by Zoe Chant
The sun was painfully bright at this time in the afternoon, and Charity put on her sunglasses, tapping the wheel in time with the love song that was playing on the radio. She’d never been a fan of love songs, but just this once, she couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading across her lips.
Without even meaning to, she sang out loud with the chorus, not remembering where she’d heard the song before. Maybe nowhere – after all, a lot of these songs were pretty much the same. She could be just making it up as she went along. To be honest, Charity didn't care. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so happy – so free.
She was still humming a tune when she pulled up outside the Sheriff's office. Heaving the massive basket of food at her side, Charity crunched her way across the gravel parking lot. She’d never spent much time here before. She never had any need to – under George Atwood, she would've been lucky to get a form to fill out, let alone expect to see any action. The inside of the office was wood paneled, and, like most things in and around Cedar Hill, looked like it hadn't been redecorated since the 1970s.
She approached the deputy at the desk, and couldn't help noticing the way his eyes traveled up and down her body, before resting on the basket she carried at her side.
“Is Sheriff Whittaker around?” Charity asked with all the sweetness she could muster, determined to ignore his wandering eyes.
The deputy cocked his head a little. “Well, that would depend on who’s asking, Miss,” he said, his tone patronizing. “You his girlfriend or something?”
Charity gritted her teeth, forcing herself to smile. “Well, that would depend on who’s asking,” she said, keeping her tone sweet as sugar.
“Feeling a little feisty today, aren’t we?” The deputy’s smile took on a razor-edged gleam. “I’m afraid I can’t let just anyone wander in here – even if they are a cutie like yourself. Gotta keep our standards up, don’t we?”
Charity simply raised an eyebrow. Sure, she knew all about the standards around here. She was about to snap something that would pretty much guarantee she’d never get in to see Mason, when she heard her name being called out from further along the corridor.
“Charity?”
Charity knew it was Mason – even if she hadn’t been able to recognize his voice, the sound of him saying her name sent a pleasant shiver straight up her spine. She turned to find him standing a short way down the hall, having apparently just come out of his office.
As he walked toward her, all six foot and change of him, Charity couldn’t stop her mouth watering, and she hoped she wasn’t being as obvious as the deputy who’d been looking her over when she came in – though she was pretty sure that couldn’t be helped.
She’d never been one for uniforms before, but maybe it was just a matter of not having seen the right men wearing them. Mason, the muscles of his shoulders and biceps practically bursting his shirt at the seams and the gun belt slung low on his hips, looked smoking hot.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” Mason said when he reached her. “Do I dare hope this is a social call?”
Charity grinned a little, lifting her basket. “Just bringing you a little lunch. Unless you’ve already eaten.”
Mason shook his head. “Well, I was just about to eat a sandwich in my office, but…”
Charity laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Well, I can’t top that. You can have your sandwich, I’ll have this.”
Mason smiled. “All right, then – I suppose I can at least offer you a place to sit while you enjoy your feast.” Looking up, he nodded to the deputy behind the desk.
“Thanks, Jack,” he said, before putting his hand on Charity’s shoulder and guiding her down the corridor to his office.
“How did you know I was here?” Charity asked once the door was closed behind them.
Mason smiled. “I could sense you as soon as you pulled up in the parking lot – one of the benefits of being mates. I thought I should try not to come bursting out of my office too quickly. I got impatient after a minute or two, though.”
Charity looked a little sheepish. “I’m afraid I was a little rude to your deputy out there. My experience with the cops here hasn’t been that good. I should’ve just said I was here to see you.”
Mason shrugged. “Jack won’t take it to heart. He’s all right, really, but he likes his little kingdom out on the desk, and it’s best to try to play by his rules. Now.” Mason’s eyes fell on the basket Charity was still carrying. “What have you got there?”
“Just a little something,” Charity said coyly, before pulling back the towel she had draped over the food.
She knew she was a good cook, but Charity had never seen anyone’s eyes light up the way Mason’s did when they fell on the contents of the basket.
“You don’t know what you’ve done, Charity – the sandwiches from the machine out there are killing me, I swear. You’ve saved my life.”
Charity laughed. “Wait ’til you’ve tasted it.” She opened the container of fried chicken.
Mason didn’t even wait for the fork she’d brought him, but simply picked up a drumstick.
“Wow,” he said, after the first bite. “Every time I think I can’t possibly get any more lucky, you go and keep proving me wrong. This is amazing. How do you get it so tender?”
Charity tapped her nose. “Family secret. But luckily for you I’ll be happy to bring you in on it. One of these days.”
Mason finished off the chicken in record time, before moving onto the potato salad, the butter beans, and finally the pie. Charity had been right in her prediction that he could eat like nobody’s business, and she was glad she’d been so careful to include a lot of food.
Mason finished off the last morsel of pie and sat back in his chair. “I haven’t eaten like that in years. I feel like a new man.”
“You certainly finished it off fast enough,” Charity said playfully, before reaching forward to dab at his cheek with a napkin, wiping off a tiny smear of pie on the side of his mouth.
