Cold Hearted: An Alaskan Werewolf Romance

by Heather Guerre

  Lucia shook her head. “No, but all my students clearly know what’s up. They’re all being so shifty and weird about it. I know I can’t pry into a student’s health history, but it’s freaking me out. She’s in my Pre-Algebra class. What if she has an episode and I can’t get help in time, or I do the wrong thing, or…” Lucia broke off with a frustrated sigh.

  “I wonder if Eric knows anything.”

  “He might. I caught Elena Morris creeping out of his room three weeks ago.”

  “What!”

  Lucia grinned. “I promised her I wouldn’t gossip. Anyway, she’s a local. She might have told Eric something about it.”

  “Way to keep that promise. Remind me never to—”

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Lucia and I stared at each other with wide eyes. In a panic, we shoved away from each other and sprinted to our own rooms. I eased my door shut just as the footsteps reached the top landing. They continued down the hall, passing my door. And then they stopped.

  It’s him! I pressed my ear to our shared wall, practically vibrating with anticipation.

  I heard the rattle of his key in the lock, the creak of his door opening. And then… silence. A long stretch of silence, finally broken by a masculine chuckle. I pressed my hands over my mouth to silence my answering laughter. Caleb’s footsteps continued into his room, and the door swung shut.

  Heart racing, I spun away from my door and leapt onto my bed like a little kid. The bedsprings squealed as I bounced. I froze, wide-eyed. No sound from Caleb’s room. I eased back against my headboard, grinning. “Your turn, Kinoyit,” I whispered.

  The next morning, I showered and dressed. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and the hallway was dark when I opened my door. I stepped out—and was immediately tangled in an enormous net. I shrieked as I stumbled back into my room. It was all over me, clinging like a thousand little tentacles. I flicked the light on and realized I was tangled in beautiful cobalt yarn. Worked into the complicated net were all the knitting needles and stitch markers.

  That he’d managed to weave a giant spider’s web over my door without waking me was admittedly an accomplishment. I was a notoriously light sleeper. With a growl, I shut my door and began the work of carefully extracting myself from the yarn without damaging it. I spent several minutes carefully separating the skeins and winding them into tidy loops. I set them on my dresser along with the needles and the stitch markers. I needed time to think on my response—I had to top a giant spider’s web.

  When I made it down to the dining room, Caleb wasn’t there. I scanned a second time, wondering if I’d missed him.

  “Looking for someone?” Lucia asked with a grin.

  “You know I am.”

  She cackled. “I saw the net. Impressive.”

  Jess came in behind me. “Hey, Grace. Hey, Lucia.” She glanced at me. “What’s in your hair?” She plucked it out and handed it to me. A stitch marker.

  I curled my fist around it with a growl. “Where is Caleb?”

  Arthur Freeman looked over his shoulder from where he was seated at the counter. “Caleb flew out to Fairbanks.”

  An idea immediately popped into my head. “Any idea how long he’ll be gone?”

  Arthur shrugged. “He said he’d be back for Linnea and Roland’s party, but I wouldn’t expect to see him before five.”

  “Perfect.”

  Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Perfect for what?”

  “Nothing to worry yourself about, Arthur. Jess, Lucia? Got time for a ride to the airstrip?”

  “Yes!” Lucia said, bouncing with excitement.

  “For what?” Jess asked, sounding as wary as Arthur.

  “Vengeance,” I told her with a feral grin.

  She blinked. “Well. Alright.”

  Out at the airstrip, we found Caleb’s truck parked in front of the hangar. Like everybody else in Longtooth, he left his vehicle unlocked, which was convenient for my purposes. Pulling both doors open, we started in the middle of the old bench seat, tying the first skein off to the rearview mirror. We wound it all over the cab, looping it through headrests, door handles, sun visors, the gear shift, the steering wheel, the gas pedals, the glove compartment, the heater vents, the seat belts. We hooked the stitch markers into the carpeting on the floors and used them as anchors for the yarn. When one skein ran out, we tied it onto the next and continued working. By the time all four skeins were used, the interior of Caleb’s truck was an impassible labyrinth of crisscrossing blue yarn.

