Ava

by Michelle L De La Garza

  “And that means what in English?”

  “It has a faulty relay that needs to be replaced. Or so I gather. John and his father will drop by this afternoon.”

  “No one will be here until well after dark.”

  “I’ll put the key back before I leave. That way, they can let themselves in.”

  “Wow. Does everyone know where it is but me?”

  “Maybe.” I lean back, enjoying the conversation. “How’s about that coffee you promised me?”

  The cat sniffs the food, turns its nose up into the air, and then follows Ava around the kitchen, meowing.

  “Go away.” Ava shoos the little creature with her hand, but it continues to invade her personal space.

  Approaching the table, she sets two, steaming cups of coffee on the surface.

  “Black. Right?”

  “Yeah.” A grin washes across my lips. “You remembered.”

  “Well, it’s kind of hard to forget,” she says with a light-hearted laugh mixed with nervous energy. “It’s what you drank every morning when you picked Tessa and me up for school my freshmen year.”

  “What were you—thirteen, fourteen?”

  “Thirteen. I didn’t turn fourteen until the end of the school year—right before summer.”

  “That’s right, you skipped a year.” Cole rubs his jaw.

  So, that’d make me about fourteen months older. There’s a little over a year’s difference between us—not bad.

  Back then, the age difference seemed so monumental, but now, the gap isn’t even a consideration. I’m seventeen, which makes her sixteen, and fair game.

  “You play an instrument, right?”

  Her chiseled cheekbones are high, and her eyes, the color of emeralds, shine brightly.

  “Cello.” She nods and takes a sip of her coffee.

  “I heard you took a year off, then started playing again in the varsity orchestra. What are you, a senior now?”

  “Yeah. Same as you.” Ava leans against the counter. “And at the end of the year, I’ll have enough credits for an associate degree in business finance.”

  “So, are you just visiting?”

  Ava shakes her head. “Nope. I’m moving back.”

  “You gonna join me?” I motion to the chair opposite of me. “I don’t bite, much.”

  “Uhm.” She scrunches her nose, then makes her way to the table. “My father needs help with the business, which is beyond me because he has Tessa for that.”

  Leaning over, she pushes Nala away from her legs again, but the cat returns in full force to rub her fur-covered face against her knee.

  “God. Cut it out, already.” She pulls her legs onto the chair, crisscrossing them. Cup in hand, she blows on the coffee, drawing attention to her lips.

  “What will you do at your father’s studio? Keep his books?”

  “Yeah. Something like that. Maybe even teach a bit.”

  Nala leaps onto Ava’s lap. Her coffee sloshes out of her cup and onto her legs. “And this is exactly why I’m a dog person.” She picks up Nala and sets her on the floor. “Stay there, and don’t move fur-ball.”

  I spring out of the chair and grab a hand towel. Stooping next to her, I pat at the coffee pooled on her lap and running down her legs.

  “I got it.” She clasps the towel, taking it from my hand.

  The tips of my fingers brush over her inner thigh.

  A wave of goose bumps ignites, rolling across her thighs and arms.

  “You okay?” My wolf takes in the erratic beats of her racing heart. “Did it burn you?”

  Taking hold of her knee, I examine the smooth, rosy flesh.

  “No.” She sucks in a ragged breath, and a new wave of goose bumps erupt over her goose-pimpled flesh, making the fine, blonde hairs on her forearms stand on end.

  On my knees, I lean in, my face inches from hers.

  The growing scent of her arousal garners the interest of the wolf prowling inside of me.

  When she was a freshman—and still a kid—I knew Ava had a crush on me, but I never expected those feelings to linger after all these years.

  An interesting development, indeed. One I must fully explore.

  “Ava.” I cup the side of her face. “I’m going to kiss you.”

  She meets me halfway, and I press my lips to hers. The contact, soft and warm, leads into a tender embrace.

  When she doesn’t pull back, I skim my tongue across her lips, nibbling, coaxing her to join in. Her lips part, and I plunge my tongue inside the recesses of her mouth, tasting her. She’s sweet like the honey used to sweeten her coffee.

