Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
“People always fall in love quickly on folktales. Do you know any stories where the couple take a few years to know each other?”
— brANDIE JUNE, GOLD SPUN
I had zero game left.
Instead of texting me her contact info—or even sharing her name—my pretty hiker was laughing at me. I’d made her completely lose it, and not for sexy reasons.
Use it or lose it , my wolf growled. I warned you to get some love practice in.
I ignored the commentary. Mostly. My wolf was a randy bastard and arrogant, even by lupine standards. Her laughter was amazing, a belly laugh that seemed too large even for her delicious curves. It was beautiful, the way she went all in, not holding back, and I just had to laugh along with her.
“You’re too much.” She swiped at her eyes; she’d laughed so hard that she cried. It was hard to look away. Her lashes were thick and lush, framing brown eyes, and for the first time in my life I wished I’d been an English professor. I knew how bats mated and where hognose snakes laid their eggs. What I did not know, however, was how to describe my companion’s eyes. Beautiful, yes. Warm and brown and...
My wolf groaned. You are so not a poet.
That was not untrue.
Damn it.
Oblivious to my poetic shortcomings, she reached over and patted me on the arm. “You are too cute. I could eat you up.”
I’d prefer to eat her, but I could settle for reciprocity. Or taking turns.
Stupid modern century , my wolf opined. Let’s take her home with us. She’ll taste so good.
It wasn’t a bad plan.
Do it. Now. Before another wolf snaps her up.
I gripped the steering wheel, alarmed by this unexpected feeling of optimism. I’d deliberately spent the last five years not having sex. So, I was not entirely certain what these feelings meant.
Why was I flirting? Why now, and why with this woman?
I’d spoken with beautiful women in my 1,825 days of self-imposed celibacy, and I’d never had the urge to do...things. With them. To them. Or hell, even in their general vicinity.
BIG mistake , my wolf snapped. We need to make up for lost time. Lean over and kiss the girl. We are not “cute.”
I tried not to grimace. My wolf and I were in agreement about her poor adjectival choice.
“You’ve got a real great laugh,” I said instead of taking umbrage, because that was a truth I could get behind. Also, she had great socks. Her right foot sported a pink-and-yellow-striped sock, while her left foot had a green sock with white polka dots.
The rest of her was less colorful: black leggings, a short black skirt whose purpose was either purely decorative or to demarcate where the lush curve of her bottom ended and her thighs began, and a black sweatshirt with white lace on the cuffs and Ferns: Nature’s Little Hugs embroidered across her amazing chest. Despite being covered in a greenish-brown layer of mud and leaves, she looked great.
She grinned. “That’s not what people usually notice about me.”
She has amazing tits , my wolf prompted. And her ass is spectacular. Imagine what she ? —
I shut him down. It was not okay to be thinking lascivious thoughts about my passenger. She was trusting me to get her to her destination safely.
“Those people are missing out on the most amazing parts, if all they concentrate on is how breathtakingly beautiful you are,” I remarked. “And you are.” I let myself drink in the profile of her face, before turning back to the road.
It wasn’t just her laughter. It was her happiness, the joy she had. It was contagious. Special. She might have been dressed like a Goth elf in head-to-toe black and lace, but I could not look away. She possessed a magnetic quality, that intangible something . I’d bet people always noticed when she walked into a room and regretted when she left.
This earned me another snort of laughter.
“Oh sure,” she muttered, toying with the lace on the cuff of her sweatshirt. When I snuck a peek at her face, she was focused on the road unspooling in front of us. “I’m lucky you picked today to go hiking. Otherwise, I’d have been taking up permanent residence on that mountain. It would have taken me a decade to find my way down, unless I made a bargain with a wood dryad or a leprechaun.”
I cleared my throat, not certain if she was serious about the dryads. We had werewolves in abundance in our small town of Moonlight Valley, but that was it for the supernatural. There were rumors of a vampire over in Knoxville, though, and the occasional witch showed up in the federal park, collecting ingredients for spells.
It was likely a mundane joke.
We weren’t all that far from Wyatt’s rental at Phantom Falls. Moonlight Valley was a small place and everything was close by, including the haunted waterfall and several other paranormal hotspots. I’d have her to her doorstep in minutes.
Keep going , my wolf suggested. We can drive to Canada. Elope.
I couldn’t lie. I was tempted. But even though five years ago I’d sworn off sex, stealing cars, and doing bad things that hurt other people, this woman tempted me. She was exactly my type.
Long, dark hair, a brown-eyed beauty, all gorgeous curves and not a hard line to her. Her mouth was even softer, with the most kissable pair of lips I’d ever seen. My fantasy woman was riding shotgun, and that was more tempting than shifting into my wolf at full moon.