  When we were done, we piled back into my truck, giggling like children. Back at The Spruce, I was so impatient for Caleb’s return, I forgot to be nervous about the upcoming crowd of strangers.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The party was less than an hour from starting, and there was still no sign of Caleb. I went up to my room to get cleaned up. I put on one of my favorite sweaters—a form-fitting, snow-white sweater with the most intricate cabling I’d ever done, a repeating pattern of interlocking Celtic knots. I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans I hadn’t worn since I’d arrived in Longtooth, and slid my feet into a pair of delicate suede flats. I smoothed jojoba oil into the ends of my hair and brushed it until it shone. I took the time to put on a touch of makeup. It was more effort than I’d put into my appearance in months, and it felt good. I smiled at myself in the mirror.

  When it was time for the party to begin, I made my way downstairs, fighting the nervous dread that always accompanied these sorts of events. The sound of voices drifted up to me, carrying over low music. The front entry doors creaked open, and more voices joined the throng. I took a deep breath and continued down the steps. But when I reached the threshold of the dining room, I froze. The Teekkonlit Valley had turned out en masse. The entire dining room was packed with bodies.

  I shrank back, nervously scanning faces. Each time I recognized somebody, it was a relief. But there were just as many faces I didn’t recognize. I spotted Jess on the far side of the room and tried to work up the nerve to wade through the crowd to her.

  “Grace?” Caleb’s voice rumbled behind me. I turned to face him, not even surprised by the wave of relief that washed over me. Somebody I knew. But when I actually saw him, that relief turned to dry-mouthed astonishment. He looked… different. Heat prickled beneath my skin as I took him in.

  He was still Caleb, but, sharper. He still had the thick, black beard, but it had been trimmed, tidying the edges and pruning back the mustache to reveal surprisingly full, firm lips. His shaggy hair had gotten a much needed cut. It was still long, but now, instead of looking like carelessness, it was intentional. He wore a clean flannel shirt with no rips or frayed edges. The changes were subtle, but they made enough of a difference that my attraction to him went from inconvenient to unbearable.

  My ears were burning with a flush that threatened to spread to my face. I forgot all about the yarn in his truck and my plans to antagonize him. “Caleb. Hi,” I managed to choke out.

  He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. The calloused pad of his thumb left a bloom of fire in its wake. “You look nice,” he said. A grin pulled those gorgeous lips back, revealing a flash of teeth. My brain whited out for a second. “I’d never guess you spent the afternoon turning an innocent man’s truck into a Gordian knot.”

  This was the part where I was supposed to banter wittily. But my brain had vacated the premises. “Well—I—uh…fair turnabout is—no. I mean, uh… that’s what you get!” In a complete panic, I spun away from him.

  And crashed into Max Freeman.

  “Whoa, Grace.” He peeled me off, steadying me. “Buy a guy a drink first.” Minus the Magnum P.I. mustache, Max was the spitting image of Arthur. He even had the same easygoing competence that made Arthur so likable. Looking at Max told me exactly what Arthur looked like twenty-five years ago. And why Natasha had decided to steal him.

  But, as attractive and likable as Max was, there was no spark between us. So I could smile at him and bring my brain back online. “Wel
l, I’ve heard drinks are free tonight, so put it on my tab.”

  I could still feel Caleb’s eyes on me, feel the space his body took up in the room. I moved away from them both, fighting my way through the crowd and over to Jess.

  “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

  “I hate crowds and Caleb got a haircut,” I wheezed.

  “I didn’t know you hate crowds.”

  “Yep.” I went back to nervously scanning faces. When I accidentally made eye-contact with Caleb, I nearly leapt out of my skin.

  “Well, that’s understandable. But what’s this about Caleb’s haircut?”

  “Shut up. I never said anything about Caleb.”

  “I’m pretty sure you did.”

  The man in question was currently making his way across the room, gaze pinned on me. “Oh, no. Jess. Shit. I have to, uh—”

  Jess followed my stricken gaze. Her expression transformed into mischievous delight. “You have to come with me.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along the back wall, towards the table where drinks and snacks had been set up. “Don’t bother with food.” She twisted the cap off the top of a bottle labeled simply RED WINE and poured a generous glass. “This will help with the crowd thing. Might make things worse with the Caleb thing—depending on how you want that to go.”

