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Rescued By The Wolf
Kristal Hollis
She's not afraid to run with this wolf.When a poacher killed his mate, Rafe Wyatt lost his future. While the Wahyas of Walker's Run have been pulling him back from the brink, he's certain he won't have another chance at love. That is, until Grace comes to town.Grace Olsen is a woman without roots. That's exactly how she likes it, until a sojourn in a small, close-knit Appalachian community gives her a new vision of what home could be—and so does Rafe. He was supposed to be nothing more than a casual lover, just as wary of commitment as she is. When their raw attraction becomes something deeper, more complex, they could be looking at a new future together. But someone close to them both would rather see Grace dead than let her be with the man—and the wolf—she's grown to love.


She’s not afraid to run with his wolf.
When a poacher killed his mate, Rafe Wyatt lost his future. While the Wahyas of Walker’s Run have been pulling him back from the brink, he’s certain he won’t have another chance at love. That is, until Grace comes to town.
Grace Olsen is a woman without roots. That’s exactly how she likes it, until a sojourn in a small, close-knit Appalachian community gives her a new vision of what home could be—and so does Rafe. He was supposed to be nothing more than a casual lover, just as wary of commitment as she is. When their raw attraction becomes something deeper, more complex, they could be looking at a new future together. But someone close to them both would rather see Grace dead than let her be with the man—and the wolf—she’s grown to love.
Testosterone and a slew of wolfan hormones stormed Rafe’s veins.
Burning up all his restraint, Rafe stood perfectly still as Grace moved lithely out of the room with her hips sashaying in an erotic sway that beckoned both the man and the wolf.
God, she was pretty. Long, shiny hair the color of corn silk. Bright green eyes that put polished emeralds to shame. Soft golden skin and an athletic body with just the right amount of curves. None of which he should’ve noticed. And yet he had, and more.
She had a ready smile, a kind heart toward people and animals. He liked her spunk more than he should.
And she smelled really good, too.
Another time, another place. Another life. She could’ve been the one.
Southern born and bred, KRISTAL HOLLIS holds a psychology degree and has spent her adulthood helping people and animals. When a family medical situation resulted in a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances as an escape from the real-life drama. But when the crisis passed, her passion for writing love stories continued. A 2015 Golden Heart® Award finalist, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.
Rescued by the Wolf
Kristal Hollis


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all who have loved and lost, and dared to love again.
Although the act of writing may be a solitary endeavor, inspiration is often found far and wide.
To Cam and Scott at New Tokyo Auto Repair, thanks for keeping the Blue Bandit running smoothly so I can attend all those writerly meetings and retreats. A heartfelt thanks to my friend and colleague, John Custis, for sharing your knowledge of baseball. Ann Leslie Tuttle and Kayla King, oh how I appreciate your wisdom and guidance in helping me to shape this story. And, as always, much love, hugs and kisses to Keith—the hero of my heart, thank you for never doubting.
Contents
Cover (#u2b73504d-cd41-5be8-8bf8-b7733e6e7fc8)
Back Cover Text (#ub9b16cb9-cf00-5126-a9b7-509873d322fb)
Introduction (#u83c56439-325a-5256-a445-86d80ab14234)
About the Author (#uec060eac-ca70-57a3-97d8-7e209d570ff6)
Title Page (#u2c2413f5-9c60-5c09-b9f5-4000956e9dec)
Dedication (#u08dfb976-6220-5289-a196-142e5c40858f)
Chapter 1 (#ua89bb198-9c3a-51a1-a231-fc0cd76cbf06)
Chapter 2 (#uabe1f095-8ef6-5f52-bb1f-6cd4c9fc2834)
Chapter 3 (#u435f0625-e80a-5811-9cfb-4ae1a0217acc)
Chapter 4 (#ub1cdecb3-837f-5607-b4d3-2d82d5916fac)
Chapter 5 (#ub9fa7cbb-f98a-5e32-a06d-051ab34c868c)
Chapter 6 (#u2cd38cb3-de38-5d31-9b4f-73451d9be45e)
Chapter 7 (#uea8e58b3-1b34-5e56-8604-81eb9260662d)
Chapter 8 (#uf8dc8cc8-71ba-5950-9d5a-bb500643662f)
Chapter 9 (#ua4e4cf1f-5a12-5d9d-952c-83245f2c821e)
Chapter 10 (#ue2749ce1-5dea-59df-b771-7ffc1198e652)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Boom!
The shotgun blast decimated the midnight calm of the Walker’s Run wolf sanctuary. Rafe Wyatt’s sure-footed paws faltered. Heart frozen midpound, he dove to the ground, nose filling with the earthy scents of damp dirt and decayed leaves.
A flash-flood of dread and fear rolled tremors through his wolfan body but he didn’t feel any pain from penetrating shrapnel.
Then again, three years ago he hadn’t felt the bullet that had ripped through him and killed his pregnant mate trotting beside him, either.
Goddamn poacher.
If Rafe had been in his human form, he would’ve spit on the ground and stomped his foot in it as if it were the dead man’s grave.
The hunter hadn’t lived long enough to collect his trophy. Rafe, still in his wolf form, had torn him to shreds. A justified killing under wolfan law.
He’d suffered no recriminations from the Woelfesenat, the governing wolf council. Any penance was his own.
Avenging Lexi’s death had brought him no peace. His only solace from the loss and longing had come from a bottle of bourbon.
How many times had he drunk himself into oblivion, only to find the sharp talons of reality waiting to shred his heart and soul again the moment he awoke, cold, naked, and alone?
Too many to count.
And it had damn near killed him when he’d blacked out behind the wheel and missed the curve at Wiggins’s Pass. Drove right off the mountain. The guardrail, a thick canopy of trees below, and rescue workers had kept his Jeep from plunging to the bottom.
Still, the accident wasn’t what convinced him to stop drinking. It had been waking up in the hospital and seeing his father’s drawn, pale face, the frenzied panic in his eyes, his ghostly-white lips and the salt-and-pepper hair that suddenly had twice as much salt as pepper. Rafe never wanted to make his father look like that again.
Now, instead of drinking when unbearable loneliness ate him alive, Rafe ran the pack’s protected expanse of woods. Only, wolfans didn’t use guns to safeguard their territory and the boom ricocheting through the trees was definitely from a shotgun, which meant poachers.
A chill frosted his skin. Senses heightening, he focused his acute hearing to pinpoint the direction of the gun discharge. From the echo, the shooter was northwest of him, in the vicinity of Mary-Jane McAllister’s farm at the edge the sanctuary.
The wolflings!
Releasing Mary-Jane’s potbellied pig, Cybil, and herding her back into her pen without using their human forms had become an unofficial wolfling rite of passage ever since Rafe and his best friend, Brice Walker, had successfully wrangled the ornery sow as teenagers. Their victory had resulted in cracked ribs and massive bruises, but the adventure had been one of the best of their lives.
Rafe suppressed a snarl at the arrogance of youth. Once he’d been cocky and proud. In a time when it felt good to be alive and unstoppable in the face of a nova-bright future and carefree oblivion.
At fourteen, Rafe had believed he was invincible. At twenty-eight, the reality of how wrong he’d been lived coiled inside him like a copperhead, its fangs embedded deep in his conscience, spewing venom into his soul.
The cries of frightened wolflings penetrated his mind. Rafe leaped to his feet in an all-or-nothing run. The nearest sentinels would converge to investigate. Some in wolf form, others in human form dressed as Walker’s Run Cooperative security guards. But none were as fast as Rafe.
Paws thundering against the damp and familiar ground, he zigzagged through a dark maze of tall pines. The crisp, cool spring air ruffled his fur as he ran. He covered the four-mile distance in just under two minutes.
Three frightened wolflings darted haphazardly across the farmyard in a confused search for the right direction to run.
“Go on, you damn wolf pups. Get!” Stomping on her front porch, Mary-Jane McAllister—a sturdy woman dressed in a flowered housecoat and tattered slippers with curlers in her gray-streaked hair, waved a shotgun in the air without making any action to fire it again. Although her tongue had delivered a fair share of sharp lashings, she’d never harmed a wolfan and Rafe didn’t think she intended to do so now.
“Cybil!” Mary-Jane hollered at the huge pig plowing into the woods. “Be back by morning. I got no time to look for you. I’m plantin’ beans tomorrow.”
Rafe doubted the pig would return any time soon. Once roused out of her pen, Cybil didn’t willingly go back in until good and ready.
She would be safe in the wolf sanctuary. None of the Walker’s Run Wahyas would harm one short, coarse hair on her body. The pack considered the big sow family. Besides, Cooter, the pack’s lead sentinel, was sweet on Mary-Jane. If anything happened to that pig, paying the devil his due would be pennies compared to what Cooter would extract.
Mary-Jane trudged inside the house, the screen door slamming behind her. The panicked wolflings fled into the woods. Rafe loped after them to steer them to safety.
Two adult wolves appeared ahead and the wolflings separated.
Rafe nodded to the sentinels, then bolted after the tawny wolfling who’d veered left.
“Alex, stop!” he called telepathically, adding a note of annoyance to his thoughts. Chasing his cousin’s delinquent son through the forest wasn’t how Rafe wanted to spend the rest of the night.
He’d grown up believing he was the last of his parents’ bloodlines. The recent discovery of a maternal relative and her son in need of sponsorship gave him another chance at family.
Not that Doc, his adoptive human father, wasn’t family. He was, absolutely and resoundingly.
But Rafe longed for more. The loss of his birth parents and entire birth pack had created a soul-aching need to rebuild his family line.
His dream had ended with a single shot from a rifle. After losing Lexi, Rafe had no desire to claim another mate. Since wolfan males could only father children with a female they’d claimed, he would likely never have a family of his own.
Then Ronni and her son Alex, distant cousins through his mother’s bloodline, had come along. Looking after them was a far stretch from being a mate and father, but as their only male blood-kin he was responsible for their welfare.
“Alex, I said stop!”
“Rafe?” Even as Alex’s startled voice sliced through Rafe’s mind, the wolfling disappeared over the ridge.
Damn.
Rafe cut sharply through the budding brush, hoping to catch the wolfling before he reached the old two-lane road.
The soft hum of a motor vibrated through the thinning trees.
Rafe crested the rise and his chest tightened, restricting his airflow like the choke valve on an old carburetor. “Alex, get out of the road. Now!”
Paralyzed inside a glaring beam of light, the wolfling didn’t budge.
Rafe darted down the embankment, leaped over the roadside ditch, and slammed into Alex. The adolescent wolfan tumbled clear of the oncoming car and darted into the woods.
Dazed and sprawled on the pavement, Rafe stared into the headlights of imminent doom.
He’d spent more than two years drunk and wishing for death. Nine months, three weeks, and five days ago, he’d gotten his life back on track, sort of.
When he quit drinking and resolved to put the past behind him, people said things would get easier with time.
They lied.
Nothing was any easier. At least life hadn’t gotten any worse—until now.
The blare of a horn shattered the zombie-like shroud fogging his brain. Pure Wahyan instinct took control. The sudden surge of adrenaline caused a loss of coordination in Rafe’s limbs. His legs skewed in different directions, his paws scrambled for steady footing.
Tires screeched from a hard brake, slinging the car into a slippery slide across the asphalt.
“Alex!” Rafe’s mind screamed at the wolfling barking frantically from the edge of the woods. Time slowed to a centipede’s crawl. “Look away!”
A wave of heat from the car’s engine rolled over Rafe’s fur. His nostrils stung from the acrid smell of burning brake lines.
His heart pounded furiously, the beat stabbing his chest in a desperate plea for him to get up and run, only his legs wouldn’t cooperate. Rafe curled into a ball, every muscle clenched for impact.
This was it. Really it. There’d be no coming back this time. He’d already survived two near-death experiences. He wouldn’t survive a third.
At the last possible moment, the car veered sharply to the right and careened into the embankment. The crunch of metal competed with the jackhammering pound of his heart.
“Rafe!” Alex’s hysterical cries penetrated Rafe’s mind.
