by Anya Nowlan
Not that she cared. Neither side had stepped up to replace the units the fights had broken, so as far as Rachel was concerned, they could both disappear for all she cared.
“I can only imagine,” Rachel responded with a chuckle. “Can I help you find something?” she said, glancing towards the shelves of her little store.
The place wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, cozy, and had all the essentials. Rachel had a good number of loyal regulars – the fact that hers was basically the only store in town didn’t hurt – and business was good. She had made a nice life for herself there.
Now if I could only find someone to share it with, she thought.
“I’m good, thanks. Just popped in to say hi. You should come over for dinner sometime, catch up,” Everett said before straightening up and heading towards the store floor.
“Sure, sounds great,” Rachel said with a smile.
She loved kids, and Everett’s son was about as adorable as they got.
* * *
Rachel waived Alice goodbye before locking up and heading upstairs when night drew upon them. She had a pint of ice cream waiting for her in the freezer and the newest episodes of Grey’s Anatomy queued up on her DVR.
A life of thrills and excitement, she thought, grabbing a spoon and sinking into her couch. Maybe I should think about expanding the business? Rachel suddenly mused, as gorgeous doctors made out on the screen in front of her.
The town had recently seen a small but steady influx of people, and Rachel had already increased her orders for everyday goods, but the cereal incident in the morning had been just one of the many signs that she was running out of space. She could look into finding a larger space for her store or build an addition to the existing building.
It made sense from a financial perspective and would also keep her busy. Lord knows she was tired of wasting her time on one lackluster date after another. Maybe it was time to focus on her business more. If love happened to find her, great, but life had to go on in the meantime.
Besides, if she had a bigger store, she could hire more people. Rachel was a lifelong Sweetwater resident. It was where she’d spent most of her life, only leaving for the couple of years it took to get her degree in business management. She loved her little town, and if she could help it by creating new jobs, then that’s what she was going to do.
To quote one of the great voices of our generation, the Pussycat Dolls, “I don’t need a man to make it happen”, Rachel thought with a chuckle, plunging the spoon into her tub of Chunky Monkey and feeling a new sense of determination flow through her.
But even the best laid plans are no match for fate.
Two
Dayton
Dayton Clearpond put down his needle and patted the shoulder of the burly man on the table before him.
“All done, buddy,” he said as the man got to his feet.
Charlie was one of Dayton’s regulars. He was living proof that what they said about tattoos was true – you can never get just one.
He guided Charlie to a mirror, so the man could see the new ink on his back.
“Dayton, you never cease to amaze me,” Charlie said, admiring the huge dragon spreading its wings across his shoulder blades.
“The satisfaction on my customers’ faces is why I do what I do. That, and the money they pay me,” Dayton said, grinning.
“So, when can I come back?” Charlie asked eagerly. “I already have another design in mind,” he continued, still staring at the mirror.
“Whoa now, you know your body needs to heal. Besides, at this rate, you’ll soon have no free space left,” Dayton warned with a grin.
“Pencil me in for two months from now?” Charlie said as Dayton prepared to wrap up his new ink.
“Okay, but just for a consultation at first. I’m all booked anyway,” Dayton said with a sigh, carefully gliding ointment on the man’s back.
Charlie still had a huge smile on his face as he left the parlor.
As Charlie was his last customer for the day, Dayton said his goodbyes to the rest of the artists and headed home. His trusty Triumph Scrambler was waiting out front, ready for action.
The motorcycle’s engine roared to life, sending a rush through Dayton. Weaving through LA traffic on a bike was a surefire way to get a nice amount of adrenaline going. The thought made him grin in anticipation.
Dayton made it to his apartment in record time. The wolf inside him growled, pleased at the break-neck speeds the bike had achieved. Dayton stalked up the stairs to his spacious penthouse apartment. The tattoo business had been good to him. All it took was a couple of celebrity clients, and now he had to beat back new customers with a bat.
Dayton opened his door, the familiar creek accompanied by a soft sliding sound. He looked down, noticing an envelope on the floor. Someone must have slid it under his door while he was away.
Picking it up, Dayton frowned. The sender’s name was familiar. The letter was from the same lawyer that had been trying to contact him for days now, a Mister Miller. He’d left messages, saying it had something to do with Dayton’s father.
Dayton hadn’t returned a single call.
He hadn’t spoken to George Clearpond since he was five, and he planned on keeping it that way. His memories of his father were hazy at best, but he remembered he was a volatile man, his moods hard to predict.
One day, Dayton’s mother had picked him up from kindergarten with a fresh bruise around her eye. All of their things were already in the trunk of her car. Dayton never saw his father again after that.
And that’s just fine by me.
As he got older, Dayton kind of expected to hear from his father. His mother said she never hid their location; she would never keep a father from seeing his son. George never reached out. It stung a little at first – feeling like he was unwanted – but in the long run, it was probably for the best.
At least that’s what Dayton told himself.
