Chapter 4
Krystal
The last hour of my shift dragged on like time was getting ready to move backward.
At the same time, it was charged with a nervous energy I couldn’t shake.
I worked the cloth across the counter, pausing every so often to realign the caddies of straws and napkins, anything to keep my hands busy.
Across the room, Zaden was restocking the top shelf, his focus split between the liquor bottles and the handful of regulars at the bar.
Every time he moved, I felt it, a small pull under my skin.
That was still odd to me because my wolf didn’t respond to him like my human half did.
Still, I was going out with him tonight. As friends, because I couldn’t get wrapped up in someone who wasn’t my mate.
I’d gone all out tonight, even though this was not a date.
I’d shaved my legs so closely I felt practically aerodynamic.
My hair was in loose waves that I’d coaxed from a YouTube tutorial, and my makeup was good enough to make me look like I’d slept eight hours, even though I hadn’t.
All of it was for me, I told myself, to prove I still could. That I still had it. Whatever "it" was.
At the far end of the bar, Angel caught my eye and smirked. She mouthed, "A date?" then waggled her brows. I rolled my eyes and focused on the ancient wood of the countertop, tracing a scar in the finish that looked like a lightning bolt.
I’d sworn off men for good reasons. Since Bryce, every guy I’d dated was either allergic to kids or addicted to his own reflection.
The last one had bailed after three months, leaving behind a half-used tube of hair gel and a text.
"I’m not cut out for the stepdad life." As if I’d asked for a stepdad.
I’d only wanted a dinner companion who didn’t flinch at the sight of a baby bottle in the sink. I’d stopped trying.
But Zaden hadn’t flinched when I mentioned Bryce. He’d smiled, really smiled, as if the idea of a kid wasn’t baggage, but a bonus.
I watched him now, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, muscles flexing as he shelved a case of whiskey.
He made small talk with a pair of off-duty paramedics at the corner table, one foot propped up on the rung of a barstool, easy and unhurried.
The man didn’t have a nervous bone in his body.
His confidence radiated, not in the arrogant way, but in the way of someone who’d seen enough of the world to know nothing in it could really shake him.
I finished my end-of-shift duties and double-checked the tip jar. It was heavy. Heck yes. We'd had a good night. I pocketed my share, leaving the rest for Angel, and moved to the end of the bar, facing him, unsure what to do with my hands.
He noticed me right away, of course. "All set?" he asked, his eyes shining a little in the dim light.
"Yeah. Do you want me to take out the trash before I go?" I sounded too bright, my voice was almost brittle.
He shook his head. "Kenneth’s got it. You’re officially off the clock."
I hesitated, feeling the weight of expectation in the pause. "So what’s the plan?"
He grinned, and the boyishness of it did things to my insides. "You’ll see. Go get changed, unless you want to hit the town in those." He pointed at my black work pants, which bore the evidence of a spilled pitcher and a splash of ranch.
"Give me ten minutes," I said as I ducked into the staff hallway.
The bathroom stall was barely wide enough to turn around in, but I made it work.
I peeled off the beer-splashed shirt and wriggled into the jeans and top I’d stashed in my locker.
The jeans had a seam up the center that made my legs look longer, and the top I'd brought was a slippery blue material that didn't wrinkle and dipped lower into my cleavage than anything I’d worn in a year.
I ran a brush through my hair, reapplied lip gloss, and forced myself to chill for a full minute before stepping back into the hall.
I didn’t know where Zaden was taking me, and I hated not knowing.
The last time I’d let someone else steer a date, I’d ended up at a karaoke bar in Sevierville, belting "Zombie" by the Cranberries to a roomful of drunk contractors.
I wanted to be excited, but mostly I was scared of this going as spectacularly badly as all the others had.
When I walked out, he was waiting at the end of the corridor, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, but not in the predatory way I’d braced for. It was more like he was appreciating a new painting, trying to memorize the colors.
"Wow," he said, and there was a warmth in the word that made me blush.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It’s just jeans."
He shook his head. "No, it’s not."
That threw me. Zaden was proving more and more that he was different from any of the guys I’ve gone out with. "So, where are we going? I warn you, if this is a prank–"
He held up a hand, surrendering. "No pranks. But you’ll need this."
He held out a leather jacket that looked about my size. Surely he hadn’t bought it for me. "You didn’t have to get me a jacket."
Shrugging, he held it open for me. "I wanted to."
The crazy flutter started in my belly again. Stepping forward, I let him help me put the jacket on. Then he took my hand and tugged me to the back door.
Outside, the parking lot was empty except for a few straggler cars and a motorcycle parked at the curb. It was a beast, low-slung, matte black, chrome so polished it reflected the streetlights. I stopped dead, staring.
He handed me a helmet, the inside lined with bright red fleece. "You ever ride?"
"Not since college," I admitted.
He smiled, a flash of teeth. "Good. You’ll be a natural."
I hesitated, staring at the helmet. "You’re serious?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It’s just a bike, Krystal. You can say no."
I wanted to say no. But I wanted to say yes a heckuva lot more.
I took the helmet, and as I did, his fingers brushed mine. For a second, it was like holding a live wire. My heart tripped over itself, and my stomach danced the tango. My wolf was oddly silent, though.
He swung a leg over the bike and settled onto the seat, then patted the spot behind him. "C’mon. I promise not to kill us."
I snorted but climbed on. When I wrapped my arms around his waist, the heat of his body seeped through the jacket. Good grief, he smelled amazing. It was an effort to not put my nose into his neck and inhale. My wolf would normally be purring like a damn cat by now.
He started the engine. The rumble traveled up through my thighs and into my chest, all the way to my teeth. The helmet muted the sound but not the vibration. I cinched my arms tighter, and he glanced back, eyes glinting.
"Ready?"
No.
"Yeah."
He kicked up the stand and rolled us forward. The bike was smoother than I expected. We eased out of the lot, then onto the main road. The cold air washed over me, and I was thankful for the leather jacket.
We took the back road out of Stock Creek, the one that wound up into the foothills, past the old quarry and the rows of dark, empty barns.
The moon was bright and huge tonight, hanging low over the mountains.
Every time we hit a curve, I leaned with him, my chest pressed to his back, my knees hugging his hips.
It was the most intimate thing I’d done with a man in years, and I loved every second of it.
Halfway up the ridge, the road straightened, and he gunned it. The acceleration shoved him back into me, and I pushed my head against his shoulder blade, laughing into the helmet. I couldn’t hear myself over the engine, but I didn’t care.
He turned onto a side road, barely more than a trail, and climbed higher. The pavement turned to gravel, then dirt, but he handled it like he’d done this a thousand times. At the top, we coasted to a stop at the edge of a lookout.
He set the kickstand and twisted to face me, pulling off his helmet. His hair was a mess, but his eyes were bright. "You good?"
I took off my helmet. My hair was almost definitely ten times worse than his, but I couldn't seem to make myself care. "That was awesome."
He laughed. "That’s the idea."
We sat there, both of us breathing hard, the air full of dust and the lingering heat from the engine. The view was ridiculous, with Stock Creek laid out below us, the stars so close above us I felt like I could touch them.
"The view is breathtaking."
"It sure is."
Turning, I noted that he wasn’t looking at the view, but at me. When he stepped closer, my breath hitched, and I tried, and failed, to control my erratically beating heart. Then he lifted his hand and trailed his fingers down my cheek. Tingles of awareness erupted over my skin where he touched me.
He was going to kiss me, and I was so on board with that.