That’s all it was. Moon fever.
That rush of hormones and endorphins that charged every shifter’s system until they had a chance to run it off. Or find another way to put it to use.
Which they would not be doing.
He closed the door behind him.
She stood in the kitchen, looking very feminine in his very masculine home. She swept a length of hair behind her shoulder. “Your house is amazing. Like something out of a magazine. A men’s magazine, but still.”
“Thank you.” Had that actually been a compliment? He wasn’t sure. “You…need anything?”
She laughed, a light, sweet sound that reminded him of clear water and sunshine. “I need everything. A room, a shower, a meal. Preferably in that order.” She held her hands out. “Sorry, but that’s my current status.”
“Right. I’ll show you your room.”
It was upstairs, next to the room he used as a gym. On the other side of that was his bedroom. The only reason he even had a guest room was because Bridget and his mother had insisted he needed one.
He pushed the door open. “I need to wash the sheets. My parents just stayed and I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon.”
“I can do that.” Ivy smiled as she looked around. “There’s no way you decorated this yourself.”
“My sister did it. Too much?” It was to him. All those extra pillows on the bed seemed pointless. They basically existed to be taken off and put back on the bed. No other purpose.
“No, it’s perfect.”
He watched her walk in. Took note of how nicely shaped her backside was and how long her legs were. Reminded himself again to keep his gaze at eye level. “As for food, I don’t cook much.” Or at all, really.
She put her saddlebags on the bed. “Whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky.” She was still looking around at the room. “And I’m so hungry even a PB&J would be manna right now. Those pancakes were good, but you know how it is when the full moon is near. Hungry all the time.”
He nodded. “I can do better than that.”
Or could he? He scratched his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten groceries that weren’t six-packs of beer or PowerBars. He usually ate lunch and dinner at Howler’s if he wasn’t tied up with work, which in Nocturne Falls was rare. Eating there was his way of spending time with Bridget. Didn’t hurt that the food was above and beyond anything he could make for himself. And free, despite the many times he’d tried to pay. “I better check the fridge first. Come down when you’re ready.”
“Okay, thanks.” She nodded, eyes bright, but looking a little bit overwhelmed.
Was that because of him? He left her in the room and went downstairs. When he hit the kitchen, he paused to splay his hands on the granite counter. He leaned in, taking a deep breath of air that didn’t hold her intoxicating perfume. Was he really about to marry this woman? He’d never thought of himself as husband material, even though he’d been born into a position that ensured marriage was in his future.
Problem was, the future he’d done his best to prepare for was not being a husband. It was all about becoming alpha. He’d gone into the Army Rangers, something he knew had made his father proud. After two tours, Hank had had enough and taken on the job of sheriff in this crazy town.
The things he knew about were strategy, leadership, discipline, rules, and teamwork. What he didn’t know about were relationships with women.
Or marriage.
He knew what a loving relationship looked like from his parents, but their arranged match was nothing like this one.
There was no question whether he’d agree to it. He would. It was his duty as the firstborn of the alpha, and he wouldn’t have a pack war on his hands.
He’d seen enough bloodshed in his days. No way was he going to be responsible for bringing even a piece of that to his family, his pack or the town that had become a sanctuary for him, his brother, and his sister.
Enough thinking. He’d made his decision. He’d do his duty. Ivy wasn’t the worst the Kincaids could have offered him, that was for sure.
He went to the fridge. Bare. Unless ketchup, a jar of olives, or two-day-old pizza qualified as lunch. Or beer. He never drank when he was on duty. Never. And rarely before five, but today…today might be an exception.
No. There were no exceptions to hard and fast rules. That’s how things went south.
He grabbed a bottle of Coke, twisted the top off and drank it while he checked the freezer. Bridget had stocked it with a few things—a lasagna and two tubs of chili, but both of those would take some defrosting.
That gave him only a few options. Run to the store for food, which meant leaving Ivy alone in his house. He wasn’t comfortable with that. Not yet. That left him with calling in an order to Howler’s. Technically, they didn’t deliver, but Bridget would send one of the bus boys for him.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
“Howler’s. Bridget speaking.”
“Hey, Bridge. What’s the special today?”
“Hey, bro! Bacon cheeseburgers with Cajun fries. You coming in for lunch?”
“Not today. Can you send two with the works to my house?”
“Working on a case from home?”
“Something like that.” He’d break the news about Ivy to her and Titus later.
“You got it, brosef.”
“Thanks.” He hung up.
Footsteps padded down the steps. “I take it the fridge was bare?”
“Yes, I…” He turned around and immediately understood why Ivy’s clothes had fit in her saddlebags. There wasn’t much to them. The denim cutoffs and purple tank top she wore would have fit in the glove box of his duty car. Or maybe his back pocket.
She was fresh from the shower, and her hair hung in long, damp strands around her face. She’d washed her makeup off and now wore none. Or very little. Hank didn’t know enough about it to tell which. Either way, she was still gorgeous. Maybe a little less intimidating fresh-faced.
