by Celia Kyle
Except the doorknob sort of fell off in her hand. The fuck?
While she stared at the misshapen metal, Mason shoved the front door open and stepped inside. Lucy lifted her attention to Mason and then back to the useless doorknob before returning to Mason once more. Since she wasn’t about to get answers from a lifeless—useless—knob, she’d interrogate this jerk.
“What the hell happened to this?” She waved the doorknob at him. “And why bother knocking if you’re just going to break in anyway?” She snarled and hopped to her right, blocking his path.
Instead of answering, Mason jiggled the bag of groceries he carried and flashed her a shit-eating grin. “You could just give me a key and make it easy on both of us.”
Lucy snorted. “A key to a useless knob? Right.”
She remembered that small town residents could be interfering, overstepping busybodies but this was too much. She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his idiotic request when she caught sight of heaven in a plastic package within his bag. Her stomach grumbled, not-so-silently begging for the pieces of ambrosia he’d brought.
Okay, she still wouldn’t give him a key, but maybe she was acting a little too hastily. After all, the hottie brought bacon.
Bacon. Bacon. Bacon.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed and stepped aside to let him pass, but that wasn’t what he did. No, instead, Mason stepped into her space, crowding her against the wall and surrounding her with his presence. And thank God for that wall because her knees went weak as soon as a wave of his scent passed over her. It was woodsy and spicy and musky, all wrapped together with a deliciously muscular bow—powerful yet subtle. Was it his cologne? Or just his natural scent? Whatever it was, it had to be loaded with pheromones. From the moment the first tendrils teased her nose, she got all hot and tingly in all the right—no, wrong!—places.
Mason moved until no more than an inch separated their bodies, his heat scorching her with his nearness. He lifted his free hand and gently cupped her cheek. The touch set her skin on fire and the throbbing ache in her leg sped up to match her racing heartbeat. Soft pressure had her tilting her head back until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. Something she absolutely should not do if she wanted to keep her sanity. And keep her panties in place. But there was she was, her eyes locked on his, those soft green whirlpools sucking her in and refusing to release her.
“How are you feeling?” His tone was soft, concerned.
Terrible! Whether you know it or not, you got me all hot and bothered in my dreams last night so it’s your responsibility to fix it. We need a trip to Bangtown, STAT.
Lucy cleared her throat and fought to find her voice but only managed to whisper her response. “Fine.”
A muscle in Mason’s jaw twitched and then he nodded, releasing his hold—physical and mental. Free of his captive stare, she slumped against the wall at her back, digging her fingernails into the hard surface. He spun in place and then strode away from her, his heavy boots thudding against the wood floors. And all she could do was stare. Stare at that tight, firm, biteable ass.
No, bad Lucy. Bad.
Lucy wasn’t able to stop drooling until Mason disappeared into the kitchen, giving her back what little sanity she possessed. She didn’t like this guy. She didn’t even know him. Not really. Sure, during her conversation with Miss Violet she’d learned Mason Blackwood had helped build Ashtown into a vacation destination.
That didn’t mean he was trustworthy, though. Plenty of psychopaths fooled people into believing they were normal pillars of the community every day—politicians, religious leaders, Barney the Dinosaur…
No, wait. Barney just turned others into psychopaths as a form of self-preservation.
Lucy sighed and pushed away from the wall. As much as Mason tripped her trigger, she couldn’t let her guard down. Not even to honestly acknowledge her feelings about the man. Especially then.
Resolve freshly renewed, Lucy hobbled toward the kitchen, wincing every time she put weight on her injured leg. Before she even made it out of the entryway, Mason appeared out of nowhere and scooped her into his strong arms.
“What the hell!” she gasped and shoved against his chest in a pathetic effort to get away.
He ignored her complaints and wriggling, and strode toward the kitchen. She jostled against his chest, all too aware of the hard plane of muscle she was snuggled against. That warm, natural woodsiness enveloped her like a cocoon once more. All she ached to do was breathe deeply and savor that scent. Unfortunately, all she could manage was frantic panting.