  “I don’t—”

  She shoved the glass in my hand and clinked her own against it. “Drink up!”

  I took a healthy slug, and then another.

  “There we go!” Jess topped my glass off, then dragged me back through the crowd. “I’ll introduce you to some people. Then it won’t be so bad.”

  And it wasn’t. Jess stayed by my side. I met the parents of many of my students. I met the cousins and siblings of people I already knew. I got into a long conversation with Harry Lance’s sister Lorraine about the difficulty of knitting cables with light-colored yarn. I ended up in a good-natured argument with Connor Ankkonisdoy’s Uncle Geoff about the merits of Jack Kerouac. I astonished the hell out of Arthur’s sister Ruth when I mentioned in passing that Natasha taught me to make babka—apparently she guarded that recipe like a dragon with its gold. I promised Brigitte Yidineeltot—the mother of two of my students, aunt to several others, and cousin to my coworker Roger—that she could borrow a copy of The Cloud Roads.

  Jess greeted a tall, dark-eyed woman with a hug. “Aunt Meredith, this is Grace Rossi. Grace, this is my aunt, Meredith Kinoyit.” She grinned and added, “Caleb’s mom.”

  “You know my Caleb?” she asked with a warm smile, shaking my hand.

  “We’re neighbors.” I pointed upstairs. “Do you live in Longtooth?”

  She shook her head. “I’m closer to Eagle Ridge.”

  It surprised me how many people had come all the way from Eagle Ridge, and the even more distant villages of Kiyeedza and Daghukkoda. The roads connecting the Valley’s towns and villages were unpaved, and often impassable in the winter. Even in good conditions, the winding drive from Eagle Ridge to Longtooth would take nearly three hours. But Arctic winters are long and dark, and I suppose a three-hour drive is worth getting out of the house and having a little fun.

  “Are you the new English teacher?” Meredith asked.

  I nodded. “How did you know?”

  Meredith shrugged. “The Valley’s small, and news travels fast.” Her tone was casual, but her eyes were intent. She searched my face for a moment, her own face unreadable. “Well, welcome to the Valley, Grace.”

  “Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

  Jess pressed me on through the crowd. By the time I made it to the guests of honor—Roland and Linnea—I’d met just about everyone in the room, and made my way through two very full glasses of wine. I gave them my heartfelt congratulations.

  Jess and I drifted back to the periphery of the room.

  “I don’t hate crowds,” Jess shouted, “but I’m not in love with these giant parties. There’s no room to move and having a conversation is impossible over all the noise.”

  “What?” I shouted at her.

  She grinned and elbowed me.

  The volume of the music rose, and bodies suddenly pressed in on me as the crowd backed away from the center of the room, leaving Roland and Linnea standing alone in a large circle. The previous song faded into silence, and then the opening of strains of Unchained Melody floated through the room. Linnea turned to Roland with a huge smile. He reached out for her hand, pulling her to his chest with a twirl.

  Cheers and whistles traveled through the crowd. Roland and Linnea danced together in slow circles, so focused on each other that the rest of us may as well not have existed. I watched them and felt that strange little crack in my chest fracture just a little wider. I want that, I thought wistfully.

  As the song went on, other couples joined them, until the center of the room was filled with slowly revolving dancers. I saw Harry and Joanne, Arthur and Natasha, and dozens of others happily swaying in each others’ arms. When Unchained Melody ended, half the couples drifted off the dance floor. Jim Dandy came on, and the remaining dancers broke from the dreamy romance of slow-dancing into the kind of barroom swing I’d only ever seen people from my grandparents’ generation do. It was fast and enthusiastic and hectic. A distant memory played in my mind—Grandma and Grandpa tearing it up at a backyard party, both laughing helplessly after Grandpa accidentally twirled Grandma right into Aunt Debbie’s rhododendrons.

  “That’s the smile of a woman who wants to dance.” Max Freeman stood beside me, hand extended.

