by Amanda LeMay
“Air conditioning sucks,” Dain added.
Dad laughed. “I understand that the concept of crankin’ a handle to roll down a damn window is lost on the younger generation. Besides that, if you haven’t noticed, it’s winter. And as far as music goes...” He broke into his rendition of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places”, singing deep and loud. I followed his example, dredging the lyrics up from where I must have stored them in the back of my mind, and sang right along.
When we hit the last note, dad reached over and patted my leg with a loving hand.
“I sure have missed you, baby girl.” He grinned, the lines in his face soft and happy. Warm golden brown eyes, the same shade as mine, blinked repeatedly as if trying to clear the dust of the road from them. He turned his face away from me as his hand came up and rubbed at his mouth.
I had hurt him. By what I did, how I’d acted two years ago, and how I’d cut him out of my life. And being the fine, forgiving male he was, he would never hold it against me. My throat constricted and I swallowed hard. My vision blurred and my face flushed with shame. I sniffled and cleared my throat, ready to do what I should have done the second Dad had picked me up from the airport.
We turned a corner and Dain’s big, strong hand gripped my left shoulder as we took the turn, sending warmth throughout my body. Shocked by the contact, I looked up to see the barest hint of a smile on his lips and what seemed to be an understanding shake of his head.
“You have a pretty voice, Jessy.”
“Yes, she does,” Dad said as he shifted gears. The old engine roared as we accelerated out of the turn.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words were lost again with another small shake of Dain’s head and squeeze of his hand. All I managed to get out was a weak “Thank you”.
Even though the heat of his hand remained, Dain’s grip on my shoulder disappeared as suddenly as it had been there. His arm rested on the back of the seat behind me as he gazed out the passenger window. Each time I glanced that way, I burned his profile into my memory. His luscious lower lip was a tad larger than his upper lip and so soft looking, I longed to run the pad of my thumb over it and suck it into my mouth.
The rise and fall of his chest seemed relaxed, but the little tick of his pulse through the large vein in his neck seemed much faster than it should be while at rest. Everywhere I could see, he had virtually flawless skin, darkly tanned from hours spent outside. I followed the lines of his body, over his chest, down to his abs, and then to his immense thighs that stretched his jeans tight across the bulge that lay between his legs.
When I looked up, Dain had turned his head, watching me. My eyes locked on to his and, totally busted checking him out, I couldn’t look away.
Heat tingled across my cheeks and I was sure it mirrored the bright flush Dain wore. His lips parted slightly as if he had something to say, but instead of speaking, he just...shuddered. Goosebumps rose all over his arms as he sucked in a breath.
Even with the windows down and the breeze blowing in, it wasn’t cold. A sleepy look passed over Dain’s eyes and, sweet heavens—he liked that I was looking at him.
That warm little flame inside me burst into an all-out fire.
He looked at me. I looked at him.
His mouth slowly curved up in a little smile. His eyes seemed to twinkle. A small sigh slipped between my lips as my heart picked up its pace. Those intense, dark eyes of his gazed at me as though he saw something he wanted. Something he wanted a lot.
And, wow...we were...flirting.
Which was so stupid on my part, since there was no way I could stay there in Comfort.
Dad put on the brakes, shut off the truck, and shoved his creaky door open. We’d arrived at our destination, Balfore Sanders and Sons Feed. Dain helped me out onto the dirt parking lot, and without saying a word, turned and walked away into the large barn full of hay bales.
“You’ve got the list?”
“Yeah, right here.” I pulled Maygan’s grocery list from my pocket. I looked back at the feedlot sign. “Sanders?”
“Yep.” Dad turned and pointed at a smaller barn across the parking lot next to the feed store. In big white block letters, the words The Market hung over the covered entrance to the store. “Go on over there and we’ll meet you in a few minutes. I need to place a hay order.”
I nodded. High-pitched squeals erupted from the inside the feed lot as a small group of kids ran through the hay barn, shouting Dain’s name. They piled on him, wrapping themselves around his big thighs and swinging from his massive arms, all giggling as he didn’t miss a step. He carried them around ten feet then threw them, one by one, on top of the huge bales as they squealed and scrambled down again for another toss.