  I break the kiss and leave a warm trail of kisses against her chin and across her neck.

  A soft moan escapes her lips, and she wraps her arms around my neck, drawing me closer.

  The warmth of her body against mine, makes my pants tent with an erection.

  A door slams and Ava flinches.

  “Uhm.” Her eyes widen wide like a kid in a candy store. She leaps off the other side of the chair and stumbles to the counter.

  “I’m back.” Tessa’s voice booms from the living room.

  Ava licks her lips then swallows hard. “In here.”

  “I brought you some real Texan food.” The bright, cheery tone of Tessa’s voice floats in the air between me and Ava. “Chorizo and egg tacos with Big Red instead of that crap you’ve been eating in Michigan with Grandma Jane. You know what I’m talking about. That French breakfast radish omelet stuff she likes to make.”

  Tessa walks into the kitchen with Nala trailing behind her.

  Her eyes land on me, and she smiles. “Morning, Sunshine. So, did you fix the heater?—because it doesn’t feel any warmer in here.”

  My body feels hot, hotter than usual, and the coolness of the room does little to douse the fire burning deep inside me.

  “Not yet.” I set the coffee-soaked towel on the table. “John and his father are gotta pick up a part. You might have a faulty relay.”

  My eyes skim the length of Ava’s legs.

  The scent of her arousal is palatable in the air; I can taste it, which makes me strain against the tented fabric of my jeans.

  Mine. The wolf in me struggles to break loose.

  What the fuck? The through rolls around in my head. Get a grip and maintain. I must exercise control, but right now, I’m having trouble reeling the wolf back in.

  “Sit down.” Tessa sets the brown bag on the middle of the table along with the two-liter soda bottle.

  “Cole’s gotta go, right?” Ava fidgets with her nails.

  “Nonsense. I have enough stuff in this bag to feed a small army.” Tessa squats and pets Nala, who is incessantly crying. “Did you miss me, baby?” She strokes behind the cat’s ears then scratches under its chin.

  “I’m not hungry.” Ava makes her way into the living room. She slips on a pair of flip-flops, then grabs Tessa’s car keys off the coffee table. “I’m going to the studio to check on dad.”

  “If you wait, I’ll go with you,” Tess calls out. “Plus, it’s cold out there.”

  “It’s fine. I’m just going from here to the car.” Ava opens the door and steps outside onto a thin layer of snow on the steps. “Just call me later, and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Okay. But don’t forget the uniforms are in the trunk.”

  The door slams shut.

  “What the hell’s eating at her?”

  “How should I know?” I sit at the table, picks up my coffee, and swallows what’s left in the mug. “She’s your sister.”

  I chew on the comment Ava made, and this is exactly why I’m a dog person.

  The remark makes the wolf inside me grin.

  Memories of the kiss flow through my thoughts. She was receptive. She wanted to kiss me—that much was clear. So, why did she run?

  Chapter 4

  Ava Johansson

  CHOICES. THEY COME AND GO. But one thing remains the same, the repercussions of the decisions people make, good or
bad, can haunt them for the rest of their lives.

  A single kiss shared by two consenting people may not seem like much of an issue. But in truth, that one kiss—one kick-ass kiss—could impact my relationship with Tessa. A relationship I value and desperately want to rebuild.

  Pulling out of the driveway, the car skids over a soupy mixture of melting snow and ice.

  “Jeez. I’m an idiot?” I says, under her breath. “Of all the stupid, reckless things a person could do, kissing my sister’s boyfriend ranks at the top of the rotten, disloyal, sleazebag list of things to do.”

  Do I tell her? Do I not tell her?

  I shake my head then veer onto the two-lane road leading to the heart of the town I grew up in as a kid, Kensington Cove.

  The five-minute drive seems more like an eternity, and the kiss replaying, over and over, in my head, well, it’s not helping. If anything, it’s just bringing more sensations to the surface. Emotions I don’t want to deal with right now.