The wolfling’s cold nose nudged Rafe’s side. As if a reset button had been pressed, a current zipped through Rafe’s body and pumped a steady stream of relief through his veins.
His stomach lurched to untangle the knots that had formed.
“I’m fine, Alex.” Rafe unfurled his legs and stood, a little wobbly until his nerves settled.
“I thought you were a goner.” Alex tucked his head beneath Rafe’s chin and rubbed his muzzle against Rafe’s neck, warming Rafe’s fur with his frantic pants.
A deluge of affection greatly increased the probability of what would have been an uncharacteristic hug, if Rafe had been in his human form. “Stop slobbering on me. I said, I’m fine.” Or he would be once his heart stopped beating against his skull and dropped into his chest where it belonged.
“What do we do now?” Wide-eyed, Alex stared at the wrecked car.
“You go home.” Rafe nipped Alex’s ear.
“But—”
“Go.” Rafe pointed his nose in the general direction of Alex’s house.
“Aw, man,” Alex grumbled. Head and tail hanging low, he trudged into the woods. At the ridge, he looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows lifted in a hopeful expression.
Rafe barked a warning. Alex’s nose wrinkled, pulling his upper lip over his canines. He slowly padded between the trees and disappeared from sight.
Rafe waited a few seconds and called out, “Alex, go home.”
A disgruntled growl rumbled through the forest, followed by a rustle of leaves, then silence.
Rafe turned toward the pale green Volkswagen Beetle, the right front side pinned against the opposite embankment. His own low, frustrated growl lodged in his throat. Of all the people in the Walker’s Run territory, the one woman he’d gone out of his way to avoid would have to be the one who almost killed him.
He should follow his orders to Alex and go home. The accident didn’t appear to be serious enough to have injured the driver. He could howl a signal to the sentinels. They’d take care of her.
His gut pinched and something deep in his chest tugged him to move forward. Toward the disabled car. To the woman behind the wheel.
The farther he padded forward, the more intense the feeling grew. He sat on his haunches. A soft burst of electricity pulsed through his nervous system. Ignoring the ticklish current, he stood as a man. “God, I need a drink.”
Chapter 2 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Rafe stalked toward the disabled car. His heart beat a weird tattoo of excitement and doom. The wolf in him couldn’t wait to see the human female. The man would rather be fed to a starving, angry bear.
Rafe had been sober for only twelve days when he’d met Grace Olsen at Brice’s thirtieth birthday party. Encountering her once was enough to deter all future interactions. Her tantalizing scent had captivated him from across the room. So much so that he’d had a hell of a time focusing on anything but getting close to her and marking her with his scent—something he could not, or rather would not, do.
At the time, he wanted to stay focused on remaining sober and putting the pieces of his life back together. Grace presented a complication he wasn’t equipped to handle and he’d gone to great lengths to avoid.
Rafe snatched open the car door. A myriad of scents—greasy fried potatoes, vanilla and sweet cream, and sickly sweet chocolate assaulted his nose.
Uck! He hated chocolate.
Snorting to clear his nose, he honed in on the more delicate musk of the woman slumped over the partially deflated air bag.
His breath knotted in the back of his throat.
“Grace?” The soft rise and fall of her shoulders were a comfort beneath his palm.
Leaning over her to shut off the engine, he breathed a deep lungful of her heady essence. A frisson that had nothing to do with the residual shift energy coursed through his body.
She squinted and a whispery moan escaped her clenched mouth.
“Grace, can you hear me?” Squatting beside her, he tucked a few wisps of blond hair behind her ear. A trickle of blood seeped from the half-dollar-sized knot forming along the hairline above her temple. “You’ve been in an accident.”
Her eyelids opened on a sigh and the clearest, darkest green eyes he’d ever seen peered at him.
Every cell in his body froze. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. Damn near couldn’t think. Nine months hadn’t been long enough to weaken the pull he felt toward her, but he was in a better place to resist it.
“Rafe? Rafe Wyatt?”
He nodded. She recognized him and remembered his name. That shouldn’t make him feel good, but it did.
“Oh, no! The wolf!” Her panicked gaze darted past him. “Did I hit him?”
Either the knock on the head had really messed her up, or she didn’t know the truth about the wolves in Walker’s Run.
He guessed the latter. If the pack’s Alphena-in-waiting, Cassie Walker, had not confided in her best friend, then Rafe wouldn’t be the one to let the wolf out of the bag.
“He’s fine, Grace. I checked him before I came to you.”
“What a relief.” The strain on her face eased and she finally seemed to see all of him. “For Pete’s sake. Why are you naked?”
He stared at the open moon roof above Grace’s head, willing his body, his mind, and his wolf to behave.
“Haven’t you heard the stories?” He put an edge in his voice, despite the smile scratching at the corners of his mouth as Grace covered her eyes like the see-no-evil monkey. “I run naked through the woods and howl at the full moon.”
“The moon isn’t full.”
Rafe was thankful it wasn’t. His attraction toward her was real, dangerous, and something he wanted to avoid like the mange. A full moon would only heighten his awareness of her and weaken his resistance.
He lowered his eyes to her pink tank top and pink bottoms covered with tiny cat faces.
She liked cats and the color of bubble gum. Two strikes. One more and maybe he could get her out of his head for good. “Why are you driving around in your pajamas?”
“No one was supposed to see me.” She peeked through her fingers. “Hey! Don’t stare.” She slapped her arms over her chest, then quickly uncrossed them to grab her head. “Oh, no! I’m going to be sick.”
Covering her mouth, she bumped past him. He followed her to the spot beside the road where she’d dropped to her knees. Her stomach heaved, but expelled nothing. The muscles in her back rippled beneath his touch. “Relax. Everything will be all right.” He slowly stroked along her spine. As his hand warmed from the friction, something ebbed into his being. Something soft and feminine. Something that intrigued man and wolf. Something that would upend his life and he’d suffered enough upheaval. He couldn’t endure any more.
Grace swayed as she stood.
“I got you.” He pulled her against him. Her soft curves flush against his hard planes opened up a deep-seated yearning he needed to keep buried. But damn, it had been so long since he’d held a woman, and since he’d almost died tonight, what harm could come from a little hug?
The lightness of her feminine scent filtered through him. His ears tuned to the quiet, rapid breaths she swallowed. Her cantering heartbeat, softly thumping against his chest, slowed until the pace matched his. The synchronicity sparked an excitement that skipped along his nerves, soothing as much as it ignited him.
“I feel dizzy.” Grace squeezed her eyes shut.
“Maybe you should sit down.” He scooped her into his arms.
“Hey, no funny stuff,” she warned meekly. “These hands are lethal weapons.”
She wiggled her finely boned fingers with painted pink nails. She was so dainty and feminine, he couldn’t imagine her swatting a fly.
“I’m terrified,” he said mildly, although his heart raced like a hunted wolf whose only options were capture or escape. He carried her toward the disabled car. From what he could see, the front passenger side had suffered the brunt of the collision. He would know more once he got the car into his repair shop.
“You should be terrified. I was trained by the best.” Grace’s eyelids slowly shut.
“Who?” he asked, tucking her into the driver’s seat.
“My dad. He’s a former Navy Seal.”
“Appreciate the warning,” Rafe said to be polite. He wasn’t going to give in to his attraction to Grace, so there would be no need to meet Daddy.
She nodded, then clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Try not to move. Inhale slowly, deeply. Good, now exhale.”
He waited for her to complete a few deep breaths.
“I’m going to reach for your phone to call for help. No funny stuff, I promise.” Holding his breath so he wouldn’t indulge in her intriguing scent, he leaned over her to grab the phone from the jumbled contents of her purse on the passenger floorboard.
“What the hell is your passcode?” he asked, unable to access the keypad.
Grace scrunched her eyes and her lips stretched tight in a seal across her mouth. She clutched the hand in which he held the phone and the jolt he got from the innocent contact nearly knocked him on his ass. At least, it felt like it did. He glanced down to make sure his backside hadn’t actually kissed the ground.
After she keyed in the numbers 0-2-2-7, he jerked his hand from hers and backed away. “I need to find a spot with clear reception. Don’t fall asleep, got it?”
She didn’t respond.
“Grace?” He didn’t want to touch her.
Okay, that was a bald-faced lie. He definitely wanted to touch her again, to indulge in her softness, to see if her heat would take the chill off the soul-aching loneliness he endured.
“Grace,” he said sternly. “Answer me.”
With painstakingly slow movements, she gave him a thumbs-up.
“I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep.” He paced about fifty feet from the car until the phone registered a signal. His thumb hesitated above the touch screen before he placed the call.
“There’s a wreck on the old highway behind the McAllister homestead,” Rafe barked before Doc had a chance to utter a groggy, “Hello.”
“Are you all right, son?” Dr. Harold Habersham’s strained voice cut Rafe to the quick.
Since sobering up, Rafe tried hard not to cause his adoptive human father more grief.
Still, it lingered. Just below the surface. The old man loved his son too much for his own good.
“I’m fine.” Rafe frowned at the disabled car. “But I need the Co-op responders to pick up Grace Olsen. She’s got a knot on her head and dry heaves. Could be her nerves. She’s coherent and her pupils aren’t unequally dilated.”
“If you wanted to be a doctor, you should’ve gone to medical school.”
“I hate hospitals.” Hated the smell of antiseptics, sickness and death as a child. Hated the restraints, the needles, the beep of the machines that haunted his dreams long after he recovered from the shooting.
“Yeah, yeah.” The rustle of clothes muffled Doc’s voice. “I’ll put in the emergency call and be there in ten. Make sure Grace stays conscious.”
Keeping Grace awake would be easier said than done, considering Rafe would need to nudge her whenever she started dozing off. A nudge meant touching, and he definitely needed to keep touching to a minimum.
Palms tingling, Rafe sprinted to the car. “EMS is on the way.”
Grace’s eyes were closed and her head had lolled to the side. Rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Grace!”
Her shoulders twitched and her eyelids popped opened. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Same here, sweetheart.
“I thought you fell asleep.” He thumbed her chin, tipping her face to see her eyes. Still clear and alert. Her blush-pink lips, full and luscious, dipped in a grimace.
“Nope, I was concentrating on not getting sick. The smell in here makes me want to—”
She gagged and Rafe didn’t think it was for mere effect.
“Makes me want to gag, too.” He lifted her from the car, carried her up the slight embankment and sat her against an old oak log. “What is that crap smeared in your car?”
“What’s left of a hot fudge sundae and French fries.”
Rafe’s stomach turned in a not-so-silent blech.
“Hey. It’s my favorite midnight snack.” She squinted up at him. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“I’ll pass.” Rafe was allergic to chocolate. Violently allergic. End-up-in-the-hospital allergic.
And Rafe was glad he was. It quelled his desire to kiss her. If she’d eaten one bite of the hot fudge, and his mouth and tongue touched hers, she wouldn’t be the only one headed to the emergency clinic.
“Can you move out of my line of vision?” She held her hand in front of her face. “Your family jewels are quite impressive, but I don’t want them dangling in my face. It’s distracting.”
A sharp, primal awareness pierced him. He glanced at his cock, going from semierect to fully erect in the span of a breath.
Damn.
He’d done fairly well at controlling his reaction until now.
Impressive and distracting. Her description made him proud and more than a little possessive.
He sat beside her, knee bent to cover his groin. “Better?”
Her pensive gaze dropped to his lap, then inched up his chest. “I would’ve preferred clothes.”
His clothes were miles away in his tow truck and he wouldn’t retrieve them if it meant leaving her out here alone.
After a few minutes of silence, Grace shivered. Against his better judgment, Rafe reached around her shoulders and drew her close.
“You’re nice and toasty,” she said, snuggling into his heat.
His body hummed from the contact and he realized he no longer wanted alcohol. What he craved was much more dangerous.
Chapter 3 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
What is that god-awful sound?
The incessant noise kept time with the pounding in Grace’s head.
She forced open her tired, scratchy eyes and sat up in the queen-size Murphy bed. The soft glow from the muted flat screen TV hanging on the left wall cast enough light that Grace didn’t feel entombed in a sarcophagus, but only barely.