Mason’s eyes twinkled. “Well, once you get started, it’s hard to stop with food that good. You’re amazing. Who taught you to cook like that?”
“Mainly my dad,” Charity said. “He was real big on home-style cooking. He’d tinker with the recipes my grandma passed down to him, and now I tinker with his. I’m still trying to get the beans exactly right.” She sighed, dipping her finger into some of the leftover juices, before thoughtfully sucking. “Hmm. Maybe a little more pepper. I’m not sure.”
She glanced up to see Mason looking at the fingertip she’d just been sucking on, shiny and wet from her mouth. Deliberately teasing, she drew it back between her lips, allowing her tongue to slip out between them just a little.
Mason’s mouth was on hers the second she withdrew her fingertip. His lips were hot and his hands, catching her about her waist and pulling her close to him, were firm. Charity threw her head back and let herself be taken over by his kisses, their tongues twining, until she was left feeling light-headed and dizzy. If it hadn’t been for Mason’s steadying hands and the firmness of his body against hers, she thought she might’ve fallen over.
She looked up into his gray-green eyes when the kiss finally ended. Staring up into them as Mason tenderly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, Charity could hardly believe she’d gotten so lucky.
“Where’ve you been all my life?” she asked, her voice only just above a throaty whisper.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Mason said. “I always knew my mate was out there, somewhere – but I never thought she’d be so close to home. All those years wandering around, when everything I ever wanted was here all along!”
Impulsively, Charity stood up on her toes, pressing her lips to his once again. She kissed him deeply, her hands winding around his back and holding him close. His kisses turned hungry in return, his fingers winding through her hair. Charity could feel his growing hardness against her stomach, his erection tenting the front of his uniform pants.
Breaking off the kiss, Charity glanced down at it, before looking back up into Mason’s face, her eyes gleaming wickedly. “Oops. Is that allowed on duty?”
The look in Mason’s eyes told her it probably wasn’t – but also that he didn’t especially care. Reaching up, Charity pulled him to her, dropping kisses along his throat, while his hands played through her hair.
“Much as I want to – mmm, that’s nice – just strip you bare and take you right here on my desk, I’m afraid my office walls aren’t really all that sound-proof,” Mason said.
“I can be quiet,” Charity murmured, teasing along his jaw with her teeth.
“Not with what I’ve got in mind,” he replied, voice warm with promise.
Charity shivered, warmth pooling in her belly, and she felt herself growing wet between her thighs. Despite the fact she wanted – desperately – to take him up on his challenge, she knew they probably shouldn’t. It sounded like Mason was having a hard enough time whipping his deputies into shape as it was, and besides, she didn’t think she’d be in any fit state to drive herself back home if Mason could live up to the promise she’d heard in his voice.
And she already knew from the other night that he could.
“All right,” she said, withdrawing a little.
Mason groaned, and Charity could tell he wanted to pull her right back into his arms – but they had to go back to being responsible adults now rather than horny teenagers, as much as Mason made her feel like one.
Trying to distract herself, Charity began packing the empty containers from lunch back into her basket.
“Can I come and see you tonight?” Mason asked, his voice low with desire.
Charity glanced up at him. “Like you have to ask. I wish I could just sneak you into the basket and take you home with me right now.”
Mason’s face lit up in a smile and he laughed, before leaning down and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Tonight, then. As soon as I get off work.”
Tonight.
He made the word sound sexier and full of more promise than it really had any right to.
Charity quickly turned and headed toward the door, before she lost control of herself and ripped his shirt right off his chest. She was so high on cloud nine that she even gave the deputy at the desk a brilliant smile on her way out the door, before getting back into her car for the drive home.
The road seemed to fly by underneath her, and Charity couldn’t hold back the goofy grin on her face the whole way home. Mason was perfect. And he was hers. Just as much as she was his.
The grin lasted the whole half-hour drive back to the diner – but was abruptly wiped off her face the second she pulled into the parking lot. A single massive motorcycle was parked by the diner’s entrance, close to the steps. Stopping the truck, Charity stared at it, her heart in her throat. For a moment, she considered turning right back around and driving back to the sheriff’s office, but she quickly pushed the thought out of her mind.
Whether or not Mason was her mate, she could still deal with situations like this on her own. She’d dealt with them for years before this, and she wasn’t going to go running now.
Twisting the key in the ignition, Charity shut off the truck and opened the door, striding across the parking lot. This was her place, and no biker was going to scare her away.
She pushed open the door to see Sherri standing nervously by the bar. The second she saw Charity, she rushed over, apprehension clear on her face.
“He turned up about half an hour ago,” she whispered. “It’s the one who punched Mason. He says he wants to talk to you – when I told him you were out, he said he’d wait.”
Charity only nodded in reply. Now that she looked, she could see the biker – Jessup McLeod, he’d said his name was – sitting in a booth down the very back of the diner. He was dressed as per usual in denims and leathers, a red bandana over his long gray hair.
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with this,” Charity whispered back, before giving Sherri a reassuring pat on the arm and walking over to where Jessup sat.