From one side of the barn, out of my view, a soft, feminine voice said, “Betcha can’t throw me into the hay that easy.”
“Hey, Maddy.” Dain greeted the girl I couldn’t see.
She strolled out, blond hair in a ponytail, bleached by the sun, her complexion golden where it wasn’t covered by body hugging, skinny jeans that sat low on her skinny hips. The tight, pale blue sweater over a low-cut tank top did absolutely nothing but highlight her braless breasts and little nipples. Her hand stroked down Dain’s arm and I suddenly wanted to rip her delicate, little fingers off and shove them down her sweet throat.
“Jessy?”
That girl was still talking to Dain, her lips moving with words low and sexy that I couldn’t make out over all the screaming little kids.
Maul her.
“Jessy, stop growling.”
I wanted to ignore the warning in my dad’s stern voice, but I knew better.
“Sorry.” I stared down at the crumpled list in my hand.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing.” When I looked up at Dain, he stared back at me, his eyes sparkling, his lips curled up in a smile.
I melted.
The sudden urge to rip Miss See-My-Nips to shreds was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but all I could see was him, glowing like the sun on a hot summer day.
“Jessy.” I focused on my dad because, well, because I didn’t have much choice, seeing that he was dragging me across the parking lot by my arm over to the market. “You have something you want to tell me?”
“Uh...no. Why?”
“Because the sound that came out of you was pretty damn...well, possessive.” He moved his hand from my arm to my hand and gave me a squeeze. “Look me in the eye and tell me that’s not what I thought it was.”
I looked him in the eye and knew he wasn’t accusing me of doing something I shouldn’t. He was waiting for me to confirm the truth he might already have suspected. It wouldn’t be any use to deny I felt something for Dain. That feeling, being an outrageous, unfulfilled lust, was something I didn’t want to own up to, though.
When I refused to answer, Dad stood back from me, crossed his arms over his thick muscled chest, lifted his chin, squinted his eyes, and looked down his nose.
“Jessica Maccon.”
I cringed at his use of my full name and at the fact that he was going to scold me but good right in a parking lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
I threw up my hands and settled on telling him what I had believed was obvious to anybody.
“Dain’s not interested in me.” I waved a hand at the barn. “Why would he be, when he’s got Miss Cowgirl-of-the-Month fawning all over him?” I couldn’t stop the bitterness that dripped like poison off my tongue. Yeah, it might stroke his ego to flirt with me, but Dain knew this was nothing more than a little vacation for me—a stop-over on my way to another life.
“Besides, what difference does it make? I’m not staying here. I have a new job and a house waiting for me.” Damn, saying that should have brought back the excitement of coming home, but it didn’t. It hurt.
Golden eyebrows went up as my dad smiled and relaxed his stance. “I see.”
“What? You see what?” I demanded,
not understanding why I was so upset about having someplace else I needed to be soon. A couple of days ago, I couldn’t wait to get home to Albuquerque and now, not so much.
Dad grinned, shook his head and without another word, he turned and walked away, toward the feedlot.
I watched him disappear inside the big barn and then yelled out at him, “Fine! Whatever!” I stalked across the parking lot to the market, feeling a whole lot better having gotten in the last words.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE RENOVATED OLD BARN was decorated in homey farm-stand decor with heavy aged wood plank walls and floors. From all the different wolf scents that slammed into me the second I walked through the door, it must have also been a meeting place for the local pack.
I looked down at the small list of Christmas dinner supplies. A fair amount of dad and Maygan’s business was done by trade and even though the ranch looked self-sufficient, there were a few essentials they couldn’t do without, like toilet paper and aluminum foil.
I pulled a cart from the small rack, glanced quickly at the colorful overhead signs, and decided, since I needed to wait for Dad and Dain, I’d take the tour. As I strolled up and down the aisles, the cart rattled over the bumpy wood planks, clinking and clattering so loud that sneaking up on someone would be impossible. I double-checked Maygan’s list and tossed items in the cart as I came to them.
