Racing Home (Dirt Track Dogs Book 3) (Paranormal Wolf-Shifter Romance)

by P. Jameson

  “Do you um, want to eat first? I can warm up the chili real quick.”

  “I’m good. I’ll have it tomorrow.”

  Her shoulders slumped, but she managed a grin.

  He gave a nod, and turned to go.

  “Wait. Blister?”

  “Yeah?”

  He stared at her over his shoulder and she wanted to say so many things. In the dark of night she was less inhibited. Less embarrassed of her feelings for him and the fact that he showed nearly zero interest in her other than to help someone who was down on her luck. She wanted to come right out and tell him that she was stupid into him. At thirty four did she really have time to waste?

  But insecurity stopped her. What if he completely rejected her? Could she deal with that kind of embarrassment right now, when everything else in her life was so shaky?

  “Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded, looking resigned. “I wondered when you would ask about them.”

  Annie frowned. “About what?”

  “These.” He gestured vaguely to his face.

  She stood, stepping closer to him. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask at all. But… I can see you don’t like talking about your scars.”

  His gaze was steady on her. “That time of my life isn’t something I like to think about.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it. If it’s something you want to share. And I could tell you about my scars.”

  He frowned, his eyes doing a quick scan of her body.

  “Not physical,” she murmured.

  His eyes found hers, searching. He stared at her for so long, she felt herself getting lost in him, forgetting where they were. Her breath came in short pants as she waited for him to say something. Anything.

  “What…” He swallowed. “What were you going to ask me?”

  She blinked, breaking the hold his gaze had on her. “I was just wondering, um, what your real name is.”

  He shook his head. “That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

  Of course not. He wasn’t called Blister for the fun of it. “But he still had a name.”

  He stared at the ground, contemplating. “Maybe I’ll tell you that one day too. Goodnight, Annie.”

  “Night.” She watched him climb into the shelter and close the door before she went inside herself.

  ***

  Annie had set her alarm to go off pre-dawn, but it wasn’t the smooth, slowly increasing in volume, strains of Bottoms Up that she awoke to. It was the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She hadn’t wakened to that particular smell since her parents were still around.

  She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

  She should be alarmed that someone was in her kitchen, helping themselves to her Keurig. But it had to be Blister. Or one of the workers. After meeting them yesterday, she knew they were harmless.

  Quickly, she slipped on a sweatshirt to help cover up her braless state, swished some mouthwash, and fingered her curls back into place. Creeping down the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen, still a bit bleary eyed.

  Blister’s back was to her, his head bent over the counter, skillfully preparing a mug of morning fuel.

  “Mornin’,” she said, and his head snapped up.

  “Shit. Did I wake you?”

  Annie grinned. “My alarm was about to go off anyway.”

  His eyes roamed from her head, moving downward and back up. She fidgeted, waking up enough to realize she should’ve taken a few minutes to dress and fix her hair. The just-rolled-out-of-bed look wasn’t going to convince anyone she was girlfriend material.

  Shoot.

  Blister ripped his gaze away. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind. I’m only good after a cup or two, so I thought I’d start before the crew got here,” he said, gesturing to the coffee maker.

  “I don’t mind at all. What’s mine is yours.”

  His gaze cut back to her, his eyes narrowing. With a shake of his head, he went back to stirring his coffee. “Would you like some?”

  Annie settled on a stool. “Sure. Thanks.”

  She watched as he pulled another mug off the rack on the counter and set the K-cup to brew.

  “How do you take it?” He used that quiet voice again and it made her chest flutter.

  “Just sugar. One spoonful.”

  He measured it out and stirred the steaming mug before bringing it over to the bar. She went to take it from him, but when she did, their hands brushed and Blister jerked back causing the coffee to spill over the top.

  Annie gasped as scalding hot liquid touched her skin.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes going wide. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

  His fingers encircled her wrists as he dragged her around the bar and to the sink. He turned the faucet to cold and shoved her hand underneath the stream. The cold water felt good on the bright pink skin, but she wasn’t hurt really. She’d burnt herself worse than that cooking at Red Cap before.

  Blister stared at her hand under the running water with such remorse in his expression it made her stomach hurt. Without turning off the faucet, he pulled her hand back and used a nearby hand towel to gently dry it off. Cradling her tender hand in his rough one, he bent his head low to examine it.

  “Damn it.” He shook his head, running the tip of one finger over the slight burn. “I’m… so sorry. I… shit.”

  Annie closed her eyes just before they rolled back in her head. Dear baby Jesus, he was touching her. And so sweetly. His hands were amazing. Work roughened but oh so gentle. They were perfect. Could any other hands be as perfect as Blister’s. She wouldn’t know but she thought not.

  “Does it hurt very much?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern. “I… I can make it better but…”

  Annie forced her eyes open. She needed to tell him it wasn’t that bad. But when she looked at him, she was taken aback. The expression on his face was full of self-loathing. She could practically see him berating himself and there was no reason for it. The spill was an accident and she was fine.