Even as she fought him, she had to admit that the handful of seconds it took him to reach the kitchen table were some of the most blissful in her life. Not that she would ever admit being held by him was so delicious and comforting, even to herself. She even managed to convince herself that her reaction was due to the fever she’d been fighting since the previous night. Of course, that lie she told herself was proved false when he set her down in a chair and returned to his bag of groceries. A fierce disappointment gripped her heart the moment he released her, and it wouldn’t let go.
“So,” she said, mentally slapping herself back into reality, “is this the new routine? You break into my house, carry me around, and cook for me?”
Mason lifted a single brow as he pulled a dozen eggs from the bag. “Would you like it to be?”
“Only if I could have a couple more servants to feed me grapes and fan me with palm fronds.” Lucy laughed, just a little too brightly to be natural. The guy made her nervous. Sue her.
He turned and leaned one elbow on the counter as he gave her a sultry look, as if her every fantasy could be sated and all she had to do was ask.
Uh oh.
“You know I’m kidding, right?” She needed to get that out there. She didn’t want Mason fulfilling any fantasies—real or made up. “I definitely don’t want to you busting into my home every day.”
She didn’t care for the sly expression in his eyes, but he finally turned away with a barely audible, “Mmm hmmm.”
Pulling a frying pan off the rack hanging over the kitchen island, he opened the package of bacon and began laying them in the pan. “How many pieces do you want?”
“None.”
He froze and slowly turned to look at her in a mixture of utter bewilderment and horror. “You don’t like bacon?”
Her tummy rumbled again, making her feelings about bacon clear. No sense denying it. “Okay, I love bacon, but I can make it for myself, thank you very much. You don’t need to—”
“Thank God,” he blew out a harsh breath and dumped the entire pound into the pan. “For a minute there…”
“Listen, I really appreciate you bringing me food and all, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Or she was at least perfectly capable of calling an Uber to ferry her around Ashtown. Have credit card, will travel.
“Really.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, really. I’ve been doing it since I was a teenager.”
Mason’s lips pressed into a thin line, forming a white slash beneath his nose. “Lucy, you’re running a fever and you can hardly use your leg. You probably have an infection that needs to be treated. After I feed you, I’m going to take you to get checked out.”
Wow, the balls on this guy!
“The hell you are!” She knew she needed to see a doctor, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him take all the credit for being a hero. Pushing down hard on the table, she managed to gain her feet… and she didn’t even tumble over. Ha! Take that! “Mason—”
“How do you take your coffee?” He pulled jar of cold-pressed coffee concentrate from the bag.
Coffee sounded like heaven, but she balked just to be stubborn. “My mother taught me to never take things from strangers.”
“Light and sweet it is. Breakfast will be a bit, so why don’t you go get ready.”
“Why don’t you get the fuck out of my house?” Fury at him—and herself�
��pumped through her veins.
Though that anger was sorta tempered by the fact that she appreciated his attempt to take care of her—a nobody from nowhere who he didn’t know from Adam. Not one of her past boyfriends had ever looked after her when she was sick. One or two had managed to bring her soup on the first day of her illness before skittering off to do something more interesting. After that, she’d always been on her own. But boy, when they’d caught so much as a sniffle, they’d expected her to wait on them hand and foot. Hence the exes.
A low sound from outside caught her attention. It was barely there, maybe nothing more than a whisper on the wind, but she swore it sounded like laughter.
“Lucy,” Mason slapped the wooden spoon down on the counter, “you’re sick. You’ll feel ten times better after a hot shower. Right now, you have two options. You can be a good girl and take a shower on your own, or…” His eyes darkened, his green eyes looking almost amber for a moment. God, she really was sick. But even sick, she could appreciate the rumbling purr in his voice. “I can help you.”
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her, sending a rush of heat to her cheeks. To cover her embarrassment, she barked out a contemptuous laugh.