Earlier, when she had woken up to use the bathroom and found the bedroom–living room area of Rafe’s micro-apartment consumed in utter blackness, a blood-curdling wail had exploded from her chest. Terror scaled her throat, tightening her windpipe around the scream until she ran out of air and could no longer breathe.
From out of the void Rafe had appeared, gathered her close and calmed her with his rock-solid presence. He probably thought a nightmare about the accident had incited her panic, when really she was simply afraid of the dark.
Being locked in a windowless basement for nearly a day when she was ten had instilled a debilitating fear of the dark and she was ashamed to have never outgrown it.
Beep...beep...beep...
The grating sound kicked up her headache several notches. Searching for the alarm clock, she glanced at the long wooden dresser centered beneath the TV. All that topped it were a video game console and one controller, the wires neatly wrapped around the middle. A cell phone, the TV remote, an orange prescription bottle and an empty water bottle were scattered across the coffee table.
Asleep on the brown leather couch, Rafe lay on his side with one arm crooked awkwardly behind his back.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have gone home with a naked man encountered on the side of the road. Rafe, however, was the best friend of her best friend’s husband. If Cassie and Brice trusted Rafe, Grace would, too.
Last night, she hadn’t called Cassie from the hospital because it was after midnight and Grace didn’t want to worry her pregnant friend over a lousy bump on the head. Dr. Habersham would’ve made her stay overnight in an observation room if Rafe hadn’t volunteered to keep an eye on her.
Grace hadn’t known Rafe’s apartment was a windowless efficiency that he’d converted from the unused storage room connected to his automotive repair business. Still, being in a concrete box with him was better than being alone in the hospital.
Her gaze traced his lightly haired legs, sleek and powerful. A bunched white sheet disrupted the graceful lines of his hips and framed his exposed lower back. The smooth, muscled planes flexed as if she’d touched him. Head tucked beneath a pillow, he sighed a deep, low, guttural rumble that echoed through her body, heating her to the core.
Of course she’d have that reaction to him.
Out of all the men Cassie and Brice had introduced to her, Rafe had been the only one to spark any real interest. Rafe, on the other hand, had gone out of his way to ignore her after the initial introductions.
Until last night. When he’d shown up after the accident, his hair wild, his eyes fierce, his body dangerously naked.
She wouldn’t be able to unsee the vision of his perfectly sculpted form even if she used a bleach solvent on her brain. The memory had already been uploaded to every cell in her body like a rogue computer virus. The only way to get rid of the infection was to overwrite the code. Unfortunately, she sucked as a code writer.
The cold harsh truth would have to suffice in masking the easily recallable memory and her interest. For some reason, Rafe found her off-putting. She didn’t know why, and when she’d shown up at his business a few months back, hoping to bridge the chasm for Cassie and Brice’s sake, Rafe had flat out told Grace he wasn’t interested in being her friend.
Yep, the cold harsh truth. He didn’t like her.
She couldn’t understand his abrupt disregard and dismissal. She always made the effort to be kind, friendly and accepting of everyone. She didn’t judge, didn’t discriminate, she loved the uniqueness of each person.
Whatever the reason for his dislike, Rafe had shoved it aside last night and was there when she needed someone.
Right now, she needed him to shut off the freaking alarm before her head exploded.
“Rafe, wake up!”
He didn’t move, snort, or otherwise acknowledge her presence.
Grace eased off the Murphy bed, slid her feet into her pink slippers, and maneuvered between the coffee table and couch. She reached over Rafe to the alarm clock balanced on the top frame of the couch, the LED face flipped so that the time flashed into the cushion instead of into the room.
In a sudden whirl, she landed flat on her back on top of the couch seat cushions. Rafe’s steely fingers clamped around her wrists, pinning them over her head. She stared into icy, cobalt blue eyes that would’ve stolen her breath if she hadn’t lost all air when he plastered his hard, hot body onto hers.
The short crop of his auburn hair stuck out in different directions. A pillow crease cut across one high cheekbone and dipped into the reddish stubble dusting his strong jaw. His firm, full lips would look much more kissable if he smiled.
Squared shoulders rose above a sculpted chest swirled with soft tufts of hair, and a quarter-sized scar marred the taut, tan skin over his right ribs.
Her gaze slid over the ripples of his abs and the sharp indents of his hips. She couldn’t follow the treasure line that arrowed down from his belly button because he was lodged intimately against her pelvis.
A giddy heat rushed her body and struck her with the acute awareness of a virile man in his prime.
“Never sneak up on me, Grace.” Rafe’s laser-intense eyes burned holes straight through her body. “It’s dangerous.”
No doubt.
From his deeply etched scowl to his silent, panther-like movements, she needed no further warnings. He was dangerous on all levels.
“Shut off the damn alarm. My head is pounding and I can barely think.”
Without shifting his weight off her, he slapped the buttons of the alarm clock and silenced the wailing beep. The echo continued to throb inside Grace’s head. She shut her eyes, willing the pounding to stop and wanting to break the sizzling visual contact with Rafe.
He didn’t take the hint to move. Instead, his cheek grazed her jaw, his mouth forged a warm, breathy trail to the shell of her ear, and he gently nosed the dimple behind her ear. “God, you smell good.”
Her own senses drowned in his scent—clean, earthy, and deliciously male. Instinctively, her hips arched against his groin. Deep inside, her muscles clenched and a slow swirl centered low in her belly. “Hey, Wyatt. This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to get to know you at Brice’s party.”
Yeah? Who was she kidding?
Since her hands were still pinned above her head, her hips were plastered against his, and any perpendicular movement might’ve further compromised their position, Grace nipped his ear.
Rafe moved so quickly it took her a few blinks before her body registered the loss of his heat. She sat up, her arms folding across her chest to hold in the warmth.
“Get your stuff and I’ll drive you to the resort.” He bent over to snatch up the sheet that had fallen to the floor.
Don’t look at his ass. No, don’t.
Her eyes didn’t listen and her body rejoiced at the vision of the tightest, most perfectly shaped butt she’d ever seen. She’d bet the house that she could bounce a quarter to the ceiling off that ass.
Rafe snapped the sheet in the air, folded it precisely in half, matched all the edges and meticulously repeated the action until he’d formed a perfect square that he tucked in a dresser drawer. He turned to Grace.
Front side, back side, all sides in between—God, he was beautiful. Not in a GQ cover sort of way. The rugged angles and planes of his face gave him a less cultured, rawer sexual appeal.
Frowning as he was, he looked downright lethal and sexy, and so not amused with the smile she offered.
“When a man is naked in his bedroom, there are only two things he wants.” Rafe’s glacial eyes would’ve turned Grace’s breath frosty if she could actually breathe. “Sleep and sex.”
“Technically,” she said, finding her voice, relieved it didn’t squeak. “We’re in your living room. The bedroom’s over there.” Tipping her head toward the Murphy bed less than ten feet away, she stood. “Are you suggesting we change locations?”
Rafe’s breath audibly stuck in his throat. He stared at the rumpled bed and swallowed hard. His gaze jumped to her, his eyes wide and uncertain.
“Considering you don’t like me, we won’t need the bed for sex and I’ve had enough sleep.”
“I never said I didn’t like you.” The low, gravelly rasp in his voice caused tiny bumps to pebble her skin.
“So, you like me but don’t want to be friends?” Grace padded around the coffee table to stand directly in front of him. His silent breaths were as hard and fast as her staccato heartbeat. “Not seeing the logic there.”
“You’re not the type of friend I need.”
“Too bad. I come with fantastic benefits.” She poked him dead center in the chest. “Get dressed. I have things to do today, and you’re not on the list.”
Chapter 4 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Testosterone and a slew of wolfan hormones stormed Rafe’s veins. Burning up all his restraint, Rafe stood perfectly still as Grace moved lithely out of the room with her hips sashaying in an erotic sway that beckoned both the man and wolf.
God, she was pretty. Long, shiny hair the color of corn silk. Bright green eyes that put polished emeralds to shame. Soft golden skin and an athletic body with just the right amount of curve. None of which he should’ve noticed. And yet, he had, and more.
She had a ready smile and a kind heart toward people and animals. He liked her spunk, more than he should.
And she smelled really good, too.
Another time, another place. Another life. She could’ve been the one.
But, he’d had a true mate, bonded heart and soul, and he’d lost her.
He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe it could happen twice. Besides, he wasn’t compatible with a human female.
Unlike Brice, whose grandmother was human, Rafe came from a purebred line. He’d inherited no human traits. Any he had were learned from Doc.
Since childhood, Rafe wanted to do right by the man who raised him. He’d modeled Doc’s manner, his style, his philosophies. He might have followed his father’s career path if he could’ve overcome his aversion to hospitals.
He hated the gut-churning scents that permeated the air. Fear, sorrow, sickness, desperation and death.
Grace’s human senses weren’t developed enough for her to detect the smells as acutely as he could, but she seemed to dislike hospitals as much as he did. Last night, he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave her there overnight when she clearly didn’t want to be there.
When he’d brought her home, he’d expected her to drill him about his abrupt decline of her offer of friendship a few months ago. Instead, she was gracious, respectful and annoyingly considerate.
She’d even gifted him with genuine smiles as if he’d never hurt her feelings that day. He knew he had.
But, he’d done what was necessary, pushing her away. Establishing a boundary. For her safety and his well-being.
Only she still ended up hurt and he was still drawn to her in ways that defied reason.
He needed to reinforce the no-friend zone and stay the hell out of her way.
Rafe pinched his sore ear, then drew back his hand and stared at the tiny drop of blood smeared on his thumb pad.
His stomach rolled.
Ah, hell!
Grace had not claimed him.
One, she had no idea what a bite meant to a Wahya. Hell, she didn’t even know what they were.
Two, they weren’t having sex when the bite occurred. It wouldn’t have taken much to physically tip the balance toward consummation, but close only counted with horseshoes and hand grenades, not claiming a mate.
Three, a human couldn’t legitimately claim a Wahya. Only a Wahyan bite during sex could establish a mate-claim.
A mate-bond, well, that was an entirely different matter. He doubted he and Grace were compatible enough for the ethereal connection to spark, so he had no cause to worry. Whatever was between them was purely physical.
Rafe knuckled his fingers in his hair and sucked in a deep breath to clear his head. Unfortunately, Grace’s scent permeated the room, overpowering his heightened senses, damn near swaying him to abandon all reason, give into primal urges and bed her hard, fast and forever.
Only forever wasn’t as long as he once believed. Forever with his former mate hadn’t even lasted his lifespan.
Rafe closed his eyes, willed his heart to stop racing and his body to cool. He had to get Grace out of his home and out of his system.
Without one window in the apartment, he was going to have a helluva time getting rid of her scent.
He pulled on a gray T-shirt and dark blue coveralls. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he put on his socks and work boots. He stared at the rumpled sheets, rich with Grace’s intoxicating scent, then stripped the bedding. Her phone tumbled to the floor. After pocketing the device, he folded the Murphy bed into the wardrobe. Next, he grabbed a clean, white button-down shirt and the bundle of sheets, and walked down the narrow corridor to find Grace.
He hesitated at the doorway to the kitchenette. The walls were painted the same flat gray color as the concrete floor. A 1950s-style white Formica table with chrome hairpin legs and two matching chairs sat in the middle of the small room.
On her toes with her back to him, Grace leaned against the single basin sink. To her left, a tiny dish drainer on the counter held one black mug, one plate, one fork, one spoon, one knife. To her right, was his small microwave. In the space where a dishwasher would normally go, Rafe had wedged a dorm-size refrigerator. And instead of a stove, he had installed a stacking washer and dryer in the corner.
Grace muttered, opening the cupboards above the sink. Regrettably, all Rafe’s pantry had to offer were three cans of sardines, half a loaf of bread, a bag of chips and a container of beef jerky.
“I’m all out of porridge, Goldilocks.”
Grace jumped. “Jeezus.” She turned toward him, clutching her chest. “Wear a bell or something. My heart almost stopped.”
