Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
CHASE
In the morning, the old Chevy is still parked out in front of the A-frame.
I doubt it belongs to the guy who owns the cabin. I’m hardly ever here, but I met him once a few years ago, and he drove a black Mercedes.
You’d think someone with that kind of money would take care of the property that’s been in their family for generations. But in the six years I’ve owned my place, I’ve had to watch the A-frame grow progressively more dilapidated.
It needs a new roof, the porch is half rotten, and the crawlspace is full of voles. I know because I catch their scent whenever I let my wolf out to hunt.
Sipping my coffee, I pick up one of the crinkled pieces of construction paper I found taped to my front door. It’s a child’s drawing of a big blob with stick arms and legs, which I assume is me, and two little blobs — my niece and nephew.
The door was covered with my niece’s artwork when I returned from deployment. The sight of the little blobs crowding around the big “me” blob makes me smile even as I get a familiar pang in my chest.
I know I should be here more, just like I should have been there for Riley after our mother died. She was just a kid, and our dad was a ghost after Mom passed.
But at eighteen, I was a selfish prick, and I just needed to get out of this town. Away from our broken family.
Now my little sister has a family of her own — a mate, two pups, and one on the way. I just don’t know where I fit in. It’s why I’ve stuck with the Marines all these years.
Being back here just brings up bad memories. Bad memories and regret that I couldn’t be the man my little sister needed.
Tugging on a sweatshirt, I grab my coffee and step onto my porch, trying to catch a glimpse of the SUV’s owner.
It’s not that I’m nosy. It’s just force of habit. The Marines train you to stay aware of your surroundings. It’s the reason I automatically note the exits of every building I enter. It’s why I can’t just sit at a bar and enjoy a beer without being aware of every other patron and their weapons.
Besides that, we shifters like our privacy. A vacant cabin on one side and National Forest on the other three is a big draw for someone who regularly transforms into a giant wolf. Though it doesn’t look as though it’s vacant any longer . . .
Just then, the front door of the A-frame bangs open, and I see a blur of movement through the trees as someone rushes out.
The beast inside me perks up, instantly on high alert. The back of my neck prickles with the urge to shift, but I tamp down on the instinct.
The stench of smoke hits me before I can glimpse whoever just ran out of the house. Great plumes of it waft from the front door, and I hear someone coughing on the other side of the trees.
Setting down my coffee, I vault over the railing and sprint toward the A-frame, not bothering to put on any shoes. Huge clouds of smoke are still spilling from the cabin, and crouched in the yard is the most beautiful human I’ve ever laid eyes on.
The woman has long, straight hair the color of sunshine, a full, expressive mouth, and a faint dash of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She’s wearing a pair of pink pajamas with little cartoon cats on them, which might be the most adorable thing ever.
My wolf stops scanning for threats, zeroing in on the human. I inhale deeply, drawing her sweet scent into my nostrils, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. She smells like cinnamon and vanilla and something soft and feminine.
Mine.
The word is a growl that reverberates through my entire body, and my beast opens his maw in a happy pant.
It’s such a strange reaction from my wolf that I stumble.
Thankfully, my training kicks in, and I’m able to snap back to sanity.
“Ma’am, is there anyone else inside?”
My voice comes out deep and booming, and the little human gives a start. She looks up at me with vibrant green eyes that remind me of aspen leaves in the spring. At the moment, they’re bloodshot and watering from the smoke, but I find myself mesmerized.
The woman pales when she sees me, and I realize that I’ve scared her. At six-foot-four, I’m not a small man. I’ve got the typical short military haircut, and I was in such a hurry that I didn’t put a shirt on.
She probably didn’t expect someone to come charging through the trees half-naked.
“Just the cat,” she rasps, trying to expel the smoke from her lungs.
“Cat?” I repeat dumbly, somehow unable to process her answer.
She nods, eyes still watering as she points toward the A-frame.
A cat. As in, a house cat. I suppose the jammies should have clued me in.
Why does the beautiful little human have to be a cat person?
Holding back my groan, I prepare to launch into the burning house to save this woman’s cat, when a ball of dark fur comes shooting out the open front door with an irate hiss.
“Is that your cat?” I ask, following the mangy beast with my eyes as it launches itself into the nearest tree.
She shakes her head, barely able to form the words, “Not mine.”
“So there’s another cat trapped inside?” What are the fucking odds?
“No.” She coughs again. “But he was here when I arrived.”
I assume she’s talking about the scruffy fur demon hissing at me from the tree, and I remember that there is a stray that sometimes skulks around the cabin.
“Did you call the fire department?”
She shakes her head.
“No fire. Just — smoke.” Cough. “I mean, I was just trying to light a fire —” Cough. “— in the fireplace.” Cough. “And all the smoke just started pouring out.”
My body relaxes as the realization hits me. The smoke isn’t from a house fire. It’s likely just a blocked flue — probably because the owner of the cabin hasn’t cleaned the thing out since he inherited the place.
“You live here?” I ask.
