Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box: Volume 1

by Thorne, Elle

  “Hell, no.” His voice was a nasal, offended hiss. “Hell, no. I don’t want his seconds. Tonight. I’ll pick you up at closing time.”

  “It’ll be late, and I won’t have time to change. Maybe another—”

  “I’ll be here tonight. You look fine.” He spun on his heel, threw a bill on the counter, and with a hasty, “Keep the change,” he stormed out.

  Chelsea stared after him, aghast. Now what? She had put herself in a bad position. She wanted nothing to do with him. And she didn’t trust him. And he wanted to get revenge of some sort on Grant. And she liked Grant. Okay, okay, she really liked Grant.

  Chelsea sighed. Feeling eyes on her, she turned, catching Mae’s squinting, narrowed glance. Chelsea grimaced at the expression on Mae’s face.

  “I’m sorry...” she started to explain, to tell Mae she didn’t want drama. She didn’t want to bring problems to Mae and didn’t want them in her own life. She’d had enough of drama and avoided it at all costs now. She avoided it as much as she avoided the attention of strangers and the law.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” Mae’s voice was bitter.

  “I didn’t mean to upset him. I know, I should have accepted the first time he asked, I—”

  “You should have done no such thing. That’s not what I meant at all.” Mae put her arm around Chelsea. “You are not obligated to go out with anyone, whether they’re clientele or not.”

  A sob rose in Chelsea’s throat at the woman’s kindness. She hadn’t felt this kind of acceptance since...

  She couldn’t remember the last time.

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. It was almost closing time, and already dark outside.

  Mae cleared her throat.

  Chelsea looked up at her, wondering what she was going to say, hoping that Mae hadn’t changed her mind and wasn’t going to tell her she didn’t need any drama with her clientele and that Chelsea would have to leave the salon. Forever.

  “I want you to feel free to cancel with Jeff and Grant.”

  “Oh, no!” Chelsea’s reaction was swift, catching her off guard. “I mean... well, I...”

  Spit it out, she told herself.

  It’s not easy to say it out loud.

  She wanted to go out with Grant. She wanted a lot more than that. She thought of his hard body, his wide chest and expansive shoulders. A warmth flooded her body, starting in her chest, rising to her cheeks. How she hated that the blushing came so easily.

  A thought occurred to Chelsea. Maybe this was Mae’s way of saying that she didn’t want Chelsea to go out with either man. For all Chelsea knew, Mae liked Grant in that way. And she didn’t want to interfere with that.

  Anyway, she looked at the other woman. Mae was a stunning, curvy woman with flashing, almost-black eyes and a tan that seemed to last year-round. Chelsea didn’t think her pale rose coloring could compete with Mae’s vivid complexion and features.

  Maybe Grant was asking the wrong woman out, and Chelsea should back out gracefully and let his courtship with Mae take its course. But... how would she handle that? How could she handle watching Grant and Mae date?

  “Chelsea?” Mae was patting her shoulder. “What were you saying? You were going to say something?”

  A wave of sadness and reluctance washed over Chelsea. She shook her head, resigned to what she had to do. “No. Nothing. I was just agreeing with you. I shouldn’t date your—our—clientele. It’s bad business. I’m sorry.” She looked down at the black tiled floor, littered with cut hair. “I should sweep.”

  Chelsea didn’t look back at the other woman. She slipped away to the back room, allegedly for the broom, but mostly to allow herself to regain her composure. She didn’t want anyone else to see how upset she was.

  So much for the shopping trip for something nice to wear on a date with Grant. She sighed, the sound more like a ragged breath torn from her body. Maybe she’d make the drive into the city tomorrow anyway, treat herself to a meal and some dark chocolate—yum—and even get herself a new outfit. Forget all these pipe dreams about someone like Grant being interested in her.

  For now, she had to get out of two dates. Somehow. She should ask Mae for their phone numbers. Then she should call Grant and Jeff and cancel.