Even though she hadn’t listed meat of any kind, I strolled over to the meat counter to take a look anyway. A young female, busy wiping down the back of the case, popped her head up as soon as I came near.
She smiled. “Hey, good morning.”
“Hey.”
“Let me know if I can wrap anything up for you.”
“I will, thanks.”
She went on about her cleaning while I checked out the selection. The small counter had a nice assortment of beef, poultry, pork, and a few other things with little signs designating which local ranch each piece came from. Behind the counter, rows of sharp knives hung on the wall, along with chainmail gloves. A band saw stood at one end of the cutting table and every single piece of equipment, including the tiled floor, was immaculate, which explained why the usual butcher shop odor of sweet, dead blood didn’t linger here.
At the far end of the counter I spied a leg of lamb. Dad loved lamb, and so did I. Lamb was one of those special meals my mom had cooked for family and pack gatherings—her signature dish. I hadn’t eaten lamb since she’d died and oh, I could almost taste the thick rosemary and garlic crust and the melt-in-your-mouth meat, roasted low and slow.
My breath hitched and my throat tightened as my eyes burned with tears.
Odd how, after almost three years, little memories of my mom still stabbed me in the heart.
After my mom died, I had wished for nothing more than my dad to find happiness again—happiness with me and my brothers, with his job, with the pack, with life. And when he found it again, with Maygan, the miracle of finding a second sakana in his lifetime had been lost on me. Finding a sakana at all was a miracle in itself, but a second sakana? It was almost unheard of. At the time, I’d refused to believe it. I’d thought my dad was so lost in his grief, he’d grasped on to something that couldn’t possibly be real. And...just too soon.
Too soon for me.
I sniffled and wiped at my eyes with the heels of my hands.
I missed my mom and that was okay, but standing in the grocery store, crying at the meat counter, not so much.
To my left, the female behind the counter stood and backed away from where she’d been cleaning, her mouth curved down into a frown, a look of suspicion in her eyes.
What?
She tossed her cleaning cloth in the sink and disappeared into the back.
Whatever.
My skin prickled with awareness as a scent I recognized seemed to coat my nostrils like dirty oil.
Freaking Bobby Sanders.
His hands grabbed hold of my cart as he flashed his perfect smile. “Well, look at you, sugar lips.” And he did, from head to toe and back again, making my skin crawl as if his fingers were running over my flesh. “You’re so damn fine, I want eat you alive.”
Did this guy never stop? Probably not.
I doubted he’d appreciate it if I used a few condescending endearments on him. DJ and GW stood off to the side, behind him. GW stared at me with his always expressionless face while DJ shrugged his shoulders and looked away as if he were embarrassed.
“Sugar lips? Really? Dick move, dude. Seriously.” I rolled my eyes and looked past him. “DJ, GW, why do you hang around with this poser?”
DJ turned away to hide the little smile I saw on his face while GW openly snorted—whether at Bobby or my comment, I didn’t know and didn’t care. Just then, a pretty, dark-haired girl walked by, reached her hand out, and ran it across GW’s backside as she smiled up at him.
“Hey, GW.” She lifted an eyebrow as she passed.
GW nodded and let a slow smile cross his lips. His eyes quickly did a once-over, like he’d already seen her naked.
“Is that your girlfriend, GW?” I asked quietly out of curiosity.
Bobby’s turn to snort. “Hell, no. He just likes to fuck her every once in a while.”
Though GW kept on smiling, he raised an eyebrow and shoved his hands in his pockets. Bobby gave his friend a disgusted sneer. Maybe he didn’t think highly of GW’s taste in women. Either that, or this particular girl’s preferences ran more toward rugged, cowboy types like GW than toward the star football player Bobby.
“Jealous?”
Bobby turned back. His blue eyes turned cold as he glared at me.
