turned around and her chin rose. “Ready to go?”

Our faces were very close together.

Take off her glasses. Kiss her. The thought slammed into my mind. I wanted to. It was a perfect opportunity. The chance stretched out…but at the last moment my nerve deserted me. “Y-yeah,” I murmured.

She smiled. “Great.” Did I imagine a flicker of disappointment in her eyes? She walked past me towards the bathroom building. “If you can wait until Pierre, we’ll have a proper breakfast at Krimm’s,” she called over her shoulder. 

“Sounds nice!” I answered, my tone too bright. Inside my head, the accusations were already flying. Coward. A total fucking lock-up? Shit! Oh man, I could have asked her. That would have been easy and super polite. “Can I kiss you?” Just like that. Smart! But I wasn't smart. Because I’m dumb. Dumb dumb dumb—

In the distance, Mel exited the bathroom. She stopped when she saw me, tilting her head in a way that was becoming sweetly familiar. “Are we playing freeze tag? Don’t you have to pee?”

“Yes,” I answered reflexively. “I mean…no. I wasn't playing tag, I was just…standing.” Idiot. “But I’ll start peeing now.” What the fuck, Cal?

Mel leaned her elbows on the roof of the roadster and stared across the top, grinning. “Right there? Or inside?”

I lurched into motion, taking ungainly steps towards the facilities. “I think…inside would be best.” Judging from the prickling sensation of heat, my ears were bright red.

Dumb, Cal. Dumb dumb dumb.