  She made short work of cooling down while she swept the floor. She was so absentminded, that she not only swept her station and the immediate area around it, she swept the whole shop.

  She put the broom back and returned to her station.

  “Feel better?” Mae smiled her dazzling smile.

  Chelsea nodded. “Do you think I could get Grant’s and Jeff’s numbers so I can call and cancel?”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Mae gave her a look of concern.

  Chelsea was overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness and patience. She nodded. “Positive.” But she didn’t feel positive. She felt like she’d been on a boat that had sunk and had plunged her into the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean.

  “You know, if Jeff’s bothering you, we can call the police.”

  Chelsea gasped. “No.”

  Mae’s head snapped up at the loudness of Chelsea’s tone. “Okay.” She nodded in a reconciliatory way, as if to calm Chelsea.

  Chelsea hadn’t meant to be so loud. She’d been caught off guard. That was the last thing she needed, calling the police. How could she stay off the grid if they called the police in and they happened to check on her? There would be a paper or cyber trail if anyone looked into her background.

  Mae stepped behind the desk and touched the keyboard behind a monitor. She clicked, then clicked again. “Well, we don’t have Grant’s number on file. You’ll have to tell him in person.” She took a piece of paper and a pen, wrote something. “Here’s Jeff’s.”

  “Thank you.” Chelsea gave her a huge hug. “I’m glad I met you.”

  “It’s mutual.”

  “You two are so cutely sentimental.” Lana’s whiny voice came from behind them.

  A sound of disgust, almost a small growl, came from Mae. Chelsea studied Mae. Did she not like Lana? Why had she hired her, and why did she keep her, if she didn’t?

  Chelsea slipped to the phone in the back to call Jeff in private. She didn’t want Mae to hear that conversation. She tapped the numbers into the handheld and put it to her ear.

  It gave the ‘disconnected’ sound.

  Great, just great.

  She tried again. The same thing. Shoot. So, now what? She walked to the front of the salon.

  Mae looked up from the closing paperwork. “Are you okay?”

  “Um—yes. Yes, I’m fine.” She gulped air in. “It’s all taken care of.” She hoped Mae wouldn’t ask for details. That would mean lying to her and Chelsea already felt bad about her lie of omission. Saying that things were taken care of bothered her. She looked away and busied herself with arranging products on the shelves and dusting.

  She hoped that Jeff wouldn’t stop by while Mae was still there. Oh, jeez. What would she do if he did?

  Mae shut down the computer, put the ledger away and slipped the cash in a bank bag. “All I have left to do is assemble a product order so it’s ready to call in tomorrow morning.” She rubbed her temples. “Long day.”

  Chelsea jumped on the opportunity. “I’ll do that. Let me. I’ll need something to do tonight.” She tried for a cheery smile.

  And prayed that she could shuffle Mae out before Jeff appeared. If he appeared.

  She feared he would, so she had to get Mae out. She put her arm around the stunning brunette, and guided her to the door.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.” Mae laughed.

  Chelsea let out forced laughter, hoping it didn’t sound fake. She helped Mae with her coat and held the door open for her. “Go put your feet up and relax.”

  Mae gave her a curious look, as if she might be suspicious, but not very. “I may do that. And watch a mov
ie I recorded last week.”

  Chelsea locked the door behind her boss and proceeded to sort out the shampoos, conditioners, and styling products, noting which ones needed to be purchased on an order form for Mae.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall.

  Eight o’clock.

  She’d been at it for an hour, and no Jeff. She breathed a sigh of relief, put her coat and a scarf on, shoved her cell phone in her coat pocket, and opened the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Chelsea shivered as she pulled the door shut. She tested it to be sure it was locked. It was one of those kinds of doors you didn’t need a key to lock from the outside. You opened it, set the lever, then let it close, and ta-daa, it was locked.

  She tested it again with a vigorous tug. Definitely locked. One more time to be sure, she tugged, and at the same time cursed her compulsion to double-check things. How irritating. Worse than being superstitious.

