"You look tired."
"You're a ways from a perfect ten yourself, big man," she shot back at him.
He gave her what was, for him, a mild glare. "I didn't mean it that way and you know it. No one finds you more beautiful than I do."
That bit of flattery stopped cold any flippant remark that might have been on the tip of her tongue. They'd had this argument before, because she had no delusions at all as to how she looked. She was, to put it baldly, average at best. She had a reasonable figure, but it wasn't a knockout one like most of the women who hung around the club, most of whom she knew he'd had at one point or another. She had nice hair and pretty eyes, and her skin had cleared up quickly once she hit her teens, and that was another asset, but even all together, they didn't add up to a ten. She was a solid five, five and a half or so, and she was fine with that.
But he wasn't. She wasn't exactly sure what he saw when he looked at her, but then she realized that it was probably something close to what she saw when she looked at him. To her, he was the sexiest guy around, but it wasn't just his looks, although she loved his size and his muscles and his tattoos, but it was the whole package. His cocky attitude – which he could more than back up in an instant – the fact that she knew he donated a quarter of all of his earnings, not to a church, but to the children's ward at the hospital, and that he had his own code of honor. It might not work for everyone, and it definitely glossed over a lot of stuff, but if he called you friend, then you could count on the fact that he had your back. One hundred and ten percent, at all times, and you could call on him to do, quite literally, anything you needed, and he would never flinch from whatever you asked.
But he didn't like hearing her putting herself down in any way, and one day they had stopped at a huge flea market on the way home from somewhere, and it had a pretty big selection of vintage clothing, which was something she adored. There was an actual antebellum dress there that was reminiscent of something Scarlett O'Hara might have worn, and Mari fell in love with it, despite the fact that she knew it was not for her.
She made the mistake of saying within his earshot – which, considering his alter ego was a damn site more than any human's – "That's too pretty for me."
He was instantly at her elbow, asking her pointedly to show him exactly what it was that she considered "too pretty" for her.
Mari didn't hesitate to bring him to the dress, trying to diffuse the situation – about which he looked inordinately annoyed – and explain that she hadn't meant that she wasn't pretty enough for the dress itself, but rather that the style was too fussy for her.
He didn't look like he believed her at first, but then she began to try on some of the "I Love Lucy" style hats and even bought one that she found she liked, and that seemed to calm him down better than anything else she could have said or done.
Chapter Six
Now, he was just deliberately making her feel uncomfortable, so she jumped up to fill the insulated mug she had gotten him so that he would always have cold water to sip. It went everywhere with him, especially now that he was going to PT, instead of them coming to him. He was getting just well enough to start fussing about all of the doctor's appointments she dragged him to. But he was just that happy for it – and for her – at the end of a day of doing nothing more than sitting in waiting rooms and getting in and out of cars had him asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Although any sudden movements still hurt him, he dove a bit to that side of the bed and caught her free hand as she turned. "I know I'll never be able to repay you, but thank you for taking care of me."
Of course, her eyes instantly flooded with tears, so she was reluctant to turn back around to him, and when she answered him, her voice was tremulous, "Please. You took a bullet that was intended for me. You saved my life, at the risk of your own. There's nothing I can do to pay you back for that."
He held fast to her hand, one callused thumb rubbing lazily over hers. "Why don't we just call ourselves even?"
Mari snorted. "I'd have to wait on you, hand and foot, for the rest of my life to even begin to settle that debt."
He tugged on her arm, and she reluctantly turned her head back towards him, but not before he got that shit eating grin on his face and started to say, "That would work for m –" But then he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and whispered roughly, "Oh, baby, you're crying!" That wasn't at all like her. She didn't have a drama queen bone in her body, at least not with him. Perhaps because she knew that he wouldn't put up with that crap for a second.
He could see it in her eyes that she was just going to turn tail and run from him, and he unabashedly used his current disability and her tender heart when it came to his injuries to get her to sit down on the edge of the bed. "You know I'll get up and chase after you," he promised. "And that wouldn't be good for me. Besides…" He winked at her as she finally, ungraciously, caved and plopped down on the bed in a completely unladylike manner. "You never want to run from a predator, Mari. You know better than that."
Those last words, coming from him in that disciplinary tone of his, made the gooseflesh rise all over her body and the hair at the back of her neck stand up. Of course, her nipples had immediately begun to poke impudently out from under her bra and her t-shirt, and she knew her panties hadn't escaped unscathed, either. He might not be a hundred percent, but his libido was back, full force, and she knew that he would ignore every other signal from his body to get to her.
Their desire for each other hadn't really reared its ugly head for the months that he'd been sick, and she'd much rather they stayed under wraps. It was so much easier to behave like she knew she could around him when he was truly ill and she was just an asexual nurse who took care of him.
Switching back to a more neutral topic, Mari said, "I won't consider that you're completely recovered until you walk back through the door of the club."
