by Anya Nowlan
“Okay, okay, enough of the drudgery. Tell me about your hot piece of manmeat instead!” Delia urged. Oh hell. Was that a blush Aubrey felt creeping on her cheeks? She never blushed. Ever. And now just the mention of her hot cowboy made her squirm and brighten.
“Things are going well,” Aubrey offered carefully, trying to focus her attention on her coffee and swallow the embarrassment.
“Well? Please. I’ve never seen you react like this to a guy before. Well, other than to he-who-will-not-be-named. Spill the beans! Is he hot? Where is he? I think you mentioned Idaho? And he’s a shifter?” Delia rattled off questions.
The mention of the unnamable man sent a jolt of guilt through Aubrey. She hadn’t dated anyone since Deacon. Not a single man since they broke up all that time ago. Sure, she’d spent a few quick, fun nights, but she’d kept herself guarded ever since the werebear from Idaho turned her life upside down. Finding someone else that she could actually have a connection with still seemed amazingly impossible, even though she was sure that it could hardly live up to the fast, hot romance she’d had with the polar bear shifter back in Idaho.
No, you will not think about him. Get over it, he’s in the past. He hurt you, and you don’t want to dwell on that.
“I’ve only seen a profile pic, and it wasn’t lit great, but yes, by all accounts, he’s hot.” She’d long ago decided that he had to be hot. No man could write the things he did and not be hot. At least that was what she hoped. “And he’s in Idaho, yeah. Not too far from my hometown, actually. He’s a werebear.”
It felt good telling someone about Dale. He’d been on her mind since October, when he’d first contacted her on SassyDate. Now, they’d been talking for 4 months already, and she felt like she knew him inside and out. Hell, she’d told him everything about herself, right down to the little things she’d never dare mention to anyone. Something about Dale just made her feel at ease. Safe. Protected. There was something incredibly warm and familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.
“Are you planning on meeting him?” Delia pried, taking another sip of her coffee and waving off a waiter coming by to check on them.
“I’d like to. But it’s Idaho,” Aubrey said, grimacing. She’d run from Idaho after her first semester in college. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, but suffice to say, there was a wound there that hadn’t quite healed yet. Delia nodded serenely, not letting that bother her one bit.
“You’re going to have to go back at one point. You can’t keep flying your folks here every time you miss them, even though I know you’ve been doing great with that so far. Why not take a chance on the guy, if you like him so much?”
“They’d never give me time off,” Aubrey countered. But, the thought had some merit. She was surprised at the warm feeling it awoke in her, making her tingle a little all over. Meet Dale? Like a siren’s call, it beckoned.
“So take time off,” Delia replied resolutely, staring Aubrey down until both of them broke out in giggles. Yeah, why not? Why not go meet the first man since college who could make her feel excited about dating? She couldn’t hang onto her past forever, after all.
CHAPTER TWO
“What’s eating you up, cowboy?” Cerise asked, tossing the rag over her shoulder and leaning on the bar with her elbows. Deacon looked up from his whiskey, smiling weakly at the green-eyed bartender. It wasn’t unusual for the inhabitants of Shifter Grove to spend a quiet evening or two at Cerise’s Sunrise Diner – seeing as it was the only place in the near vicinity that served food or alcohol – but Deacon certainly wasn’t one of the guys who made more than a passing appearance for a slice of pie every now and then. That night, he was already on his third drink and showed no signs of slowing down.
“The usual,” he mumbled a noncommittal reply. Cerise’s lips pursed into a smirk, her silver and black hair falling over her shoulders. She was one of the more mysterious inhabitants of the small mostly shifter town, but the locals had a habit of not asking too many questions about anyone’s past. Everybody was there trying to get away from something, or at the very least to find a new start. Deacon had tried his darnedest to follow the lead, but recently he’d found himself falling short.
“Women, money and cattle, then?” Cerise asked, not letting Deacon off the hook quite so easily. His eyes glanced at the phone sitting next to him. It must have been the fiftieth time he did that during the evening. “Ah, women,” Cerise concluded, smirking like she’d just uncovered a secret. Deacon glanced up at her, a hint of mirth behind his eyes. For a woman who seemed to be a city girl through and through, Cerise was far too good at reading the heart of a cowboy.