Lacy black bra straps peeked from under the skinny tank top, making him wonder what the rest of her underthings looked like. A delicate vine tattoo trailed from her shoulder to her elbow on her right arm.
And her legs…her legs were endless and tan and endless. Her toes were painted bright, glittery blue.
In need of a diversion, he straightened the towel hanging over the sink cabinet door. “No, nothing in the fridge. I ordered bacon burgers and fries.”
“Sounds good to me. Can I get one of those?”
He looked up. “What?”
She pointed to the Coke in his hand. “A soda.”
“Sure. You can have anything. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
She opened the fridge and laughed. “I see why you ordered out.”
“I need to get to the grocery store.”
She grabbed a Coke, twisted off the top and leaned against the counter. She held the bottle out to him. “Cheers. Here’s to…getting to know each other.”
He could drink to that. Especially if it meant finding out the truth behind her reason for being here and not running. Intuition told him it was more than just obligation but he wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of her motivation was fear of her father. He tapped his bottle against hers and they both drank.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she was done. “I could do that for you, you know.”
“Do what?” Damn, she was distracting with that much skin showing.
“Groceries.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Just like washing the sheets. I’d like to be useful while I’m here.”
While she was here. Made it sound temporary. Maybe his theory about them being married in name only was on target. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“That would be good. You’ve got to eat.”
“And you don’t?”
“I don’t eat at home much.”
She nodded like she was processing what that
meant. “I won’t see much of you, is that what you’re saying?”
“I…” He didn’t want to leave her alone in the house but now that he thought about it, what choice did he have? He had to go back to work and he couldn’t exactly have her hang out at the station all day. “I eat at Howler’s most of the time.”
“I think I’ll avoid that place if it’s all right with you.”
“My sister owns it.”
She set her soda on the counter. “Awesome.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I just didn’t realize how many bad first impressions I’d made already.”
“Bridget didn’t say anything to me about what happened.”
“Bridget? As in the woman behind the bar?”
He nodded.
“I was right about her being a shifter.” Ivy sighed. “Any other Merrows in town I should know about?”
“My brother, Titus. He’s the fire chief.”
“The one my father saved?”
“Mm-hmm.” He leaned on the counter. “And now that Clemens has called in that debt, neither of us has much say in the matter.”
“Does that mean you’re in?”
“Aren’t you?”
She laughed bitterly. “Refuse an order from Clemens Kincaid? I’m a lot smarter than I look.”
“You look plenty smart to me.” She did. There was a bright, determined spark in her gaze. Like a woman with a plan. It was both encouraging and unsettling. “What do you do?”
“What’s my trade, you mean?”
He nodded.
“I do hair. I guess I should look for a salon in town, see if I can rent a chair. Or maybe get my foot in as a receptionist.”
“Are you planning on staying here?”
She gave him an odd look. “You must have a different definition of married than I do.”
“I just thought…you didn’t bring much with you.” So much for his deductive powers.
She shrugged. “I figured we’d get to know each other, make sure we were compatible enough to make it work, then I’d get the rest of my stuff.”
At the word stuff, she glanced at the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist and her mouth bent in an odd way. His gut told him that tattoo was significant. He wondered what it meant to her. When she was ready, he was sure she’d tell him. “If you want to get groceries, that would be good. I’ll drop you off at the store, then head into the office. You can call me when you’re ready to go and I’ll come get you and bring you back.”
“Okay. Happy to do it.”
“I’ll be right back.” He jogged upstairs to the small safe installed in the wall of his walk-in closet. He punched in the code, took out three hundred dollars, locked it back up and returned to the kitchen.
He put the money on the counter. “That should cover it.”
She nodded at the bills. “Yeah, definitely. Anything you don’t like?”
“No. I’ll eat whatever.”
The radio attached to his shoulder squawked. “Hank?”
He pinched it to respond. “Birdie, you’re supposed to call me Sheriff.”
“Why? You forget what your job is?”
Ivy laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.
He sighed and spoke into the radio. “What do you need?”
The doorbell rang. Ivy held up her hands and whispered, “I’ll get it.”
He nodded and listened as Birdie rambled on about a tourist with a parking ticket complaint, turning to watch Ivy.
Maybe he’d find a way to let Birdie go and make Ivy the new receptionist. He’d have to see if there was a rule about the sheriff’s receptionist having a record. Ivy sauntered toward the front door, her hips swaying gently. Even if there was a rule, maybe an exception could be made. Having her at the station would be a great way to keep an eye on her.
Which, as it turned out, was quite a pleasurable activity.
Ivy opened the door and stared into the face of the woman who’d brought her a beer and a burger last night. The bartender from Howler’s. Hank’s sister. She had a large brown sack in one hand. The grease-stained bag gave off delicious aromas and Ivy realized in that instant Hank had ordered the food from Howler’s.
Oh boy. This was gonna be fun. “Hi there.”
Bridget stared back. “You look famil—aren’t you the woman they arrested in my bar last night?”
