Chapter 19
Ford
Since when did I hum?
Never.
But that’s exactly what I was doing. Along with fighting distinct primal urges that could have me labeled a very bad beast.
With a quicker step than usual, I headed to my truck. Now I knew the feisty woman was working at the coffee shop. I had a feeling that her main objective was staying as far away from hockey as possible.
Or maybe she was just trying to lay low in case that asshole tried to find her. As I headed out of the main yard, I realized how much tension remained. If the son of the bitch decided to come for her again, he’d need to get through me.
I was almost to the parking lot when something caught my eye.
Woods surrounded the property that was located on over one hundred acres, the Cascade Mountains as a backdrop on one side and a river on another.
That left one long driveway to get to the facility, no other access unless someone hiked through the woods.
With a prickling sensation crawling down my back, I scanned the woods, trying to figure out what I’d seen. Movement. That’s what I’d seen. I took off toward the area, my eyes constantly roaming the tree line.
“What the fuck?” Had I now been reduced down to seeing things? There was an impenetrable quiet in the forest, not a single sound. No birds. No crickets given the time of year. Nothing but the rumble from the approaching storm as if coming from deep within the earth.
But I remained on edge.
Seeing what I thought was someone running through the trees, I took off running, pushing my way through the dense foliage. As I did, the hunger my wolf always felt when chasing prey kicked in and I ran a little faster. A little harder.
The hunger burned deep within, a series of gnawing sensations that enticed my wolf while pushing my mind into longing to shift. Not now. Not here.
When I finally broke free of a thick patch of trees, stopping short, a moment of disgust rolled through me.
A doe and her fawn. The were both drinking water in the stream, the doe lifting and turning her head toward me.
She knew I was a wolf, her scent of fear tickling my nostrils.
Yet she was also aware while in human form I couldn’t hurt her.
Crouching down, I clasped my hands together as if in some small way I could reassure her that I wasn’t interested in feasting on her fawn. She studied me for a full two minutes before nudging her fawn. The baby had yet to learn about predators. But she would soon enough.
The hunters were getting closer. Not only had I watched the news that morning on the shifter found slaughtered in the mountains, but I could also feel the shift in the air around the town.
As if the bastards were trying to cage us in.
With Georgia still on my mind, I hung my head, trying to figure out what I’d say to her.
That was if she’d even see me after the way I’d treated her.
Damn it. I could be such an asshole. Somehow, I’d think of something.
Just before I started to stand, something caught my attention just as the rain began to fall.
The minimal afternoon light still managed to catch sight of something metallic. I kept my eye on the spot on the ground as I moved closer. When I had it in my fingers, my stomach tightened into knots.
A shell casing from a 9mm Glock. You didn’t grow up in the Pacific Northwest without knowing your weapons.
I rolled it between my fingers. No hunter of deer or elk used a handgun that I knew of.
But the hunters preying on shifters did.
While one shell casing wasn’t full confirmation, my instincts told me otherwise. It would appear someone might have the Kendrick family in their scope.
Maybe it was time they learned the damage a pissed-off wolf could do.
* * *
I’d mentally made the comment to myself before and would happily do so vocally to anyone who’d care to listen. I wasn’t a romantic guy. Forget the flowers and candy. Maybe I’d gift a woman a cool truck or a motorcycle, but anything else and I was clueless.
That had to be the reason why by the time I pulled into the parking lot of the Velvet Roast, my palms were sweating. The rain was coming down hard, pelting against the windshield, the deluge significant enough water had already pooled across several streets.
The windshield wipers were slashing across the glass, the hard thump, thump, thump matching almost perfectly the rapid beating of my heart.
Georgia had managed in only a few days barging into my life to do just that.
How many times had I envisioned her smile or the way her mouth twisted in frustration when forced to deal with the crap I tossed out as if she should consider it privileged?
Enough that I’d memorized every soft curve, the way her nose wrinkled from time to time. Even the way the tip of her tongue darted across her bottom lip when she was just about ready to spew off the perfect comeback line.
Was she my mate as my father had claimed? As I flexed my arm again, the answer was crystal clear, even if everything else in my life had muddled the hell out of it. I had no idea what to do with the information from here. She wasn’t going to budge on how she felt about me.
