He is my Luca, and he has come home.
“Remember, Savvy.” He pulls away with a whisper. “I need you to remember.”
My eyes flutter open, and I swim in the infinite sea of blue that gazes down at me. I nearly miss the fact that they are no longer Luca’s eyes.
They are a wolf’s.
I wake with a scream, tossing covers and pillows and one stuffed elephant aside as I jump to my feet. I stand there, staring at my bed like it’s somehow to blame for the creations of my subconscious. Placing a hand to my chest, I force myself to take slow and steady breaths.
The pinkish-orange glow of sunrise tints my room. Thank God it’s morning because there is zero chance of going back to sleep after that rude awakening.
My pulse is still hammering when I make my way to the bathroom. I don’t notice that I am not alone until I look in the mirror and find Steve brushing his teeth in my sink. His hazel eyes meet mine in the reflection.
I jump, barely swallowing the scream in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. Then spits. I suppose he thinks the answer is obvious.
“You’re spending every night here now? You’re brushing your teeth in my bathroom?” I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of the skimpy spaghetti-strap top and snug boy briefs I slept in, and return Steve’s smirk with a wilting glare.
“What’s the big deal?” He doesn’t even attempt to conceal his wandering eyes. “Looking good as always, Sav.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
“I always call you that.”
“That name is reserved for family and friends,” I remind him. “You are neither.”
“Oh, come on, Sav.” He turns and slips an arm around my waist before I can evade him. “We had some good times.”
“Yeah? You know what my favorite memory is?” I bat my eyelashes.
“What’s that?” He looks down the length of my body and licks his lips. Gross.
“The night I dumped your sorry ass,” I deadpan.
He releases me with a sigh and turns to snatch up his toothbrush. “Nice, Sav. Really nice.” He shakes his head as he starts to walk away.
“It would be nice if we could continue ignoring each other,” I offer. “Summer doesn’t have to change anything. I was perfectly happy with the unspoken agreement we had going on at school.”
He stops at the doorway and glances at me with a scoff. Otherwise, he doesn’t reply before he walks out of the bathroom and into Jill’s room.
I promptly lock the door.
Showering takes me five minutes. Three years of sharing a bathroom with Jill has trained me to be fast. Anything more than five minutes and I risk washing the shampoo out of my hair with cold water. That’s not a good start to anyone’s morning.
I have compromised far more than Jill has in the years since my dad married her mom, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. There are plenty of advantages to being “low-maintenance.” I get to sleep later, save money, and don’t waste two hours out of every day staring at myself in the mirror. Give me a brush and some mascara, and I’m good to go. It’s liberating.
My only regret is that I have inadvertently molded Jill into a whiny brat who gets everything she wants, how she wants it, and when she wants it—including boyfriends. Lesson learned the hard way.
Not that I lost much when Steve hooked up with Jill. If anything, I think I came out the winner there, but I will gladly let Jill continue thinking she took something of worth from me. It doesn’t bother me because there are two people I know she will never steal. Vienna and Dad are all mine, and they’re all I need.
After finishing up in the shower, I slip on a pair of black cotton shorts and a purple tie-dyed T-shirt. I weave my wet hair into a loose braid, brush my teeth, apply a layer of mascara and a dab of lip gloss. I attach my nametag, grab my bag, and double check that the bear spray is where it’s supposed to be. I’m out the door and down the stairs before I hear any movement from Jill’s room.
“Morning, old man,” I chirp as I walk into the kitchen.
My dad looks up from the newspaper spread over the kitchen table and takes a sip from the “World’s Best Dad” mug I got him when I was eight. He pushes the reading glasses down his nose and frowns at my uniform as I stand at the counter, nibbling on a protein bar as I fix a cup of coffee.
“Going with the same dress code as last year, I see.” His disapproval is audible.
