The Alpha’s Chase: A Howls Romance

by Taiden, Milly

  “Okay, now I have to know what’s going on in that pretty head.”

  Cecily glanced up at him. “Nothing’s going on inside my head. That’s just it. For the first time in my life I am completely at ease. Relaxed. I want to be nowhere else but here,” she paused, “with you.”

  He kissed the side of her head. “Good. My plan’s working, then.”

  “Oh, so this was all part of your plan for what? To seduce me into a puddle and then make me never want to leave?”

  Chase stopped, turning her in his arms. “Something like that.”

  Her eyes met his, and locked. “If that’s true, then it’s working. If you asked me to move into our enchanted cottage on the mountain and stay forever, right now my answer would be a big, fat yes.”

  “What about the wedding reception to end all receptions? Your dream since you were little?”

  “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

  He laughed out loud. “And there she is.” He kissed her mouth, picking her up in the process. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Cecily’s heart squeezed, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was where happy lived, and it didn’t matter if it was Cross Creek or Boston, New York or on the moon. It was Chase.

  The skin at the back of her neck prickled, interrupting the poignant moment. Her inner cat chuffed, pacing suddenly. Cecily cocked her head for a moment and then scanned the street.

  “What’s wrong? Is it what I said?” Chase asked, concerned.

  Cecily shook her head. “No, I loved what you said. It meant the world to me.”

  “Then what?” he asked, letting her down gently.

  She lifted her chin and inhaled. “I’m not sure. There’s something strange in the air. Whatever it is, it’s hiding beneath the scent of pine and ordinary town dust.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” he replied, wrinkling his nose.

  She shook her head. “It’s not a scent. Not a physical one, anyway.” Whatever this was, it set her cat on edge. Something was brewing. But what? Inhaling again, she looked for anything that remotely smacked of Jackson or his mother. But the air was clear.

  “Cecy, you’re starting to scare me. What is it?” Chase took hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him.

  “It’s nothing, or maybe it’s something. This is visceral. A vibe. I can’t explain it any better than that. The puma side of me senses danger, but not danger. Just a stirring of…of,” she lifted a hand in frustration, “possibilities.”

  “Possibilities for what? Is it Jackson?”

  She shook her head again. “That’s just it. There isn’t a trace of him or anyone connected to him.” Cecily exhaled. “Maybe it’s my imagination. I’m not used to being so happy. My subconscious is probably conjuring things to make me feel as though the other shoe is about to drop.” She didn’t believe that, though. A shifter’s dual nature didn’t send up flares for no reason.

  Chase slipped his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, you,” he said, steering her across the street toward the Cross Creek Restaurant and Bake Shoppe. “My mother always said good food and good company were the recipe for contentment.”

  “Like Chicken Soup for the Soul?”

  “Same concept, but for my mother it was mangú served with los tres golpes, the three strikes,” he replied. “Ripe plantains with butter, almost like mashed potatoes, but topped with red onions and a little oil and vinegar. It’s served with the tres golpes—eggs, salami and fried white cheese, all fried together. It sounds like a heart attack on a plate, but it is so good.”

  A pang of regret bit into Cecily’s stomach at Chase’s obvious nostalgia for his family. Something she never had. “You know. For such a tough guy, you really are a marshmallow.”

  “Maybe. Like I said, my mother was Dominican, but my father was from Spain. I like to think I got the best of both. Latin sexiness, with a dash of European class and all-American determination.” He winked.

  She laughed, feeling her unexplained apprehension lift a bit. “And let’s not forget, modest, too.”

  “Hey, no one’s perfect.”

  Inhaling, she smiled to herself. Latin sexy? That was an understatement.

  He held the door to the restaurant open, and she slipped from under his arm to enter first.

  “Everyone here says this place is the best in town. I know there’s not much else to base that against, but they baked the cruller you made into oral pornography, so let’s see what they’ve got on the lunch menu for the tease queen.”