“In the back parking lot and not an actual arrest because the charges were dropped, but yes.”
Bridget frowned, which made her no less pretty. Bridget’s deep auburn looked like it was bottle-enhanced, but so what? It worked really well on her. There was something reassuring about Hank’s sister being well put together. “What are you doing in my brother’s house? Are the holding cells full?”
“No! He brought me here. In fact…” Ivy took a breath, the truth on the tip of her tongue. “We’re going to be—”
“Bridget.” Hank hustled past Ivy to take the bag from his sister’s hand. “You should have sent one of the bar backs.”
Bridget frowned. “Why? So I wouldn’t see you shacked up with a perp?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I know you haven’t gotten any in a while, but this is sad.”
Ivy put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a perp.” Well, she sort of was. Still. Harsh. Interesting that Handsome Hank hadn’t been scoring lately. What was up with that? She’d have thought the local talent would be all over Mr. Single-In-Uniform.
“Bridget, it’s not what you think, and I’ll explain later,” Hank said. He started to close the door.
Bridget stuck her foot in the way. “Why not now?”
“Shouldn’t you be watching your bar?”
“Don’t change the subject.” Bridget shot Ivy a look. “What are you doing here?”
Ivy answered, “Like I was about to say, we’re supposed to be mar—”
“Later, Bridget.” He glared at Ivy.
Ivy crossed her arms. “What’s the matter? Don’t want your sister to know you’re about to get hitched to a Kincaid?”
Bridget swiveled toward Ivy like she was on a pivot. “What did you just say?”
Hank muttered a dirty word. “Living room. Both of you.”
Bridget’s face was screwed up six ways to Sunday, but she stepped inside. He shut the door, steam almost visible from his ears. Poor guy. Apparently, he’d wanted to keep his nuptials a secret. Too bad. Ivy had enough secrets to keep to be adding one more to the list. He pointed toward the interior of the house and both women headed in that direction. He followed after them.
Ivy let Bridget lead since she hadn’t had a tour of the place yet. The living room was quite a space. Bridget sat on one end of a massive brown leather sofa, so Ivy took the opposite end. A huge stone fireplace and mammoth flat-screen fought for attention in the room. Definitely a guy’s room. There wasn’t much in the way of personal touches, but maybe that was because he worked a lot. Or because there was no woman in his life, outside of his sister, to do that sort of stuff.
Hank must have dropped the food off in the kitchen, because he no longer had the bag when he came in. “Bridget, just listen until I’m done. You can ask questions later.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Bridge, please.”
She sighed. “Go on.”
Hank spilled the details of the treaty and the marriage that would seal it. Ivy watched Bridget’s face. Her expressions ranged from anger to horror to sympathy. Clearly she and her brother were a lot closer than Ivy and her brothers. Hank took a deep breath and finished. “So that’s it. Ivy and I are going to take the next few days to make sure we’re compatible, but that’s basically a formality at this point. The marriage will happen in three days. On the full moon.”
Bridget frowned. “Dad said you had to do this?”
“No. He gave me an out. But if the marriage doesn’t happen, Clemens has promised war. I’m not doing that to my family or my pack.”
Ivy sucked in a breath, surprised her father had gone so far as to threaten war. He did whatever he thought necessary to get what he wanted, but going to war would be a new low even for him.
Hank and Bridget looked at her.
Ivy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Really?” Bridget’s brows went up. “You had no idea?”
“No, I didn’t.” Ivy shot a look right back at her. “Believe me or don’t, but I’m not exactly part of my father’s inner circle. I didn’t even know about this marriage deal until yesterday.” And then her father had given her half an hour to pack and get moving, which was the real reason she’d brought only a few things with her.
And she still hadn’t texted him. Well, screw him. He had to know she was here. She’d call as soon as she damn well got around to it.
Bridget made a soft noise. “That sucks. It all sucks, actually.”
“It’s what happens to the children of pack leaders.” Hank stared at his sister pointedly. “You know that. I know that. Ivy knows that. And we aren’t always privy to the details.”
Bridget looked at Ivy again, this time her gaze a little softer. “You’re lucky you ended up with Hank. It could have been a lot worse.”
Ivy held back a snort. Bridget really had no idea what worse was. “I don’t really know your brother yet, but I’m sure that’s true.”
Bridget returned her attention to Hank. “You’re definitely going to get married?”
“You see another option?”
“No.” Bridget sighed and leaned back, her gaze shifting to Ivy once again. “You do anything to hurt him, and I swear I will—”
“Bridget,” Hank interrupted. “Making threats in front of an officer of the law isn’t advisable. Not to mention that’s my soon-to-be wife you’re threatening.” Hank’s face was as serious as could be.
“And?” Bridget challenged him.
Ivy snorted out a laugh.
Hank and Bridget looked at her again.
“Sorry, but the whole soon-to-be wife thing just sounds so…weird.” She composed herself, because there was no doubt by Bridget’s stern expression that she was serious. “I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. Despite my start.”
The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) Page 4