Chapter 9
Nine
Bring it on, fur-ass!
— CHARLAINE HARRIS
“So you’re dating Ford Boone.”
I looked up from my workstation at Vanity Fur Salon and discovered that Alessandro was my next client. Pom-Pom, his hyperactive Pomeranian, pranced around his boots. Unlike my sour, grumpy cousin, Pom-Pom was a darling and had even made friends with my cats.
“We’re going out on a date.” I did not want to overstate or jinx things. Alessandro had already shared his opinions (uninvited) about the advisability of Boone-Aymes interaction when I had stopped at his house Thursday night after saying goodbye to Ford.
I’d packed up my stuff and my cats and announced my intention of moving into the Little Love Den, so that might’ve contributed to his pouting. Also, I’d avoided him assiduously since then, so booking a grooming with me might have seemed like a feasible plan to my cousin.
I was not in the mood to listen to his opinions on my love life then, and I was no more in the mood now. My feelings had more ups and downs than a yo-yo. I missed Ford. I worried that I missed him. And I missed more than his grumpy face, stern eyes, and big hands.
I’d accepted the Little Love Den as a temporary landing place, but not as my forever home. Secretly, I planned on working something out with Atticus and Ranger, taking less for the lot as a way to compensate Ford for the time and money he’d spent building the tiny home.
If Ford discovered I was plotting to repay him, he’d be pissed. I normally avoided confrontation. My parents had argued, and then argued some more. Mostly they’d battled about who got to go into work and who had to stay behind with me.
Fighting with Ford was different. I even looked forward to it. When we disagreed, we learned things about each other. It also made me realize he cared about me. Ford did not ignore what I did or thought. I wondered what we would disagree about on our date and mentally started a list of possible argument topics.
This was not what most people did to prepare for a date. I was a little strange.
Since we’d parted ways on Thursday, I’d thought about texting or calling him a billion times for no other reason than to hear his voice, maybe to invite him to count fireflies with me so we could hug in the old deer blind that was my firefly-count headquarters.
I’d always been a big fan of hugging and holding hands. I loved the warm connection and the firm, strong grip of a man who worked with his hands, calloused and rough-gentle. I loved leaning into someone and knowing he was there.
Up until I’d kissed Ford in his truck and he’d kissed me back a week ago, I’d thought the hand-holding and the hugging was the best part of dating. My previous experiences with kissing and sex had been disappointing, to say the least. Ninety-nine percent of the boys I’d gone out with hadn’t wanted to spend much time on my favorite part, either.
In high school we’d all been trying to figure the sex thing out and no one had had their own place (or even their own car). Dating had been an imperfect art that had not improved much in college. I’d had to initiate the snuggling and then I’d had to do all the foreplay. It was a lot of work and not much reward. Ford had made me rethink that conclusion.
It had caused me so much rethinking that I wasn’t done by the time I’d finished grooming Pom-Pom. Alessandro had made a few attempts to converse, but I ignored him. Now I gave a last brush, adjusted my client’s jaunty bow, and kissed his head.
“Done!” I waved a hand toward the cash register at the front of the salon. “Let’s go!”
Alessandro reluctantly picked up his dog. “Where are you going on your date? Are you wearing that?”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Why are you asking?”
I had not gone on many dates, either during or outside of my Moonlight Valley stays. As an employee manual-following Vanity Fur Salon employee, I wore a hot pink T-shirt with the salon name on it. This let our potential customers know they were dealing with a bona fide employee and not some random person who had decided to sneak onto our premises and groom their dogs, although we were allowed to choose what else we wore.
Today I’d paired the shop tee with jeans and a white T-shirt. The outfit was comfortable and went in both the washer and the dryer, which was an important feature given the amount of loose fur that accumulated inside the salon. Whether it was date-worthy was debatable.
I reached for my journal, flipped to a new, blank page, and wrote: Buy fun date-night clothes. This was for me, not Ford.