I tug at the too-short, too-tight bottoms, but they don’t budge. I am well aware that I’m dangerously close to flashing my dad more than either of us wants him to see. “Sorry, Dad. Everyone at Hilderness wears the same thing.”
He grumbles something unintelligible before going back to his newspaper. I don’t like the shorts any better than he does, but I need the job. There aren’t many options left in this town for desperate high school graduates, and I’ve had this gig at Hilderness Campground for the past three summers. The money is good enough to overlook the booty shorts a few days a week.
“How’s the car running?” he asks, obviously desperate to change the subject to something that doesn’t involve the objectification of his daughter’s body. As the owner of the only auto body shop in town, car talk is a popular topic of conversation for him.
“Like a dream.” I give my dad a reassuring smile. “I changed the oil last week.”
“Check the tires?”
“Minimal wear, fully inflated. Have a few months yet until they will need to be rotated.” Before he fires off another question on the checklist, I add, “Windshield wiper fluid and coolant levels are all good. No grinding, no vibrating, and no engine noise. She’s perfect, Dad.”
He nods once. I know he’s pleased despite his silence. Not only with the car that has outlived many others its age, but with me. My dad has taught me well, and he knows it. I can change a flat tire better than many of the men he has for customers.
“Rhonda’s staying in the city this weekend,” he blurts, completely changing the subject in that awkward way he does. “Why don’t we order a pizza tonight?”
“Sounds good. I’m off at three.”
He gives me his grunt-nod combo that lets me know we’ve reached the end of that conversation. My stepmom’s demanding career as a financial consultant is not something he brings up often, and he certainly doesn’t dwell on it.
With her staying in her loft apartment in Spokane weekdays, and coming home only on the weekends, they have spent more time apart than together since they got hitched. I used to feel bad for Jill until I spent that first Christmas with the two of them under the same roof for four days. It is in everyone’s best interest for that mother-daughter duo to live apart, but the separation isn’t fair to my dad, especially after all that he has been through. He deserves better, even if he doesn’t know it.
I stop at the table to give him a gruff kiss on the cheek as I pass him on my way to the door. A picture of a gray wolf on the front page of the paper grabs my attention, and I ask, “A wolf attack?”
“Hmm?” Dad glances down at the article. “Oh, no. The game commission thinks there may be another pack that has moved into the area.”
“Another pack? There isn’t enough territory for another pack,” I point out.
I can’t help but wonder if my experience two nights ago—assuming it happened the way I remember—was a wolf version of gang wars.
Dad shrugs, clearly not concerned. Only because he doesn’t know what happened to me, and I intend to keep it that way. “Got your pepper spray?”
I snatch my keys from the counter and give the bag dangling near my hip an affectionate pat. “Never go anywhere without it.”
Dad’s gaze briefly drifts to my shorts, and he grunts. “How about some boy repellant?”
I roll my eyes as I walk away. “Later, Dad.”
“Make smart choices,” he calls before I walk out the door—as he does nearly every morning.
I know he thinks he has something to worry a
bout, but he doesn’t. I guess I’m considered kind of pretty by boy standards, but I don’t exactly have them beating down the door. Dad says it’s only a matter of time. He believes it to be inevitable because I look so much like my mother.
That’s what he thinks. Since she died when I was five, and I don’t remember what she looked like, I have no choice but to take his word on it. I only have one faded picture of her tucked away safely on my bookshelf between my two favorite books. Despite the poor quality of the photo, my mother’s beauty is evident. A girl could only be so lucky to resemble her, but no matter how many times I study her face, I fail to see the resemblance.
I turn the volume up on the car radio to push thoughts of my mom out of my head before the memory of her death impacts my good mood. It’s my first day back to work, and I’m excited to kick off another summer.
The drive to Hilderness takes me ten minutes. Situated at the base of the mountain that borders Castien Valley to the south, it is the more popular of the two campgrounds.