And yet she still hadn’t told me her name. Her reticence, given my instinctive response to her, wasn’t a bad thing. I’d have been all over her in the front seat of my truck if she’d given me the green light.
I didn’t know what to say. Around her I was nervous and on edge. I hadn’t felt this thrill of nerves since I’d come face-to-face with the local sheriff from two towns over when I’d been out in wolf form on illegal business for the Iron Wolves. She’d been a real pretty woman, strong and bold. But she’d also been armed, and my wolf had surprised her.
A wolf that was now whining like a pup to find out my curvy hiker’s name.
Because she’s OURS!
“Would you like the grand tour of Moonlight Valley?” I drawled. “I know this place real well. I even do fun facts.”
My wolf groaned. Your pickup lines are not improving.
“That way you’ll know where you are, and you won’t get lost anymore. Although I’m at your service if you need another rescue.”
“Right now?” From the way she dropped those two words into our conversation, my wolf wasn’t the only one who thought my charm was rusty.
“It won’t take long.” I shrugged. “This isn’t a big place.”
“Fast, quick, and small.” She winked at me. “You know how to sell yourself. Usually, I wouldn’t hesitate to take you up on that kind offer, but I’m starving, so if we could head straight to Wyatt’s, that would be great.”
I forced myself not to grin. She was funny. Funny and charming. And gorgeous. Of course, she could recite the fifty states and their capitals, and I’d be just as riveted.
“If Wyatt hasn’t stocked the kitchen, I’ve got emergency snacks behind your seat.” I slowed and signaled to turn off onto the dirt road that led to the waterfall and Wyatt’s house.
“I already stole your chocolate,” she protested. “I can’t take your emergency snacks too.”
When her stomach growled again, I reached behind the seat and rummaged one-handed in the cooler I kept back there. My sandwich wasn’t five-star gourmet cuisine, but I liked the thought of taking care of her, of meeting her needs. And no, I wasn’t just thinking about her sexual needs, although they weren’t entirely out of my mind, either.
She took the sandwich and dug in. Satisfaction flared through me. She ate in silence—and with gusto—while I tried to hold my horses. Not bother the lady. Magically find some game.
We made it ten minutes down the road before I caved and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Since you’re eating my sandwich, perhaps we should be on a first-name basis?”
Lame , my wolf whined.
“It’s Suzette.” Her words were muffled by a mouthful of my brother Ranger’s famous faux chicken salad. It had tofu in it— much to my wolf’s disgust—along with raisins, apples, and a top-secret sauce Ranger refused to disclose the ingredients of. After the fifth time I’d asked, he’d claimed it contained love and other sweet things and I’d stopped asking. Love was not a protein source, and it was not on my menu.
“Suzette? I’m pleased to meet you, Suzette.” I pulled up in front of Wyatt’s rental cabin.
“No, it’s—” She dragged her attention away from my sandwich and stared at the enormous architectural monstrosity in front of us. “Wow. Is this it?”
“Wyatt’s rental? Yeah.” The place had started life as an unpretentious cabin in the woods, but Wyatt had gone overboard with improvements after he’d written that erotic book that had been more successful than striking oil in the backyard. Now it looked like something from an Architectural Digest magazine, all glass and steel. You could also see straight through it, which was not a feature in my opinion, but tourists loved it.
Her gaze bounced back and forth between Wyatt’s McMansion and my face while she worked out what she wanted to say. “I didn’t give you the address. Do you just know where everyone lives? And where his rental house is? Is this one of those freakish small-town things where everyone knows everyone? How do you know Wyatt? Are there any secrets here?”
Boy is she in for a surprise , my wolf said.
I had to agree. We kept plenty of secrets here, starting with the werewolf population.
I picked the safe option. “Everyone in Moonlight Valley knows that Wyatt owns the two ugliest, gaudiest, and largest places in town. You should see his primary residence.”
Compensating , my wolf growled. Because he’s nowhere near as awesome or as hung as we are.
I tried to banish the unwelcome thought about Wyatt’s personal equipment. Terrible architectural choices aside, everyone in Moonlight Valley did know Wyatt Reynolds—even before he’d published that super explicit werewolf romance that had brought him so much attention (the town book club had had a real good time reading it and trying to figure out who was who in real life).
For instance, everybody knew he’d got himself a PhD in English from Harvard after his daddy had suggested going into the plumbing trade, and then he’d written That Book and come home to open an erotic bookshop smack in the middle of downtown Moonlight Valley. Add to that his penchant for forest bathing in the nude on hot summer days (and as a wolf on cold ones) and his general lack of fucks to give, and you had Wyatt.