  More than three-fourths of the parking lot in front of the studio lies empty and the sidewalks deserted. But in a couple of hours, this little strip mall will team with life.

  When I was younger, it was the main hangout for teens. However, now, who knows.

  I open the car door, step out, then make my way to the trunk.

  Inside, four boxes line the interior. After grabbing a box, I head to the front entrance of Johansson’s Martial Arts Studio.

  Halfway across the lot, my foot slides across a thin layer of mud, and I struggle to keep my balance. Blind because of the box, I step over a cement parking marker and onto the sidewalk in front of the gym.

  Anchoring an elbow into the crook of the handle, I yank the door open then walk inside.

  “Hey, Pops.” I make my way to the counter on the far side of the room. “I’m delivering the uniforms Tessa picked up.”

  I set the box down and breathe in the familiar aroma: leather mats, bamboo, and incents with a hint of vanilla spice.

  “There’re three more in the trunk, so I’ll be right back.” It’s been more than a year since I’ve seen my father, and I’m not sure what to say to him.

  Out at the car, my father approaches.

  “Hey, bug.” He gives me a bear hug, lifting my feet off the ground. “Why didn’t you call or come by last night when you got in?”

  “My flight was delayed, and I didn’t want to wake you.” I wrap my arms around his neck, returning the awkward embrace. “So, I took a taxi to Alpha Prime and met up with Tessa.” Pops smells just as I remember—like the gym.

  He puts me down, then grabs two of the boxes.

  The cool air blowing heightens the premature end of the hug and makes me wish I was good at stuff like this, emotions.

  I take hold of the last one, close the trunk, then make a slow approach to the studio. The place where I grew up as a child.

  Am I ready to step forward, to confront the chimera that keeps me up at night?

  Damn. Being back is difficult—harder than I thought it would be.

  Images of my mother linger in my mind, making my heart ache with raw emotion.

  That day, I was alone with her. It was just the two of us in the studio.

  Pops and my sister, Tessa, had run an errand and were bringing back food.

  I was in the open area practicing when a thump, followed by a thunderous clang, made me jump.

  In my father’s office, sprawled on the floor, I found her.

  A pool of blood seeped around her head, giving her the appearance of a dark halo.

  The medical examiner’s report stated she had struck head when she fell. However, the fall isn’t what killed her. No. It was an aneurysm. She was dead before she hit the corner of the desk or the ground.

  After she was gone, I had refused to step foot in the gym, which is why I left Kensington Cove. It was easier to run and not look back, and Grandma Jane had welcomed with open arms.

  And now, today, for the second time, I find myself crossing the threshold.

  Pulling the door open, I step inside, trying to calm the tremor threatening to shake my body from head to toe.

  My father, Benjamin—or Ben as most locals know him—takes the box.

  “Here.” He hands me a roster sheet.

  “What’s this for?” I scan the page.

  He has sixteen students, ranging from four to ten, in tonight’s class.

  “Knowing you”—a warm smile brightens the irises of his eyes—“I figured you’d want to jump in, full steam ahead.” He hands me a marker and a roll of painter’s tape. “When you’re done, suit up and come find me. I’ll be in the office.”

  His steps, light and sure, recede with him down the hallway.

  Marker in hand, I create name plates for the wooden cubbies, then places the children’s uniforms, paperwork, sashes, and shoes in their designated slots. When I finishe the last one, I head to the back, grab the uniform my father placed in my old locker, and then dress.

  A clamor of little voices makes its way down the hallway, and a smile dances on my lips. It’s been a little over four years since I co-taught a class.

  Maybe it’s what I need to dispel the awkward air between me and Pops.

  I’ve lived with Grandma Jane since mother’s funeral, and now, things feel strange.

  The mere thought of returning to Kensington Cove, to my home, has left my stomach in knots. But Tessa’s incessant begging for me to come back, and then Pops asking for help, had all but sealed the deal.

  Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel. But, hey, here I am. And honestly, it’s been nice seeing both Tessa and Pops. So, maybe, coming home’s the right move, after all.

  Inside the open area, a sea of arms and legs swirl around.

  The children, with the help of their parents, don their uniforms.

  At the top of the hour, five o’clock sharp, the percussion gong—hanging from a decoratively carved wooden base—reverberates in the room.

  “Hello, kōhais . . . students. Welcome.” Master Ben Johansson walks the floor, adjusting sashes and uniforms as needed. “Take a seat on a colored square on the floor.”

  The children quiet down and sit on the ground as instructed.

  “I am your Dai-Sensei, your grand master, and this is my daughter, Ava, your Sensei . . . master.”

  Like in the past, I stand off to the side and listens to Pops give his introduction speech.

  I’ve heard it enough times over the years; I could recite it word for word.

  He’s a creature of habit. Some things never change.

  The bell on the front door chimes, signaling someone has entered the building.

  I scan the cubbies, but each designated slot is occupied, which means all the students are present and accounted for.

  Excusing myself, I make my way down the hallway to see who entered.

  Pushing through the door, I step into the waiting area.

  “I hear you’re teaching a class tonight.” Cole Cotter leans against the counter.

  “What are you doing here,” my voice cracks.

  Of all the people I expected to see tonight, he wasn’t one of them.

  “Thought I’d sign up.”

  “The class is full.” I narrow my eyes, keeping him in full view.

  “You sure about that?” A wolfish grin spreads across his face. “I’ve never known your father to turn a kōhai away.”

  “Well, for your information, you’re a little too old for this session.”

  “Ava.” Ben’s voice booms from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

  “No one, Pops.”

  The door swings open and my father steps into the waiting area.

  “Well, well, well. Cole Cotter.” Ben extends a hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure, son?”

  “I heard Ava was teaching a class tonight, so I thought I’d come over and sign up.” He grins. “It’s been a while since I’ve practiced the arts. Thought I could do with a refresher or two, but your d
aughter tells me the roster’s full, and that I’m too old.”

  Ben walks up and pulls Cole into a bear hug.

  “Well, the roster is full, and Ava’s correct, you are too old to attend. It’s for four to ten. However, you could suit up and co-facilitate the class with Ava if you’re interested. It sure would help me out if you had the time.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Dai-Sensei.” Cole bows to Ben.

  “Wait. What?” My heartbeat picks up speed, pounding out a steady cadence in my chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I push him toward the door as if corralling him to the exit.

  “Cole’s way too busy and was just leaving, right?”

  “Me. Nah. I’m never too busy to help teach the youth of the community.” Cole turns to face me, then winks.

  “Ava, dear.” Ben opens the door. “Why don’t you take Cole to the back and find him a uniform. I’ll keep the class under control until you two return.” Then he slips out of sight.

  Looking up, I lock eyes with Cole. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “Do you, now?” His intense blue eyes hold me spellbound.

  “Yeah. And it’s not working.”

  “You sure about that?” The corners of his lips curl upward into another wolfish grin.

  “You’re an ass.”

  “Maybe.” His grin widens, stretching from ear to ear. “But you’re stuck with me, all of me.”

  With a loud, boisterous huff, I pivot on the balls of my feet, and then storm through the door with Cole hot on my heels.

  Chapter 5

  Cole Cotter

  THE WOLF INSIDE Me HOWLES, silently, in triumph.

  I know Ava’s not happy about the new-found arrangement; me helping to teach the class for the next few weeks. But, at least, it will give me the opportunity to find out why she ran from me—why she’s still fleeing.

  Her flight reflex has managed only to spark my hunting instinct even farther.

  The untamed beast inside me yearns for a chase and wants to take off in pursuit. From prior experiences, when the wolf sets eyes on something or someone, it usually gets what it wants. And right now, my inner wolf craves Ava.

  In the locker room, she tosses a studio T-shirt and sweats at me, hitting me square in the chest.