A Moment for Tara

by Tamar Sloan

  Chapter Seven

  Didn't See That Coming

  The following day is painted by normal. Classes, joking through recess, classes, laughing through lunch. At the end of the day we take our usual scenic route home from school — Noah and Mitch heading home via Wilmot. It’s funny how we’ve never thought of it as them dropping me off. Maybe because if the roles were reversed, I never would have blinked at doing it for them.

  There’s the usual talk in the car. I turn to Mitch, who’s driving. “I considered oiling Mr. Dougherty’s joints today.”

  Mitch grins. “Do you think his social security number is in the single digits?”

  “He could probably tell us what Gandalf looks like without a beard.”

  Mitch chuckles, the rich sound a feather stroke down my spine.

  But the moment you look beneath our routine, standard banter you see that nothing’s normal. Not for the first time today I ‘accidentally’ brush Mitch’s arm. There’s an intake of breath, I’m not really sure if it’s mine or his, but it doesn’t really matter. For the millionth time today my eyes find his and I drown in deepwater blue in the space of a heartbeat. So much emotion is swirling in there, layers of meaning. Mitch drags his eyes away and focuses on the road, thankfully one of us is concentrating on not killing us.

  But it still takes me another five heartbeats to look away. Since THE kiss his lips are a magnet for my focus. His hair one of the many sensations I want to feel again.

  I turn to look back at Noah — whose voice has been missing in the to-ing and fro-ing — to find he’s looking out the window, our standard banter has pretty much hit the shield that now surrounds him and slid to the ground. The fact that Mr. I-Never-Miss-A-Thing hasn’t commented on the chemistry that practically arcs every time Mitch and I blink says everything that’s not being said.

  Because Noah isn’t just lost out the car window, Noah is wandering, floundering.

  I glance back at Mitch to find his lips are tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel. This time when my hand touches his arm it’s deliberate. He glances at me as he clasps my hand for the briefest second. An image of him lifting my hand, his lips brushing my knuckles, flashes through my mind and I wonder if it’s my wish or his.

  When we see the sign — the foreboding words FOR SALE sliced over by even more frightening words UNDER OFFER — the three of us move in unison. Noah straightens, the car slows as Mitch’s foot lifts off the gas, and I frown. It’s an unspoken agreement that we’ll pull in even though there’s so little we can do.

  Rather than pulling over just off the highway Mitch takes the track into the forest, following it until it ends at a wall of trees. We climb out, and Noah stretches. “I’ll look around to see if I can find any tracks that might give us some info.”

  I smile. “Cool, we’ll case the joint for the protest tomorrow.”

  Noah nods, eyes already focused on the ground as he follows some trail neither of us can see. For some reason it takes him into the trees and within seconds he’s swallowed by their branches. I look at Mitch. We both know Noah is using his Alpha-taught skills without realizing it.

  Mitch sags against the truck. “He was meant to be a Were, Tara. Darn it, he was born to be Alpha.”

  It’s only a few short steps and I’m in his arms, sinking into the heat that’s been calling me all day. “I think we just have to believe it’ll all make sense in its own time.”

  “I love your faith.” He brushes a lock of my hair back from my face. “I think I’m going to need it.”

  I look up, loving those deep blue eyes. “I love that you’ll stand by him — Noah knows he won’t be doing this alone.” My hand comes up to rest on his cheek, my fingertips brushing his dark chocolate hair. “I love that you build support for everyone around you.” Although his eyes simultaneously darken and heat, it’s the sharp intake of breath that snags my attention. My gaze is drawn to his parted lips. “And I love that I’ve found a whole other level of you that I love.”

  His palms come up to cup my face, those lips that I’m now hungering to taste moving down. He stops a butterfly breath away. “Only with you Tara, only with you.”

  And with those heart-soaring words our lips connect. It’s a slow burn this time, stronger, possibly deeper. Definitely deeper. I push in, seeking more of that profound connection, the skin-tingling passion. Mitch obliges, arms wrapping around me to press all of him against all of me. I let out some sort of sigh-groan-demand for more, my fingers finding that delicious chocolate hair. There’s an answering rumble from Mitch and I glory in kissing him — the one thing that is new with Mitch, that feels like it will never get old.

  We pull back, panting, smiling. Mitch rests his forehead on mine. “Tell me again why this is a secret?”