It was hard not to know him—or not to know that his parents found him an embarrassment.
It was the same way that everybody knew me, Maverick Boone, and my five younger brothers, my Miss Tennessee beauty-queen sister, my no-good, disappearing daddy, and the wonderful woman who had been my momma and who had also disappeared the previous year. Besides the big werewolf secret (which half the town was in on), about the only unknown in Moonlight Valley was what had really happened to Momma.
So, yes, I knew Wyatt, both in his two-legged and his four-legged form. He and my younger brother Atticus were best friends. Wyatt, Atticus, and I often ran together at full moon. Also, I’d stolen a souped-up Dodge Charger from Wyatt’s daddy when I was sixteen. And then later a BMW. Wyatt’s daddy had always had more cars than manners.
More recently, after I’d turned over my new, sober, and sexually celibate leaf, Wyatt and I had gone into the book business together. He’d turned an empty storefront into The Pink Parts, his erotic bookstore, right after he’d hit a big bestseller list and sold the movie rights to That Book. I’d done the renovations and generally kept the place looking both pink and perfect as my contribution to our silent partnership. I’d built a stage for his book readings, installed a pastry case for snacks, and reupholstered the armchairs. On select Friday nights, Wyatt would read out loud from his current work in progress.
I had not attended any of those readings, but they were legendary.
“It is a big place,” she said thoughtfully, still taking in the magnificent, glassy splendor that she’d apparently rented sight unseen. “Although it seems a trifle exposed.”
I shrugged. “To be fair, no one has much privacy in a town this small.”
She made a face.
“But to answer your question about my acquaintance with Wyatt, he and I go way back. We all used to strip down and go skinny-dipping in a plastic pool in my momma’s backyard.”
Let’s take her to the waterfall for swimming! She’s hot. It would be downright charitable of us. Or, y’all have that giant waterslide going to waste up at the house.
She grinned, her eyes dancing.
“He argued that the pond behind our dorm was a swimsuit-optional beach.” I laughed. “He’s not a fan of clothing, that’s for sure.”
When he wasn’t in his furry form, he was often buck naked (see forest bathing). I’d seen more of Wyatt than I cared to recollect.
“He runs an adult romance bookstore, right?” she asked, the easy acceptance and lack of judgment in her voice surprising me. Most folks either poked fun at what Wyatt wrote or dismissed it outright. Getting sex right was hard, though, no pun intended.
“You bet.” I wondered what she liked to read, which fantasies were her favorites. “The Pink Parts.”
In my experience, there were three kinds of people: those that read erotic books, those that wrote them, and those who couldn’t understand why on earth someone would write down a private fantasy for other people to share. I wondered if she would write one of hers down for me, and if I could write her back. We could be a special kind of pen pal.
“Professor, are you wondering if I like to read?”
I answered her grin with one of my own and shrugged. “I could make some recommendations if you’re in need of reading material.”
“I’m always looking for my next book.” Her voice dropped, throatier, huskier. Her mouth curved up in a wicked grin, more naughty and less polite. “I also love to write.”
My brain short-circuited, my pulse kicking up. I could just imagine how she loved . There were so many thoughts running riot in my head that I lost my verbal brakes.
“Do you? Would you like to workshop a scene with me?”
“In public?”
“I’m open to suggestions.” I nodded thoughtfully, willing her to continue.
“Are you a unicorn?”
What?
As if , my wolf grumped. Those horned horse wannabes are VIRGINS. We’ve workshopped the heck out of this town.
This was truer than I cared to admit and a key reason I’d been celibate for the last five years. I had a lot of careless behavior to make up for. On the other hand, I could hardly tell her that I was a werewolf. She’d either dismiss me as delusional or freak out.
Also, I wasn’t entirely sure how unicorns and workshopping were connected.
“I’m not sure I take your meaning,” I said. “Do you believe in unicorns?”
She twinkled at me. “Actual unicorns, no. Nor was I referring to the dating practice. I was alluding to that mythical man who’s willing to take direction.”
Her eyes dropped to my mouth, a change in direction that was a pretty clear indicator of what she was thinking.
My muscles tightened, the blood evacuating from my brain and rushing south. God, she was beautiful. It was hard to focus on our conversation and keeping up my end of it when she sat this close to me. I’d spent years mastering my beast, and she’d undone all that hard work in under an hour.
“I could be convinced. Are you good at giving directions?”
She shook her head vigorously, sending her long, brown hair tumbling around her shoulders and clinging to her cheeks and the soft swell of her breasts, framing the curves of her. She mouthed, I take them , as if those three words were the best and dirtiest line in one of Wyatt’s books.