“Oh, I’m totally gonna hop in the shower with a stranger in my house. This may be a small town, but assholes aren’t restricted to big cities. Dickheads can be found in the country too, you know.” She waved a hand in his direction. “Case in point.”
Mason opened his mouth—probably to argue though she was determined to win this confrontation—but then his nostrils flared and he turned toward the hallway. Lucy didn’t have a chance to ask him what he’d heard when a female voice echoed down the hall.
“Knock knock! Anyone home?”
The sound of little feet running quickly followed, and Charlie skidded around the corner into the kitchen. “Hi!”
“Hi,” Lucy grinned at the little boy, bemused by his sudden and unexpected appearance.
Charlie rushed up to her, glancing briefly at the dried blood on her sweats before launching into a rambling lecture on, well, everything.
“Morning! We came to see you! Does your leg hurt? I feel really, really bad. I didn’t mean to. I was just scared. And Ghost Kitty was going to get run over! I wanted to save her, even though I know I’m not supposed to like kitties. I was worried about her all night, but then on our way here, I saw her again. In your front yard! She’s so fat! And really cute. She’s grey and looks really soft. And fat! I want to pet her. I asked Mommy and Daddy if I could keep her, but they said I was too young. I won’t hurt her like I hurt you though, I promise. I’ll be really good. Is that bacon?”
“Charlie, leave her alone,” his mother chided.
Bonnie and Robert Tipton followed their son into the kitchen, stopping short when they spied Mason at the stove. Bonnie shot her husband a glance soaked with worry, but then she was all smiles and open arms.
“Mason!” She smiled wide and welcoming. “Bless my stars, I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
Robert pumped Mason’s hand and leaned in, the move followed by the two exchanging low murmurs she couldn’t hear. Mostly because Charlie had started in about the cat again. All the commotion and activity brought on a wave of dizziness that sent her plopping into her seat. She remained in place and simply waited for Charlie to take a breath.
Lucy put her elbow on the table and propped her cheek against her palm. She sighed and tried to follow the action in her kitchen. Why she was surprised by this, she wasn’t sure. This was small town Georgia, after all, where everyone was always in everyone else’s business. Couple that with a healthy dose of guilt and the ever-present “bless your heart” Southern attitude, and it was no wonder strangers invaded her home. After so many years on her own, all the attention made her feel somehow… loved.
Lucy brushed the thought away with a shake of her head and focused on Charlie’s prattling. “…but she ran under your porch before I could get her. I hope she’s okay under there. Do you think cats are scared of the dark?”
“Charlie Tipton.” Mason’s stern tone reverberated around the room and everyone stopped talking, moving, breathing.
Charlie turned slowly, almost in slo-mo, dropped his gaze to his toes and shuffled over to stand in front of Mason. The Tiptons stood off to the side, clutching each other’s hands in a white-knuckled grip, practically trembling with nerves.
“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” Mason’s voice was dropped low with a hint of growl.
A shiver of dismay wriggled up Lucy’s neck, standing the fine hairs there on end. Charlie gave a small shudder before answering. What the hell? She couldn’t make sense of the scene. It almost appeared as if they all were kowtowing to Mason. Good grief! He was just a park ranger, not a general!
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, eyes still focused on the floor. “I’m sorry for hurting Miss Lucy.”
The boy glanced over his shoulder at her, and she gave him a soft smile to let him know there were no hard feelings.
Mason interrupted their moment. “And?”
“And…” Charlie whispered. “And I promise never to bite anyone again.”
“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
Charlie’s lower lip trembled, and his chest hitched as he bravely fought the tears. Anger bubbled inside Lucy. If she had been able to hear Charlie, Mason had. He was just being a jerk. She couldn’t believe his parents weren’t putting a stop to this nonsense. If they wouldn’t, she would.
“That’s enough.” She lurched from her seat and stumbled until she formed a human barrier between Mason and Charlie. She jammed her fists onto her hips and glared up at Mason. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, you big bully! Besides, how is this any of your business in the first place?”