He didn't quite smile at that, preferring to just drink her in. This was as close as he had been allowed to get to her in over eighteen long, lonely months, and he intended to take full advantage of it.
His silence made her uneasy in a way it didn't used to, so she began to look down and fiddle with the blankets. Then, a thought struck her. "Would you prefer it if I went home? I kind of moved myself in here when you were sick, but you're pretty close to being fine on your own, and, if I'm cramping your style," she bit out hard, floundering fast with the horrific image of him bringing some floozy back to his room that she couldn't get any further. Her throat just seized up at the idea.
"You stop that right now, or injured or not I'm going to haul you over my lap." He gave her one of those looks where his chin was lowered almost to his chest, and he was peeping out from under his heavy brow at her and looking downright threatening. "You're not cramping my style. You're an angel to take on the burden of caring for me. I can't imagine too many others were volunteering to do it."
He was right, there, but then she would have bulldozed right over them, anyway, even if they had.
As much as he was a well-respected and essential part of their tight knit little clan, there was no getting around the fact that Tek made people nervous. He wasn't the easiest soul to be around on the best of days, and on a bad day, pretty much anyone would be lucky to get away from him with all their parts still attached and in proper working order.
"You're a true friend, Mari Rose Buchanan, and I'm honored to call you that," he said quietly, bringing the back of her hand to his lips in a soft, tender kiss and making her blush neon bright for his efforts. "And I hope you feel the same about me."
She did, and nodded vehemently, but then the tears returned because she felt so much more for him that she wasn't allowed to say or show, even to him, now, and he seemed to be perfectly fine with that.
Not wanting to descend into sobs with him right there, she took advantage of a moment when his grip had gone lax and pulled away from him, running out the door with her hand over her mouth, sobbing.
E
very instinct he had made him want to follow after her and bring her back to the bedroom with him, but, he knew how that would end up, and it wouldn't be good for either of them. Even if he wasn't fully capable, he would avail himself of her myriad charms and have her screaming from the paradise he brought her to, in a matter of minutes.
But that wouldn't have accomplished much, except to make them both feel guilty.
He glanced at the tray she had thoughtfully set up on the bed for him with everything he might want at his fingertips – cell phone, remotes, etc – wondering if he should call Abby to come console Mari.
But then, it hit him, out of the blue.
He loved her.
He knew it in a thunderbolt moment of clarity such as he had never had in his life. And when he picked up the phone, it wasn't Abby he was calling. He could hear that Mari was talking to her out in the living room, now, anyway, and she wasn't the one who could give him what he wanted.
* * *
As much as she wanted to, Mari knew she couldn't continue taking care of Tek the way she had before their little conversation. From that point on, she backed away from him in an effort to keep herself from throwing herself at him like a common skank.
Abby stepped in, and Tek quickly forced himself to appear better than he was, so that she, too, stopped coming, and he could recover on his own, which was the manner that he preferred since Mari had decided she could no longer help him. A few weeks after she had stopped dancing attendance on him, Tek walked into the clubhouse. It was a down day; they didn't really have much going on at that moment, so everyone was there, just hanging, and he received a hero's welcome.
Mari came out from the back office to see what all the commotion was about, and when she laid eyes on him for the first time, fully recovered, since that awful day, she had to blink back the tears.
Everyone descended on him at once, of course, and he made his way through the crowd, hugging someone here, slapping someone's back there, until he ended up standing right in front of Mari and saying nothing.
"I'm so glad you're feeling good enough to come in." Mari offered him her hand, and Tek raised an eyebrow at her, then turned to the crowd, who all seemed to be anxiously awaiting something – perhaps for Tek to step over the line and Cash to put him in his place, or Mari to throw herself at him, or something interesting, anyway.
But none of that happened. Instead, Tek turned to address all of the faces behind him, saying, "My very own Florence Nightingale, my guardian angel, who spent all of her time day and night nursing me back to health, and she thinks I'm going to let her get away with just a lousy handshake."
Before she could even think to back away from him, he stepped in front of her and pulled her tightly up against him. With one hand firmly claiming the small of her back and just the beginnings of her bottom cheeks and, keeping the lower half of her body pressed obscenely up against what she knew was his rampant erection, using his other hand to keep her head tipped to one side, he kissed her, deeply, for everyone – including Cash and Abby – to see.
As much as she wanted to, Mari did not kiss him back. She felt overwhelmed and bamboozled, as if she'd missed an important memo, and she'd become so immersed in the daily workings of the club – since she no longer had a job to go to – that it was darned near impossible. When he finally ended the kiss, he took a hold of her hands, saying quietly, "Thank you for what you did."
"You're welcome," she barely got out through the tears.
Tek reached up and brushed one of them away with the side of his thumb. "It's a happy day, Mari. I'm alive and I'm here, because of you. Let's celebrate!"