Rafe clenched his jaw to stop himself from admitting that he knew CPR. Neither of them needed to think about mouth-to-mouth anything. Especially since her light pink tank top fit her like a second skin and she was braless.
“Put this on.” He tossed her the button-down shirt.
She pressed it to her face and sniffed. A curious pride pearled in his chest at the innocent gesture of her scenting his clothes.
“Hey.” Her eyes widened when she realized he was watching. “I’m making sure it’s clean.”
“I know how to do laundry.”
“Knowing how and doing it are two different things.” She shoved her arms into the sleeves.
Rafe dumped the sheets into the washer, dropped in a detergent pod and turned on the machine. He pivoted on his heels with a ta-da, but she was too busy fussing with the buttons on the shirt to notice.
“Nerves from last night?” He waved aside her trembling hands to finish the buttons for her.
“Caffeine withdrawal.” She held her arms out for him to roll up the sleeves. “I usually have three cups before nine a.m. I’m a little behind schedule this morning.”
“It’s almost noon.” He finished her sleeves.
“Explains the killer headache.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I couldn’t find the coffee or the pot.”
“Don’t drink it. Don’t own one.” He thumbed aside the blond strands curtaining the superficial cut at her temple. The slight wound had scabbed and a dark-purple goose egg had formed. His gut tightened.
It was only a minor concussion, but the fact that she’d sustained an injury because of him made him sick to his stomach.
“I need coffee, now! Isn’t there a diner across the street?” Her ponytail swished as she wandered out of the kitchen.
He followed her down the lighted corridor. There was something about her wearing his clothes that made his insides warm and his heart kick a possessive beat.
“I don’t know how you can live in this concrete bear cave.”
“If I were an animal, it wouldn’t be a bear, Goldilocks.” He pushed open the heavy metal door.
“Let me guess. A wolf?” She ducked beneath his arm and stepped into the R&L Automotive Services side of the building.
“Yep, but he wouldn’t like being closed in.”
“Do you?”
“No, but I have a severe insomnia. When I converted the storage room into a living space, I decided not to cut windows into the cinder block walls. I didn’t want outside light or noise to bother me when I’m trying to sleep.”
“So the pills on the coffee table help you sleep?”
“Yep.” Although they weren’t very effective. Nothing seemed to be since he stopped drinking himself into oblivion.
Rafe led Grace through the unused customer service area. People preferred to waltz in and out of the work area to see him. He opened the glass door that was next to a large viewing window. Ushering Grace into the garage, he jabbed the panel of buttons on the wall. The bay doors squawked, retracting to allow in streams of sunlight.
“It doesn’t look too bad.” She stared at her car on the rack. “It won’t take long to hammer out the bumper and fix the flat, right?”
“The right front side is demolished. The bumper has to be replaced. I want to change out the brakes and check all the operating systems. It’s gonna take a while before you get it back.”
“Great.” Her voice sounded low and flat but her stomach growled as loud as any wolfan’s would when half starved. She pressed her hands to her belly. “Sorry.” She flashed an embarrassed grin. “I only had a salad for supper and my midnight snack splattered all over the interior of my car.” She sighed. “It’s going to stink, isn’t it?”
“I cleaned the interior after you fell asleep the second time.” He’d needed the distraction after her hysterical scream had flooded him with adrenaline, and holding her until the effects of her nightmare faded had drowned him in hormones.
However, he’d run out of steam before he had a chance to tackle the pile of magazines and books and whatever else she’d stowed in the backseat.
“Thanks.” Gratitude shimmered in Grace’s big green eyes and his heart skipped a beat. “How much will the repairs cost? Wait, I don’t want to know. I have a high insurance deductible. Just get it running so I can make it back to Knoxville.”
“You won’t pay a penny. My wolf would be dead if you hadn’t swerved.”
“Your wolf? You own a wolf?”
“It’s a Co-op thing,” Rafe said carefully. “No one actually owns the wolves, we’re more like handlers. Mine caused your accident so I’m responsible for the damages. Some of the work I’ll do myself, but I’ll send the car to a shop in Hiawassee for the bodywork. Paint fumes make me sick.”
“I don’t know what to say.” A grateful smile softened the worry in her eyes.
“I’m just glad you and the wolf are okay.” He offered her his hand. Why? He had no idea. Because he should’ve been pushing her out of the R&L and out of his life instead of providing her a physical connection.
She stared at his open palm, roughened with calluses. “How did this happen?” Her fingertips traced the scar running from his thumb to his wrist.
His breathing went wonky. Too much air, too little air. It seemed his lungs had forgotten how to function.
“Stepped on a piece of glass.” He swallowed a gulp.
“Most people cut their foot when stepping on glass. How did you manage doing it with your hand?” A soft breath caught in her throat. “You weren’t drunk, were you?”
Well, that was like a stab to the gut. At least he covered the gasp with a sigh.
Small town, big gossip. He should’ve known Grace would’ve heard more details about his life through the grapevine than he was comfortable with her knowing.
“I was twelve.” He shook his hand free of her touch. “I didn’t start drinking until after my wife died.”
“I’m sorry.”
The second time in a matter of minutes that she’d said “sorry.” He found it peculiar humans apologized for things they weren’t responsible for doing and events they couldn’t control.
“I tripped and fell on a piece of glass while playing in the sanctuary with my wolf.” Although he had been in wolf form when he’d stepped on the shard. It was as close to the truth as he could come. Still, the tiny lie bothered him.
“You were playing with a wolf?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Where was your father?”
“At the clinic.” Rafe grunted. “He wasn’t too happy that night when he came home. Said I should’ve gotten stitches. But it healed fine.”
“I hope he grounded you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous for children, or anyone for that matter, to play with wolves? They’re wild animals and wild animals can turn vicious.”
“The Co-op’s wolves are different. Besides, my wolf and I are bonded. He could never hurt me.”
Rafe steered Grace out of one of the open bays and to the right. She needed to learn about Wahyas sooner rather than later. As the Alphena-in-waiting’s best friend, the secret could be detrimental to their relationship and it could put Grace in a dangerous predicament.
“I can’t believe you were playing with a wolf when you were twelve.” Grace shook her head. “Please tell me you weren’t naked.”
“Nudity is a natural part of my life. So is my wolf. It’s the same for other Co-opers.”
“So far, you’re the only one I’ve seen naked in the middle of the road. Should I expect to see others?”
Not if the wolfan expects to keep his cock and balls attached to his groin.
“What?” Grace’s pert little nose wrinkled as she looked up at him.
Every cell in Rafe’s body went on alert.
She shouldn’t have heard his thoughts. In human form, Wahyas didn’t manifest telepathic abilities.
Except with their mates.
And Grace Olsen was definitely not his mate.
Chapter 5 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
The soft jingle of door chimes drowned in the sea of voices filling Mabel’s Diner. The line for a table seemed endless. Headachy and jumpy, Grace needed coffee and she needed it now!
“A drive-through will be faster.”
Try as she might, Grace couldn’t push the six-foot man blocking the door out of the way.
“You need to eat.”
“A drive-through has food. It’s fast.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “It’s going to be a long wait.”
“It won’t, I promise.” Rafe’s warm hands cupped her shoulders and he turned her around.
A shiver rolled along her spine as warmth spread through her body. Each time Rafe touched her, she felt this tingly boost, as if he was sharing his energy with her. A ridiculous notion since she barely knew the man.
The concussion must’ve affected her rational thinking.
“Rafe Wyatt!” A plump, seventyish woman with a bright red-dyed beehive hairdo slid off her stool behind the cash register and strolled toward them flapping her fingers in a give-me-a-hug gesture. “What brings you out this early?”
Early? It was lunchtime.
“Good to see you, Mabel.” Rafe stood stoically throughout the elderly woman’s demonstrative embrace.
“Who’s your lady friend?” Mabel swung her head toward Grace. One of her painted-on eyebrows rose as her gaze traveled down the length of Grace and back up again. “Haven’t seen you around. New in town?”
“Not exactly. I’m visiting friends.” She shook Mabel’s hand. “I’m Grace Olsen.”
“Amazing Grace,” Mabel sang. “That’ll be easy to remember.”
“Grace needs coffee and food,” Rafe interrupted. “She was in an accident last night and hasn’t eaten a decent meal since before supper yesterday.”
“Gracious.” Mabel’s hand landed on her ample chest. “I wondered why she was dressed like that.”
Grace clutched the front of the borrowed shirt she wore and looked around. Everyone’s eyes were on her. “If you can’t serve me in the restaurant, can I get something to go? Starting with coffee? Lots and lots of coffee?” A tank would be nice.
“Not serve you?” Mabel squawked. “I’ve never turned anyone away, and you’re dressed just fine. We’re all friends here.” Mabel draped her arm over Grace’s shoulders. She called to the woman wearing a Mabel’s Diner T-shirt and jeans who whipped past them carrying a tray of dirty dishes and dumped them in a large gray bin. “Ronni, sit Rafe and Gracie at the table you just cleared. She’s half starved. If she passes out, people will think I ran out of food.”
“That would start a riot for sure,” Ronni said. “Come with me.”
She led them to an empty booth with a window view of the R&L’s side wall and back lot.
Rafe sat opposite Grace and slid her the laminated menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser.
Ronni flipped over the coffee mug in front of Grace. “This is strong, bold and hot.” She filled the mug nearly to the rim.
“Great.” Grace dumped four packets of sugar into the steaming drink.
“Always said a woman likes her coffee the way she likes her men. I guess you like ’em a little on the sweet side, too.”
“Sometimes.” Grace took her first sip—gulp, actually—and it burned her tongue and all the way down her throat, but when it hit her stomach, her entire body sighed.
Ronni, about ten years older than Grace, had strawberry-blond hair and eyes the exact color of Rafe’s cobalt blue.
“Are you two related?” Grace blurted without thinking. “Sorry. I’ve met people all over the world. Until Rafe, I’d never met anyone with eyes his particular shade of blue. They’re quite striking and unforgettable.”
Okay, she’d said way too much. She downed another mouthful of coffee before the lack of caffeine loosened her filter again.
“Ronni’s my cousin,” Rafe said.
“Nice to meet you.” Grace extended her hand.
Ronni wiped her fingers on the half apron tied around her waist and accepted Grace’s handshake. The deep lines around the waitress’s eyes and mouth spoke of a hard life, or hard living. Either way, she wasn’t as happy as her generous smile intimated. “Same here.”
“I don’t remember seeing you at Brice’s party.” It was at least nine months ago, but Grace never forgot a face.
“Alex and I have only been here a few weeks. My husband passed and Rafe was kind enough to give us a place to live and a new start.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Grace’s heart constricted.
“Thank you.” Ronni offered her a strained smile. “Haven’t seen you before, but I’m still getting to know everyone. Are you with the Co-op?”
“No. Aren’t you?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it.” Ronni pulled a vinyl holder from her apron pocket and flipped it open.
Grace pointed at the photo clipped inside. “Is that Alex?”
“Yep.” Ronni grinned. “He’s a good kid. I couldn’t ask for one better.”
Grace studied the photo of the tawny-haired teenager with a smile as broad as his mother’s. Unfortunately, he also had the same harsh lines etched into his young face. “Handsome boy.”
“Smart, too. He’s my reason for living.” Ronni lovingly smoothed the frayed edges of the picture. “Now, what would you like to eat?”
“Can I order the Belgian waffle even though it’s lunchtime?” Grace pointed at the item on the menu.
“Breakfast is served all day.”
“Great. I’ll have it with the strawberries and whipped cream, and chocolate syrup on the side—if you have any.”
“Chocolate?” Ronni gave her an odd look.
“I know it’s weird, but I didn’t get my daily dose last night.”
“I’ll ask Al to find ya some. Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“You need something with protein,” Rafe said. “You already have the shakes.”
“From lack of caffeine, but I’m catching up.” Grace took another gulp of coffee.
Rafe shook his head.
“Do you want the Co-op breakfast or lunch special?” Ronni asked him.
“Breakfast.”
“I’ll put a rush on your orders.”