Growing up as a werewolf with no other shifters around wasn’t easy. Wolves were pack animals, thriving when surrounded by their own.
At least that’s what Dayton’s mother told him – not like he would know.
Familiar bitterness bubbled up inside him, the feeling he was owed something he’d never received.
Dayton almost crumpled up the envelope, but curiosity got the best of him. He sat on his black leather couch and ripped it open.
I regret to inform you…
Dayton’s eyes slid across the letter, the words not quite registering. He got up and poured himself two fingers of whiskey, neat. Usually, he would drink it slowly, enjoying each sip. This time, he gulped it all down and poured another before taking a seat. He read the letter again, hoping it would finally sink in.
I regret to inform you that your father, George Clearpond, has passed away.
Dayton didn’t know how to feel. Was he supposed to be overwrought that a man he didn’t know and barely remembered had passed, just because he happened to be his father? He decided to contemplate that later as he read on.
The deceased has left his estate to you, his only child. The estate comprises…
Dayton felt his mouth gape open.
He left everything to me? he thought, shocked. I didn’t think he even remembered I existed. Guess he didn’t have much of a choice with me being his only heir.
George Clearpond hadn’t been a wealthy man, but he did have a house and a car. And also some unpaid debts, it seemed. The cash he left behind would be enough to settle the debts with little extra to spare.
Dayton could probably deal with the people his dad owed money to from LA, but the house presented a problem. He was definitely not going to live in it, and arranging its sale from so far away would be a pain. Plus, it’d make getting ripped off very likely.
His dad probably thought leaving everything to Dayton would be some sort of fatherly gesture, showing he cared.
All it does is inconvenience me.
As soon as the thought crossed his m
ind, Dayton felt bad. Maybe it was time he faced his past head on, got some closure. It would do him good to get out of LA, breathe some fresh air, let his wolf run free. Spirits knew he had enough vacation days racked up.
His clients might not be happy about it, but they’d reschedule. He wouldn’t be gone long, just get his father’s affairs settled quickly and come right back.
Sweetwater, here I come. Whether you like it or not.
He was going to need more whiskey.
Three
Rachel
Rachel couldn’t help but frown when David Clearpond, Alpha of the werewolf pack, walked into her store. She didn’t know the man personally, but she’d heard enough to make her mind up about him.
He’d become Alpha by dethroning his own brother, George Clearpond. George grew ill, some sort of cancer, if Rachel recalled correctly. David convinced the pack that George was no longer fit to lead in his weakened state and, by right of blood, he should take over.
He couldn’t even wait until the poor man was dead and buried to snatch up his title.
Rumors swirled that George had had someone else in mind to take his place, and David needed to discredit his brother in a hurry.
Rachel kept her eyes on the man as he strolled between the shelves, picking up different canned goods. She found something about his presence unsettling. Alice was in the back, restocking the supply room, so Rachel had no choice but to ring him up when he stalked towards the register.
“Fine day we’re having,” David said with a grin as Rachel got to work on his purchases.
He was a stocky, wide-set man in his early forties with sandy hair and a crooked smile. The way he spoke made everything he said sound like a threat. It took all Rachel had not to recoil when the man leaned in and rested an elbow on the counter that separated them, his body close enough for her to smell his aftershave.
“Sure is,” Rachel said, managing a smile.
“How’s business these days?” David asked idly, no real interest behind the query.
“Pretty good,” Rachel responded, not really keen on chitchat.
“Sell a lot of honey?”
“Huh?” was Rachel’s clumsy response as she was taken aback by the odd turn the conversation had taken.
“You know, to all your bear friends,” David sneered, his gaze fixed on Rachel.
She finished bagging his groceries and plunked them on the counter with a loud thud.
Who the hell does he think he is?
“I’m sorry, I don’t see how who my friends are is any of your business,” she said, giving up on polite small-talk and adopting a sharper tone.
“Just an innocent observation,” David said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture.
The glint in his eyes told Rachel his thoughts were all but innocent.
“Have a pleasant day!” Rachel said with exaggerated cheer, throwing a pointed look towards the bag on the counter.
“One can hope,” David responded, getting the hint and picking up his groceries.
Rachel watched him leave, sighing in relief when he disappeared from sight.
“What was all that about?” Alice asked, peeking her head out of the supply room.
“Hell if I know,” Rachel responded with a slight shrug.
The rest of the day turned out to be pretty uneventful, until about five in the evening. A loud rumble turned Rachel’s attention to the street out front. She caught a glimpse of something that looked like the back of a motorcycle coming to a stop near the store.
I’ve never seen a motorcycle around here before, Rachel thought, her interest piqued.
Heavy footfalls approached the door. The bell jingled, and Rachel’s eyes fixed on the entrance. A man she had never seen before stepped in, halting in the doorframe to glance around the store.
He was almost as tall as Everett with dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes. After marveling at his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones, Rachel’s gaze was drawn to his arms. Intricate, colorful designs shot out from under the sleeves of his navy t-shirt, reaching all the way down to his gloved hands. The stranger ran his fingers through his hair, muscles flexing and making the pictures come alive.