We have everything: tent and RV sites, cabins, playgrounds and activities for the kids, a waterpark with a swimming pool and a new slide put in two summers ago, a paintball battle zone, mini-golf, hiking trails, a fishing pond, a restaurant, and a store. We welcome families back year after year. Despite the Hooter’s waitress-inspired shorts the owner insists that the girls wear, it’s an awesome place to work. The pay is decent, and shifts pass quickly.
Unless you’re unlucky enough to be assigned to the store, where time stops.
“You’re in the store today,” I hear when I walk into the office to punch in.
“Wha—” I spin around. “I just got here. It’s my first day back. I haven’t done anything to warrant the punishment.”
Danny Laird, who is normally my favorite manager, smiles from his seat behind the check-in counter. “I know, but you weren’t here yesterday.”
“Because you didn’t schedule me,” I remind him.
“That is true.” He jabs a finger at me. “But I had no way of knowing the employees were going to come up with a new system. The last one to punch in for every shift gets the store.” His smile turns sympathetic. “That would be you today.”
“You’re the manager,” I gripe. “Why are you letting them control the assignments?”
He shrugs. “I actually like not being the bad guy.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You were my favorite boss.”
“I still am, sweetheart.” He gives me an impish smile. “No one likes Cassie.”
“I will be her new best friend if she doesn’t dump me in the store,” I grumble as I toss my bag into an empty locker.
“We both know that’s not going to happen.” Danny tsks before bounding in his seat. His shaggy brown hair falls in his eyes, and he swipes it aside. “Oh! You weren’t here yesterday.”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve already established that.” I turn to him with a knowing smirk. There are only two things that turn him into a giddy, braindead mess. Cute boys or drama. I’m afraid to ask, but I do anyway. “What happened yesterday?”
“We finally got someone to rent number eight,” he starts, and I know he’s only hooking me for the big, exciting news to follow.
Eight is one of the few rustic campsites we offer now, at a time when people want full-service camping. It is the farthest site from all of the amenities, and rarely rented. Whoever got it must be a real nature enthusiast, and must not mind spending the week scratching their poison-ivy covered rear end.
“Did they get eaten by a bear this morning?” I play along with Danny.
“No.” His eyes widen excitedly. “There are three of them.”
“Three . . . what?”
“Oh. Only the hottest guys I have ever seen in my life,” he tells me with enough enthusiasm to rival Vienna most days.
“That’s it?” I smile.
“That’s it?” he repeats indignantly. “Girl, you haven’t seen them yet. The whole crew is salivating over them. Especially Mel. I think she went out and bought a tighter pair of shorts this morning.”
I grimace. “She was already wearing a size too small.”
“The girl is motivated.” Danny shrugs.
“Let me know how it turns out.” I shut my locker with a sigh. “I’m off to the store, apparently.”
Danny grumbles, clearly thrown off by my lack of interest in the latest gossip. He grabs a sheet of paper, a small water gun, and a handful of red flags from under the counter and hands them to me. “This week’s theme.”
I glance at the paper with a groan. “Water Wars? Again?”
“It was a hit last year,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, because the girls were working in wet T-shirts all day.”
“So old man Hilderness is a pervert?” Danny shrugs. “What else is new?”
“You only say that because you don’t have to tolerate his sexual harassment,” I grumble.
“I put up with plenty of shit from the owner, but the man is depressingly straight,” Danny sighs. “He has no interest in me.”
“What about those three super-hot campers at eight? Any of them shop in your department?” I back out the door with a laugh.
Danny frowns. “They barely looked at me. I’m not hopeful.”
“Good thing there’s no rule that says a gay man can’t admire a straight one.” I give him a wave before the door shuts behind me.
His voice follows me outside. “Girl, wait until you see them!”
As I walk next door to the store, I can’t help the nagging suspicion that I already have.