Rafe nodded and Ronni hurried to the kitchen.
“Is Ronni dating someone?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Rafe gave her a funny frown. “She lost her husband only a few months ago. I don’t think she’s looking for a new one yet.”
“Ronni said she wasn’t a member of the Walker’s Co-op yet.”
“Walker’s Run Co-op,” Rafe said. “The land and neighboring areas associated with the Co-op are called Walker’s Run.”
“Whatever it’s called, Cassie told me the only way to join the Co-op was by birth or marriage.” Grace finished her coffee, wishing she had turned over Rafe’s cup and had Ronni fill it, as well. “I wasn’t born here, so I thought I had to marry someone to become a member.”
“Is that why you want to get to know me?”
“What?” Grace’s cheeks heated. “No, not at all. I’ve been married and I don’t want to repeat that mistake.”
An unplanned pregnancy. A quickie marriage that ended in an abrupt divorce after she lost the baby.
Grace rubbed the small white infinity tattoo on her wrist.
Rafe frowned. “You were married?”
“Not relevant.” She really could use another cup of coffee. “You’re Brice’s friend. I’m Cassie’s friend. I thought it would be nice if you and I were friends. That’s all.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Grace.”
She felt a stab of disappointment, same as before. “I appreciate your candor.” She didn’t really, but what else could she say?
She heard the muffled sound of her brother’s ringtone. Out of habit, she checked her pockets even though she had none.
Rafe pulled her phone from his pocket.
“You’re a life saver.” She read the text messages. All was well and she sighed in relief. Grace replied she would call later.
“My brother,” she said in response to Rafe’s curious gaze. “He checks in every few hours because I worry if I don’t hear from him.” This time she had worried him after not responding to his last two texts.
“Why?”
“Matt was paralyzed in an IED explosion last year. When he returned to the States, I left Seattle to help him through the extensive rehabilitation process. He’s fairly independent now. He’s even shopping around for a suitable car that can be equipped with hand controls.” She’d offered to put them in her Beetle and share the car with him, but the interior was really too small to accommodate him for an extended period.
Besides, Matt was moving on with his life and didn’t need his big sister hanging around so much anymore.
“Let me know the make and model he’s looking for. I know people who get cars at auction and I can install the controls for him.”
“Here ya go.” Ronni slid Grace a plate with a large Belgian waffle topped with strawberries and whipped cream, with a small bowl of chocolate sauce on the side.
She handed Rafe a glass of milk, a plate of scrambled eggs, grits, and two biscuits buried beneath creamy sausage gravy, a plate with a thick slice of country ham, four bacon strips, and two fat sausage links, and a plate of blueberry pancakes slathered with butter.
“You’re going to eat all that?” Grace felt her arteries clog from sitting near all the saturated fats.
“If he doesn’t, I’ll be surprised.” Ronni refilled Grace’s coffee mug.
“You are a goddess.” Grace lifted the steaming cup to her face, inhaling the rich, robust aroma.
“First time I’ve been called that. Thanks, hon.” Ronni looked at Rafe. “Holler if you need me.”
After doctoring her coffee, Grace drizzled chocolate sauce over her waffle. “Must be nice to have cousins. My dad is an only child. My mom is a twin, but her sister died when they were three.” Grace took a bite of her waffle. The super sweetness made her empty stomach lurch.
“Ronni and I met a few weeks ago. Until then, I didn’t know I had any blood relatives.” Rafe continued eating.
“You took in total strangers?”
“They’re family.”
Rafe was turning out to be more complicated than the arrogant jerk she’d assumed him to be, which made her want to know him all the more. So what if he didn’t want to be actual friends? After last night, he was officially in the league of special acquaintances. She could work with that.
Grace ate another bite of her waffle. Ordinarily, sweets didn’t bother her, but the chocolate sauce might’ve been overkill. She pushed her plate aside.
Rafe lifted his gaze from her plate to her face. “Something wrong with the waffle?”
“Too sweet.”
“I told you to order something with protein.”
Rafe dumped his breakfast meats onto the platter with his pancakes. Then he scooped a portion of his eggs and grits onto the emptied plate and added two strips of bacon and half of the slice of ham.
“Eat. Every bite.” He pushed the newly prepared plate toward Grace and resumed eating the remainder of his breakfast.
She shook her fork at him. “I don’t find bossy men appealing at all.” And if she wasn’t suddenly famished again and practically drooling, she would’ve pushed away the plate.
“Is that so?” Rafe’s hands stilled, his chewing ground to a slow halt, and he swallowed. He gave her a long, leisurely look.
Her skin warmed. “Yes.”
“I am what I am, sweetheart. And you do find me appealing.”
“Yeah, right.”
He brandished a cocky little smile and his eyebrows twitched.
Heat flashed through Grace’s body. In defiance, she casually crossed her legs. Men relegated to the league of special acquaintances were not supposed to get her hot and bothered. Maybe she needed to rethink his classification.
Chapter 6 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Rafe sped toward the Walker’s Run Resort. He’d gladly pay any fine as long as he delivered Grace before he did something stupid.
The conglomeration of smells in the diner had masked her true scent, giving him a chance to breathe and relax.
Closed inside the tow truck, though, her soft, feminine musk engulfed his senses. His skin prickled with awareness and his thoughts turned to long, luscious kisses and dangerously indulgent caresses.
He lowered the windows, hoping the rush of cool air would clear his head. A slight shiver shook Grace’s shoulders but she didn’t complain. Humming softly to herself, she continued staring out the window.
Hands clamped on the steering wheel, he steeled himself against the urge to pull off the road, haul her against him and warm her with his heat while his hands roamed her curves, preferably while they were both naked.
She’d slept in his bed, worn his clothes and shared his food. To a Wahyan male, she was practically his.
Only she wasn’t. She couldn’t be.
He was merely horny.
Ever since his mate died, he’d been celibate.
Moon-fucks didn’t count. Wahyas needed sex during the full moon to keep their hormones in balance.
Out of necessity, he and Loretta Presley, a widow with three kids, had become exclusive moon-fuck partners. Their encounters were always in wolf form and they avoided each other socially, as agreed, to ensure no emotional entanglements.
Almost two weeks past the last full moon, Rafe shouldn’t feel the urge for sex. Yet Grace’s scent bombarded him with such tantalizing force he could think of little else.
Different from the animalistic drive the full moon unleashed, the pull toward Grace was tangled in pure, unadulterated desire.
He punched the buttons on the console to turn on the heater and sliced the vents to blow in her direction. A blast of heat blew back the loose strands of her hair, revealing the discolored Ping-Pong-ball-sized lump at her temple.
She gave him a side glance, then adjusted the vent so that the warm air hit her arms.
His stiffly curled fingers made it difficult to turn the wheel. The sooner he and Grace parted company, the better off he’d be. The last thing he wanted was her scent mucking up his life.
He parked in front of the Walker’s Run Resort and hopped out of the vehicle. A pack sentinel, working as a valet, reached for the passenger door. An instinctual warning growl rolled from Rafe’s throat. The barely twenty-something wolfan backed away.
Grace’s warm fingers clutched Rafe’s outstretched hand as she stepped down from the vehicle. The energy sparked from the touch buzzed up his arm, down his spine and spread into every nerve.
It wasn’t the kind of electrical surge that could drop a man to the ground in convulsions. This was a gentle quiver of warmth, the kind that slowly saturated the skin, seeped into every cell, thawed the deepest, darkest, most frozen places within and, therefore, was the most dangerous vibration of all.
Fidgeting with the bag slung across her body, Grace strolled past the valet. “Hi, Jimmy. No more drive-through runs for me. The Beetle is out of commission for a while.”
“Anytime you want something, give me a holler. Twenty-four seven. I’ll be at your beck and call.” Jimmy grinned with far too much interest.
Rafe Gibbs-smacked him as he passed. “Not necessary or recommended.”
As his and Grace’s steps synchronized, Rafe’s hand gravitated to her lower back as if touching her was as natural as breathing.
The scent of cinnamon and cloves greeted them inside the resort. A few people with luggage in tow stood at the guest services counter. An older man lounged in a seating area reading the paper. The amicable chatter from the dining room didn’t mask the subtle hum of the descending elevator.
The doors parted with a swish.
“Grace!” Cassie Walker, a petite, abundantly pregnant woman with curly red hair, stepped out. “I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”
Her gaze traveled up and down Grace and cut to him. “Rafe? Why is she wearing pajama pants and your shirt?”
“Long story,” Grace said. “Before I begin, trust me when I say I’m okay.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Cassie’s brow creased.
“Doc said Grace needs to rest. Would you make sure she gets it?”
“Doc?” Cassie’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“A small fender bender, nothing serious.” Grace’s gaze lingered on Rafe and he suddenly didn’t want to leave.
“Call me if you need anything. My number is in your phone.” An impulsive act last night that might bite him in the ass sooner rather than later.
Walking away, he consciously forced his muscles to relax instead of conspiring against him to make him look over his shoulder.
“Rafe, wait!”
Not the voice he would’ve expected.
He turned and waited for Cassie to catch up.
“What’s up, Red?”
“I won’t ask about what happened between you and Grace last night. She’ll tell me all about it.”
Rafe hoped she wouldn’t mention his state of undress. The fewer who knew that tidbit, the better. It was bad enough Tristan Durrance, the responding sheriff deputy, and a pack sentinel, had arrived before Doc got there with an old pair of sweats for Rafe to wear. He expected it would be a long time before Tristan would let him forget getting caught bare-ass by a human female.
“I hope you used the opportunity to get to know her a little better,” Cassie continued. “Grace is like a sister to me and she’s become an important part of mine and Brice’s lives. Just as you are.”
“What are you getting at, Red?”
Laughter rose above the soft chatter of guests in the lobby. Rafe’s gaze slid to Grace, directing a family into silly poses as she took their picture next to an indoor totem pole with several wolf heads carved into the wood.
“It’s okay to let people into your life again,” Cassie said. “People like Grace. She’s fun, and kind, and never meets a stranger.”
“I’m managing fine with the way things are.”
“Managing isn’t the same as living.” She touched his arm. “Trust me, I know.”
* * *
“Here you go, little mama.” Grinning, Grace held out a cup of hot tea she’d made in the microwave. Her posh suite at the Walker’s Run Resort was nothing short of a small apartment equipped with a kitchenette, a cozy living room, and a luxury bedroom with a balcony view of the forested mountainside. All compliments of Cassie’s in-laws, Gavin and Abigail Walker, the resort’s owners.
“Thank you.” Cassie, her best childhood friend, accepted the drink. They’d reconnected through social media after Cassie had married.
The internet was Grace’s lifeline. Not only was the internet vital to her web design business, it helped her stay connected with friends all over the world. She needed it as much as she needed coffee.
But, moving to Knoxville last year to help her brother had put Grace within driving distance of Cassie. She and Brice had visited while Matt was at the rehabilitation center. After Matt’s discharge, and once he was comfortable staying a few days by himself, Grace had accepted Cassie’s father-in-law’s open invitation to stay at the resort.
Since Cassie had no family after her mom’s passing, Gavin said Cassie needed a “sister.”
How could Grace say no?
Now she had her own room—dubbed the Grace Olsen Suite, available anytime she visited.
“Want anything else?”
“I’m good.” Cassie tucked a loose red ringlet behind her ear. “I hate that you’re doting on me. You have a concussion.”
“It’s only a bump and I have a hard head.” Grace sat on the couch, drawing her bare feet beneath her.
“I can’t believe you saw Rafe naked.” Cassie stretched her legs and propped her tiny, swollen feet on the coffee table. “Funny, Brice was naked when we met, too.”
Cassie rubbed her pregnant belly. “See where that led me?”
“Don’t jinx me. I will adore the little girl right there,” she pointed at Cassie’s belly, “but I don’t do serious relationships and I don’t want to be a single mom.” Grace had seen how hard it was on her mother, single parenting every time her father was deployed.
“I never planned on this, either. Yet here I am and I couldn’t be happier.”
“It’s different for you. You’re planted here.” Grace fluffed her pillow. “I’ve never lived in a place longer than a few years.”