Rachel glanced at Alice, who was staring at the man in unabashed, slack-jawed awe. Rachel squared her shoulders and cleared her throat, hoping to look a little more professional than the small woman beside her.
Who are you, and where have you been all my life?
The man walked over to Rachel, his face breaking out in a dangerous smile.
“Hi,” was all he said as his eyes ran up and down Rachel.
She shifted nervously under the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ve uh… gotta go do stuff,” Alice sputtered before running off.
“Hi, can I help you?” Rachel said, opting for the tried and true greeting of shopkeepers everywhere.
“You certainly can,” he said, his voice smooth but slightly gravelly. “I guess you could say I’m… new here. I just got in, and I’ll be needing some supplies.”
“Oh, sure. I can show you where all the essentials are,” Rachel said, getting out from behind the counter and leading the way to the store floor.
“I’m Dayton, by the way,” he said, pulling off a glove and extending his hand to her.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Rachel.”
As she slid her hand into his, she noticed his tattoos stopped at the wrist. When their skin touched, Rachel’s body responded immediately and forcefully. Her pulse quickened and warmth spread across her flesh, bringing a slight flush to her cheeks.
It’s just a handshake, get a grip! Rachel chided herself.
But she couldn’t deny, she’d had make-out sessions that affected her less than this casual touch.
How are his eyes so impossibly clear? Rachel wondered, getting lost in the blue pools.
Dayton raised a brow at her, and Rachel realized she’d just been standing there for god knows how long, staring at him and holding his hand.
“Oops,” she quickly mumbled, pulling her fingers back and looking down.
“Think nothing of it,” Dayton smiled, clearly amused.
Rachel helped Dayton load up his basket with everything he might need for a short stay, and they walked back to the register.
“I gather you’re not staying at a hotel then?” Rachel asked, scanning the items.
“I have family around here,” Dayton answered vaguely.
Rachel tried to focus on the task at hand – no need to make a further fool of herself. But the way she felt Dayton’s eyes roam over her body was really distracting. Finally, she managed to get everything into a bag and handed it over.
“Here you go!” she said, trying to get back to cheerful customer service mode.
“Oh, just one more thing,” Dayton said, touching his forehead in an absentminded gesture. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?” he continued, eyes now trained on her face.
Rachel stared at him, stunned. She wasn’t usually one for being speechless, but somehow, this man kept catching her off guard. Something about him hinted at danger, but the exciting kind.
Say something before he thinks you’re having a stroke! Rachel’s inner voice shouted.
Four
Dayton
Dayton’s eyes were glued to the woman before him. Rachel’s honey-colored hair fell down her shoulders in soft waves, framing a face of delicate, almost elven features. He couldn’t help but steal glances at her tall, voluptuous frame, the way her hips had swayed when she’d shown him around the store still fresh in his mind.
Stop being a perv! Dayton told himself.
His wolf growled, not at all concerned with human rules for polite company.
Dayton knew from the moment their hands touched that he had to ask this woman out; disregarding the fact that he would be on a plane back to LA in just a few days. Now that he’d come out with the invitation, there was no going back.
Rachel considered him with bright grey eyes, seeming to mu
ll it over.
“Sure, why not,” she finally said. “There aren’t many places to choose from around here though,” she added with a little smile.
“I’m not high-maintenance,” Dayton said, picking up his bag of groceries. “Where can I pick you up?” he added, surprised at how much he was looking forward to the evening.
“Right here. I live upstairs,” Rachel said, pointing to the ceiling.
Interesting.
“Okay, I’ll meet you here, let’s say… eight?” he asked.
“Sounds great,” Rachel nodded.
He gave her a quick smile before heading out and stuffing his purchases into his bike’s saddle bags. His suitcase would be delivered to the house later on. The scrambler’s engine roared to life. With some surprise, Dayton realized he still remembered the way to his old house.
Home, sweet home, he thought sardonically as he twisted his hand on the throttle.
* * *
As he pulled up to the modest one-story house tucked away at the edge of the forest, Dayton felt something unexpected. A sense of familiarity.
This hadn’t been his home for a very long time, but something deep inside him still stirred as he unlocked the door with a set of keys the lawyer had sent him.
Not much had changed. The furniture all looked the same. The TV was new though, and some of the kitchen appliances. A fine layer of dust covered everything, but other than that, the place was clean and well-kept.
A picture on one of the shelves in the living room caught Dayton’s eye. It was a family portrait, a young man with his wife. Between them stood a little boy, his smile missing a tooth or two. Dayton recognized himself as the boy, shocked at how happy they all looked.
Dayton put the frame back in its place.
Anyone can look happy for the couple of seconds it takes to shoot a picture.
He walked through the living area and into the master bedroom. Per his request, all of his father’s clothes and other suitable personal belongings had already been cleared out and donated. The large bed was stripped of bedding, and the closet doors hung open with nothing inside.