Chapter Three
As Dominic locked up the shop, he cursed himself for his behavior again.
Not only did he just give away a valuable piece of merchandise, but hindsight allowed him to see that he had been blatantly flirting with a customer.
He wanted to justify his actions. He wanted to make some excuse that the way she looked at him with those mystifying hazel eyes made him lose his mind.
The way she walked into his shop, bringing with her that presence that drove him wild and calmed him all at the same time, both confused and startled him.
She did all those things and so much more, but no amount of logic could save him from kicking himself ever since she’d turned the corner and walked away.
Erica Barrett was a breath of fresh air and quite possibly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
The way the sunset brought out the fine, natural golden highlights in her braid that hung over her shoulder, the way she smiled to reveal the cutest pair of dimples in Tolstone, how her clothes hung in just the right way over her curves to make him want to reach out and feel her in his hands.
It was almost impossible to focus while his wolf repeatedly and hungrily growled, Mine.
Oh, how he wished there weren’t rules to dictate what he could and could not do with a perfect stranger.
He would have broken every one of them if he thought he could.
He had never felt this drawn to any woman before, so curious to know more about her and who she was.
Had the stress of cleaning up after Wyatt’s pack made him that desperate for feminine company or had he found a treasure in Tolstone?
Dominic pulled on the door handle to make sure it was firmly locked and turned toward Second Avenue, almost following in Erica’s footsteps.
He passed by the display window where the Rolleiflex used to be.
It had been a gift to his grandfather from a German alpha who took refuge in Tolstone after moving his pack to the States to escape the chaos of World War II.
His father hated to put it up for sale after his grandfather passed, and so did Dominic, but realistically, he wouldn’t have used it.
He didn’t even have any film, but something told him that he had given it to a worthy customer.
Erica blew him away with her knowledge of the camera’s history, and if he hadn’t been swept off his feet by her quiet strength, then her little speech about the camera would have surely done him in.
There were few within his pack who appreciated history as much as Dominic, and Erica’s passion restored his faith in humanity, if only a little.
As a werewolf, Dominic knew how to interpret body language.
He could look at the simple way a person stood and understand their intentions.
It was a useful skill for what he had to do every day with the packs that took refuge in Tolstone.
If Dominic was as observant as he believed himself to be, this attraction was not one-sided.
Therefore, walking her home—as he wanted—was a terrible idea.
Erica might have invited him in for coffee, he would graciously accept, one thing would lead to another and …
Dominic felt his jeans tighten at the thought of it as he shoved his hands deeper into his leather jacket pockets.
No, he couldn’t have that. This was just a phase, a burning curiosity over someone he hadn’t met before.
There was something about Erica that fascinated him and excited his wolf, but there was nothing in their conversation that should have inspired such desires.
They were polite and the meeting was brief. Far too brief.
The sun was gone now, completely submerged below the horizon, and the moon was just barely visible through the treetops.
The silver glow glittered across the grainy blacktop as the live oak branches swayed above him.
A dog barked in the distance, and he could keenly hear families sitting down to their evening meal behind closed doors.
It was a night like any other, a typical walk back home, but something seemed so different.
Scents were stronger, sounds seemed louder, and even the muted colors of the coming night seemed to stand out in his sharp vision.
It wasn’t until Fox Way, just a block away from Crescent Lane at the corner of Prince Cutoff, that Dominic realized he hadn’t even been thinking about the way home. His feet just kept moving, following his nose, and his nose followed Erica.
Dominic slowed his steps as he tried to rid his mind of her for the dozenth time in the short hour since they met. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Come on, Dom,” he whispered to himself. “Get a grip.”
It was something his father had said to him so often, when he was being an unreasonable child, which was the majority of the time.
He heard it every time he rolled his eyes during a lecture, every time he was caught running off with the other boys when he should have been home or at the antique shop.
He could almost hear his father’s voice rumbling in his chest, telling him to forget about the girl, but he couldn’t.
With renewed purpose, he strode faster toward Crescent Lane, but the lingering trail of vanilla perfume, Erica’s perfume, haunted him with every step.
When he turned the corner, he saw his home on the far side of the street and let out a breath, knowing once he was inside, he could distract himself and cure this curiosity with a good night’s sleep.
A sight made him stop dead in his tracks.
The house beside him, the old Donaldson place, was not vacant anymore.
Its once darkened windows came alive, and light cascaded through the glass for the first time in almost a year.
He knew it had been bought but didn’t know by whom.
Now, he knew. Erica’s scent trail ended on the old Donaldson front porch.
Shit.
In his pockets, Dominic’s hands tightened into fists as he stared up at the newly occupied home. Her black Jeep sat on the curb, an empty U-Haul hooked up to its hitch. She must have arrived earlier that day while he was out dealing with pack business or at his shop.
If he listened close enough, he could hear the sharp slap of bare feet on the wood floors and the hiss of cardboard boxes being moved and opened.
His home was no longer a safe haven. He’d be up all night, straining his ears to listen to her roam about the house as she unpacked.
He shouldn’t daydream about what she wore when she slid between the covers once the lights were out.
He shouldn’t have wanted to know if she had a bedtime routine.
Dominic shouldn’t have cared. But she was such a pleasant, delicious distraction.
Even the wolf within him wanted to walk up to her door and offer to help her get settled into her new home.
He couldn’t allow himself to be so stupid.
His inner wolf, the one he had been born with, liked her like a puppy starved for affection.
Such a feeling was rare. His wolf barely liked anyone, even Hank or any of the other alphas, and would often urge him to growl or snap at any other werewolf who intruded upon his space.
With Erica, he wanted more of her, and that small taste he received in the shop wasn’t enough.
Dominic’s lips tightened into a grim line as he started back down the street and hurried up the walkway to his home. He had to clear his head, and in his experience, there was only one way to do that.
Once inside, he quickened up the stairs and to his bedroom.
Under his poster bed, he snatched up the duffel bag that was already packed with a spare change of clothes, a stick of deodorant, water, wipes for cleaning off dirt and mud, and a stained towel, all the things he would need for a night running as a wolf outside of town.
He knew, once the soft earth sank between the pads on his paws, he’d forget about Erica, if just for a moment.
Maybe then, he could recover from their first meeting and come to his senses.
He raced out of the house, locked the door behind him, ignored his silver truck parked on the curbside, and set off down Highland Road that led south toward Larson Caves Park.
It was a safe place to run, monitored by a member of his own pack who ensured that no campers or tourists wandered down paths set apart for all the shifters who came to Tolstone.
He could go there, far out of range from Erica’s scent and all that was now connected to her memory.
Just when the strong vanilla faded from the air, Dominic heard the familiar growl of a vehicle he knew well. He didn’t have to turn to see Sheriff Cole Spradley’s police squad car roll up beside him and keep up with Dominic’s long, determined strides.
The whirl of mechanics told him the passenger side window rolled down, and the stout smell of a warm car interior and subtle scent of chili dogs wafted out.
“Where ya headed?” Cole called from the driver’s side.
Dominic looked over and met the sheriff’s dark eyes. The alpha was old enough to be Dominic’s father. The touch of gray around his temples and in the stubble on his chin showed his age in the blue light of the dashboard controls.