“Do you think I should buy costumes?” I looked at Alessandro out of the corner of my eye as I adjusted the blue-and-white bow on Pom-Pom’s head. He (Alessandro, not the dog) had turned bright red. “Naughty school girl? Are there others?”
Alessandro sputtered.
If there were costumes in my dating future, it was the far distant, hundred-years-away future. Ford had said he wanted to take this slow and get it right. This being our dating and it being…I had no idea. Maybe he’d meant our entire relationship? It was a lot of weight to put on a two-letter pronoun.
Ford had texted to make sure I was in safely on Thursday night, but he had not reached out on Friday. We’d agreed on tonight for our date, but I suspected we would not be christening the bed in my new, temporary home even though he’d said I would choose you. He’d make me wait for more than kisses. How long did a courtship take, anyhow?
I was not a patient woman. I liked instant grits, fast-acting carbs, and freezing my soda pop cans to make slushies. Not kissing me because he’d decided to conduct our relationship by medieval courtship rules would only result in us arguing—and him learning a very important thing about me.
“I’m worried about you dating one of the Boone brothers,” he said as we headed toward the cash register.
“Oh, really?”
I might have subsequently overcharged him.
“Yes,” he growled. “They’re renegades and rule-breakers, the whole lot of them. They keep a pack of wild animals on their property. They’re dangerous. I don’t want you spending your time anywhere near them, let alone on a date with Ford Boone. He is not boyfriend material.”
“That’s what you think.”
“He’s not nice.” Alessandro glared at me over the cash register. Pom-Pom started barking because, like every male, he also felt the need to weigh in uninvited on my personal life. “He has family here, and you want to relocate to Nashville. So the way I see it, he’ll convince you to stay in Moonlight Valley and then you’ll never get to leave and have that…”
“Why wouldn’t I be able to leave? Does he have a secret dungeon? Handcuffs? A daddy fetish? Is he an orc in disguise who is going to impregnate me and drag me off to his orc mountain?”
Alessandro dragged a hand down his face. “You need to stop reading what’s on Aunt Sally’s Kindle.”
I refrained from pointing out that Alessandro knew what was on there. It had been eye-opening. And fun. Alessandro, however, looked scandalized. It must have been the orcs.
“I want you to be happy,” he spat out. “And you’ve always wanted to have your own business in Nashville. Which you can’t do if you’re settling down with Ford here in Moonlight Valley. Guys like him want to stay near their family homes. Have lots of babies. Drive a big truck and go tubing on the river. He’s never going to leave, Alice. And you have always, always wanted to go.”
I hated it when people suggested that my big Nashville plans were about running away, rather than running toward a big success. There was nothing wrong with wanting a career and commercial success.
That does not make me a bitch or a bad person! It does not doom me to lonely unhappiness!
“That’ll be forty dollars, please.” I held out a hand. “Do you actually like your job?”
Did grownup people get to like their jobs?
“I have excellent health insurance and retirement benefits,” he said a little stiffly.
I decided not to admit that those were, indeed, an incentive. Part-time groomers at Vanity Fur Salon did not qualify for benefits, and as a self-employed businesswoman, I’d also be on my own.
“Closing time!” I chirped cheerfully, and stabbed a finger at the door.
Alessandro left. There was some snarling at the door, however, which let me know that my wolfish date was there, waiting for me outside.
I barreled out, almost catching Alessandro in the door as I shut and locked it. He and Ford were busy exchanging testosterone-filled man glares while Pom-Pom yapped furiously in solidarity.
“Hey.” I grabbed Ford’s hand and squeezed it, happiness bubbling up in me.
Much to my enjoyment, he pulled me into his side, and for a moment I enjoyed the boneless feeling of bliss as I cozied up. He was warm and solid, smelling of pine trees and cedarwood. His beard tickled my cheek as he leaned down and dropped a kiss on my forehead. I glowed. Take that Alessandro!
“Evening, Alice. You look?—”
“Ready!”
I tried to drag him away from Vanity Fur Salon and my cousin, but he dug in his heels (he was wearing cowboy boots) and refused to budge.