Am I really that obvious? Must be.
“No other reason to down three glasses of whiskey, really,” he mused, swishing the bitter drink around in his mouth. It felt good going down his throat. The burn was just what he deserved. His recent behavior was far from sweet, and scorching himself into a straight and narrow path seemed perfectly reasonable.
“Plenty of reasons to down three glasses, Deacon. But none of those should be plaguing you here. And, as far as I know, your cattle’s doing peachy, and the money, while never great, isn’t exactly much to complain about. None of us came here to get rich. So that just leaves women. What have you been up to?” Cerise asked, straight as an arrow. Her frankness took a while to get used to, but she’d been one of the first residents in town, and the men had simply had to adjust to her. The fiery woman wasn’t leaving them any other choice.
“I’ve been untrue,” he finally said with a sigh. Cerise quirked a brow at him, and he could see the surprised look on her face. “No, no, not like that. I haven’t been cheating on anyone. Lord knows I’m not even with anyone.”
Not that I wouldn’t like to, he added darkly in his head.
“So what is it then?” Cerise pried, hanging on like a dog to a bone.
“I have been misleading a woman. I found a girl I used to date when I was barely out of my teens. We broke it off suddenly, and I don’t think she’s forgiven me for doing what I did to her back then. But when I saw her profile on SassyDate and saw that she was still single, I couldn’t help myself. She’s been on my mind for years, and before I could sit down and think, I’d already written her a message under a different name. I just wanted to know if she was all right, how she was doing… And now I feel like shit because I’ve… I’ve…”
“Fallen for her all over again?” Cerise offered. Deacon nodded sourly. It sounded incredibly childish, spelt out like that. He was a grown-ass man, far more than just capable of controlling his wayward urges. But Aubrey? Damn. She made him act like a lovesick puppy, and he couldn’t rein himself in if he tried.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
Deacon looked at Cerise and then to either side of him, making sure no one was eavesdropping. It wasn’t the Shifter Grove way, but in a small place like this, people really didn’t have much in the way of amusement other than other locals’ drama.
“Probably going to keep drinking until I find a way to break things off with her without hurting her.” His heart constricted just saying that. A true, pounding ache. It made his vision flash black for a second, his bear roaring in him with indignant protest. Deacon had known from the day he met Aubrey that she was the one for him, his fated mate. But, in his youthful exuberance, he’d ruined the relationship before it even had a chance to blossom. And now here he was, miserable and grouchy, pining for a woman he was on the road to hurting for the second time. Something he never wanted to do.
He cradled the glass in his palms for a second longer, silence lingering between him and the bartender. Then, Cerise plucked the glass right out from between his fingers, tucking it behind the bar and crossing her arms on her chest as Deacon protested loudly.
“What’s that for!?” he demanded.
“What is that for? Pfft! Deacon North, are you really sitting in my diner, feeling sorry for yourself because you can’t be b
ear enough to go get your woman and tell her the truth? No bear like that will get a drink on my watch, not even a polar bear,” Cerise huffed, giving him a scowl.
Deacon sputtered for words, his brows knitting together. Something throbbed in his heart, telling him she was right, though. The thought of letting go of Aubrey had been killing him ever since the first thrill wore off and his rational self was allowed a word in. He’d been at it every way he could, plotting and concocting plans that would make it possible to keep talking to Aubrey, to keep enjoying that closeness that came so easily to them. Seeing the disappointment in Cerise’s eyes was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Deacon squared his jaw and stood up, fishing some bills out of his back pocket and laying them on the counter.
“Hey, where are you going? I was expecting at least a bit of a fight!!” Cerise called after him as Deacon grabbed his phone and strode out of the diner with long steps.
“I’m going to go get my woman back!” he hollered over his shoulder, stepping into the heavy, windy snowfall outside. The last thing he saw as he hopped into his truck was the grin on Cerise’s face as she waved to him through the window.
