Chapter 13 – Carla
CARLA
The late afternoon sun slants through the cabin windows when I hear Billy’s truck pull up.
My wolf perks up immediately, that now-familiar warmth spreading through my chest. He’s been bringing clothes over gradually, but today sounds different.
His footsteps on the porch are purposeful, almost nervous.
He comes through the door carrying wildflowers. Not store-bought, but the kind that grows along the roadside. Purple lupines mixed with white daisies.
“Hi,” he says, and there’s something shy in his expression that makes my heart skip.
“Hi yourself.” I abandon my book, drawn to him like always. “What’s this?”
He extends the flowers, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Saw them on the drive home. Thought of you.”
I take them, breathing in their subtle fragrance. “They’re beautiful.”
“Carla.” He steps closer, and I catch his heavenly scent. His hand finds my waist, thumb brushing the sliver of skin where my shirt has ridden up. “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”
“We have dinner every night.” I tease, but my pulse quickens at the intent in his eyes.
“No, I mean...” He pulls me closer, until I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “Out. At the steakhouse in town. A proper dinner. A date.”
The word hangs between us, heavy with meaning. His fingers flex against my waist, and I can feel the tension in him, the hope.
“A date,” I repeat softly.
“If you’re ready. No pressure if it’s too soon, too public. I just...” His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb tracing my cheekbone. “I want to take you out. Show you off. Treat you the way you deserve.”
My throat feels tight. After everything, the basement, the escape, the panic attacks, he wants to romance me. “Billy...”
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, ducking until his forehead rests against mine. “One evening. Just us. If you get uncomfortable, we leave immediately.”
I close my eyes, breathing him in. The flowers are still clutched in my hand, their stems cool against my palm. “Okay.”
He pulls back slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I smile at the boyish excitement that flashes across his face. “But I need to change. Can’t go on our first official date in yoga pants.”
“You look perfect in anything,” he says, then steals a kiss that leaves me breathless. “But take your time. I need to shower anyway.”
He heads for the bathroom, already pulling his shirt over his head. I catch a glimpse of his broad back before the door closes, and heat pools low in my belly.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of my closet in my underwear, second-guessing everything. The green floral skirt catches my eye. I haven’t worn it in months, but it’s soft and feminine. I pair it with a cream sweater that hugs my curves without being too revealing.
When I emerge from the bedroom, Billy’s waiting in the living room. He’s changed into dark jeans and a button-down shirt I’ve never seen before, the deep blue bringing out the warm brown of his eyes. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his hair is still damp from the shower.
He turns at my approach and goes completely still. His eyes travel from my face down to my boots and back up, darkening with each pass.
“Carla.” My name comes out rough, almost reverent.
“Is it okay?” I smooth the skirt nervously. “I haven’t dressed up in so long.”
He crosses to me in two strides, hands framing my face. “You’re stunning. Absolutely stunning.”
The kiss he gives me is thorough enough to mess up my lip gloss, his hands sliding into my hair. When he pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“Maybe we should skip dinner,” he suggests, voice husky.
I laugh, pushing at his chest. “You asked me on a date, mister. You’re taking me on a date.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grins, offering me his arm. “Your chariot awaits.”
The drive to town is charged with anticipation.
Billy’s hand rests on my thigh, his thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of my skirt.
I find myself hyperaware of every movement, from the flex of his forearms as he steers, the way he glances at me at stop signs, the small smile playing at his lips.
“What?” I ask when he looks over again.
“Just can’t believe you said yes.”
“To dinner?”
“To me.” His hand squeezes gently. “To all of this. Sometimes, I think I’m going to wake up and you’ll have realized you can do better.”
I cover his hand with mine. “Billy Lennox, you saved my life in every way that matters. There is no better.”
He lifts our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, as we pull into the restaurant parking lot.
The steakhouse is warm and inviting, all dark wood and soft lighting. Billy’s called ahead, of course he has, and we’re led to a corner booth that’s intimate without being isolated.
“This okay?” he asks as we settle in, his knee brushing mine under the table.
“It’s perfect.” And it is. The candle on the table casts shadows that highlight the strong lines of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.
We order, a steak for him, and salmon for me, and the conversation flows as easily as it does at home. But there’s something different about being out, being on an actual date. Every accidental touch feels charged. When he reaches across the table to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I shiver.
“Cold?” he asks, immediately concerned.
“No.” I catch his hand before he can pull away, threading our fingers together on the tabletop. “Just... affected.”
His eyes darken. “Yeah?”
“Being out with you like this. Like we’re normal people on a normal date.” I trace his knuckles with my free hand. “Like you’re courting me.”
“I am courting you,” he says seriously. “Should have been doing it from the start.”
“We were a little busy with the whole escaping and healing thing,” I remind him.
“Still.” He brings our joined hands to his lips again. “You deserve romance. Flowers. Dates. All of it.”
“I have you,” I say simply. “That’s all I need.”
The food arrives, and it’s delicious. Billy watches with satisfaction as I clean my plate, stealing bites of his steak when he offers. We share a piece of chocolate cake for dessert, Billy insisting I take the last bite.
“I’m stuffed.” I declare, leaning back with a contented sigh.
“Good.” He signals for the check. “You need the calories. You’re still recovering.”
“Okay bossy,” I tease, but warmth spreads through me at his concern.
We leave after a wonderful night, with big smiles on our faces, and Billy’s hand warm on my lower back as he guides me through the door. The night air is crisp, and stars are brilliant overhead. I pause to look up at them, feeling lighter than I have in months.
“Beautiful,” Billy murmurs, but when I glance over, he’s looking at me, not the sky.
That’s when the scent hits.
Bear. But not my bear. Harsher, meaner, and tinged with cigarette smoke and old violence. My body locks up instantly, every muscle seizing as my mind catapults back to the compound. To helplessness. To fear.
“Well, well.” Craig steps out from between two trucks, and he’s not alone. Two other bears flank him, all three radiating menace. Clearly, his displeasure at me going against my father hasn’t eased. And he’s here to make sure I know it. “Fancy seeing you here, Traitor.”