“We should say hi to your cousin.”
“Third cousin. Twice removed.” I considered removing him even further, possibly to Antarctica. “Consider him greeted.”
Which was the point at which I got my first real good look at my date. Ford had cleaned up for me. I could have told him it wasn’t necessary—I found scruffy Ford in his beat-up blue jeans and shoulder-hugging T-shirts absolutely scrumptious. There was no need to repackage what already worked.
I had been wrong.
Date Night Ford wore dark jeans, the aforementioned cowboy boots, and a green button-down shirt that brought out the color of his eyes; his red beard was neatly trimmed. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves up, exposing strong, muscled forearms. Lightly dusted with hair, they promised he had the useful kind of strength—for getting shit done, fixing my car, or plowing me a three-acre flower garden. They also (spoiler alert) made a gal wonder what else he was hiding underneath his clothes aside from the wolf.
Pro tip: All men should roll up their shirtsleeves, all the time.
Ford had asked if I had family here in Moonlight Valley the other night. He’d hoped to ask my daddy’s permission to step out with me. Possibly, he’d planned on bringing my momma flowers to get on her good side.
I could have told him the best way to do that was a business merger or a promotion. They were both busy conquering the corporate world in Nashville and did not have time to concern themselves with my dating life.
So I was surprised to see him standing there by his truck, holding a bouquet of flowers. To be specific: extravagant, bright pink and white lilies that were unexpectedly odiferous.
Ford held the flowers out…to Alessandro.
Alessandro gaped.
“For you.” Ford jiggled the bouquet and the plastic wrap crinkled. There was a flower-shaped dog toy stuck inside the real flowers; Ford was apparently leaving nothing to chance and courting Pom-Pom as well. “They’re pet-safe as long as you don’t let Pom-Pom eat them.”
Apparently no one had ever given Alessandro flowers before because he seemed at a loss for words.
Ford shoved the flowers into Alessandro’s hands, then scritched the top of Pom-Pom’s well-groomed head. He had to retrieve his hand quickly because it turned out that Pom-Pom did not like the smell of a wolf-man.
Ford looked at Alessandro. “You don’t have to like me as long as Alice does, but you’re her family. So I’ll tell you: I’m taking her out tonight, and I promise she’ll be safe with me.”
Alessandro glared. More growling came from both the Pomeranian and the man.
“Oh my God.” I threw up my hands. Since I was clutching Ford’s hand in mine, I took him with me. “Let’s stop with the posturing and go.”
Ford nodded at Alessandro. “Are we good?”
Alessandro squint-glared at Ford. The flowers had helped with his mood some, but he was still cranky. “Why?”
“Because I can’t talk with Alice’s parents before I take her, so you’re the next best thing.”
Alessandro nodded, responding to some unspoken man-to-man mind question. It was super annoying. “Have her home by midnight.”
Ford nodded, tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow like we were in a black-and-white movie, and walked me out to his truck.
I felt like a beauty pageant contestant during the evening gown competition, the kind where they brought out the lady’s daddy to parade her across the stage. I even let him open the truck door and help me up into the seat. Fortunately for him, he didn’t try to do my seatbelt for me, although he did shut the door.
Greedily, I watched him stride around the truck and get in, recognizing that I looked more than a little silly and eager as I twisted to keep him in view. It was worth it. He was sex on a stick, Ford was. If our date consisted of nothing more than watching him walk, I’d be a happy woman.
Ford fired up the engine and, in an upset and slaphappy giddy fog, I watched as Vanity Fur Salon disappeared in our rearview mirror. The salon, however, was the only thing that turned invisible. We paraded up Moonlight Valley’s main street, drawing eyes wherever I looked.
“I’m sorry for how Alessandro acted.” I shook my head. “He’s living in the previous century, and I haven’t been able to train him out of it.”
Ford shrugged. “It’s good for family to be protective. I look after mine, too.”