***
Deacon watched as the tiny airplane approached and wobbled in flight, the heavy snow obscuring its path. His gut tensed, and he pulled his black cowboy hat down harder, the wind whipping around and threatening to steal it. His nerves were fried, and his mouth felt cottony. If anyone were to ask how he was feeling, he would have honestly admitted that he may be close to throwing up. Never had he been so nervous about anything in his life. Aubrey was on that little plane. Aubrey Jameson. His redheaded, curvy goddess of a mate. And she had no idea it was going to be him meeting her instead of Dale, the man she thought she’d been talking to.
The plane jumped and skidded, veering side to side dangerously on the fresh snow, before finally coming to a stop. The small hatch was thrown open, and a man huddled in five layers of coats and jackets scampered from the control building to the plane to greet the passengers. The plane came once a week, even less often in the winter. The storm was so bad that Deacon was honestly impressed that the pilot had dared land at all. He reminded himself to shake Slate’s – the weretiger pilot’s – hand later. Right now, he had more pressing matters on his mind. Like how to make sure Aubrey wouldn’t grab her bags and head for the hills the moment she saw him.
CHAPTER THREE
Aubrey had clung to the narrow seat she’d been assigned with her nails since taking off. The little airplane was obviously less than ideal for the route she wanted to take, but she’d been assured that there was really no other way to get to Shifter Grove, unless she was interested in a very long, very uneventful ride down dirt roads. Dirt roads that weren’t currently accessible because no one really bothered to plow them free. So, air travel it was. Horrific, gut-wrenching air travel in a plane the size of a shoebox and a pilot who seemed far, far too cheery about the bad weather. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the plane finally touched down. As soon as the door was flung open, she was shaken by a whole new worry, though.
A week ago, not long after Delia had merrily picked on her timid nature, Dale had done something she had been secretly dreaming of but hadn’t honestly dared to expect. He’d asked her to come visit him for two weeks. Based on what her heart was yelling, it had taken her exactly two seconds to decide – yes! She’d typed it in, clicked the reply button, and when the message fluttered off towards Dale, Aubrey had stared at that simple word for a long while, in awe of her newfound daring. Delia’s words had struck home. She’d been careful, guarded, shut off. Her work was giving her no joy. Her bank account was happy, sure, but she wasn’t. And despite her past misfortunes in Idaho, she missed home. She missed the hard winters, the heavy snow, the high peaks always on the horizon and being surrounded by some of the most beautiful wilderness the country had to offer. If it came with a scorching hot werebear, well, then she was just going to be a very lucky girl.
Aubrey pulled on her rabbit fur headband and thick mittens, buttoning up her jacket. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the plane, only to be immediately assaulted by the snow. A guiding hand led her down the steps and a moment later gave her the handle to her suitcase. She blinked her eyes, breathing in the fresh, cold mountain air. It was exquisite, even if she couldn’t see a damn thing through the snow. She took a few steps towards the control building, but someone caught her attention to the side. A big form of a man came striding towards her, tall and broad-shouldered. Her heart skipped a beat. She was going to meet her mysterious cowboy! Aubrey’s lips twitched up in a happy smile, her impeccable make-up quickly becoming ruined by the elements. Hell, she didn’t care. No Idaho man would fault her for a bit of runny mascara in a snowstorm.
“Hey, you!” she called into the storm as the man approached, still too far to make out any distinguishing features. Her heart thrummed loudly in her chest.
“Hey, Red,” a familiar voice called. Aubrey’s smile faltered and then fell completely. She knew that voice. Knew it much too well. Her vision blurred at the edges, and it wasn’t just the snow playing tricks on her. The past came tumbling back to her, making her tummy do flips.
Oh my god, don’t let it be Deacon, she thought desperately. But it was. She must have looked just about ashen, considering the concerned and somewhat sheepish look on Deacon’s face when he came up to her. He reached for her suitcase without a word and plucked it out of her limp hand.