And celebrate they did. Cash brought out a fifty-year-old bottle of scotch he'd been saving for a special occasion, and there were toasts all around. Mari tried to go back to her office, but Abby and Cash wouldn't let her. Cash went so far as to close the door and lock it, which didn't really mean anything since she had a key. But she knew when he gave her that look – one that was uncomfortably close to the ones Tek gave her when she was on the verge of misbehaving – that she wasn't going to get anything more accomplished that day.
"It's a party, Mari. Let your hair down and enjoy it," he said, in a manner that made it much more of an order than a request.
She did her best, but still hung more around the outskirts of the drinkers and gamblers and eaters. Finally taking over the grill so that the guys could go find a girl to dance with, drink, or play poker, or all three at once, which some of them seemed bound and determined to do, although that was mostly the younger ones.
It helped that she was outside and he was in, sitting around the poker table and probably taking everyone for every penny they plunked down. He had weird luck at cards like that, and he knew better than to try to cheat fellow pack members, so it wasn't that he had marked the cards or anything.
The only times she had to see him was when she was bringing platters full of brats, hot dogs, hamburgers and steaks into the party, and every time she did her eyes sought him out, partly to reassure herself that he was still okay, and partly because her soul craved just the sight of him. It was what she'd had to get by on before he was shot, and now she was trying to get herself used to not seeing him on a daily basis again, not having the right to touch him or kiss him or really even talk to him beyond polite chit chat.
And as soon as she thought she could do so without anyone noticing – once they were all full of liquor and meat and chips and cheesecake – but mostly liquor – she made her way back home to collapse on the couch in her rattiest t-shirt and an old pair of flannel pajama bottoms that were both infinitely comfortable. She had even foregone her bra, which she almost never did, in favor of complete bliss.
Just as she was going to turn on the TV, there was a knock at her door. It was after nine o'clock, and she wasn't at all sure she wanted to have any visitors, especially considering the fact that she had essentially already gotten ready for bed. So she stood in the small foyer and asked through the door, "Who is it?"
"It's Tek. Let me in."
Dear God, that was the last person she expected to show up on her doorstep! Abby or Cash come to chide her for leaving the party early she could see, but what was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here!
"Mari." He'd never been known for his patience, and he didn't like the idea that she was taking so long to answer him at all.
She couldn't believe that she was doing it, but she pulled the front door open, and there he was, standing there as if he'd just won the lottery, with a huge bouquet of lavender roses in his arms.
Mari reached for the latch to the screen door and undid it, and Tek took over from there, marching in as if he owned the place and watching her covering her mouth with her hands as he handed her the huge bouquet.
"They're beautiful," she wept.
Tek lifted her chin with his index finger. "Nowhere near as beautiful as you are."
She snorted and grew self-conscious. She was hardly dressed to receive visitors – even him. "Let me go –"
Mari took a step towards the hallway and the relative safety of her bedroom, where she could slip into something less comfortable.
"No."
Tek caught her arm and pull her against him.
Confused, Mari asked, "No what?"
"No I won't let you go. I don't intend to ever let you go again, Ms. Buchanan." He leaned down and stole a kiss before she had a chance to react and move away, but as soon as it ended, she put her hands on his chest and tried to escape his hold.
"Tek, no, you can't – we shouldn't – we can't."
"Oh, yes we can, Mari." He looked downright maniacal. "You were right. Just before you stopped taking care of me, you said I had saved your life. Well, the better I got to feeling, the more I decided that we ought to get something special out of that, you and I, because you don't know it, but you've saved mine several times over since we first got together – not quite as literally as I did yours, but with the same effect. So I had a talk with your b
rother, which is only the right thing to do when one intends to marry a woman – to talk to her nearest male relative and get permission to do so from him."
That was a tradition that the weres still followed, no matter how creakily old fashioned it was. And her head was about to explode with the realization that he was speaking about her. "You talked to Cash about you and me?" she asked, barely able to breathe the question lest the walls have ears.
And in her family, they sometimes did.
"Yes, and he agreed that we'd both been through a lot. He was impressed by your devotion to me – and so am I, believe me – and I managed to persuade him that we should have another chance together. That I'll take care of you better than he thinks I will, and that I want you for my mate for the rest of my life." He didn't go into the part how Cash had promised him that if he ever hurt his sister, Cash would have his balls on a platter, and Tek had no illusions about the fact that he meant exactly what he said in this instance.
There could be no more casual flings with the skanks who hung around the club, no dipping his wick and sampling the merchandise at the whorehouse they ran whenever he was asked to provide security up there, and no more hitting on women of any size, shape, color or religious tendencies. If he wanted Mari, then Mari would have to be more than enough for him till the end of his days, and he knew she would be.
She'd keep him guessing, which would, in turn, keep him from straying. And despite their differences, they had enough in common – especially in the bedroom – that he couldn't imagine ever being bored by her.
For her part, Mari was wondering just how many pieces he'd had to beat her brother into in order to get him to agree. She wondered seriously if she shouldn't call his cell just to make sure that he was still among the living.
Packed: The Enforcer: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Page 7