There was a hint of wolf to his voice; I’d noticed that when he went overall protective, his voice dropped to a growl. His eyes, when they slid to mine, were blue without a hint of gold or amber. He wasn’t upset, then—merely making a point. A smile flickered on his face, and I melted a bit.
Ford didn’t smile all that often, so I treasured it when he did. In all the summers I’d spent in Moonlight Valley and all the times our paths had crossed (loudly), I’d never once guessed that Ford had a sense of humor. Or was a flirt.
Devious? Yes.
Intelligent? Absolutely.
Serious and stern? Spank me, daddy! (No, really, he was.)
Funny and flirty? Not on my radar.
This man surprised me, and not just with his shapeshifting.
We were such opposites that I’d never once, not ever, imagined Ford Boone would be interested in me. Not because I was unattractive or had a fundamental flaw, but because heretofore I’d been certain I irritated the heck out of him.
And vice versa.
But here we were…
Going on a date.
He slid a hand across the seat to find mine. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“I hope I’m worth more than that.”
His slow smile set me on fire. “Absolutely.”
I considered teasing him, demanding an entire dollar, but then I told him for free.
“It seems weird and highly unlikely, the two of us going out on a date together. On purpose. We practically grew up together. We ran around the woods and swam in the creeks with the other Moonlight Valley kids like a pack of wild animals.”
That barely there smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “And?”
“Wait. Were they wild animals?”
“Some of us were wilder than others,” he muttered. And then, when I stared at him, he added, “No, not all of them were wolves. And the existence of shapeshifters is a secret, Alice. I can’t name names.”
“Because the wolfie council will come down on you.”
He grimaced. “Something like that. Wolves are not supposed to come out to humans.”
I was in the know.
A werewolf girlfriend.
Special.
Well, sort of. Ford and I had not put any labels on what we were to each other, and the idea that we’d voluntarily spend time together would have seemed laughable as recently as two weeks ago. But here we were, in his truck and going on a date.
“My point is we hated each other. Before. We were always fighting. So it’s weird now to think we’re dating.”
“I like weird.” He reached over and squeezed my fingers.
“Say that again when I’m licking all the seasoning off your Doritos and you’re stuck with a bag of naked chips,” I said.
Ford laughed. Now I wanted to stop for a snack, darn it.
“But seriously,” I protested. “I’m too comfortable with you. I should be all nervous because we’re on a date and my dates do not go well. And that’s if they happen at all.
“I date once in a blue moon, which means every two years or so. My flirting skills are rustier than the Tinman after a rainstorm, and I don’t think I can manage romantic. Or sexy. Dates are supposed to be those things, at least if you want a second one.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong definition of sexy or romantic then.”
I stared at him suspiciously. “Have we moved on to the arguing portion of tonight’s agenda?”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Hold your horses. I meant that I don’t need you to pretend to be anyone other than who you are. I like you. I think you’re sexy.”
No one had ever called me sexy before. Usually I heard something along the lines of you’d be sexy if…followed by a list of sex acts I should perform. Ford’s genuine admiration made me feel beautiful.
Nevertheless, it was a bad idea to want things with Ford. I was one of those shallow-rooted plants, like kale or sweet woodruff. I was easy to pull up and transplant.
Ford had deep roots, roots that went down, down, and then down some more. He was a local business owner; he had a huge family that all lived in Moonlight Valley. He would never, ever leave Tennessee, and you’d have to pry him out of Moonlight Valley. He was at home here.
But Moonlight Valley wasn’t my home. It was my pit stop.
Somehow, though, I’d stopped counting the hours until I could get out of town. I’d started putting down baby roots, even though Ford hadn’t asked me to do so.
We’d barely passed the twenty-minute mark in our first honest-to-God date, for crying out loud.
Ford had suggested we hike to a waterfall known only to the Boone brothers. Not only was it three miles off the main road, but you practically needed a secret decoder ring to find the path. Despite its hard-to-find status, Ford had shouldered an enormous pack and confidently struck out into the woods, me following close on his heels.