  I close my eyes, not wanting reality to color this glorious feeling. “There’s just too much going on, we need to be there for our packs.”

  When Mitch moves back I open them to find him watching me, brows quirked quizzically. I smile, reaching up on tip toes to grab another taste of deliciousness. “What’s the rush?”

  With that I grab his hand and start heading down the track, hoping for a distraction seeing I’m not making a whole lot of sense. But I can’t tell him that there’s only one person that needs convincing, and my plan works under the assumption that for that Alpha to come to the party, I need time.

  The sound of a car pulling off the highway, wheels crushing dry pine needles and engines stopping, is a gift from the gods of she-who-is-stalling. I glance back at Mitch, and he looks just as curious as me. In silence we head into the trees, knowing they’re probably just around the bend.

  My eyes adjust to the shadowy coolness and I discover that Noah didn’t get far. He’s squatting, fingers brushing a boot print in the soil. He straightens as we approach, mouth opening to talk.

  I shake my head, eyes widening. Noah looks at me like I’ve grown a second nose then turns to Mitch. When he looks like he’s still going to talk, Mitch’s arm shoots out to grasp his arm. Noah glances at him, the eyebrows that were hiked in question shooting down into a frown when Mitch indicates with his chin there’s someone ahead. Noah knows we heard whoever has arrived and he didn’t.

  “We’ll have to clear all of this.”

  We glance at each other, even Noah can hear that rough male voice. I mouth two words — the loggers.

  Cultured, English tones respond. “Yes, it’s unfortunate, but necessary.”

  An English logger? This guy’s voice says scones and tea, not forearms wider than your thighs.

  “You’re a genius Charles. This is just the place for it.”

  “Yes, I can’t believe our luck that the mayor has been so obliging.”

  Yeah, thanks to your under-the-table dealings. My hands tighten into fists and the impulse to storm into their little planning session flashes from my brain to my feet. Until warm, calloused fingers slide over my wrist and wrap around my iron grasp. My anger loses its edge, knowing what Mitch is trying to communicate. We need to hear what they have to say.

  “You were right. Jacksonville has hotels, it doesn’t need anymore.”

  We glance at each other, various levels of frown bouncing around. Hotels?

  “But not eco-cabins, now there’s an untapped goldmine. Right beside this majestic national park, we’ll have the naturalists, the middle classers looking for something different, and the rich looking to reconnect with nature.”

  My eyes widen. Eco tourism?

  “This place is magnificent, and we’ll keep most of it just the way it is. Cabins amongst massive pines. Walks deep into the forest.” Alarm bells start to drown out the heartbeat that had been thumping on my eardrums. This is bad, real bad.

  “Once the investors see it they’ll be throwing their check books at us.”

  Fingers snap in the silence. “Genius Jimmy.”

  There’s a pause and you just know Jimmy has no idea what he just suggested.

  “W
e’ll bring them here, much better than showing the concept plans. They’ll get a feel for this place.” There’s the rustle of steps. “I say we do it on twilight, more ambiance…less traffic.”

  Mitch’s hand tightens around mine. They’re still doing the dirty.

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Friday night I say, some could end up spending the weekend and seeing the sights…”

  The voices fade as we stay deep in the shadows. Minutes pass in silence as we wait to make sure we’re really alone.

  Mitch releases my hand, quickly glancing at his brother. But Noah is staring down the path, at the guys we heard but never saw, his whole body taut. He seems to consciously unwind himself as he turns to us. “We need to go tell our parents.”

  Our Alphas.

  He turns, takes a step forward and pauses, his back ramrod straight. “Is it clear?”

  My chest crumbles for the proud shoulders that are trying to hold it together. Mitch is silent, and I can feel the tension radiating from him like a taut rubber band.

  I walk forward, elbowing my bestie on the way through. “If they’re still there, I’ve got the Englishman, that leaves you to take Jimmy down.”

  There’s a harrumph, probably because I really dig the pointy end in. “I think a dodo could outsmart that guy.”

  I wrap my arm through his, blinking up at Noah, relieved to see that pensive look is washed away by a grin. “Feeling intimidated?”

  Mitch joins us on my other side. “You probably should be, remember the time you let Tara cut your hair?”

  Noah throws him an unimpressed glance. “She said she’d only trim it.”

  With one arm looped through my bestie’s, the other looped through the one that is so much more, we head back to the car.

  How could Dad not see how much stronger we are together?