Chapter Twelve
JASON
Jason knew he was going to get teased to hell and back by Bryce for turning up late with the scent of a guy all over him. Even so, he wouldn’t have missed the time with Riley for anything. He only wished it hadn’t come to such an abrupt end.
He stepped hard on the gas as soon as he was out of town, Riley’s reaction to learning he was a shifter playing in his mind.
It had never occurred to him that Riley didn’t already know, because everyone in town knew.
For an instant, Jason had braced for the worst—disgust, rejection, the threat of violence.
The way it had so often been from non-shifters before.
But Riley had simply been surprised, and once he understood that, Jason had been able to breathe again. Until Riley, he hadn’t known how badly he’d needed someone to just see him, not as useful or reliable, but just him.
All he had to do now was run the gauntlet of a very nosy and keen-nosed pack, and then he’d be able to retreat to his room and relive the time he’d just had with Riley.
He’d be able to think about how Riley had felt against him, the way he’d kissed Jason, and just how other things had felt too.
Jason shifted slightly in his seat, remembering how Riley’s mouth had felt on his cock, slick and hot and so amazing that he’d forgotten to be shy or self-conscious—forgotten everything but want.
As he turned into the driveway, he took his lower lip firmly between his teeth and commanded himself to get a lid on this, fast. Bad enough to turn up with Riley’s scent all over him.
How much worse to turn up with that and evidence that he was still excited just by the thought of the guy? Bryce would never let him forget it.
He pulled in at the side of the house, debating with himself whether he should go in and apologize first, or if he might be able to sneak to the bunkhouse and have a quick shower before finding Matt. And then he saw a still figure on the porch. Matt was out there, waiting for him.
Despite himself, Jason’s knees wobbled as he got out of the car. Matt was a good man—the best—but he was Jason’s alpha. And Jason had skipped out on one of his commitments to the pack.
He walked up to the porch and found his head dipping in submission, even in human form. “Matt.”
“Jason.” Matt’s voice was quiet, giving no clue about his thoughts.
“I’m really sorry about dinner,” Jason said earnestly. “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Matt said. He wasn’t angry, but his steadiness was somehow worse. Jason had never heard that tone from him before. “I realize you had something a bit more exciting than cooking on offer, but Cale’s still out there somewhere. I need you to be where you’ve said you’ll be.”
“I will, Matt.” Jason’s voice wavered. Hearing Cale’s name was enough to twist his stomach.
It had been months, but he still couldn’t forget the attack—Cale and his pack trying to take Jesse like he was property.
The blood and the fear. Jason had never seen violence like that before, not up close.
And even now, there was always the chance they’d come back.
He still didn’t fully understand why Jesse was so important, why an Argent mattered so much. But Matt said he was, and Jason trusted Matt.
After a moment, Matt nodded toward the porch, inviting Jason to join him.
Jason stepped up and leaned against the railing, mirroring Matt as they both looked out at the driveway. A few rabbits had ventured back to continue their evening grazing now that Jason’s car was safely past.
“So,” Matt said, turning his gaze on Jason, his eyes uncomfortably penetrating. “You and the writer guy, huh?”
“How do you—”
“He came to see me, research for his book,” Matt said. “And, not to put too fine a point on it, his scent’s all over you right now.”
Jason’s cheeks flared with heat, but he also smiled at the thought.
“Are you seeing him again?” Matt asked.
While from Bryce it would have been pure nosiness, Matt had the right to ask. Since the mess with Cale, Jason knew Matt made it his business to check out every stranger who came to town.
“Tomorrow,” Jason said.
“Is it serious?”
God, Matt made it sound like smallpox or something. “I like him,” he said, meeting Matt’s gaze. “A lot. But he’s not staying.”
“Well, bring him up here on Saturday for a cookout, anyway,” Matt said, turning his attention back to the rabbits. “Be good to find out more about the guy you’ve been spending time with.”
That was unexpected, to say the least, but Matt’s tone had sounded friendly. Maybe he thought there was more between Jason and Riley than there was—oh, God, he wished—and that was behind his invitation.
“Thanks,” he said numbly, not sure whether he was pleased, horrified or just plain terrified at the prospect of inviting Riley here. “I’m just going to—if that’s all—”
“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some,” Matt said. He grinned suddenly. “I’m not saying they’re edible.”
Likely not, if someone else had cooked. Deciding not to risk it, Jason headed for the privacy of his bunkhouse.
He wasn’t due on patrol till midnight, so he would have plenty of time to lie on his bed and remember every single thing he and Riley had done.