Cassie sipped her tea. “Maico was no different from any other of the half-dozen towns my mom dragged me to. I expected we’d be here for eighteen months tops before we moved on. Then, she died, I had nowhere to go and Maico became home.”
“Because you got stuck here. Once Matt gets on his feet again—figuratively speaking, I’ll be free to live anywhere.”
“What about here? Maico is a great place.” A hopeful smile lit Cassie’s face, just like the one she’d given Grace when they were seven and Cassie had asked her to be friends. “Give it a chance to become your home, too.”
Growing up in military housing, Grace had always craved a real home. A place where she could put nails in walls to hang her pictures and posters. But, every time she started getting comfortable, her family would move again. Eventually, Grace stopped unpacking her suitcases and boxes. Why bother if she was going to repack them anyway?
Cassie tucked an errant red curl behind her ear. “I want you around for Brenna’s sake, when she finally gets here.”
“No matter where I am, I’ll only be a text away.”
“You can’t hold her over the internet.”
Grace clenched her jaw. Many of her childhood milestones had had to be video relayed to her father overseas or emailed. She thought it sucked then. It would suck if she did the same to Cassie’s baby.
“I’m only a few hours away.”
“For now. How long until you move away?” Cassie’s red brows angled over her eyes and Grace hoped it wasn’t bad luck to make a pregnant woman frown. “I remember you used to complain about moving so often. When you grew up, you wanted a big two-story house, a husband and six kids.”
“I got used to moving. Now it’s in my blood and I get antsy if I stay too long in one place.” Grace shook her head. “I must’ve been crazy to want six kids. I have a hard enough time keeping up with myself. As for a husband, I’ll stick to friends with benefits for now.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“I’m in a slump.” More of a Sahara dry spell, actually. She’d left her sex buddy in Seattle and hadn’t had much opportunity to meet anyone in Knoxville.
“Any sparks with Rafe last night?”
“If we were beakers in a chemistry lab we would’ve blown up the building.”
“He’s a great guy. Good-looking. Dependable.” An impish grin broke on Cassie’s face and she rubbed her palms.
“Sometimes the packaging doesn’t match what’s inside.”
“Rafe’s does.” Cassie’s face pinked. “Not that I’ve actually seen his package.”
“He has a mighty fine ass.” Grace laughed.
“You should explore that.” Cassie’s flush deepened. “I mean, your attraction to him. He really is one of the good ones.”
“So was Derek, or so I thought.”
“Rafe isn’t Derek.” Cassie set her cup aside. “Trust me. You’ve never dated someone like Rafe.”
“Uh, no.” Grace shook her head and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. “I prefer sex with men who actually like me.”
“Why do you think he doesn’t like you?”
“‘I don’t want to be your friend, Grace.’” She mimicked Rafe’s deadpan delivery.
“I told Brice the same thing.” Cassie giggled, pointing her index fingers at her belly.
“Not funny.”
“Don’t analyze Rafe. He says exactly what he means and only what he means. Simple, concise, no hidden context. So, he doesn’t want to be friends. He left the door wide open to be something else.”
“Not interested.” A smidgen of a fib she’d stand by.
“I wish you would put Derek behind you and move forward with your life.”
“I have, and I’m a pro at moving.”
“You sound like my mother.” The corners of Cassie’s mouth sagged. “Imogene died never finding her happiness. She ran from life instead of making it her own.”
“My life is my own. I have a comfortable, portable web design business and I’ve traveled the world. What more could I want?”
“Someone meaningful to join you on those travels.” Cassie rubbed slow circles across her abdomen. “Someone you love to the moon, someone who loves you beyond it.”
“I’m happy you’ve found that with Brice.” Grace swallowed to soothe the burn in her throat. “Be happy that I’m happy with the life I live.”
Most days. Sometimes the loneliness ate at her.
“Still have your old dream book?”
“Yes.” A school project from their days in Mrs. Haverty’s art class. “I’m surprised you remember it.”
Grace had carted the old scrapbook with her on every move. The opening pages displayed pictures of the perfect house, a two-story stone and log-plank house with floor to ceiling windows. Clippings of an antique apothecary, a Queen Anne couch, Tiffany lamps, and everything else she thought would make a perfect home filled the rest.
“It’s filled with the dreams of a seven-year old,” Cassie said.
It was much more. Grace had added to it over the years, up until she’d lost the baby and Derek asked for a divorce.
“Burn it.” Cassie’s pointed look meant business.
“I’m not burning it.”
The tattered scrapbook served as a reminder. Broken hearts, broken dreams and broken trust were all she got from the men in her past. No way would she trust one with her future.
Chapter 7 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
“I expected you in my office yesterday.” Gavin Walker’s voice scraped down Rafe’s spine.
The screwdriver slipped and stabbed Rafe’s right hand. He dropped the rail glide he was trying to fasten to the end panel of the changing table. Cursing, he shoved the bloody knuckle into his mouth. A strong, iron taste pricked his tongue.
At sixty, the Alpha wolf still had a keen nose, agile steps and a paw in everything happening within his territory.
Apparently Rafe’s senses were skewed since he hadn’t heard or scented Gavin’s approach. He blamed Grace for mucking up his nose and filling his head with distracting thoughts.
He’d hoped the nursery project would keep him too busy to think about how yesterday, he’d almost drowned in the rich green depth of her eyes, or dwell on the rush of excitement he felt whenever she gifted him with a smile.
“Are you all right?” Gavin’s gaze narrowed on him.
“Peachy.” Rafe shook out his injured hand and picked up the wood screw that had fallen out of the precut hole.
“You were supposed to see me after safely delivering Grace to the resort. Maybe it slipped your mind.”
It hadn’t. Rafe simply didn’t want to hear another lecture on being reckless and putting the past behind him. The pack needed to mind their own damn business and leave him the hell alone.
“I heard Grace went home with you after her accident. How did that go?”
Rafe fumbled the screw again.
Gavin was baiting him and Rafe wasn’t interested in playing the Alpha’s games, particularly if it involved Grace. “Your experience must’ve been pleasant, considering your butterfingers at my mention of her.”
Gavin entered the room and sat in the rocker. He rested his hands across his waist and laced his fingers over his belt buckle. “Grace. A lovely woman, don’t you think?”
Awareness flared in Rafe’s body. He recalled the sweet musk of her true scent, the dimples produced by a real smile and the golden sheen of her shoulder-length hair.
Suddenly, he sensed the inexplicable gentleness of her presence and knew at that exact moment she was happy and safe.
Gavin’s laughter disrupted the fragile connection that Rafe discounted as a figment of imagination. After all, how could he possibly know what Grace was feeling?
“With all due respect—”
“I doubt that.” After all these years, the old wolf still had a burr in his paw about the time Rafe and Brice had painted Gavin’s entire office in silly string. As boys, they’d faced a grueling inquisition. Neither of them had confessed culpability. Likely, they never would.
Rafe smiled, remembering the abject horror on Gavin’s face when he saw their handiwork. A few remnants still remained on the exposed wood beams in the ceiling above his desk.
“Ask your question or make your point,” Rafe said. “You wouldn’t want your granddaughter’s crib to fall apart because you distracted me while putting it together.”
Gavin’s thumb tapped his buckle in an aggravated cadence. “The sheriff’s office is involved with Grace’s accident.”
“Tristan said he would file a clean report.” Most notably, he promised to omit the detail of Rafe’s nudity at the scene.
“The new sheriff isn’t Co-op friendly. Tristan mediates Co-op issues when he can, but it’s putting him in an uncomfortable position with his employer. He thinks the sheriff is looking for a reason to investigate us.”
“The pack has been good to the people of Maico.”
“Humans are fickle. They can be swayed by bad press, especially when it preys on primal fears.” Gavin’s dark brows, a contrast to his snowy-white hair and short-cropped beard, slashed over his eyes. “I imposed the curfew to reduce friction between us and the sheriff’s department. I will not allow rule breakers to jeopardize the safety of my pack.”
“Alex wasn’t the only wolfling to break curfew.”
“I’m not only talking about the wolflings, Rafe. You shouldn’t have been out as a wolf. The curfew also applies to you.”
“Running the woods keeps me from drinking.”
“Find another distraction.” Gavin rocked forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Better yet, find a mate.”
“We’re not having this discussion again.”
“You need a mate, Rafe. A woman you can hold in your arms and make love to. A real woman. Not a memory. Let go of the past. Grab onto your future. If you don’t—”
“Stop.” Rafe held up his hand. The shattering of the mate-bond that he’d shared with Lexi had unleashed a maelstrom within him. She had been a balm to his restless nature. Now, he had to learn to manage without her. “I have let go, Gavin. I’ll decide if or when I take another mate, not you.”
Gavin gave a slight nod. “In the meantime, here’s what I do expect from you. Stop working around the clock. You don’t need the money.”
True. After the demise of his birth pack, Rafe inherited everything belonging to his former pack mates. It wasn’t a lot in the beginning, but Doc had wisely invested the funds for him. Now Rafe had enough money that he could retire, three or four times over.
“Establish reasonable business hours,” Gavin continued, “and stick to them.”
“I have a lot of work.” Rafe liked to stay busy. Idle hands reached for bottles.
“Hire help, or refer customers to some of your trusted competitors.”
Rafe wasn’t inclined to do either. He’d turned a lot of business away during his drinking days. When he got sober most of his customers returned. He didn’t want to reward their loyalty by handing them over to someone else.
“I’ll let the pack know I’ve ordered you to cut back. If you don’t, I’ll shut you down. Understood?”
Rafe reluctantly nodded. Technically, the Co-op owned his business and every pack member’s business.
Members tithed thirty percent of their income to the Co-op. In return, they received free housing, paid college expenses, free health care, and if they wanted to open their own business the Co-op paid to have it built and provided the start-up income.
“Good. With your workload reduced you’ll have more time to devote to Alex. Start by picking him up before and after school. He’s been truant. I want it stopped. He’s also struggling with his schoolwork. Find him a tutor. Ronni’s working toward her GED and I don’t want Alex’s shenanigans to derail her efforts.”
Stunned, Rafe ran his hand across his chin, feeling the stubble he’d forgotten to shave. Other than Alex breaking curfew, Rafe had thought the boy was doing well. And, Ronni had never mentioned not having a high school diploma or working toward her GED.
As Alpha, Gavin knew everyone’s business, but Rafe didn’t like being caught unaware of his family’s situation.
“I’ll take care of Alex and help Ronni with whatever she needs.”
“Now that’s settled, let’s talk about Grace.”
“I’d rather not.”
“She presents us with a delicate dilemma,” Gavin began, as if Rafe had no objection to the topic. “She and Cassie have become close over the last year. Close enough that it’s inevitable for Grace to discover what we are.”
“Tell her before it becomes a problem. She seems trustworthy.” A woman who would give up her life to move cross-country to care for her disabled brother knew a thing or two about loyalty.
“I would prefer Grace to bond with one of our pack’s eligible males. A mateship is the easiest and most expedient way to introduce her into our world, but she’s proven quite difficult—”
Good for you, sweetheart.
“—in the matchmaking arena.”
Rafe chuckled.
“Did you say something?”
Rafe stayed silent, his ears tuning into the soft, limping footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Regardless of whether or not she accepts a mate,” Gavin continued, “I will ask Grace to join the pack after my granddaughter is born.”
Rafe wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t the first time Gavin had played hard, fast and loose with the pack’s initiation rule. Doc was neither Wahya nor married to one. He’d been inducted into the pack simply because he was Gavin’s best friend since their college days.
“After all, Grace will be my granddaughter’s godmother. It’s imperative to keep her close. To keep her safe.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Although Rafe was close to the Alpha’s son, he wasn’t usually taken into the Alpha’s confidence.
“Because you’re the baby’s godfather.” Brice leaned in the doorway, all smiles and smugness.
“Like hell I am.” Rafe was still putting his life back together. How could Brice think he’d make a suitable godparent?
“You’re my best friend and Grace is Cassie’s best friend.” Brice flashed a very unwolfan-like smile.