I knew the hours of the shop. It was just about to close.
At this point, I could leave and that would be the end of trying to bring back what we’d had.
Oh, hell, I knew better than that. Cutting the engine, I debated another minute before climbing out and jogging toward the store.
By the time I reached the door, I was soaked.
But I just didn’t care.
The tiny bell announced my arrival and there was no one else in the shop. While there was also no one else behind the counter, I sensed her presence as well as a hint of her perfume.
Damn it if my mouth wasn’t watering.
“I’m sorry but I’m just getting ready to close.” Georgia popped out from the back while talking, stopping short just before bumping into the edge of the counter.
There was something extremely unique, even mind-blowing about the way we reacted to each other.
A long, hard stare followed by our eyes traveling to the floor.
A wild skip of our breath before turning into a more labored rhythm.
A desire that transcended the annoyance one or both of us had felt almost every time.
Finally, at least with her, she’d almost always found a way of becoming amused, the light in her eyes reflecting the fire burning brightly in her soul.
The first three remained, a stance of how we’d forever react to each other.
But the last was nowhere to be seen, replaced with an icy chill that instantly wrapped tentacles around the whole of my heart.
“Ford,” she said with absolutely no emotion in her voice.
“Georgia.” I took a few steps closer, making certain she didn’t have a scalding pot of coffee ready to toss into my face. It appeared all appliances were off.
When her eyes cut to the floor again, I realized I was sloshing water everywhere. At least the sound my shoes made when walking across the floor brought a faint smile to her face. She was absolutely adorable with a high ponytail, a cute red tee shirt and khaki shorts, the apron somehow suiting her.
I’d prefer if she was wearing no clothes underneath, but beggars with bad attitudes didn’t have the right to be picky.
“You’re getting water all over my floor.” She moved to the end of the counter, promptly folding her arms across her chest. A red-blooded boy like me had some pretty filthy thoughts, but I rubbed water from my face as a distraction to myself.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any towels, would you?”
“I do.” Her retort was quick and she wasn’t making a move to go and get one for me. You bet I’d fucked up royally.
The woman made me nervous as hell, more so than anyone else. I rubbed my hands on my wet jeans while glancing around the quaint shop. As if doing so would offer some divine intervention with the perfect statement. Obviously, I was on God’s bad side since nothing came to mind.
“What do you want, Ford? I’m busy.”
She had every intention of playing hardball. And was loving it. “I thought a cup of coffee.” What? Coffee? What in the hell had that been?
“As I said, we’re closed. I think there’s a McDonald’s down the street. That’s more your style.”
Was she even tapping her foot on the floor? I’d be damned if she wasn’t. Oh, she was going to make me earn this, but I wasn’t a groveler. Not a chance in hell. “Oh, okay. Fine.”
Funny how I stood right where I was, refusing to back down in the game we were playing.
She lifted both eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to stamp your foot?”
“What? Why?”
“Like all little boys who don’t get what they want. Oh, wait. I forgot. Men like you punch walls when you can’t get your way. How’s your hand? My guess is that you came close to breaking your fifth metacarpal. Not that you’ll admit it of course.”
When I did nothing but glare and seethe since I didn’t have a snappy comeback, she offered an award-winning smile. I could hear the imaginary referee in the corner giving her the point.
“Maybe you know the injury as the boxer’s fracture, but I guess according to you, I wouldn’t know just like I had no clue your ribs were broken. Because I’m just a massage therapist. Right?”
Oh, fuck me. This was not going well. I sloshed closer and she just pinged me with a look that could easily drive me six feet under. “I never said that.”
“Hmmm. But you thought it. How many times?”
I licked beads of rain off my lips and looked away, fighting more emotions than I’d experienced in twelve years. Twelve. Years. “I’m sorry.”
I could feel the clock ticking.
“You’re sorry.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Had amusement formed in her eyes? I think so. “For treating you so badly.”
She had the chutzpa to place her hand by her ear. “What did you say?”
Half laughing, I issued a deep growl and the joy of me struggling resonated with her in the most positive way. Once again, I had to wipe my hands on my jeans, but nothing was going to make me feel any better. “I said I’m sorry about treating you so badly. I was a shithead.”
“How were you a shithead?”