by Sara Dailey
The blood-red tips of his hair were gone, but he looked every bit like the rock star who knocked me off my feet almost twenty-four hours before. His flannel shirt hung unbuttoned over a plain white T-shirt, and the sleeves were rolled up just a bit, enough to see his tattoos peeking out and the multiple bands tied around his wrists. Two thick silver chains hung from a side belt loop that swooped down and connected to the back pocket of his loosely fitted, worn-out jeans.
His look screamed, I’m too cool for my own damn good, definitely too cool for you, but when his eyes met mine and a stunning smile broke out across his equally stunning face, I couldn’t stop my feet from moving in his direction.
I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and the notion that this might have been a bad idea flew right out the window.
He met me halfway and said, “Hey, Lillian Michaels. I was hoping you’d show up. I was afraid you’d change your mind.”
How could he possibly know that? I stared up at him incredulously. “Why would I change my mind?”
He shrugged his shoulders and then laced his fingers through mine as he pulled me toward the back room. “I don’t know. You just seemed…unconvinced. But I have big plans to change that. I just need to clock-out real quick. Then I can get started.”
“Get started on what?”
He stopped in front of the door that said Employees Only and replied, “Convincing you, of course.”
Just the thought of what those four little words could mean stirred something inside me that I didn’t even know existed, and if I had dropped dead right there in that moment, I would have died a very happy lady.
We walked a few blocks from the record store and arrived at a huge open area full of outdoor shops, art displays, food carts, and street performers. My eyes widened at the sight of it all. “What is this place? It’s amazing.”
“A couple of times a year they set this thing up. All the local shops and restaurant owners, artists, and whoever else is interested can set up shop right here in the middle of town for a few days. People come from all over to check it out. Pretty cool, right?”
Watching in awe as a man dressed in medieval clothing juggled daggers I agreed, “It’s absolutely perfect.”
And it was perfect, and I loved it. But it also reminded me of all I’d missed out on being locked away from the world on the pack estate, and of all the things I’d never get to do or see as Marcus’s wife, the alpha’s mate.
The dark thought was immediately quashed as Paul threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Come on. Let’s take a look around.”
We chatted and joked as we checked out all the little makeshift stores. We stopped at a huge cart covered in every type of accessory imaginable and took turns trying on tons of silly hats, god-awful scarves, and trendy sunglasses to see who could come up with the most creative combination. A few sightseers stopped to informally judge, and after a couple of tossups he topped my hot-pink sunhat, plaid winter scarf, and mint-green satin gloves that came up to my elbows by modeling a pinstriped Fedora, a baby-pink feather boa and some aviator glasses for me and a dozen or so sightseers. Watching him strut around in ridiculous, mismatched accessories made me laugh so hard I cried.
He pulled his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose and peeked out over the top. “Sorry, Michaels. Looks like you lost out to my superb fashion sense. Better luck next time.”
“Maybe you should give up music and try fashion school. I think you may have missed your calling,” I teased as we cleaned up the mess we’d made. After we thanked the cart owner for putting up with us, we headed out to our next destination.
Wandering side by side we brushed shoulders, and when he laced his fingers through mine my heart fluttered and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so content. I reveled in the newfound feeling. Paul slowed down and pointed toward an ice cream vendor. “How about some of that? You can’t come to a place like this and not eat ice cream. It’s like a rule.”
I smiled up at him and nodded my head. “It’s my all-time favorite rule. Ice cream is a must.”
We ordered two waffle cones filled with Rocky Road and found a bit of shade to sit under and relax while we enjoyed our treat. Sitting cross-legged, facing each other, we talked about trivial things like the weather, our favorite things to do in the summer, and the importance of choosing just the right ice cream flavor.
At one point he asked me if I had plans to go off to college, a perfectly normal question for someone who just graduated from high school. I froze. I had no idea how to answer him. I finally mumbled something about being undecided, and after he shot me an odd look, he quickly changed the subject.
Once that disastrous moment was over, he kept things light and playful, which both relieved and confused me.
When the crowd thinned out and most of the vendors began to pack up shop, we headed back to the record store where I’d left my car. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I couldn’t stay. The real world was waiting for me back home, and I’d have to return to it sooner or later.
I leaned my back against the driver’s side door and faced the guy who had managed to completely steal my heart in less than twenty-four hours. I had a feeling that when I drove away from here I’d be leaving a part of me behind, a part I might never get back.
A storm of butterflies took flight inside my stomach as he placed his hands on my hips and stared into my eyes. “I’d like to see you again, Lillian.”
A nervous and unsure-sounding okay slipped out of my mouth, and his usually carefree eyes suddenly looked unsure too.
“Look, I’m not going to stand here and act like I have this amazing gift for reading people, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more to you than you let on. And you’re not up for sharing, I get it. I won’t push you. You can tell me all about yourself when you’re ready. I just want to make sure I do see you again.”
The sincerity of his words touched me somewhere deep inside but stung me just the same. He knew I was holding back, that I had something to hide…and he somehow understood not to push me. My cheeks flushed at the thought that he actually wanted to see me again, and I searched the depths of my brain trying to figure out how I could make it happen.