  “I don’t know how to dance like this,” I shouted over the music, taking his hand anyway, following him to the edge of the dance floor.

  “Just follow my lead.” With a tug, he reeled me close to him. He caught my other hand, and away we went. I wasn’t entirely sure how to follow, but Max managed to pull me into turns and spins, and I tried to match my footwork to his. I nearly kicked my shoes off three times. When the song ended, I was breathless and sweaty, but feeling light as a balloon. Jim Dandy bled into Ain’t Goin’ Down, and Harlan tapped Max on the shoulder, cutting in. Harlan guided me in an energetic two-step, wincing dramatically when I stepped on his feet.

  “Your parents were really optimistic when they named you, huh?” he shouted over the music.

  I swatted at him in mock offense, but my big smile ruined the effect. Harlan kept me for the next song, Black Velvet, laughing in delight when I managed to fall into step without being forcibly guided.

  “Not too bad, Grace,” Harlan told me as the last few chords played out.

  The Way You Look Tonight came on, and Wade Evers appeared, stealing me for a slow dance.

  Tamsyn Taaltsiyh claimed Wade from me after that, and I gratefully escaped the dance floor, desperate for a drink of water. Jess was standing at the drinks table, talking to Meredith Kinoyit, who watched the dancing with dark, unreadable eyes.

  “Well, aren’t you Miss Popular?” Jess turned to me when I reached them. “Stealing all our men with your fancy footwork and your exotic midwestern charm.”

  “You figured me out,” I told her, putting my empty water glass down and picking my wine back up. “First I’ll seduce them with my inability to dance, and then I’ll—ack!” A big body crashed into mine, sending me to the ground. I landed hard on my hands and knees. My wine splattered across the floor like blood.

  “Caleb!” Meredith shouted, sounding appalled.

  “Grace! I’m so sorry!” Connor appeared at my side in an instant, hauling me to my feet. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I said quickly, pushing my hair out of my face, straightening my sweater. I could feel dozens of eyes on me. Everyone was calling out to see if I was okay. I felt my face turning beet red. My skin prickled with nervous sweat.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Connor pressed, stooping to peer into my averted face. Unconvinced murmurs surrounded me.

  “Are you sure, honey?”

  “You seem a little flushed.”r />
  “Why don’t you—”

  Natasha emerged through the crowd, an arm extended to me. “She’ll be fine once you clod-poles learn to look where you’re going. Come on, Gracie. You need a new drink.” She looped her arm through mine and drew me away from Connor. I had to sidestep another male body and realized it was Caleb glowering down at me. His hair was mussed, but he still looked just as shockingly handsome as he had when he first walked in.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked—but not in a nice tone. It was a skeptical, slightly mocking question. As if I were making a scene for no reason. Like I enjoyed the attention. Anger flared like a struck match. What I really wanted was for there to be no scene at all. I was embarrassed by the attention I was getting, and mortified by my helpless attraction to him, and here he was, being a giant tool bag about it all.

  “I’m fine,” I told him icily.

  “Good,” he said and turned away.

  “Man, your social skills are stellar,” I called after his retreating back. I couldn’t help myself. The words just burst out of me. Hoots and chuckles followed my jibe, bright eyes bouncing between me and Caleb, drinks lifted to hide curling smiles.

  He swiveled back to me with a sneer. “Swept you off your feet, didn’t I?” His glance flicked to the spot where I’d been knocked down. A kitchen rag had been laid over my spilled wine. It looked like a blood-soaked burial shroud.

  “I believe that was Connor,” I corrected him archly.

  Connor looked up, shoulders hunched sheepishly. “Uh, actually I tripped Caleb. He’s the one who knocked you down.”

  My gaze flew back to Caleb, who arched his eyebrows smugly.

  Asshole.

  “Oh no!” Natasha plucked at my sweater. The formerly snow-white wool was splattered with red wine.

  I stared down at it, keeping the despair out of my expression. “Well, that’s ruined.”

  “No.” Natasha pulled me behind the diner counter and through the kitchen’s swinging door. “We can fix this.”