  She tugged the coat around her body, wishing she’d found one her size when she’d gone to the secondhand store, but thankful that she’d found this one, even if it was too snug to button all the way up. If only she could drop a couple pounds—okay, maybe a few more than a couple.

  She turned around, gasped, fell back. “Jeff.”

  He’d been standing right behind her. Too close. Almost touching. And now he was right in front of her. It was far too intimate, and way too uncomfortable.

  “I tried to call you—” she started, then paused, immediately wishing she hadn’t said that because she didn’t want to set him off.

  “Why?” He raised a brow. His face, though handsome, had a look to it that made her want to back away—no, run away. Brutality was his prevalent expression.

  She tried to back up, but found herself pressed against the door. She scrambled for an answer to his question. “I don’t feel so well. I was trying to reach you to cancel...”

  He clenched his jaw, his eyes squinting in the light reflected off the snow. Around them the rest of the parking lot was deserted, snow unmarked by tire tracks.

  Unmarked by tire tracks? Where was his car? If there were no tracks...

  She shivered. That meant he’d been there for a while.

  “I never got a call.” His voice was more chilled than the night air.

  She shrugged, mostly for show. “It wasn’t a working number. I’m sorry.”

  “So you’d like to postpone? A rain check?”

  She hadn’t actually said that, she’d said cancel, but she didn’t want to get into it with him on this very cold, damp night. The weatherman had said there’d be more snow, so the last thing she needed was to be out here with Jeff, and away from her place.

  “Yes, if that’s okay with you?” She would say yes now, and get out of it later.

  “Friday night,” he said with a smirk.

  She knew he was trying to bait her. He’d heard her accept Grant’s offer. Now he was putting her in a bad place. “Well, uh... maybe, we—”

  “What’s the problem, Chelz?” His voice had a sinister quality to it, and his eyes were menacing.

  And he used Grant’s nickname for her.

  A shiver ran its course through her body, a shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. She glanced up and down the lonely street, all the storefronts dark, no houses on this road—a road that was more for tourists than locals. Only the streetlights offered company, standing like blind sentinels, offering little light and even less comfort.

  She crossed her arms over her chest to stave off the shivers. “I don’t know. Can we talk tomorrow? It’s cold.”

  “Sure. Let me give you a ride home? Or we could drive into the city and grab a latte?”

  Yeah, right.

  The last thing she wanted to do was be trapped in a car with him. “I’m feeling poorly. Do you mind if... not?” She sidestepped in an attempt to walk around him.

  Jeff put his hand on her arm, his grip like a vise. “I think you...” He paused, a smile she didn’t care for crossing his face. “Fine. Have a good night. Mind if I wait until you pull out so that I can be sure you got on the road without a problem?”

  She frowned, hesitating. It was nice of him to offer to make sure she got on the road safely, but...

  “I won’t follow you home. But you should know this: if I wanted to know where you live—I am a realtor, after all.”

  She held back an eyeroll. She didn’t work on the books. She was just renting a room. No one should know where she lived unless she or Mae had told them. She was off the grid and happy about Mae’s discretion. She’d asked Mae when she moved in to keep things private, not because of Jeff, but it was working out for the best. Chelsea wasn’t ready to turn one problem in for another.

  She pointedly looked at his hand on her arm. He removed it with a flourish, as if it was a grand gesture on his part.

  Without a backward glance, Chelsea chirped her car unlocked and jumped into the freezing vehicle, wincing when her backside touched the cold seat.

  She jammed her foot on the brake and her finger into the start button of her Altima.

  Nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  She did it again.

  Still nothing.

  “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “Shit and damn.”

  She glanced out the windshield at the vehicle nearby, headlights on.

  Jeff.

  Waiting.

  Chapter Nine

  “Come on, dammit.” As if talking to the car would make any difference. She slammed her foot onto the brake and at the same time pressed the start button.