“Find a new best friend,” Rafe half-heartedly told Brice. Though, he was deeply touched by his friend’s faith in him.
“How about Shane?” A gleam lit Gavin’s eyes.
Rafe had to be careful not to over-tighten the screw and strip the threads. Shane MacQuarrie followed Tristan’s wham-bam-thanks-for-the-good-time-ma’am creed. Grace deserved better and like it or not, Rafe felt a degree of protectiveness toward her.
“Personally, I think Shane has a better temperament than Rafe,” Gavin continued smugly. “Since Shane and Grace already have a friendly rapport, a nudge or two in the right direction could turn their relationship into something more.”
“Hell, no!” An unpleasant heat erupted from Rafe’s core.
“Need some water to cool that temper?” Smiling, Brice shook his water bottle at him.
Rafe swallowed and held a breath deep in his chest until the echo of Brice’s laughter subsided.
“Shane’s too young and cocky,” Rafe said more evenly. “He’s all wrong for her.”
“Perhaps.” Gavin’s gaze seemed to bore into Rafe’s skin, making him more irritable. “I want Grace to get to know the pack. I’ll arrange for her to enjoy a few select pack events. I’d prefer for her to attend with someone other than Cassie to avoid the appearance of nepotism.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Rafe returned to assembling the crib.
Gavin issued a warning growl.
Rafe bit back a smile and Brice covered his grin by taking a drink of water. It was a nice feeling to ruffle the Alpha’s fur.
“Considering you’re indebted to Grace because she didn’t kill you with her car,” Gavin snapped, “no one will think twice about her showing up with you.”
Rafe fumbled the screwdriver. “You want me to be her date?”
“Date, escort, guardian. The terms are fairly interchangeable.” Gavin kept a steady gaze on Rafe.
“Not in my dictionary.”
“Perhaps you prefer friend.”
Brice mouthed, “With benefits.” He held up his thumb.
Rafe had an urge to knock the goddamn twinkle out of his best friend’s eyes.
“I want Grace to trust us, not fear us. Making friends among us will ease her anxiety when she finally learns what we are.”
“Want her trust to us? Tell her the truth. The sooner the better,” Rafe said. “Or else this entire scheme will blow up in your face.”
Chapter 8 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
“Tighten ’em up, Pops.” Rafe handed Brice a Phillips screwdriver so the father-to-be could fasten the last four screws into the crib.
Though miffed at his friend for involving him, Rafe understood the reason. The Alpha family was protecting their own. Cassie.
Cassie wanted Grace close. So, the Alpha family would move heaven and earth, and probably a little bit of hell, to see Grace safely settled in their midst. In a twisted, deranged way, the Alpha family had paid him a huge compliment.
He’d rather have free-range runs.
“Thanks, man.” Brice beamed and tackled his token assignment.
After they inserted the mattress, Brice pulled a package out of the closet. “How about this?”
“What is it?” Rafe packed up his tools.
“Stuff the sales clerk said we had to have.” Brice read the package description. “Crib sheet, coverlet, bumpers.”
“Sorry, Walker. Bows and frills aren’t my department.” Rafe shook his head.
Brice frowned, placing the package on the crib Rafe had put together.
They broke down the boxes and stuffed the trash into a garbage bag. “Mom and Dad are out with friends tonight. I’m firing the grill to toss on some burgers for supper. We’ll have plenty if you’re hungry.”
A wolfan was always ready to eat.
“Grace is joining us.”
Dread and excitement competed in racing Rafe’s heart. Part of him, the stupid part, wanted to see her again. The smart half wanted to get the hell out before she showed up.
“I’ve got work to catch up on. Maybe next time.”
“There might not be a next time with Grace. You know what my dad is planning.”
“It won’t work.”
“Cassie said there’s a spark between you and Grace.”
Rafe gave him an eat-shit look.
“My mistake.” Brice’s lopsided grin said he didn’t think he was wrong at all. He grabbed an armful of trash.
Rafe snatched up the remaining garbage and followed him to the side entrance of Gavin and Abby Walker’s home, their family quarters adjacent to the resort.
Brice stayed outside to light the grill. Rafe ducked inside to retrieve his toolbox.
“Rafe? What are you doing here?” Cassie met him in the corridor connecting the Alpha family’s residence to the resort.
“Helping Brice with a project.” Rafe’s gaze skimmed the top of Cassie’s head to his real target. Grace.
“Does he still have all his fingers and toes?” Cassie’s eyes widened against her pale skin.
“He did, but he’s outside lighting the grill.” Rafe’s gaze jumped back to Grace.
Her hair looked professionally sleek. He liked it better in a mussed ponytail. She wore denim shorts with a tiny bit of lace at the hem and a pale pink top with little bows on the capped sleeves. Her nails, painted a dark pink with a black swirly pattern at the tips, matched the toes peeking through the openings of her low-heeled sandals.
“Hey, Sunshine.” Brice strode toward them.
Cassie beamed as he wrapped her in his arms for a big, juicy kiss.
Brice urgently hiked his thumb behind Cassie’s back and gave Rafe the bug eye.
“Come with me.” Rafe clasped Grace’s hand and led her inside the small nursery the Walkers wanted set up for their daughter.
Grace’s lightly glossed lips parted in a soft sigh. She trailed her hand over the newly assembled furniture. “This was your project?”
Rafe nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat at the longing he saw in Grace’s eyes.
Grace gripped the crib’s cherrywood rails, and for a second, Rafe thought tears shimmered in her eyes. “She’ll love it.”
“Do you know what to do with this?” He handed her the packaged bedding set.
Grace’s rich, full-bodied laugh did something funny to Rafe’s stomach. “Two grown men couldn’t figure out how to put sheets on a baby mattress?”
“I sleep on a couch.”
Grace’s cheeks pinked and her tongue peeked between her soft lips. “How could I forget?”
Her heated gaze licked his body, inch by tortuous inch, just as it had when he stood in front of her, naked. His body reacted the same as it had yesterday. His muscles clenched, his breath quickened, and his blood felt too hot for his veins. Trapped behind the zipper, his cock strained against its confines.
He spun her toward the crib. “Hurry.”
Grace quickly tucked the corners, smoothed the fabric and tied perfect little bows.
Grace’s eyes watered and Cassie burst into tears when she entered the room. Rafe thought it peculiar human females cried when happy, particularly when Cassie did it. She had never been overly emotional. Pregnancy had changed her.
“It’s beautiful.” She moved from Brice’s arms to squeeze Rafe’s hands. “Thank you.”
Sorrow simmered behind the joy in her eyes. “You will come more often to see us? To see the baby?”
Rafe tipped his head. The loss of his child didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy for theirs.
“Well, then.” Brice clapped his hands together. “You can start by joining us for supper.”
“Oh goody,” Grace whispered in Rafe’s ear. “I won’t be a third wheel tonight, after all.”
She playfully bumped against him and the jolt of her touch unleashed a flood of wolfan hormones into his bloodstream. The sudden rush deafened his ears and he had the sense of tumbling down a waterfall. His lungs tightened, his heart pounded, his skin dampened.
He locked gazes with Brice. Instead of offering a lifeline, the damn wolf smiled.
* * *
Riotous laughter and curses rose above the roar of racing street cars. Hand drying a plate, Grace peeked out of the kitchen at the two formidable men perched on the edge of the couch, hunkered over the game controllers gripped in their tight-fisted hands.
The big-screen TV anchored to the wall in the Walkers’ den flashed images of a high-speed street race. One car tapped the other, knocking it into a tailspin.
“What the fuck?” Brice’s arm swung out, punching Rafe’s shoulder with enough force to knock an ordinary man clean off the couch. Rafe’s body absorbed the shock with barely a ripple. However, his virtual car careened off course, crashed into a building and exploded.
“Keep your paws in the game, Walker, and off me,” Rafe snapped, although Grace saw no true menace in the narrowed gaze he speared at his friend.
“All’s fair in love and war and my toys,” Brice chuckled.
Grace returned to the sink. “Do men ever grow up?”
“Depends on the man. A good one knows how and when to step up, and will.” Cassie absently rubbed her belly. “It’s good to see Rafe having fun.”
“At least, he is now.” Grace placed the freshly dried plate in the cabinet and laid the damp towel across the empty dish drainer. “He was so tense during supper.”
Sitting beside him at the table, Grace had felt his tension in palpable waves. His muscles had been primed and pumped, as if he’d been waiting for the chance to dart out the door.
“He’s never accepted a dinner invitation from us until tonight. Maybe he wasn’t sure what to expect.” Cassie waddled to the kitchen archway. Her head tilted as she watched the men play their game.
When she turned to Grace, a smile twitched her lips. “Maybe Rafe is here because he wants to get to know you.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Grace grabbed her glass of iced tea from the counter and chugged a big gulp.
“You batted your eyes to get him to stay for supper.” Cassie made a sympathy face, dramatically exaggerating the opening and closing of her eyes.
Grace tossed the dish towel at her. “I did not.”
They both laughed.
Cassie carried the nearly forgotten condiments to the refrigerator. “I think he liked your travel stories.”
Grace had more than a few about the Swiss Alps, Mt. Fuji, Pompeii, Madrid, the rain forest, the Luxor—the real one, not the one in Vegas. Other places such as Beaufort, San Diego, Arlington, Jacksonville, Okinawa, Guam and Germany had been “home” during her father’s military career.
Brice and Cassie had peppered her with curious questions during dinner. Rafe had remained silent.
“He seemed bored to me.”
Cassie wiggled in her seat to get comfortable. “If Rafe was bored, he would’ve left once he finished eating.”
“He kept his head down and his eyes on his plate.” Grace eased into the chair across the table from Cassie. “Not a great endorsement for interest.”
“Eating is serious business for men like Rafe, but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention,” Cassie said. “Remember when your napkin fell off the table? Rafe caught it midair, folded it, and placed it next to your plate.”
“He has quick reflexes.”
“The point is that he noticed.” Cassie’s face lit up with a wide grin. “He’s probably observed more about you than you realize.”
Come to think of it, Rafe had handed Grace the mustard before Grace asked for it. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary at the time because they were eating burgers. But, he’d only passed her the mustard. Not the ketchup. Not the mayo. Neither of which she liked.
“And if he’s tuned into you it’s possible you’ve piqued his interest.” Cassie held up her hands to show Grace her crossed fingers.
“I hope it’s just a casual interest. You know I’m not looking for anything more.”
“Not all men are jerks. Some can be trusted not to break your heart, Grace.”
In her experience, they always did.
Her dad had been the first. Strict, unemotional and mostly absent, he’d broken promise after promise. Birthdays, holidays, award presentations, he’d sworn to attend them all. She only needed one hand to count the number of times he had attended anything.
Derek, her college sweetheart turned ex-husband, swore he loved her, but after the miscarriage he couldn’t get out of their marriage fast enough.
Even Matt had crushed her heart, joining the military after he promised he wouldn’t. Now he was paralyzed.
“Hey, Goldilocks.” Rafe strolled into the kitchen. “If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk you to your room.”
Grace regarded his outstretched palm.
Though his voice had sounded indifferent, his eyes dared her to take his steady, open hand.
So she did.
As he pulled her to her feet, electricity sparked in his fingertips and zipped through her neural pathways. The jolt flushed her skin, a flutter disrupted the rhythm of her heart. Her eyes, mouth and throat immediately turned dry as all the moisture in her body pooled between her legs.
Something dark and primal flickered in Rafe’s eyes.
She jerked back her hand.
They said their goodbyes to Cassie and Brice, then walked down the corridor to the hidden entrance to the resort lobby.
“How did you know I was ready to leave, or was it a lucky guess?”
“When I came into the kitchen for another bottle of water, I saw you rub the tattoo on your wrist.” Rafe reached around her to open the heavy mahogany doors.
“Lucky guess it is.”
“You touch it when you’re anxious.”
“I do not.”
“You rubbed it while we waited for the emergency responders after the accident, again at the hospital, before you fell asleep, at the diner when we ate breakfast.”
“Oh,” Grace said softly.