The way he’d shuddered every time Jason’s fingers had hit a certain spot on his hip.
The way he’d kissed Jason like he never wanted to stop.
He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
RILEY
Riley reached out blindly for his bottle of beer, eyes fixed on the email he was trying to write. The cursor blinked steadily and tauntingly after Dear Amy. It was all he’d managed to type in thirty minutes.
Jason was a shifter.
The thought still sent a jolt through him, like the ground had moved under his feet. Riley had always thought of himself as progressive—definitely not like his father, who ranted about shifters like they were animals. Riley believed in rights, in equality under the law. He voted that way.
But still, somewhere along the way, he’d absorbed the idea that shifters were different. Dangerous, maybe—not always, but enough to make him wary. And even though he told himself that different didn’t mean bad, some part of him remained uncertain.
And then he remembered Jason’s fear when Riley had realized, the way he’d flinched away. As if he expected… God, Riley was going to be sick, and he wasn’t sure if it was because Jason lived with that fear of violence, or the fact that people, people just like him, made shifters feel that way.
So much for the revelation he’d had on his first day in this town that anyone he spoke to might be a shifter. He’d thought it, then instantly forgotten again. If only he’d kept it in mind, maybe he’d have realized about Jason in time to avoid this. Maybe there’d been a clue he’d missed.
Except, thinking back through all his time with Jason, there was nothing that said shifter. Just Jason, and acceptance, and warmth in eyes that were so soft on Riley’s. Yeah, he was a shifter, but first and foremost he was Jason.
He picked up the bottle, desperate for distraction, only to find it was empty. Luckily, Tim had sent him away with a few, so he opened another one and took a long swig. It only reminded him of the afternoon he had spent—and of Jason.
Swearing again, he pushed back from the desk and strode the few feet to the bed. The bed where he’d learned just how responsive Jason could be to a touch, how open and trusting he’d been beneath Riley’s hands and mouth.
Fuck it. His throat worked, and he told himself it was the aftertaste of the beer.
He sat down in the lumpy green chair and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do.
He wasn’t going to be here long, but he didn’t want to call a halt to this thing with Jason before he had to.
Something deep inside him clenched unhappily at the very thought.
But he didn’t want to betray Jason, either.
Underneath it all lay the simple truth—he couldn’t walk out on this assignment, because it was his last chance. If he screwed this up, he’d spend the rest of his life serving fries.
He took another mouthful of beer and tried not to focus on the fact that Jason seemed happy with that sort of a job. Like happiness was enough.
It was all right for Jason. He didn’t have Emmett Clark II, Rotary Club President and all-around pillar of the community, being continuously humiliated by his failure of a son. His son who had no high-flying career to make up for the crushing disappointment that he’d turned out to be gay.
Riley had to make something of his life and that meant doing the job he’d been sent here to do. And with Jason being part of the pack, he now had the perfect way to find out exactly what he needed for his story.
Decision made, he headed for the bathroom. He’d shower, clean off every last reminder of Jason, and come back to the laptop and do some fucking work. That was what he was being paid for.
But when he was under the weak spray of the shower, rubbing bodywash over his chest and arms and remembering the shy yet hopeful look in Jason’s eyes as he’d touched Riley, things seemed less clear.
* * *
By the time he’d drunk all four of the bottles Tim had sent back with him, Riley’s head was spinning, but he had his solution. He wouldn’t ask Jason about anything to do with the pack. If Jason offered up information freely, well, that was a different matter.
And when Riley’s story broke… That was when his plan stuttered to a halt, because he couldn’t see any way Jason would understand what Riley had done to his pack.
But then, Riley wouldn’t be here anymore.
He’d be back in LA, with a successful career ahead of him and a father who finally saw him as something more than a failure.
His father hadn’t disowned him on finding he was gay.
He’d just stopped being his dad. He used to introduce Riley like he was something special.
“This is my boy,” he’d say to colleagues at work events, arm slung around Riley’s shoulders, pride thick in his voice.
That pride used to feel like a shield. Until the day it disappeared without a word.
It took a few attempts to iron out the spelling mistakes the beer had made, but he finally finished his email. His finger hovered over send.
It was just an email. Merely a few words to his boss. He shouldn’t feel bad—he was doing what he had to.
I’ve got the perfect way in.
The last few words stared back at him, stark and undeniable. The perfect way in. He drained the last of his beer, then slammed his finger on the button.
The instant the email sent, something inside him soured. He pushed back the laptop like it might burn him. The words were out there now. There was no taking them back.