  She chuckled, but her inner cat chuffed again, and this time it wouldn’t let go. From the doorway she caught a glimpse of a couple in an approaching pickup truck. They watched her and Chase as they passed, and in that moment, Cecily pivoted under Chase’s arm back out onto the sidewalk. Their eyes made contact for a split second, and her inner cat hissed. Her mouth went dry, taken back by the intensity of her puma’s reaction.

  So much for the other shoe dropping.

  “Do you know those people?” His gaze followed hers as the truck passed.

  “No.” Cecily’s eyes watched the truck as it turned out of sight. “But my cat seemed to, and she’s not happy.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a reaction like that to total strangers.”

  “Maybe it was just a coincidence. Like you said,” Chase offered. “Could you remember what they look like, just in case?”

  Cecily nodded.

  “Okay, then. If your puma sends up more red flags, we’ll deal with it. In the meantime, we can’t hunt down a random pickup truck because of a gut feeling, right?”

  She glanced down the empty street. “I guess.”

  “Your dual-natured warning has been duly noted. Let’s grab some lunch and then take a ride up the mountain. There’s a particular view I’d love you to see.”

  “You’re all about gratification, aren’t you?” She laughed.

  “When I’m with you? Definitely.”

  18

  “You weren’t kidding, Chase. This is spectacular.” Cecily stood on the cliff’s edge. Nothing but sky and snowcapped mountains greeted her in the distance. The dull roar from a waterfall cascaded over the craggy rock face across from where they made camp. “It’s hard to believe it’s the middle of summer when there’s snow on those peaks. And that water! It looks so crisp and delicious, makes me want to dive in, clothes and all.”

  Chase stacked loose brush and a few small branches into a makeshift firepit. “Crisp is the operative word, love. It may be summer, but melting snow is the source of that waterfall. Trust me. It’s ice cold. But if you really want to go for a swim, I’m sure we could figure something out.”

  “Yeah, no thanks. I do the polar bear plunge once a year for charity. That’s enough.” She rubbed her bare arms. “Still, it’s colder up here than I thought it would be for mid-afternoon.”

  “I’m breaking out the Boy Scout skills, just for you. We need to be careful of sparks, though. He looked at her. “Of course, the sparks we’ve started on that blanket are a different story altogether.”

  She stole a glance at the blue tartan he’d spread on the ground and wrapped her arms around her middle. Chase didn’t have to be explicit for her body to react. All he had to do was look at her and electricity zinged to her nether regions. Still, they needed to talk. How were they supposed to make this arrangement work enough for a baby if they continued as strangers? Great sex did not a relationship make.

  “You might want to stack the larger pieces teepee style over the kindling.” She gestured toward the campfire.

  He glanced up from the circle of stones he’d placed around the wood pile. “Very good. Obviously, you spent time in the woods.”

  “Why obviously?” she questioned.

  He shrugged, straightening. “You’re a shifter. I assume you cut your teeth in the woods as a teenager.”

  “You would think so, but no.”

  “Really
?” He seemed surprised.

  Cecily handed him the matches from their backpack. “When it comes to outdoor skills, you’re more shifter than me. You hunt, fish, you can track a path through the woods. Hell, you pointed out animal scat and recognized different bird species from their calls. Growing up, the closest I got to the woods were the grounds behind our summer house on Cape Cod. Dad would make a fire on the beach, sometimes, so I learned the basics from him.”

  “I always thought shifters were inherently in tune with nature,” Chase replied, squatting to fan the small flame. “That nature was part of your blood, no prep required.”

  She shook her head. “Maybe in the past, but not anymore. At least not in my pack. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I shifted into my animal form.”

  “Then I’m glad I brought a shotgun with us.” He gestured toward the sleek rifle beside their picnic hamper.

  She followed his eyes and winced inside. “I wish you hadn’t, but I guess we are high in the tree line.”

  “Better safe than sorry. Bear, cougars, even wolves can be as unpredictable as they are stealth.”