It was the prettiest time of a summer day when the heat had moved on some but the light was golden and warm. Despite it’s being suppertime, we had hours yet of daylight.
After years of bad dates, I felt like I’d achieved dating nirvana. Ford led me down the trail, holding branches and plotting the steadiest, driest course. It had rained heavily recently and muddy spots littered the trail.
His attention and chivalry left me feeling awkward and red-faced. I did not know what the etiquette was when the guy you were first-dating helped you over a fallen tree trunk or moved a branch. There were only so many times I could say thank you before it felt weird.
The first time I felt Ford’s gaze on my butt, I thought it was wishful thinking on my part (hah). The second time, however, I realized that, thank you baby Jesus, he was not just being a gentleman wolf.
His fingers held mine longer than was strictly necessary and his gaze lingered on my butt after he’d jumped me down from a particularly large tree that had fallen across the path. He seemed to shake himself afterward, frowning at the innocent bushes and trees surrounding us, or up at the sunny sky, or at a ladybug that had meandered into our path.
His clenched jaw, the way his hands tightened on the straps of his pack, his determined stride—these were all signs that he was appreciating me, my butt, and my jeans.
It was almost a disappointment to reach our destination. I’d never been one of those people who twittered on about how the journey was so much more important and fun than the end goal, but now I got it.
Walking side by side with Ford was perfect. Still, the spot he’d picked out for our picnic was beautiful. Twin waterfalls cascaded down the rock face to land in a deep pool lined by trees far below us. If I’d known this place existed, I would have come here to swim every summer. I wished I’d brought a swimsuit.
“Beautiful.” His voice was low and gruff, but it held equal parts confidence and sweetness.
He wasn’t looking at the waterfall.
He was looking at me.
Ford wasn’t a poet. I hadn’t ever heard him sing or even hum. But somehow he managed to say so much with that one word, to say everything.
I wasn’t his teenage nemesis or his childhood friend. I wasn’t awkward, nerdy Alice or future business owner Alice. I wasn’t Alessandro’s third cousin (two times removed) or the Boones’ neighbor and Aunt Sally’s frequent guest. Or rather, I wasn’t just those things—and he liked all of me.
Ford insisted on setting up our dinner. Or was it a linner? Dupper? I wandered away to look over the edge and down at the splashing water. After a dizzying moment, I conceded defeat to my fear of heights and laid down on my stomach. This was a much better position from which to peer over the edge.
“Come sit down.” The quiet authority in Ford’s voice made me quiver.
Big hands plucked me carefully off the ground. He set me on my feet, his body between me and the edge.
He hesitated.
We were close enough together that he had to feel the pounding of my heart trying to drill its way through my ribs. He bent his face to my throat, pressed his mouth against me, breathing me in. I liked that some invisible, unseen piece of me was traveling through him, taking up space in his lungs.
His eyes opened, lashes gliding up. The heat there about burned me up.
“We should eat,” he said hoarsely. His eyes devoured me like I was a six-course meal of delicious pie.
“We could start with dessert.” I sounded breathless.
His fingers tightened on my hips.
I slid my hands up his arms, linking them behind his neck and erasing the few inches of space between us so that I could press my body against his. Ford more than met me halfway, stepping into me, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and pulling me into his big body.
It was like a dance. The heat of his body radiated through the soft material of his shirt, his hard chest and stomach pressing against me. His eyes had gone over gold, his wolf rising with his passion.
I raised up on tiptoe and nipped his bottom lip.
“Mine,” I whispered against his mouth.
It was a statement of fact, not a challenge. But it seemed to shatter Ford’s control, because he covered my mouth with his, a rough growl tearing from his throat as he kissed the heck out of me.
Heat flooded my belly and moved south.
This man could kiss.
In the interest of giving him the most accurate performance review possible, I needed to get his shirt off. I needed to find out what the hard, muscled breadth of his shoulders felt like. I wanted to touch all of him.
I wanted to strip off my clothes.
Strip off everything and let him see all of me.
I needed his big, calloused hands cupping my face. Or my boobs. Or lower. The answer is D! All of the above.