I was just about to respond when he lowered his head to kiss me. He stopped for a second just before his lips met mine, as if giving me the chance to decide. There was no way in hell I was going to stop him, though, and to show him that I’d made my decision I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck. When he finally pressed his lips to mine, I melted into his embrace and threaded my fingers through the back of his hair.
The slow, sensual kiss sent my hormones into overdrive, and I’d never been more turned on in my life.
All too soon he pulled away and asked, “Will you call me?”
Needing a moment to regain my senses, I nodded my head in reply.
“And Friday, we have a gig at a local club. Wanna come watch us play?”
Again, I nodded my head.
“If I keep asking questions, will you keep saying yes? Because I can keep going.”
I laughed, nodded my head, and said, “Probably.”
“Then, do you promise you’ll call? And before you answer, just know you can’t say you will and then don’t. Another rule.”
His eyes lit up as I nodded my head once more and said, “You and your rules. Do you just make this shit up as you go?”
He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I’m not at liberty to say. You know, it being a rule and all.” Before I could respond, he brushed his soft lips against mine again and then whispered, “Don’t forget to call. You promised.”
Chapter 10
Thank God for Mrs. Walker and my mother’s constant wedding questions and planning or I wouldn’t have made it through the week. I’d been literally losing my mind waiting for Friday to finally arrive, and now that it was here, I was scared shitless.
For most of the week I’d immersed myself in the role of an excited bride-to-
be and followed Marcus’s mother around almost every day. And while I was pretty sure Mrs. Walker wouldn’t be too happy if she knew that her floral selections and menu choices were helping to keep my mind off seeing Paul again tonight, I figured what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. It’s not like she’d been thinking about what would hurt me. When Marcus stopped by the florist earlier that day to meet his mother and me because he “just had to see the flowers we picked out,” I thought for sure Mrs. Walker would notice how uncomfortable the two of us were making decisions about a day we were both dreading, but she didn’t. If she did notice, she didn’t care.
Marcus stuck around for all of ten minutes, reassured his mother that the centerpieces were lovely, and then promptly excused himself. Before he ran off, he claimed that he’d be busy with work for the rest of the day and wouldn’t be around until late tonight, and he’d be so tired that he probably wouldn’t be very good company.
Well, that’s one hell of a relief, I thought, since I was heading to Taos to see another guy.
I knew that sneaking around behind Marcus’s back was wrong, but I’d shoved that little notion so far back into the dark recesses of my mind that the guilt only bubbled up every once in a while. All I had to do was spend about three minutes alone with Marcus to remember that my life had practically been stolen from under me, and maybe this was my way of taking just a smidgen of it back.
Not that it was that easy. On my way back to Red Ridge last Sunday, I’d only made it about ten miles down the road before all the happy, fluttery feelings from Paul’s kiss were swallowed whole by the nasty little bugger named guilt. Suddenly I was overcome with shame, being that I was now not only a liar but a cheater too, and I had no idea how to handle it. I had to pull over on the side of the road so my mini panic attack didn’t make me have an accident. Needless to say, I felt like total scum. But that all changed somewhere around Wednesday when I slapped on my happy face and said and did everything I was supposed to, and surprise, surprise, it wasn’t enough.
My mother bitched me out for not being “excited” enough in front of Mrs. Walker, and then Marcus gave me the second lame excuse in a row about working late. Like I didn’t know exactly what he was doing—or should I say who he was doing, since I’d bet it was Noel in spite of anything he said. It was after that miserable day and an even worse evening that I picked up the phone and pulled out the flyer that I had stuffed under my mattress. From then on, I was done feeling guilty. Never in a million years did I ever think that I’d be the type to cheat, but here I was and could honestly say that I didn’t feel that bad about it.
The whole time I was getting ready, I racked my brain for a plausible excuse for leaving tonight and staying out so late. I had nothing! I was just hoping that my parents wouldn’t ask when I made my getaway. On top of that, I had no idea what to wear and the act of searching through my closet was making me nuts, so I just put on a white tank, my black floral baby-doll dress, and my Docs. That would just have to do.
Before I left, I peeked downstairs and saw that my parents’ bedroom door was closed, so I grabbed my purse and keys and walked out of the house like I always did when going to Marcus’s. Free and clear…at least until I got home.
Honestly, I had no idea what they’d do if they caught me. Surely they wouldn’t rat me out, if only because it could ruin their chance of marrying into the alpha’s family. They wouldn’t be protecting me. They’d be protecting themselves. But I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they’d just sweep it under the rug either. There was no doubt in my mind that there’d be serious consequences. I could only hope that I’d never have to find out what those were.
The drive from the estate into Taos was only about forty minutes, so I wasn’t worried about driving there by myself. On the other hand, I was a little apprehensive about going into a club alone. I didn’t have much of a choice, though. It wasn’t like I could ask a friend from the pack to come with me while I cheated on their alpha, and thanks to Marcus I didn’t have any domestic friends. Not any close ones, anyway. My only possible option was Tiffany, but I figured it would be safer just going alone.