He was still devastating – bright, intelligent gray eyes that mirrored the soul of the bear in him, slight stubble on his chiseled chin, a straight nose that gave his face the kind of masculine certainty that most men only dreamed of possessing. Her knees threatened to collapse under her. She hadn’t seen him in ten years, and now here he was, standing right in front of her, making her heart beat wildly just like he had when she was eighteen. Even in the snow and freezing cold, she could feel warmth and power wafting from him, surrounding her in that cocoon of safety she’d adored when she was younger.
“Deacon,” she stammered, “What are you… I mean… Um, I’m meeting someone.” In just a flash she had gone from happy and expectant to confused and disoriented. What the hell was going on?
“I know. It’s me you’re meeting,” Deacon said, shattering any hope of there being some kind of grand coincidence that had brought the man of her past to where she was supposed to meet the man of her future. Aubrey swallowed hard, her head beginning to throb.
“I don’t believe you,” she offered weakly, a shudder running through her – and not because of the cold. “I have to go back,” she decided quickly, whipping her head around and looking at the airplane. But it wasn’t taking off again. Instead, it was getting tied down to make sure that the storm didn’t toss it around the dingy airport.
“The plane won’t leave for a while again, Aubrey. Let’s just get inside, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.” Deacon’s voice was calm and commanding, not betraying an ounce of nervousness. It brought a clump to her throat. How could he stand there so calmly, the snowflakes sticking to his black hat and leather jacket, looking like this was the most normal thing ever?! It wasn’t! Anger took the place of confusion, tinting the edges of her thoughts red with fury and loss. Deacon offered her his hand, but she didn’t take it. She’d be damned if she’d touch him, even if she wanted to, badly. The moment she’d recognized him, every fiber of her being had yelled at her to kiss him.
No, be strong. Aubrey told herself, the irritation already bubbling up.
“Aubrey?” Deacon asked again, as she’d fallen silent for a while.
“Fine,” she snapped, the cold beginning to bite her fingertips and gnaw at her nose. She pulled the scarf higher around her face and stalked after Deacon through the quickly growing snow that had already washed away Deacon’s previous steps almost completely. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t help stealing a few glances at Deacon’s ass and strong, wide back. Gah, if only he didn’t make her body react immediat
ely! The sight of him brought to mind all the deliriously tasty pleasures he had treated her to, teasing and tormenting her body in the most delicious of ways, night after night until she could barely think straight. Her core pulsed with the memory.
Deacon’s big Dodge truck soon came into view, and he opened the passenger side door for her. Aubrey climbed in, trying her best to remain graceful even when she had to skip up far higher than her tight skirt would allow her to. She cursed her near-sightedness when choosing her apparel. In her mind, she’d dressed to impress, hell, to wreck any man that laid eyes on her lush, voluptuous curves. Instead, she was just fumbling around like a fish out of water, making a fool of herself. The bitterness in her was almost overwhelming. Deacon put her suitcase in the backseat and hopped into the driver’s seat.
As soon as the door shut behind him, he made the truck roar to life and put the heat on full blast.
“Hey, where the hell do you think you’re taking me?” Aubrey demanded as Deacon brought the car around and headed towards what could have doubled for a road when it wasn’t snowing, but now just looked like a slightly flatter mound of snow going through the woods.
“I’m taking you to my ranch, Aubrey,” Deacon said. She stared at him incredulously, but as the truck lurched over some snow piles a second later, she reached for her seatbelt and clicked it across her body.
“Why the hell are you doing that?”
“Because it’s cold here, Slate isn’t planning on flying the plane out for at least another week, and this area isn’t exactly known for its wealth of hotels,” he answered dryly. Aubrey spied a twitch in his jaw. A surefire sign that he was more nervous than he let on. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that she wasn’t the only one losing her mind in the situation. And, on the other end of the spectrum, she had to scold herself for remembering a detail like that. Sitting so near to him brought back all the long-buried emotions and memories, both good and bad. It made her heart ache. She found her eyes welling up with tears, and she wasn’t even entirely sure why that was. Because she was feeling vulnerable? Because she missed him? Because she had expected today to be a new start, not a chance to rip open old wounds? Probably a little bit of all of those.