  “Hey,” she said softly, but his attention stayed on her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his and that seemed to break the spell. He looked at her. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse burns than this. It doesn’t even hurt. Really.”

  His gaze fell to their hands where they were loosely interlocked. He shook his head. “I don’t think it will blister, but I can’t be sure. Shit, I don’t want to mess up your hands.” The last part was said under his breath like maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear it.

  “You won’t,” she assured him. “Look, it’s fine. Trust me, it won’t blister. It’s good. Promise.” She couldn’t resist running her thumb back and forth against his, but then he went utterly still, and she instantly regretted the action.

  Time seemed to freeze as they stood there. She was afraid to move in case it would send him running. And she knew the small contact would end soon, but maybe if she was still enough she could make it last just a bit longer.

  A car door slammed outside, making her jump. Blister dropped her hand and stepped back.

  “I’d better go help them unload,” he muttered, and slipped past her to the back door.

  Annie had to laugh. It was almost funny how anytime she gave him signals that she was into him, he found a reason to leave. She shook her head, pulling eggs out of the fridge and firing up the burner on the stove.

  Time to dial it back, Annie.

  It was clear she was making him uncomfortable. And he was Ella’s family. She couldn’t afford to let her awkwardness interfere in their budding relationship. Ella needed her family now more than ever.

  And besides all that, this was that pathetic stage she’d been trying to avoid. She had to draw the line somewhere.

  “Friends it is, Mr. Blister,” she muttered, cracking an egg with one hand.

  She went about making breakfast for the crew and forgot about the tinge of embarrassment she’d felt.

  When she was almost finished, he returned.

 
Annie didn’t try to make conversation. She pulled the last of the bacon from the pan and let it drain on a couple paper towels.

  Blister moved to the sink to wash his hands while she set breakfast on the bar. Turning, she was surprised to find him standing so close to her. Her eyes were level with his chest and she didn’t bother to look up into his face. He reached out, taking her hand in his and turning it over and over, running his fingers along her skin.

  “How is it?”

  “Fine,” she breathed. Cleared her throat, and tried again. “It’s fine. I told you.”

  “I wanted to make sure.” But he didn’t let go of her hand. He pressed their palms together, his fingers falling in between hers.

  Annie let her gaze slowly drift to his face. He stared at their linked hands with a mixture of wonder and confusion. Like they were a miracle he couldn’t hope to explain.

  But that made no sense.

  “You have beautiful hands,” he whispered so faintly if they hadn’t been the only ones in the room she might not have heard him.

  But she did. She heard him, and even though he was just talking about her hands, his compliment threaded through her, lighting her up with joy. Her smile grew so wide it hurt her cheeks. He didn’t see it though, because he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Damn it, that’s not what I meant,” he snapped, jerking his hand away. “I meant your hands are useful. You need them, you know, to work, and I didn’t want to screw that up for you. So. I’m glad they’re okay.”

  And like that, the thread of happiness turned sour.

  “Yep. Me too.” Annie’s smile faded but she spun away, grabbing the towel she’d left on the counter and wiping the area around the plates she’d set out. “Breakfast is ready. Can you tell the others? I’m going to shower and get dressed. You guys can help yourselves.”

  She didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, she took a note from his playbook and escaped as quickly as she could.

  Chapter Eight

  The crew had finished breakfast, but Blister waited for Annie to return. He needed to talk to her. He wanted to learn about her family. He’d been trying to figure out a way to broach the subject ever since his conversation with Drake, but things kept getting in the way.

  He opened the dishwasher and began loading the breakfast plates.

  “You didn’t need to do the dishes.” Annie’s voice came from behind him, and he turned to look at her.

  Her curls were still damp from her shower. She was barefoot, in a pair of worn jeans, and a t-shirt that read Dirt is a Girl’s Best Friend. She was out of those tiny, hot as fuck shorts she’d probably worn to bed, but she was still kick-in-the-gut gorgeous.

  “I don’t mind,” he muttered, forcing his eyes away from her.

  “Okay.” He caught her shrug. “I’ll get started on lunch then.”

  While he finished loading, she began gathering ingredients. He had to figure out what to say to her. Now, before something else came up.

  “Why are you alone?” he blurted.

  Her body froze mid-action, and then she shook her head and continued her task. “Is there really a good answer to a question like that? If I knew why, I’d remedy it.” For the first time, he noticed the edge in her tone. She didn’t like talking about this, but he needed answers.

  “Where is your family? Friends?”

  “My family is gone. My friends are at DTD. Why are you asking?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  She grew quiet.

  “What happened to your parents?”

  She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Did Ella tell you something?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t really talk about it.”

  “I get that. I do.”

  She went back to her work, but he wasn’t finished pushing. He had to know if his mate needed something from him as Drake had suggested. Because if she did…

  “What would it take to make you talk?”

  Facing him, she crossed her arms over her chest, drawing his attention momentarily to her breasts.

  “You want to know that badly? That you would bargain with me over the information?” She raised one eyebrow. “Why?”

  Why? Why, why, why. What could he tell her?