  Again nothing.

  “What. The. Fuck.” She could wait. She could wait it out. Go inside and wait there. Maybe call Mae, see if she could give her a ride. Or she could sleep in the shop, in the waiting area, where it was warm and there was a row of seats she could squeeze herself across. That’s exactly what she would do.

  A sharp rap on the windshield made her jump—felt like actually jumping out of her skin, that’s what it felt like.

  She snapped her head to the left, and fought the disappointment from showing.

  Through the glass, Jeff raised his voice. “You okay? You’re not moving the car. And it’s a bit cold.”

  Tell him the car wouldn’t start? Or tell him she still had some work to do at the shop. Or... what other options did she have? None.

  “I’m fine. Just—” Just what, smarty? “I’m—I was waiting.”

  “Are you having car problems? This isn’t the kind of weather to mess around in, Chelsea.” His tone was nasal.

  Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before? His voice grated on her nerves. She’d rather listen to Grant’s deep, soothing timbre.

  “Just a little one. But it’s fine, Jeff. I can go back into the salon. It’s fine.”

  “You have a key to Mae’s?” Surprise registered in his voice.

  Hell. She’d forgotten. She’d locked the door. She wasn’t getting back in. “No.”

  “You can’t stay here. It’s too cold. Let me run you home.”

  She hesitated, and saw the reaction to her hesitation in his expression. Anger flared in his eyes.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m one of the area’s top realtors.” He tugged on the door handle.

  Maybe she was being silly. She should let him take her home. She could tell Mae in the morning and figure out a way to get her car fixed. Mae might be able to tell her about a trustworthy mechanic. And with a lot of luck, this wasn’t going to be an expensive setback.

  She released the lock and shoved her keys in her pocket. “I appreciate it, Jeff.”

  He took her elbow and led her through the parking lot to his black sedan. Chelsea studied the vehicle, wondering how a car could manage to look sinister when cars had no personality.

  The European machine gleamed in the darkness of the night, its shiny exterior evidence of the care taken by its owner. Jeff opened her car door for her, helped her in. His steps seemed a little too happy as he walk
ed to his side of the car. She’d rather he didn’t seem so joyful over her misfortune.

  He got in, reached across her for the seatbelt and pulled it over her, fastening it before she could protest. A shudder of revulsion rolled through her when his hand accidentally brushed across her breast, even though she was bundled up. When he fastened the belt, the snapping sound made her jump. The finality of it reminded her of the clanging of a cell door. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

  He started the car. Envy ran through her at the ease with which his newer, more expensive car started. An anger ran parallel to her envy. Anger about the position she was in, no means, no reliable vehicle, running, hiding.

  Jeff glanced in the rearview mirror, a tiny smile playing on his thin lips. “How about a cup of hot chocolate? You’re looking blue.”

  Only if you’re not with me. “Thank you, but I’m tired, Jeff. I don’t feel up to much. Just a hot bath and my bed.”

  The sideways leer he gave her when she said the words ‘bath’ and ‘bed’ creeped her out.

  “I can get take-out. You can enjoy it on the ride to your place.”

  Where the hell would he get hot chocolate at this hour? It would be a fifteen-minute drive and not on the way to her room at Mae’s, she was sure of that.

  “Come on,” he continued. “It’s the least you can do. After standing me up, not wanting to give me a rain check. Here I am, your knight in shining armor, and you’re not being very gracious.”

  Maybe he had a point. “Okay, take-out will be fine.”

  At least that would appease him. He was giving her a ride after all, and he had waited to see if her car would start. Maybe he had a redeeming quality or two. She felt like she’d be a heel if she didn’t show her appreciation, even if he wasn’t someone she wanted to date.

  God, why does it sound like I’m trying to talk myself into it?

  He drove more quickly than she preferred on the dark, unlit highway, taking curves and hills at a speed that made her hold her breath. Fifteen minutes of small talk, and they arrived. He pulled into the parking lot.