So Cassie hadn’t been off the mark about Rafe’s observation skills.
Strange that he would watch Grace so carefully after he confessed no interest in becoming friends. She bit back a smile. Maybe he was warming to the idea.
Music filtered over the chatter of people spilling from the lounge into the lobby. Rafe cupped the back of her arm, navigating them through the masses.
He stabbed his finger at the elevator call button and mumbled something about the damned crowd.
“There’s a singles convention going on.”
“Is that why you came down this weekend?” Raw surprise registered before he blanked his expression.
“Um, no. I don’t hook up with strangers.”
“You prefer friends.”
“That would be the benefit I mentioned.” She poked the button as if that would help the elevator to appear faster. “You’re not eligible, you know. Since we aren’t friends.”
Rafe’s face tilted up.
“Did you hear that?” Grace looked around for the source of a growl. Not a service or therapy dog in sight.
Maybe she’d imagined the sound.
The elevator dinged.
Ushering her inside, Rafe’s hand slipped down her back and skimmed her bottom.
Her body, having just cooled from his last touch, ignited again. She couldn’t remember a man revving her up as fast as Rafe could, and he wasn’t trying.
“Thanks for the escort. I know the way from here.”
Rafe studied her for a moment, then stepped forward. The doors closed before she could push him out.
Mercifully, the stone-silent ride to the fifth floor was quick. She shoved the card-key into the electronic lock. The device blinked red to taunt her. She tried again.
Still red.
No matter how she jammed the card into the reader, the light blazed red.
Rafe’s fingers closed around her wrist. The gentleness of his touch scrambled her brain and jellied her knees. He drew back her hand and eased the key from her death grip. Turning it over, he drew the key through the slot.
The result?
A perky, green glow.
Grace wanted to slap him.
Rafe pushed opened the door.
Her breath caught in her throat. The maids had turned off all the lights after they’d cleaned the suite.
“Wait here.” Rafe entered the room.
Grace lingered in the doorway, watching his muscles bunch and flex as he moved silently through the cozy living area to turn on the lights. He stepped into the bedroom. Thankfully, housekeeping had straightened the rumpled queen-sized bed and picked up the towels she had dropped on the floor.
He turned on the television and turned down the sound. “Better?”
Nodding, she nearly choked on emotion.
Rafe, a man who barely knew her, showed more concern for her deep-seated fear of the dark than her own family.
He crossed the room as she stepped inside. Lifting his hand to her face, he grazed his thumb against her temple. He frowned, gingerly fingering the residual bump at her hairline. Then, he drew his hand down the side of her face and brushed her hair behind her ear.
She stood still, not daring to breathe.
His soft-whiskered jaw skimmed her cheek and he nosed the shell of her ear before nuzzling the sweet spot behind it.
Her heart seemed to flutter into her throat. Her breaths quickened and her body hummed.
“Sleep tight, Goldilocks,” he murmured.
Grace didn’t remember closing her eyes. By the time she opened them, Rafe had vanished.
Chapter 9 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
Rafe cut off the lights on the truck and stared at the simple little A-frame house, the personal touches he remembered screamingly absent.
A fragile, feminine she-wolf, his mate, Lexi, had loved soft, frilly, pretty things. She had transformed a plain, wooden box house into something akin to a fairy-tale cottage filled with flowers and pillows, candles and gnomes.
She’d loved garden gnomes.
Now the wildflower patch in front of the house had withered away and the gnomes had been relocated to Maico’s Botanical Conservatory where she had worked. He always thought the gnomes would be happy there because she certainly had been.
Although he’d given the box Ronni packed to the director, Rafe had not actually visited the public gardens since the shooting. He couldn’t.
Same with this place.
The counselors at rehab had said his ability to face his former home would be a ruthless challenge to his sobriety, but one he needed to overcome.
Instead, he’d given the house and small parcel of land to Ronni and Alex upon their arrival. He’d never visited them here, preferring to meet them at the diner or talk briefly on the phone.
He wasn’t giving them the brush-off. He simply wasn’t much of a talker. Most people found his silence awkward and thought he wasn’t paying attention. If he didn’t have anything pertinent to add to the conversation, he didn’t join in. Didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.
The porch light came on and the front door opened.
He climbed out of the truck.
“Rafe? Are you here for more boxes?” Ronni stood in the entryway. Since moving in, she had slowly packed away the remnants of his former life. Box by box he distributed everything to where he thought Lexi would want her things to go.
Clothes went to the charity thrift store. So did the dishes and housewares. Ronni had brought her own.
More personal items he planned give to his former mother-in-law.
“I’ll take what you have.” He stepped on the first porch step.
“Are you all right? You look a little peaked.”
“Rough day.” Being surrounded by baby stuff, and Grace.
I should’ve kissed her.
No, his lips needed to stay far away from hers.
He had a bad feeling about the situation. One of those gut-twisting “no matter what you do it’s gonna get fucked up” type of feelings.
“Do you want to come inside?” Ronni squinted at him with a worried-mom look.
“Maybe next time.” He’d had too much upheaval today. “I want to talk with Alex.”
“I grounded him for being out after curfew on Friday night. He won’t do it again, I promise.” Ronni rolled her lips together.
“He’s a good kid and hasn’t done anything the other wolflings haven’t tried.”
Ronni breathed a sigh of relief.
“We need to make some changes so he doesn’t get into any more trouble. Would you call him out?”
“Alex, come here,” she yelled over her shoulder. “Bring the boxes on the kitchen table with you.”
Loud thuds fell on the stairs inside. Seconds later, Alex appeared and helped Rafe load the boxes in the tow truck.
“Later.”
Ronni hooked Alex before he disappeared into the house. “Rafe wants to talk to us.” Tension hardened Ronni’s body.
“I heard you skipped school a few times.”
Ronni gripped Alex’s shoulders and shook him. “What have I told you about missing school?”
“I hate school!” Alex’s mouth twisted. “It won’t do me any good.”
“It won’t if you keep missing classes,” Rafe said. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll take you to school and bring you home after I close up.”
“I don’t need a friggin’ babysitter.”
“If you aren’t responsible enough to do what you ought, then, mister, you certainly do need one.” Ronni crossed her arms. “And watch your language.”
“This ain’t fair!” Alex stormed inside.
“Be ready at seven,” Rafe called after him. “Or I will hog-tie you and drop you off dressed the way I found you.”
Ronni snickered. “He’s at the age where he thinks he’s too old for pajamas.”
“That’s why I said it.” Rafe noticed the tired droop around Ronni’s eyes and the slight hunch in her back. “How are the GED classes coming?”
“I’m holding my own.” Ronni straightened. “Alex comes by his dislike for school honestly. His dad and I weren’t the best students.”
“You have a fresh start here,” Rafe said.
“You do, too.” Ronni eyed him curiously. “The woman with you at the diner, her scent is still all over you. Who is she to you?”
“A friend of a friend.”
“Not your friend?”
He shook his head.
“Well, why not?”
Rafe thought for a moment.
“She talks a lot.” When Grace wasn’t talking, she hummed. Her voice had a nice, soft melody that stayed on his mind after they parted.
That’s what really bothered him. She shouldn’t be on his mind at all.
“You must be kiddin’ because you ain’t that dumb. Unless this docile pack has sucked the wolf right out of you.” Ronni, two steps up from him, leaned forward with her hands still tucked beneath the arms crossed over her chest.
She was only ten years older, but the one cocked eyebrow and the side-scrunched mouth were a perfect imitation of his mother. He still had memories of his life before coming to Walker’s Run and she wore that look in a lot of them.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ronni said. “I’ve met some fine people here, but they’re outta touch with their nature. You’re getting yours back. I see it in your eyes. Don’t be afraid of it. Be proud of who you are. Proud of where you come from, because you come from good stock.”
Silence hung between them but neither felt any urgency to fill it. They were family by blood, still getting to know each other. Still testing the boundaries of trust and confidence.
“So, blondie talks too much. That’s it?”
“It’s a lot of words to absorb. She doesn’t stop until she’s asleep.”
“Huh. You know this how?”
Somehow he was digging himself a deeper hole in a conversation he didn’t want to be in.
“I see.” Ronni pressed her lips. “Does she get your heart racing and your blood pumping straight down to your cock?”
He did not want to have this discussion with a woman who favored his mother way too much.
“I can see by your face, she does. Well then, don’t worry too much about her talking. Find something better to do with her mouth.”
Not the advice he was hoping for.
“One thing she can do is eat,” Ronni called after him. “Bring her to supper. Thursday is good. I’ll have the rest of your things packed by then.”
Chapter 10 (#u432d7f5a-89cb-50f4-aabd-1478a3466d62)
“Thanks for the ride.” Grace unbuckled her seat belt.
“I do what I can for my friends.” Humor and interest danced in Shane MacQuarrie’s steely gray eyes. Twentyish, he had sandy hair and a young, handsome face, yet an edgy aura warned he wasn’t as carefree as he should be at this age.
They’d met the first time Grace checked into the Walker’s Run Resort and became fast friends.
Not of the benefits variety, but he kept trying.
A few years her junior, she considered him more of a little brother.
His gaze drifted past Grace’s shoulder. “The R&L looks closed. Wanna grab a late lunch at Mabel’s?”
“I had lunch with Cassie.”
“I don’t want to leave you stranded.”
“I’ve backpacked across Europe, Shane. I can handle myself in Maico.” Grace stepped down from the truck.
His stare made her feel as if he were assessing her ability to do so.
She closed the door and waved goodbye. She didn’t drop her practiced smile or let her shoulders drop until Shane’s truck disappeared down the road. The mechanical hum of cars from the nearby highway sounded more like a lullaby than the racket of city traffic.
She glanced at the large, Colonial-design building on the far side of the town square. According to Brice, the top floor housed the town’s small municipal court while the first floor was home to the Maico Historical Society, the Merchant and Tourism Advocacy, and a few other public interest businesses she’d researched on Google. Most had poorly developed websites and social media accounts, some had none at all. This morning she’d called to inquire if they were interested in updating their online presence and she had received informal invitations to drop by tomorrow to discuss services.
Might as well drum up some new clients for her web design business since she was going to be in town for a while.
Cars dotted the parallel parking spaces of the mom-and-pop shops framing the pretty little park of bright green grass, huge shade trees and wooden benches. The quiet, picturesque scene looked and felt homey.
She snapped a few pictures using her phone. A pinch of longing seeped into her heart. Because of her father’s military career, Grace didn’t have a childhood hometown. She envied people who committed not only to someone, but also to some place.
When she got married, Grace believed she’d finally settle down in a real home. They’d started with a small apartment, but had had plans to grow.
She’d hoped the restlessness within her would fade. Pretended that it had. Truthfully, she’d felt trapped. Until Derek had asked for a divorce after the miscarriage, she hadn’t known he felt the same.
Grace thought a new beginning in a new place would help. Derek refused. He wanted out, wanted to pretend the marriage and the baby had never happened. It was difficult to understand because they’d never fought during their brief marriage. She thought he’d loved her. She had loved him.
When it was over Grace had realized she wasn’t cut out for permanency. How could she be when she’d never known what it was?
Some dreams were better kept in a scrapbook.
A horn tooted and she turned around to face the old converted service station. R&L Auto Repair was painted in black across the glass front window.
Two side streets flanked the building. An abandoned store stood on the right corner, the paint peeling in long curls. Spider-webs and hornets’ nests decorated the dirty front window and a metal sign dangled above the door. At one time, it might’ve read Bait-N-Tackle, but the rust had eaten holes in the lettering, so only “Bai” and “ckle” remained.
Anchoring the left corner, Mabel’s Diner, painted bright yellow with white trim windows, bustled with patrons, even in the midafternoon.
The R&L storefront was dark and the bays were closed, so Grace followed the sidewalk around to the back and sat on the ground. The tow truck was gone from the lot and the gate was locked. Either Rafe was out on a roadside call, or he’d played hooky from work to go fishing or hunting. Or run with the wolves, naked.
No, no, no. She didn’t want to think of him naked, again.

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