“Can I help you?” she asked frostily when she arrived at the booth. “We’re not serving dinner yet. It’ll be a couple of hours.”
Jessup looked up at her, his eyes piercing. As he stared at her, Charity felt a shiver go down her spine – and not in a good way. She’d assumed he was just some meathead biker, but looking at him now, she wondered if that was true. There was intelligence in his eyes.
“Well, that’s nice of you to let me know, but I’m not here for a meal,” Jessup said, his voice measured. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”
Charity hesitated a second, before sliding in the booth seat opposite him. She was frightened, but she was darned if she was going to let Jessup know that. “What do you want?”
Jessup smiled a little. “Well, sweetheart, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I think we know each other well enough now that we can skip the niceties.”
Charity said nothing, only continuing to stare at him.
“The truth is,” Jessup continued after a moment, “me and my boys have been looking for a place to settle down for some time now. We’ve been on the road for the last little while, but now it’s time for us to set up home, get our own space. And we’ve decided we like it here.”
Charity looked at him, her heart sinking. “Here in Coldstream County? Because I can tell you now, I won’t stand for you making a ruckus in here anymore. You drive off my customers, and make my staff stay late. You might’ve gotten away with these things under George Atwood, but now –”
Jessup cut her off with a laugh. “No need to get your dander up, sweetheart,” he said, before taking a sip of the beer in front of him. “And yeah, I agree, things would’ve been a lot easier for us here under old George. He was a good man, and understood the way of things. But once we decide we like a place, we’re not so easy to get rid of.”
Charity saw the angry, malevolent glint in Jessup’s eyes, and she swallowed.
“Besides,” Jessup continued after a moment. “Don’t you go resting your hope too much on Mason Whittaker. He might think he runs things, but he still has his alpha to answer to, and his alpha has an area chief. He’ll come to heel, sooner or later.”
Charity shook her head, her blood running cold. How did Jessup know that Mason was a shifter? Could he use that information against him? Charity had no idea how many people Mason might have told about himself.
“What’re you talking about?” she asked, trying to pretend she didn’t understand.
Again, Jessup only laughed. “You don’t have to play dumb with me. I know what your pretty boy Mason is – because me and my boys are shifters too.”
Charity felt her head spin. The bikers who’d been terrorizing her were all shifters, just like Mason? Had Mason known about this? She tried to collect her thoughts, but she couldn’t. Her head felt clouded with confusion.
“But that’s a little beside the point. Now. I won’t deny that your boy’s election is an inconvenience to us – ’specially since it seems he’s taken a shine to you. But we haven’t done anything that would get us banned from your place, and we’re on the right side of the law. Nobody’s ever managed to pin anything on us. And I think I can offer you a solution that would help everybody out.”
“What do you mean?” Charity blurted, still reeling from his revelation that he – along with the rest of the bikers – was a shifter.
“I mean that when I say we like this place, I mean we like this place – your diner. Like I said, we need a place to settle, and having a business suits us great. And this place is nice and a little out of the way – picks up lots of traffic coming in off Route 66, I bet.” He paused, taking another sip of beer. “So that’s why I came in here today – to make you an offer.”
“An… an offer? For the diner?” she stammered. He could not be serious, Charity thought. He wanted to buy the diner from her? She shook her head, firmly. “No wa
y. It’s not for sale.”
Jessup’s smile was small and cruel. “You haven’t heard my offer yet. I think you’d find it fair, for a place like this. Of course, I had to knock some off, because of all the renovations we’d have to do…”
“I don’t need to hear it,” Charity said. “Like I said, the diner’s not for sale. Not now and not ever.”
She meant what she said. This had been her father’s place, and now it was hers. She had no intention of selling up, at least until she was too old to run the place anymore. She’d always hoped she might have a child of her own one day to pass it on to. But even if she didn’t, she definitely wasn’t going to sell it to Jessup and his cronies.
Jessup cocked his head, as if sizing her up. “I could offer you cash, if that makes a difference.”
Charity clenched her fists, staring at him. “It doesn’t.”
Jessup only shook his head in response, before lifting the bottle and draining the rest of his beer. “That’s a shame. I figured you’d be getting all cozy with your man up at his ranch.”
How does he know so much about Mason? Charity thought wildly.
Maybe it was a shifter thing – or maybe Jessup had been looking into him, trying to find a way around him since he’d become sheriff. Charity didn’t know. The one thing she did know was that she wanted Jessup to leave – right now.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ve told you I’m not interested in selling. And I’m not interested in having you as customers here, either. Next time you show up, I’ll call the sheriff’s office, and I’ll say whatever I have to get you kicked out. For good.”
Jessup chuckled. “All right, sweetheart, there’s no need for that. I’ve been polite, haven’t I?” Reaching over, he picked up his riding helmet before standing and making his way to the door.
Halfway across the room, he paused, turning back. “Oh – and pass on to your boy that I’m sorry for the little love tap I gave him the other evening. I didn't realize who he was at the time. I’m sure he’s big enough to understand.”