  She folded her arms, letting her gaze drift toward the dark beyond the trees behind them. “If I trusted my own skills more, we wouldn’t need a firearm.” She turned her eyes back to him with a shrug. “I hate the idea of taking aim at an innocent animal for following their instincts.”

  “I would have still brought the rifle. If it came to a choice between protecting you or sparing a predator, I don’t think it’s a hard guess which I’d choose. Still, I hate hearing you sound so disappointed. As though you lost some of your identity. Your culture. My parents made a point for me to know as much about both ethnicities as possible.”

  “Maybe.” She glanced toward the forest again. “I don’t know.”

  “Still, when it comes to the mountains and forests, I’m as much a tourist as you. Like I said, I was a Boy Scout, so yeah, I know how to camp and make a fire. I can fish and track, but I don’t think that qualifies me as Grizzly Adams.” He paused. “I’m confused, though. You’re the rightful alpha of your group now that your dad passed, right?

  “Right.”

  “Well, don’t you need to know how to…to—” He lifted a hand. “I don’t know, run with the pack?”

  Cecily laughed out loud. “Cliché much, dude? The Mohican Pack is more corporation than clan. Our pack council sits in a boardroom, not a lodge. It’s a business. The council my father was so concerned wouldn’t accept an alpha-female as CEO spends its days in a high-rise office on Fifth Avenue in New York.”

  “But that feeling you had earlier in town. With the people in the pickup, and how you knew Dan was a wolf. What was that, then?”

  She sat on the blanket watching the fire spark to life. “My inner cat is always there inside me. She’s like a sixth sense. People’s scents and body language speak volumes. My father taught me how to decipher those clues as a defensive tactic through my inner animal, but I could never survive the wilderness like you think. I was groomed for the wilds of Wall Street, not the woods, but at least the ability is there, albeit rusty.”

  Cecily patted the blue plaid beside her. “That’s where you come in. My own personal mountain man with mad skills.”

  “And what kind of skills are those, Madam Alpha?” he asked with a grin. “You want me to lubricate your rusty bits?”

  She laughed. “Wow, now there’s an offer no girl could resist.” The humor between them hung in the air. “Seriously, Chase. I’m talking about the kind of skills that make me think our experiment is more than just the thrill of boy meeting girl.”

  He grabbed two beers and slid in beside her on the blanket. “Opposites attract.”

  “Yes.” She took a beer from his hand, letting her fingers linger. “Though the touch of your hand makes my pulse react.”

  “Okay, Tina Turner.” With a smirk, he drew his knees up. “I get it. What’s love got to do with it, right?”

  “Very good.” She lifted the longneck in salute. “There’s hope yet.”

  Chase scooted closer and leaned over, kissing her cheek. “I think there’s more than just hope.”

  She turned, meeting his lips. “You think?”

  “Much more.”

  Despite her inner cat’s purr, she pulled back, not wanting this to escalate to another tangle in the tartan. They needed to get to know each other outside the sheets. “Tell me about growing up in Boston. What were you like as a child?”

  “It was pretty average, I guess,” he replied, tipping his beer to his lips. “What do you want to know?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. What were you like in school? Were you a nerd or a jock, or maybe you were a student athlete and the best of both? Your mom was obviously a good cook. Did you have family dinners on Sundays? What was Christmas like in your house?”

  “Whoa, slow down, killer. I thought Malcolm would have provided a detailed dossier on me along with the prenup.”

  She shoved at his shoulder. “Not funny, Chase.”

  “But?”

  A sheepish grin tickled the corner of her lips. “He offered.”

  “Ah HA!”

  She shoved at him again. “Hey! I turned him down, Mr. Judgy. I wanted this to happen as organically as possible, just as we discussed. Regular people find out about one another bit by bit.”

  “Yeah, but they usually do so before they say I do.”

  Cecily looked at him. “Are you sorry you signed up for this?”

  “No.” Chase covered her hand with his. “So far, it’s been everything I’d hoped it would be.”