I was on fire.
Well, son of a bee sting.
She was good.
Real good at this.
Having once been a top-notch flirt myself, I recognized a kindred spirit. My hiker was a charmer. I was more surprised by this than by the stunning harmonica solo that Mr. Allerbee had played with the fancy string orchestra one memorable Fourth of July because her disheveled and genuinely upset appearance back up there on the mountain had been endearing. Had it all been a ruse?
She peeped up at me through thick, dark lashes. A mischievous grin lit up her face, hinting at a pair of naughty dimples. Her eyes darkened from the sunlit gold-brown of forest branches to the twinkling green of late-autumn leaves...I was still no poet, but I was a wolf who knew and loved my twigs and berries.
This was a game I loved, and I waited to see what she’d do next. It was her move, and she was a master player. Yeah, my hiker understood the assignment.
Her grin grew, turning into a smile and then a full-blown laugh. “You are too much. This is the best.”
“What is?”
“Flirting with a professor.”
The corner of my mouth tugged up. Her honesty was a joy. Perhaps her upset up on the mountain hadn’t been a ruse after all.
Shut the front door, you LIKE this girl.
“Are we flirting, Miss Suzette?” All that liking had her name coming out in a low growl, making it sound like a bedroom word.
She gave me a playful chiding look and undid her seat belt. “I’m pleading the Fifth, Maverick. You fill in the blanks. Plus, I have to go raid the pantry because otherwise I might start eating everything in sight.”
That was not a problem.
Picnic for two coming up , my wolf growled. She’ll taste so sweet.
Reciprocity was important. I chewed on that for a moment too long because Suzette popped her door open and peered down. I was a gentleman wolf, so I opened my door, jumped down, and got myself around the truck before she’d got her feet on the ground. I grabbed her door with one hand and offered her my other.
She didn’t budge.
“I don’t need help.”
I nodded. “Noted.”
“Alrighty then.”
The slide of her bare fingers against my own larger, callused ones drove my response right out of my head.
We’d touched on the mountain, and it had been perfectly pleasant. Perhaps our flirting spell had turned up the heat, or perhaps it was our forced proximity in my truck—or my five-year sexual dry spell—but an unexpected shock of heat shot up my arm as her palm slid against mine.
She didn’t seem to notice. I, on the other hand, was entirely too aware.
Our hands were two tectonic plates meeting, sliding past each other, my body and my heart buckling at the impact.
When I tightened my grip on her hand, holding on rather than letting go, she looked startled. “What’s up?”
I looked into her eyes, searching. She didn’t seem aware of that pulse of claiming, so I reluctantly let go.
My wolf snarled inside me, demanding I let him out. FOOL. You’re gonna lose the girl.
“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. I did not need or want this logjam of unexpected feelings. “Let’s get you inside. Wyatt keeps a key for the guests in a frog. Also, if you would trust me with your car keys, I’ll make sure your vehicle gets back to you.”
I moved past her toward the front door. I did not know what had just happened. I did not need to know what had just happened.
The buzzing of my phone was a welcome distraction. With an apologetic tip of my head, I stepped to the side, pulled it out, and accepted the call. “Afternoon, Ranger.”
“Maverick,” Ranger intoned in his usual monotone. He could have been reading off the next item on his grocery list, except that I knew he cared. Although Ranger was the third-born in our family, he’d inherited the lion’s share of the brains, along with an outsized portion of oddness. You never knew what was going on in his head, but you’d be a fool to disrespect it. “You need to head over to The Pink Parts lickety-split.”
“Are you sure?” I checked the time on my phone briefly; it was just gone four, which made it almost closing time at the bookshop and far too late for the coffee drinks it sold. I’d be up all night for the wrong reasons. “What do you all need me to do?”
“Sanye needs rescuing.”
My happy lust fog cleared up faster than fast.
If I pushed it, I could be at The Pink Parts in ten minutes. Sanye Jansen-Webster had been the wife of my best friend. Now after Evan’s death in a tank rollover, she was his widow, and it was my responsibility and pleasure to be there for her whenever and however she needed. Evan would have done the same for anyone I’d left behind. I’d cleaned up my act and gotten honest, thanks to her, because I would not let either of them down.
“Sanye is a DIY woman,” I reminded my brother. Suzette and she had that in common.
Wolf . That woman is ALL wolf.
Technically, that was the truth, seeing as how she was a shifter. It was also true that Sanye did not need or particularly want my rescuing. As much as I wanted to be there for her after we’d lost Evan, she had her own thoughts about how her unexpectedly solo life should unfold. The first year, she had humored me but—more and more—I had to admit (if only to myself) that she saw my efforts on her behalf as meddling and overprotective. I did not want her to get hurt. Or to feel lonely, tired, anxious, or otherwise crapped on by life.