My fingers got the memo from my brain to shove up his T-shirt and insert themselves beneath the lucky cotton hugging his bare skin. They untucked and undid, slipping beneath the back of his jeans to trace the delicious, hard man dimples at the base of his spine.
Yes! Let’s go lower!
There were limitations to how much Ford I could touch while his jeans came between us, but I was highly motivated to try. My fingers teased his backside, pulling him to me, while he groaned something that sounded feral.
Words? Don’t care!
All that mattered now was getting Ford naked.
I broke our kiss long enough to pull my own shirt over my head. For one wild moment, I considered tossing it over my shoulder. Letting it blow free in the breeze, hang from the branches.
Then sanity temporarily reasserted itself and I set it down on our packs. There was no point in courting ticks as well as Ford. And because I believed in equality, I unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped my pants. We were making so much noise we wouldn’t have noticed an army of hikers stumbling into our picnic spot. We were in the eye of the lust storm.
Ford steered us toward the picnic blanket he’d set out, sliding his large hands inside my jeans and cupping my butt. This was an excellent incentive to head in the direction he wanted, so I let myself be scooped up and set down on the blanket.
He came down over me, covering me with his body. I finally got his shirt unbuttoned all the way, only to discover a white cotton T-shirt standing between me and the promised land.
Unhappy at the level of effort unwrapping Ford was taking, I growled and attacked the offending cotton. The hot press of his muscular thigh against my core made me feel better (and how!), but I wanted more.
“Off,” I demanded, tugging on his shirts.
Ford sat back on his knees and ripped off his button-down. It flew across the clearing, followed by the T-shirt, as his hot gaze moved over me.
But then, gosh darn it, he stopped moving. His eyes narrowed, some of the hot, lusty fog clearing as he inventoried my best black lace bra, sex hair, and unbuttoned jeans.
He frowned as if his wolf had picked this moment to chime in, shook his head like a dog coming out of the lake, and exhaled roughly. “Damn it.”
We did not need religious sentiments right now. I reached for him, but he shook his head again. Frowned. Mouthed a particularly vicious curse.
These were not the sexy compliments I had been hoping for. Instead, he shot to his feet and paced, giving me an excellent view of his fine ass. Mentally, I added my own heartfelt damn it.
Sexy times were over.
Heaving a sigh, I stood up and put myself back together, congratulating myself for having had the foresight to not toss my clothes everywhere. Looking for them like a toddler on an Easter egg hunt would have been awkward.
We needed to talk about what had happened—or not happened. Ford kept pulling back, here and in the barn on All-Purpose Animal Services’ business premises, and when we’d been almost skinny-dipping in the lake that Friday night, and on my night of ill-fated citizen science research.
Our kisses and frantic groping, not to mention the full-body hugging and hot looks, all pointed to the fact that Ford Boone wanted me—quite a lot—but was trying to be a gentleman. Or at least restraining his inner wolf.
I pulled on my shirt and sighed dramatically. Yes, I was feeling put-upon. I had not appreciated my previous romantic encounters trying to rush straight into physical intimacies faster than a sailfish bursting out of the water.
But with Ford, I felt like I was the one pushing him, and that was not okay either. I needed for us to be on the same page.
“I don’t want to keep my hands to myself. My wolf doesn’t either.” Frustration saturated his expression—with himself, me, or possibly the lack of bedroom amenities at our secret picnic spot. I had no idea what was going through his head.
“I’m sorry.” I had pushed, had disrespected his boundaries. “I should have asked if you were ready to be intimate with me.”
Rueful amusement replaced exasperation on his face and he gave a bark of laughter. “Alice, I want to get this right.”
I knew that. “My first clue was when you brought flowers for Alessandro.”
“He didn’t see that coming.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But he’s your family, so he’s gonna matter.”
“He’s so pretty that he deserves all the flowers,” I said lightly.
Ford’s smile faded. He looked at me cautiously. “I think we’re more than suited. We would make good partners. Mates.”