Paul asked me to come a little early, which in his line of work meant 10:00 p.m., and I pulled in at 10:07. Perfect timing. But if my shaking hands gripping the steering wheel were any indicator, it would be safe to say that my nerves were definitely getting the best of me. As I pulled into a tight parking space of the 17th Street Bar, I knew that I needed to calm down before I made an ass out of myself.
I forced myself out of the car, straightened my dress, and walked up to the building trying to at least appear like I knew what I was doing. A pretty girl with pink hair, about my age, was working the door.
“You must be Lillian?” she said, surprising the hell out of me. I popped my knuckles and nodded my head in response. She motioned toward the door. “The band is setting up. Go on in.”
Paul must have told her to look for me. My heart swelled at the thought. It had been so long since anyone actually considered my feelings, and it kind of made me feel important, which significantly improved my comfort level.
The bar was open and a decent number of patrons were there, but the lights had yet to be turned down low and the music was just background noise. As soon as I walked through the door and turned the first corner, I saw him. More delectable than ever, he stood on the stage looking like he’d just walked out of one of the many fantasies I’d dreamt up over the last week. He wore those same slim-fit black pants from the first time I’d seen him, and his blond hair was once again dyed red. I could have stood there all night just watching him from afar, but he looked up just in time to catch me admiring the view.
I swear time slowed to a crawl as he slipped his guitar over his head, revealing the tiniest peek of smooth tanned skin covering a firm, flat stomach. He hopped off the stage and jogged my way with that killer smile on his face that never failed to cause my pulse to race.
“You made it,” he said, just before his lips met mine in a searing kiss that ended all too soon. It completely caught me off-guard but in the best possible way. It was crazy that we’d only kissed once before, yet Paul already felt comfortable enough to just walk up to me and do it in the middle of the empty dance floor. Maybe it was because he was the passionate-performer type, or maybe it was just his personality. He just seemed so incredibly sure of himself and at ease in his own skin. For that, I envied him.
“You look amazing,” he whispered as he pulled me tighter against him. It was times like this when being a werewolf was a definite advantage; his scent washed over me, and every molecule in my body fired up and felt alive. I couldn’t help but turn in to his hug and breathe in his deliciousness.
Paul let his arm fall and he grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let me introduce you to some of my friends.”
He led me toward a large table set off to the side that was obviously reserved for the band. There were three girls and a guy sitting there already. I met Jennifer, the lead singer’s girlfriend, then Stephanie, who was dating the other guitar player, and Jackie and Kirt, the drummer’s brother and sister. They were all smiles and handshakes and made me feel like part of the group straightaway.
“I gotta go get set up. You going to be okay here?” Paul asked.
“Go, she’ll be fine. We will tell her everything she needs to know about you,” Kirt teased. Everyone laughed at the dirty look Paul shot him.
I gave Paul a little shove and told him that I would be fine. Before he left, though, he cupped my face in his hand and kissed me again. Purely on its own, my body sagged against him and my eyes closed. I didn’t know how he did it, but somehow he made me forget everyone else in the room.
The band began its set just as the club started to fill up. I must admit that the Spastic Bambis were really good. Paul’s friends were super-friendly, and not one of them had anything bad to say about Paul. He wasn’t a jerk, he wasn’t arrogant, he wasn’t a womanizer, et cetera, et cetera. From what I could tell, he rea
lly was the perfect guy, which kind of made what I was doing here even worse. Would a guy like him have anything to do with me if he knew I was engaged to another? I knew the answer to that question, and it stung.
As I watched Paul play, my mind sorted through all the reasons why I should get up and leave, throw away Paul’s number and forget that I’d ever met him. The first obvious problem was that I’m not human. Then there was the matter of a diamond ring that should be on my finger instead of in my jewelry box. The list could go on and on, but those two were so huge, they were enough all on their own.
I had almost convinced myself that I should sneak out the back when Paul’s spine-tingling voice filled the air. This time he sang a cover of “Runaway Train,” and I could barely breathe much less convince my legs to carry me away from him. His voice sounded so desperate and lost that I wanted to cry. It was like he was singing every single thing I was feeling.
I stared, unable to tear my eyes away from him. When his eyes weren’t closed, they were on me, and something intense and real was passing between us. I was almost relieved when the song came to an end. I felt exposed, like Paul could see right through me, like all my secrets were on display, and I could no longer hide behind my lies.
I remained glued to my stool, and before I knew it was last call and the band was finished for the night. Only vaguely aware of the conversation taking place at the table, I watched as Paul carefully packed up his equipment. The girl with the pink hair handed him a beer as he walked past the bar and straight over to me. He pulled up a barstool next to mine and sat so close that we were touching. He rested his arms on the table and turned his head so that he could look right at me. I didn’t say anything, and neither did he. The moment was too raw, too intimate.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned over and kissed him. His skin was warm and slick with perspiration. His lips were soft and tasted faintly of Bud Light. It was just a kiss. A simple pressing of lips together, but it confirmed what I already knew. I was falling hard and fast for this guy.