She let me handle her home repairs and improvements, but that was where she’d drawn a line the width and depth of the Grand Canyon. I was not to interfere in her life. It was a well-known fact that she was more wolverine than wolf, and a wise man did not stand in her way.
These days she mostly handed me a beer, let me change her fuses or haul her trash to the dump, and then she sent me on my way.
“Well, she has a project that she cannot handle on her own.”
I groaned, staring at the cabin’s wide-open front door. My impish, mysterious Suzette had tossed me her car keys, ransacked Wyatt’s key frog, and marched on in. “Use your words.”
“Come to The Pink Parts,” Ranger intoned dramatically and then hung up on me.
Damn it. I glared at my phone, but there was no point in calling back. Ranger would not answer. He was not big on phones, phone calls, or sharing basic information. I’d had occasion to wonder if he was a foreign spy because he treated everything as top secret. Mostly, the need-to-know basis on which he operated was just plain funny, but today it irritated the heck out of me.
My plans to flirt with Suzette would have to wait.
“Are you coming?” Suzette poked her head out the door and looked up at me. Her regard sent a warm feeling blossoming through my chest. It was looking like she’d become the sun in my universe all right, and I was a needy, needy seed.
I put those thoughts aside to examine later. Hooking my thumbs in my belt, I reluctantly called an end to our shenanigans. “No, ma’am.”
“No?” Her forehead got the cutest little pucker as she mulled over my answer. “That’s not the next line in this game, sir. I’ve found the food, and now I’m inviting you in for dinner.”
I cursed Ranger and his poor timing, and then I cursed my new, reformed self. “I have to get back on the road.”
She made a face, looking some shade of disappointed. She might not be begging me to stay, but she wasn’t thrilled to see me go, either. I’d take it.
“Can I make it up to you later?” I stepped closer, bending my head to inhale her scent.
OURS , my wolf caroled. Gonna make her ours, ours, OURS. Something about her made it hard to disagree with my beast. Suzette felt right, and I did not want to leave her.
She flashed me a grin. “Sounds like a plan.”
I tipped my hat. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Suzette. You have a good night now.”
Her eyes rounded ever so slightly. “What a gentleman.”
My grin grew, my eyes crinkling up and making promises to her. I might be out of practice with flirting and dating, but I would give her my best.
But before I could head back to my truck, she stepped into me and rested a hand on my arm. Leaning up on tiptoe, she brushed her lips over my cheek. Her breasts pressed against my arm—not to tease but because she had a generous bosom—and my body surged to life. Five years of celibate living flew straight out the window. My dick had never been so hard. She smelled of herbs and pine—free, wild, and delicious.
Her lips hovered near my cheek; her body balanced against mine. Without pulling away, she peeked up at me through her long lashes and whispered, “ Gracias , my white knight.”
I swallowed roughly, heat surging through me, more incendiary than before, volcanic. My control slipped through my fingers like water over a streambed, stirring up old emotions and my wolf. NOW.
“Always,” I gritted roughly, fighting the urge to give in, to do as my wolf urged and wrap myself around her and kiss the living daylights out of her. Her lips on my cheek were a prelude, and I was about to launch into the main piece when she stepped back.
My eyes locked on hers, and I watched her reestablish the distance between us. She bothered me. And by bothered I meant hot and bothered, desperate to press my kisses against each of her lush curves.
She beamed at me, and I stared, lost, until she told me to get lost. “Goodbye, Maverick.”
This was not how my dates had ended in my long-distant past. Of course, this wasn’t exactly a date, it being more of a rescue mission or search-and-retrieval.
Lyft , my wolf snapped, seeing as how you’re the driver and this appears to be the end of the road .
I reminded myself that I had changed. That I did not do casual relationships, or even casual kissing. I was reformed and I had important boundaries.
Still, my jaw tightened and I pasted a smile on my face because growling and going wolf on her would not win this game we were playing. I had always been the flirt and the charmer. I was the one who walked away and left my date wanting more.
Turnabout sucks , my wolf growled.
He was not wrong. I walked back to my truck in a daze, boundaries intact but feeling that I’d missed out on something—some one —important. The door shut behind me, followed by the unmistakable click of the lock. Suzette was safe and tucked in for the night. That was good.
Never mind that I was on the wrong side of that door.
Or that I had a whole stew of feelings brewing in me that packed more punch than the moonshine Ranger brewed in our tub.
My hiker . . . she was a hell of a woman.
And I was plumb crazy for her.