  “Me, too.”

  He slipped his hand free to reach for the picnic basket beside the blanket. “You hungry?”

  “Always. But you still haven’t answered my questions.”

  Chase flipped open the top of the hamper and dug inside for the fried chicken and potato salad they packed for lunch, along with crusty French bread and slices of thick chocolate cake.

  “I already told you how I nearly lost the bar to a single hand of poker,” he said, licking excess frosting from his thumb. “That was right after my dad died, ten years ago. What I didn’t tell you was I lost my mother six months earlier. You talk about skills. I was a Boy Scout, that’s true, but my skills run deeper than that. We’re a military family. Army. My brother, Stephan, and I each served two tours in Afghanistan. I came home. He didn’t. Mom never got over Stephan’s death. After she passed, Dad just faded. It’s like he didn’t want to go on living, even for me. Afterward, everything was left to me. The bar, the bank accounts and the grief.”

  19

  Cecily reached for his hand, surprised he didn’t pull away. Her heart squeezed as he let her lace her fingers with his, sharing the painful memory. “Leave the food, Chase. I’m suddenly not that hungry.”

  He flipped the hamper lid closed and turned toward her on the blanket. “I didn’t tell you this to make you pity me, Cecy. You wanted to know about my life. However uncomfortable, this is my story.” He ran his thumb over her hand. “I guess we’re not really that different. We’re both orphans, but we have each other now, right?”

  “I guess. At least you had both your parents for most of your life, and you knew you were loved, unconditionally. I lost my mother before I was old enough to remember her, and then suddenly my stepmother, Susan, was in the picture, with a new baby that turned out not to be my father’s child. After that letdown, my dad became exacting and demanding of me. All because the Montgomery line and everything that entailed was in my hands.”

  “Were you sent away to boarding school like most rich kids, or were you allowed to stay home?”

  A soft grin played on her lips. “Home. I attended a private school in New York City, so I got to see my father.” She nodded almost to herself. “He was pretty involved with my schooling. To be honest, having him around for plays, track meets, and teacher conferences was kind of cool, even if he was a bit of a bastard. At least he loved me enough to
show interest.”

  “Track meets, huh? I played a little hockey in middle school and then in high school. True, I wasn’t the best of students, but I managed a solid B-plus average. Got me into college, anyway. There were just so many distractions.”

  She laughed. “Distractions? Another way of saying you were a ladies’ man?”

  “Maybe a little. But my brother Stephan was a legendary Casanova. I can still see my mother chasing him all over the house with her chancla for his indiscretions.” His eyes grew soft, and he laughed a little. “The neighbors would hear him down the block. ‘Mama, ow…stop! I’m sorry! OW!’” He lifted one hand, ducking an invisible attack.

  “A chancla?”

  Chase nodded with a grin. “The deadliest weapon known to a Latin kid. Mama’s flipflop.” He kissed her fingers and then let go of her hand to open to food basket again. “You might not be hungry, but all this remembering has left me starving.”

  Scooting over, he placed the foil-wrapped chicken between them, along with the container of potato salad, bread and dessert. Cecily took the paper plates and plastic cutlery wrapped in napkins and set two places.

  “Christmas was a lot of fun,” he continued, taking a bite of a crispy chicken leg. “Like most Latin families, we celebrate on Christmas Eve. Lots of presents, music, dancing, and of course, tons of food. The bar was closed to the general public, but open to everyone in the neighborhood. No one was turned away. Lots of good vibes. Good karma. I think that’s part of the reason God sent someone to save me from myself that fateful day. So I didn’t throw my life away because of grief and guilt.

  “I got help, and then gave help. I volunteer at the local Veterans Center, helping other soldiers deal with transitioning home. Every Vet loses a part of themselves when they face combat, and when they come home it’s a silent war just to feel normal again. It takes time, patience and a lot of love for people to be that honest, and push through their pain. It’s why I can’t stand underhanded people, like your stepbrother, Jackson. People out for themselves.”