  He shrugged as casually as he could. “You said you had scars. I was curious.”

  Blister shut the dishwasher and turned the faucet off before looking at her again. She’d pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating.

  With a sigh, the words tumbled out quickly. “They drowned. In a flash flood five years ago. They went to cross a low bridge and the current was too much. It swept them into the creek and they didn’t make it out alive.”

  Blister remembered that year. Cedar Valley had a record rainfall of more than twenty inches in the span of a month. The many creeks and rivers had swollen to twice or three times their size. Heavy continuous rain was dangerous in areas like Cedar Valley because flash floods were so uncommon, people didn’t know to be careful.

  Annie picked up a towel, wringing it nervously. “There. Now you know.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve lost people you love.”

  He was overcome with a fierce need to protect her. From her past and whatever pain it might have caused her. Up until this moment, he’d only been concerned with protecting her from the future, from any pain a relationship with him would bring. Now there was another side to the coin.

  She gave him a sad grin. “You know exactly what that’s like, yeah?”

  The irony wasn’t lost on either of them. His family had died by fire, hers by flood. Flame and water. It was oddly serendipitous. He was horror and she was beauty. He was rough and she was soft.

  But they were both scarred in their own ways.

  He leaned back, bracing his hands against the counter and focusing on the tiny vase of flowers that sat on the bar. Yellow. Something wild that she’d clearly picked on a whim.

  “We knew the fire was coming. Knew it was going to be bad. We’d already heard of people on the other side of the valley dying. Bridgette, my sister… Ella’s mom… she was furious with my father for choosing to keep us all there. It was dangerous and she had a brand new family to think of. But he…”

  Blister shook his head at the memories. He dredged them up plenty in the privacy of his own mind. Telling someone else was a whole new kind of pain.

  “He wouldn’t listen. And he wasn’t the only one. No one in the family wanted to leave except Bridgette and Ella’s father. But see, getting down the mountain was dangerous too. The base was already taken by the fire. We were damn near trapped at that point. There was a fight. Between my father and Ella’s. It was brutal, but Charles was taking Ella and Bridgette down the mountain whether my father liked it or not. They were going to leave in the morning.” He hardened his jaw. “But no one made it that far.”

  Blister ran a rough hand over his destroyed face. He needed to finish this fast. If she said a word to him, he’d be done. He couldn’t listen to any hint of pity or disgust that would come with whatever platitude she’d give him.

  “In the night, the fire spread so rapidly, none of us had time to act. Our homes were engulfed before we could wake. I was young, and my first thought was to escape, save myself. I didn’t scream or alert anyone. I didn’t think of it. I just ran. But outside, I woke up. Realized what I’d done, and I… I went back in. Over and over, trying to save them. Found my mother first. Dragged her halfway to the door before I couldn’t breathe. I was afraid I’d pass out, so I ran outside for air. I… I… came back in to find her under a fallen beam. Burning. She was burning. I left her there to burn.” His voice rasped to a stop. He couldn’t make anymore words come. This had to be enough. It had to be.

  He stared at those damn flowers, shaking like all hell, embarrassment and shame making him weak. He needed to go. Needed to be a wolf. To feel the wind through his fur. To let the animal deal with the pain for a while.

  A soft hand landed on his shoul
der and he jerked away.

  “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

  “Okay.”

  He couldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t. But her voice was careful, patient. More than he deserved.

  He told her about his family because he’d thought it might help in some way. The idea seemed absurd now. How could any of his shit help her? He had fucking nothing to offer her. So maybe she needed him. Maybe Drake was right. But he couldn’t help her or be what she needed or whatever the fuck fate thought.

  “Blister.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed.

  He was no good for her, yet the mere sound of his name on her lips was a balm for his soul. He needed her so fucking bad. More than he’d ever needed anybody. Even his pack.

  He had to go. Just for a little bit. Until he could level out.

  “I’ll be back later,” he rasped, marching straight for the front door.

  ***

  In his wolf form, Blister wandered the woods of DTD’s property until the sun began to set. The turmoil within him had calmed some, leaving only instinct to deal with. And the strongest at the moment, was his desire to claim his mate. He was edgy because the entire day had passed and he hadn’t been there to watch over her. By this time, she’d shared two meals with the crew without Blister there to make sure everyone kept their hands to themselves.

  It was time. He needed to get back to her.

  He shifted to human and collected his jeans and t-shirt from the nearby tree where he’d left them. He dressed but didn’t bother with his shoes, and then walked the path that would lead him to the practice track.

  The boys were there, and he didn’t want to face them, but fuck if he could avoid them forever.

  “Duuuuuude,” Surge murmured as he approached. He lay on the lowered tailgate of Drake’s truck, chewing on a long piece of grass. “Where you been?”

  Blister gave him a shrug.

  “Well damn, son. If you don’t even know then it must be bad.”

  “He knows where he’s been,” Diz muttered.

  Surge raised an eyebrow.

  “With the cats, right?” Diz asked.

  Surge sat up, brow furrowed. “With the cats?”