Chapter 5
I spend the first four hours of my shift staring at the clock on my cell phone. I check out a few dozen customers, fight off a handful of enthusiastic campers participating in Water Wars, and don’t see a trio of guys that fit Danny’s description. That doesn’t stop me from staring out the windows at the front of the store for a glimpse.
Not because I’m boy-crazed like half of the staff, but because I want to know if I am right. I want to know if the three guys camping at site eight are the same three guys I saw at the café yesterday, and the same I vaguely remember helping me after the attack a few nights ago. They are the only ones who can confirm what did, or didn’t, happen to me.
From the store’s location in the center of the campground, sandwiched between the restaurant and the main office, I have an excellent view of the activity around me. It’s a warm, sunny day. Squeals and shouts of fun erupt from the pool despite the chill of the water this early in the season. A round of staff-led activities and crafts are kicking off at the pavilion. Campers run around with their Hilderness-issued water guns, hunting tie-dyed wearing staff members for flags. It looks like a blast out there.
I glance at the clock on the wall, then the time on my phone, and sigh. My forehead lowers to the counter and stays there while I mutter, “I hate this store.”
The bell above the door chimes, but I don’t move. I don’t greet the customer with my Hilderness-required smile. I don’t think I physically can, considering I have lost the will to live.
I’m calculating how early I need to get up in the morning to ensure I am the first one to clock in every day when there is a gentle tap on my shoulder. I suppress a groan and put on the best fake smile I can muster as I lift my head.
“What can I—” My mouth hangs open when my gaze connects with a pair of unforgettable eyes. “Luca?”
He’s wearing the same ball cap he wore in the café and a grin I’m growing increasingly familiar with. “You work here?”
I stand up straight, give my shirt a conscientious tug, and silently thank God that the counter is blocking his view of my shorts. “I have to pay for those community college credits somehow,” I quip with a carefree shrug that I hope masks my sudden nervousness.
He knows. He knows. He knows.
Will he bring up the elephant in the room first? Or will I?
As I watch a flirty smirk slowly take over his face, I suspec
t he doesn’t recall the events of the other night the way I recall them. Or his mind is on something else. “You remember me?”
“I . . . uh—yeah. I guess,” I stammer. Not only do I remember him, I am having wildly inappropriate dreams about him. I resist the urge to fan my suddenly hot neck, and play it cool with a shrug. “It’s easy to spot the out-of-towners here on a week-long vacation.”
“Ah.” He nods once as if answering a question that I didn’t ask. “What if I told you I’m not a tourist?”
He’s flirting—I think—though it’s not as obvious as what I experienced at the party. I recognize the same cocky gleam in his eyes, but there’s something different about him today. He’s more relaxed. Casual. Friendly.
The charm I thought was flowing pretty good before is gushing now. Though I’m convinced he is a heart destroyer, and he has pinned me as his next victim, I feel myself getting sucked in. I’m not concerned. There is no harm in enjoying the attention of a cute boy, and I’m cautious enough to get out before I get burned.
I flash him a smile. “Not a tourist, huh? That leaves hunter or environmental researcher.” I appraise his low-hanging board shorts, plain white T-shirt, and leather-strapped sandals with pseudo-criticism. “You don’t exactly fit either profile.”
“Hunters don’t wear flip flops?” His laugh is a deep, rich sound that tickles my insides and makes my neck flame hotter.
I wait, but he doesn’t tell me why he is in town. I suppose he intends to leave it a mystery, so I busy myself with the stack of Water Wars instruction sheets on the counter in an attempt to pretend I don’t care one way or the other what has brought him to Castien Valley, let alone my campground.
“Can I help you find something?” I offer. “It’s limited supply, but we have the basics.”
“Well, uh . . .” He rubs the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you sell anything for . . . itching.”
I suppress a grin. “Let me guess. You went for a walk in the woods behind your campsite? Or thought the bathrooms were too far of a journey in the middle of the night?”
Shifter Crown: Valley of Truth and Denial (The Shifter Crown Series Book 1) Page 4