That word—mates—hung in the air between us. I could see it there, twirling and sparkling, beckoning and promising me things.
Things I could not have for real because I had no intention of staying here in Moonlight Valley for much longer. Things I couldn’t have because I was the air plant in this pairing, while Ford was a shepherd’s tree with roots that extended downward for hundreds of feet. It scared me.
“We don’t know each other,” he said, and I nodded vigorously because he was right even if some small, unexpected, overreaching part of me felt hurt by that claim.
“But we could,” he continued. “I want to know everything about you.”
It was a tall order, knowing everything about another person. Heck, it was a tall order just knowing something.
The beginning of a relationship was the fun part, like trying on clothes or sampling something new from a buffet restaurant. It was about trying more than it was about liking your choice or returning for more.
The expression on Ford’s face, though… His face said he wouldn’t try. He would succeed; he would come back over and over. He would be there for me if I agreed that was what I wanted.
His face held hope and an unexpected nervousness. This big, gorgeous, self-made man wasn’t sure that he would be enough for me.
I never wanted him to feel less than. That’s what did it, made me wake up. I was being self-centered, focused on myself and what I needed and wanted, but there were two of us standing here, face to face.
I would have to trust Ford, at least with my dreams and my hopes for my future. I didn’t want to. I wanted to hang onto this handful of sexy, romantic, fun moments with him and not tell him the truth.
That I was leaving Moonlight Valley as soon as I had my business start-up cash socked away.
That I didn’t see a future for us, not one that lasted longer than a few months or maybe a year.
I had plans, plans that did not have a line item or checkbox for Ford’s honorable intentions or for courting and mating a werewolf.
I must have spent too long looking for words because Ford straightened up, and even though he didn’t move, I felt him pulling away. He thought I didn’t want him, not that way, not as someone more than a casual hookup.
“I should have shared some things with you on Wednesday.” I wanted to reach out, to snag his hand and hold onto that bit of him, but I didn’t. “I’m sorry. There’s probably a better way to say this, but I’m going to put my cards on the table.
“I came to Moonlight Valley with a plan. I’d stay at Aunt Sally’s and work at Vanity Fur Salon, but those were temporary things. I’m here, in Moonlight Valley, for two years max and probably only one. That should be enough time to wrap up Aunt Sally’s things and save what I need for my business seed money.
“I’m not here for good, and I don’t think I could settle down here. I have plans for a business in Nashville. There are opportunities there, a chance to really make something of myself. If I could, I’d open my store tomorrow and be out of here. But I like spending time with you so much and we…”
I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. There were no good choices.
Ford stared at me as I spoke, the heated warmth fading from his eyes as it was replaced by something more reserved and distant. He tipped his head, clearly coming to some conclusion.
Part of me panicked, wishing I wasn’t who I was. I wished I wanted to be a small-town girl, content to be Ford’s mate and live here in Moonlight Valley forever. But a bigger part of me could feel the walls closing in and felt suffocated imagining that future.
I wanted to be more.
I wanted to put my dreams first.
Ford turned away from me and swiped his shirt from the ground, slipping into it. If I had kept my mouth shut, if I’d kissed him more and talked less, we could have kept on going. We could have dated, could have done this thing for a few weeks or a few months.
But even if he’d wanted to court me, it might not have worked. This wasn’t one of those TV shows where you get married in ninety days.
Scaredy cat.
Those words rang out loud and clear in my head. My heart had something to say. Ford was right, and we were suited. I was just scared to take that chance with him.
“We should head back,” Ford said. His voice was completely polite, with not a hint of his wolf peeking through. He could have been a trail guide or some random guy in the ice cream aisle at the Piggly Wiggly. He’d closed off that part of him he’d been offering to me; he’d shut me out.
I tried to send him an apology with my eyes, but my mental telepathy skills were poor. Instead, I nodded. “Yeah, we should.”
What we both meant, of course, was that we shouldn’t.
Shouldn’t date.
Shouldn’t try this again.
Shouldn’t hope for more.