The Tiptons gasped and Charlie whimpered, but she ignored them. She was determined to set Mason on fire with her glare. It didn’t work. Apparently, she still wasn’t a superhero. The only thing her snarling accomplished was to amuse the gorgeous man. No, she meant asshole. He wasn’t gorgeous. At all.
“And what are you grinning at?” she demanded.
He raised his hands in surrender and smiled even wider while taking a step back. “Not a thing.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes and then turned to Charlie. She leaned down—kneeling so wasn’t happening—and smiled at him. “Apology accepted, Charlie.” Then she glanced at his parents. “Thank you for coming to check on me, but I’m fine.”
“But your leg—” Robert started, but Mason cut him off.
“I’m taking Lucy to get the wound looked at just as soon as she gets cleaned up.”
She turned her glare up to eleven, but he still remained stubbornly incombustible. And grinning.
“Or rather,” Mason added, that grin somehow widening, “as soon as I help her get cleaned up.”
Ass. Hole.
Chapter Eight
The old Cherokee bounced down the rutted streets of Ashtown, each jarring movement drawing sharp breaths from Lucy. The Jeep’s lurching obviously bothered her leg, but he couldn’t do much about the condition of the road. And the situation was only going to get worse. The road to the pack house could be confused with the cratered surface of the moon. Yeah, she’d hate him by the time they arrived.
Lucy’s unique, distinctly feminine scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. His wolf grumbled at Mason’s restraint in claiming their mate, but he shushed the animal. Rushing things might scare her off. Matings between humans and wolves weren’t completely unheard of, but humans didn’t sense the fated mate connection as strongly as wolves. Once they received the mating bite and transformed, everything was peachy. Until that moment, it was a crapshoot and Mason wasn’t big on gambling.
Of course, everything about the situation was a crapshoot because she’d been bitten by Charlie instead of her mate—him. A bite from him would have bound them forever and her transition from human to wolf would h
ave been painless and spiritual. A human getting bitten by a random werewolf almost always led to death.
His wolf howled its objection and he struggled to quiet the beast once more. It refused to even consider the possibility of losing Lucy. Not now, not ever. The animal told Mason he would do everything in his power to keep their mate alive. Period.
At the moment, Mason only had hope. Hope that Charlie’s underdeveloped powers, and the fact Lucy was fated for Mason, would lead to a happy ending for everyone. They wouldn’t know until her transformation was complete, which left Mason in a heightened state of anxiety. And the phone call he’d received while Lucy had been showering didn’t help matters.
Bonnie had helped Lucy shower and get dressed while Robert and Charlie went hunting for a phantom cat, which left Mason to his own devices. After tidying up the kitchen, he’d wandered from room to room, hoping to pick up bits of information about his mate. He knew her name, her address, and that she had enough backbone to make a fine alpha mate, but that’s where his knowledge ended. So, he’d poked around a little.
It wasn’t as if he’d been snooping. Alphas never snooped. Of course, while he had been not-snooping he’d realized the house wasn’t hers. Photos of her were scattered all over the downstairs level. There was an image of her blowing out eight candles on a big birthday cake that sat in a silver frame on the mantel. Then a collage of a teenage Lucy acting silly with friends that took up most of a wall. Even an adorable shot of her as a baby, lying naked on a fur rug that was hung proudly on the wall leading upstairs. They were cute and allowed him to see into his mate’s past, but they weren’t photos a woman would hang in her own home.
Another hint was the house itself—dated décor and an odor of neglect. Not dirty, just… stale. The home had stood frozen in time—filled yet empty. Why? If she didn’t live in the house on Maple, where did she live? He had so many questions, but he filed them away until the time was right.
Veering sharply left, Mason maneuvered the Jeep onto an even rougher road. He slowed to a normally frustrating crawl, but he was in no hurry to get back to what—or rather who—waited for him at the pack house. He much preferred Lucy’s company, even if she’d barely said a word since clicking her seatbelt into place.