“I’m renting. Just moved in.” She winces. “It got really cold last night, and the cabin doesn’t have central heat, so . . .”
Her words cause a fresh pang in my stomach. This poor girl was just trying to light a fire to stay warm, and now she’s shivering in the frigid air with a house full of smoke.
“I’m Chase,” I say, jerking my head toward my cabin. “Your neighbor.”
The human’s cheeks heat, and she quickly looks away. It’s then that I realize she was staring at my bare chest, and I curse myself for not remembering to grab a shirt. We shifters tend to run hot, but I must look ridiculous standing here without one in thirty-degree weather.
“Lizzy,” she says, offering me a small smile.
Lizzy.
My wolf settles at the sound of her name, as if it’s an answer to a question that’s been gnawing at his soul.
“It’s probably a blocked flue that’s causing all the smoke,” I say slowly. “I have a chimney brush up at the house. If you want, I can take a look. Get the blockage cleared.”
Her eyes widen at the offer, emotion swimming in her gaze. Poor thing looks as though she might cry. “Thank you,” she sighs, her shoulders sagging with relief. “That would be amazing.”
I grin.
The way she’s looking at me makes everything inside me sing. I feel powerful. Invincible. As though I could walk through fire.
No one’s ever looked at me that way before, and all I did was what any decent neighbor would offer to do.
By the time I return with the chimney brush and a canvas tarp, she’s got all the doors and windows thrown wide open. It still reeks of smoke to my sensitive shifter nose, but at least I can step inside without my eyes watering.
I’m not fast enough to hide my wince.
As a marine, I’ve been all kinds of places, but this cabin is a fucking dump. Paint is peeling; one of the window screens is ripped; and the back door is slightly ajar, held closed by a flimsy chain lock.
There’s a couch, a bed, and a table that’s seen better days, along with a few odds and ends that look newer.
Those must belong to her. A colorful crocheted blanket is thrown over the bed.
A wrought-iron lamp sits on the rickety nightstand.
A pink-and-yellow rug warms the scarred wood floor, and a few framed photographs are scattered over the countertop as if she just unpacked them.
“It’s not much,” Lizzy says, rubbing the back of her neck as she watches me take in her new home.
“It could use some work,” I agree.
“I didn’t have a chance to see it in person before I signed the lease. I didn’t realize it would be this rough.”
The way her voice cracks makes my chest ache. Shame colors her tone, and there are dark circles under her eyes that make me think she’s barely slept. She can’t be a day over twenty-seven, but the worry in her gaze makes her seem older than her years.
“Your landlord should have fixed the place up before you moved in. I’m sorry it isn’t what you expected.”
Lizzy’s chin wobbles, and tears well in her eyes.
Shit. I’ve made her cry.
Growing up with Riley for a little sister, I’m used to big emotions. Crying doesn’t scare me, but the sight of Lizzy fighting back tears makes my wolf whine in distress.
My hands curl into fists.
Everything inside me demands that I wrap this sweet human in my arms and tell her it’s going to be all right. But I’m a total stranger, and that would probably freak her out, so I just stand there uselessly.
“It was stupid,” she blubbers, sniffing loudly as she swipes at her eyes. “I-I just n-needed somewhere to stay, and this place seemed like it would be a f-fresh start.”
Her eyes dart around the dilapidated A-frame, and the sight only seems to upset her more.
“It is peaceful here,” I assure her. “And Bristlecone’s nice. It has pretty much everything you need.”
“It’s just that my house is falling apart.” She hiccups as she gives me a watery smile, and that thing inside my chest squeezes.
I’m seized by the primal urge to carry her back to my place and make her comfortable. Something tells me this woman has been through a lot and could use some comfort.
Instead, I offer her the next best thing. “I’m not a handyman or anything, but I could probably get a few things fixed. Just until your landlord comes to deal with the rest.”
I don’t add that the guy is some asshole city slicker who never shows his face in Blue River. I’m certain he has no intention of making this place livable. He just wants to sit back and collect her rent checks.
Lizzy shakes her head, her cheeks growing pink. “I can’t afford to make any repairs right now.”
“You don’t need to pay me.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “That’s really sweet, but I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.”
Lizzy hesitates.
Inside, my wolf is pacing. My every instinct is roaring at me to protect this female. To make a safe home for her. Provide for her. Care for her. It’s a crazy animalistic impulse, but I decide not to question it.
“At least let me clean the fireplace and put a functional lock on the back door.”
Her gaze darts to the door in question, and I wince. She didn’t even realize the deadbolt needed fixing.
“I noticed it earlier,” I say with a shrug. “Occupational hazard.”
“Are you law enforcement?”
“Marines.”
“Wow.” She nods slowly, seeming to consider my offer.
“It’s no trouble, Lizzy,” I add softly. “Really.”
She gives me a disbelieving smile, but that invisible weight on her shoulders seems to lighten. My sweet human looks as though she has reason to feel hopeful for the first time in a while.
The realization makes me irrationally angry.
I clear my throat and hitch a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing in the direction of my cabin. “I just need a couple of tools.”