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be interested in you,” I added with all the sincerity I could muster. I smiled over at GW. “You should smile more often, GW. That smile is quite the lady-killer.”
A sudden awkward tension erupted among the three guys as their gazes flicked at each other and then at me. And although both Bobby and GW grinned like they were sharing a private joke, a sad, haunted look came into DJ’s eyes. Whatever was going on between these guys was damn unsettling.
“Listen, cupcake.” Bobby flashed his perfect teeth again, “I wanna take you out, show you a good time.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “I’m gonna be honest here. I wanna spread those long legs of yours and come all over you.”
“Whoa, Betsy.” I held up my hand to stop him. “You listen—don’t even go there, because you and me dating, or whatever, is not ever gonna happen.” I shook my head. “Balls? Yeah, dude. And cupcake? Wow. Really?”
I shook my head and gave him a quick appraisal, stopping at the huge, silver belt buckle in the shape of Texas. The shape itself led the eye straight down to the guy’s crotch. Seriously?
I was so done with this conversation. Done. Done. Done. Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, I moved the cart, pushing it past Bobby in an effort to get clear of him as quickly as possible.
His hand came down on mine, trapping it on the handle. A sickening rush passed through me, making me gasp.
Dain’s warning rang in my head again. Don’t let that filthy animal touch you.
He knew.
A strange queasiness and revulsion settled like something putrid and decaying in my stomach. I yanked hard, trying to free my hand. Bobby tightened his grip and widened his smile.
Get away now!
I opened my mouth, but the lump that had formed in my throat kept any sound from escaping.
Why does he make my flesh crawl?
Why does his touch feel so absolutely wrong?
And why do I have such an awful taste in my mouth?
My canines ached as I clenched my jaw. No matter how threatening Bobby Sanders became, setting free the wolf in me to maul, maim, and kill would be a disaster of epic proportions.
“You don’t know what you’re missin’,” Bobby said quietly in that slow, Texas drawl.
Oh, how satisfying would it be to wipe that shitty grin off his face with
my claws? I turned my head away, hiding my elongated canines between tight lips.
The scent of smoky mesquite and leather filled my nose, and with it, I sensed the power of an alpha male who had stirred from his den. Still, the dangerous scent was strangely calming.
“Bobby,” DJ mumbled, and nodded to someone behind me. Bobby took the hint and looked past my shoulder.
“You think about it,” He whispered then let go of my hand. A pale blue eye winked at me as he backed away. Then Bobby and GW turned and walked off with DJ following close behind.
Eat shit and die.
I didn’t say that, though.
There wasn’t enough air in my lungs to make actual intelligible sounds come out of my mouth.
“Jessy?”
A deep, warm voice came from behind me.
I turned and stared. “Uh... uh...”
“Jessy Maccon?”
Oh, sweet heavens. Almost seven feet of gorgeous male wolf stood behind me. His intense, bright green eyes gazed down at me as a soft smile curved his lips. Dark brown hair blended into silvery white at his temples. A silver moustache and goatee framed his mouth.
“You okay?”
I sucked in my first breath since Bobby Sanders had touched my hand. “Yes, I am. Okay...and Jessy. Jessy Maccon.”
His seductive, commanding, smoky wood and leather scent called to the submissive wolf in me. The human in me, not so much.
“Gunner Bodolf.”
He stuck out his hand and as I took it, I was grateful for the calming touch of another wolf. His casual, button-down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and tucked into well-worn jeans. His massive forearm, corded with muscle, and long, strong fingers were at odds with the gentle way he held my hand.
He nodded toward the aisle where Bobby had disappeared. “Was he botherin’ you?”
“Yes.”
It wouldn’t do any good to try and brush it off as nothing. Alphas could sense a lie a mile away, but the last thing I wanted was to appear weak in front of Gunner. I hoped he didn’t notice my racing heart, but, yeah, it wasn’t likely he’d miss my pulse running amok through my palm and finger tips. Alphas noticed everything, only one of the many reasons they were alphas. Leaders. And always Breeders—the males of our kind whose genetics ensured the survival of our race.