Her Doctor Mate: Seasoned Shifters #3

by Black, Tasha

  How could she possibly sit here with him wrapped around her and try to carry on a conversation?

  “Everybody comfy?” the driver called back. “My name is Ethan Chambers and I’m your driver today. We’ll make a quick tour of the farm. If you have any questions, don’t be shy.”

  He started the engine and the hayride jolted forward.

  Addison nearly lost her balance.

  Instantly Ryan’s arms were around her waist, pulling her back into the safety of his embrace.

  Addison bit her lip and prayed for restraint.

  11

  Ryan

  Ryan clenched his jaw and fought to control his body.

  Addison sat pressed against his chest, her soft curves ensconced in his arms. He could smell the honey of her lotion and hear the fevered throb of her heart. She wanted him, she desired him.

  And he was wild with need for her.

  The jostling of the hayride brought her round bottom into contact with his raging cock and he wished for nothing more than to get her alone so that he could show her the pleasure he could bring to her. How gentle and patient he would be - she wouldn’t be frightened anymore. She would yield to him, submit and allow him to annihilate her with ecstasy.

  He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotion and need.

  “How old is your baby?” Grandma Stevenson asked the couple next to them brightly, her voice like cold water on the heat of his attraction.

  He opened his eyes, grateful for the distraction.

  “He’s six months,” the wife said, smiling proudly.

  “Oh, how lovely,” Grandma Stevenson breathed. “That’s my grandson and his fiancée next to you.”

  “Oh, how nice,” the wife said.

  “So, Addison, Ryan, when can I expect my first great-grandchild?” Grandma Stevenson asked.

  Panic shot through Ryan, as he worried that this suggestion would frighten his intended mate.

  “I love children,” Addison said noncommittally.

  “Good girl,” Grandma Stevenson told her, apparently satisfied with that answer enough not to press for a date.

  Ryan thanked his lucky stars.

  “Now tell me dear, what’s your family medical history?” Grandma Stevenson asked. “You don’t have any food allergies do you? I can’t have a great-grandchild who’s allergic to nuts, part of the reason we’re here is to pick up the pecans for my famous pie.”

  “Pecan pie sounds delicious,” Addison said. “Is it your own recipe or a family one?”

  Ryan admired her ability to parry. He was so drunk on the feel of her that he couldn’t have matched wits with anyone at all, let alone his formidable grandmother.

  “It’s my mother’s,” Grandma Stevenson told her. “But I add a little kick. I’ll show you when we get back.”

  “Thank you,” Addison said. “I’d really like that.”

  Wow. Grandma Stevenson protected her coveted pecan pie recipe with her life. Addison must have been making a good impression.

  Ryan relaxed a little, enjoying the sunshine and trying not to think too hard about the way Addison’s form was pressed to his.

  12

  Addison

  Addison looked around the bakery section of the shop inside the octagonal barn.

  Despite her fears, today had been amazing. She genuinely liked spending time with Ryan’s grandmother, and with Ryan himself. And other than the breathless moments during the hayride with his arms around her, she had been able to keep her libido mostly in check.

  “Oh, Mrs. Stevenson,” a pretty lady behind the counter said. “Mom is downstairs. She’d love to say hi if you have a minute?”

  “Certainly, Evangeline, dear. It’s nice to see you back in Tarker’s Hollow,” Grandma Stevenson said.

  “Thanks so much. It’s good to be home,” Evangeline replied. “You can use the backstairs. Come on through.”

  She ushered them behind the counter to a heavenly smelling staircase.

  “The kitchen is down here,” Grandma Stevenson said on the way down. “Kate’s probably baking.”

  Sure enough, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, a woman with long frizzy curls and a baker’s apron let out a small shriek as she caught sight of Grandma Stevenson.

  In her excitement, the woman dropped the bowl of powdered sugar she had been holding. Powder flew through the air, where the lazily twirling ceiling fan sent it in all directions, like a sudden snow storm.

  Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Addison turned to Ryan. He was right behind her, close enough for her to see the dark shadow on his jaw, the sweet powder collecting on his eyelashes like snow flurries.

  This was it, this was her dream.

  Forgetting her inhibitions, she moved toward him, arms by her side, lips parted, ready for the kiss that always happened at this point of the dream.

  At the last possible second, Ryan tore his eyes from hers.

  “We’re going to take the pumpkins to the car and be right back, Grandma Stevenson,” he growled.

  “Suit yourself,” his grandmother said, and turned back to her friend.

  The two women laughed about the spilled sugar like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen as Ryan took Addison’s hand and led her back up the staircase.

  They moved through the barn, weaving through the crowd which seemed to part slightly for them, as if all of Tarker’s Hollow were conspiring to get the two of them alone.

  Addison was vaguely aware of the friendly faces, the delicious scents of the pies and spices in the barn, the sun on her face when they made it outside. But her heart was pounding in her ears and the subject of her focus was Ryan.

  By that point, he was walking so fast she had to trot to keep up. The swift rhythm of his footsteps suggested fury.

  Her addled brain wouldn’t allow her to imagine what had angered him. So she followed, mute with lust, as they moved under the sycamores, deep into the gravel paring lot.

  Addison had parked all the way up near the strawberry patches. Hers was the only car left, the yellow VW looked lonely on the hillside beneath the canopy of trees.

  When they reached it, Ryan pulled her close.

  There was no time to question, no time to wonder what he meant by wrapping his arms around her, lowering his mouth to hers.

  Addison closed her eyes and lost herself in his kiss.

  It was like no other kiss she had ever experienced. Ryan was rough, feeding hungrily on her mouth as he grasped her jacket in his fists, pressing her so close she could feel the ridges of his muscles.

  He kissed her like a desperate man, as if he were torn between kissing her and killing her.

  But she wasn’t frightened.

  Somehow she knew to her core that his hunger instinctively knew just enough restraint. He would not harm her.

  “Addison,” he groaned, pulling back slightly.

  She slipped a hand up to stroke his jaw, wondering at the delicious contrast between his warm skin and the rough texture of his five o’clock shadow.

  With a sigh of abandon he kissed her again, letting go of his hold on her jacket to cup her cheeks in his big hands.

  Addison’s body was sizzling. She had thought her dreams inspired desire, but that was nothing compared to the thundering demand of her blood now that his hips pinned hers against the car.

  She wondered vaguely if he would take her right there. And she found herself unconcerned at the thought. She wanted him - she didn’t really care how.

  “Ryan,” Grandma Stevenson called from a distance.

  No, no, no…

  But he was pulling back, a look of alarm on his handsome face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” she told him. “I understand.”

  She tried to catch her breath, and get her clothing back in order. Bitter as her disappointment was, she respected his dedication to his grandmother.

  Her phone buzzed and she checked it.

  “Oh shoot,
” she said. “It’s late and I’m supposed to meet the girls back at the house. Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” Ryan said quietly. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks so much,” she told him. “I’ll come with you to say goodbye to Grandma Stevenson.”

  “No, it’s alright,” he said. “I’ll explain.”

  “Are you sure?” She didn’t want to be rude.

  “Of course,” he assured her.

  He still wasn’t looking at her.

  If she didn’t know better, she would think he was mad at her.

  But of course, that’s what she had thought a minute ago and he had wanted to kiss her.

  Maybe he wanted to kiss her again. The idea was scintillating.

  “Yes, I guess I’d better go,” she said, catching on.

  She waved to Grandma Stevenson and got in the car.

  Once the engine started up, Ryan suddenly turned back to her.

  She rolled the window down.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “The potluck - I’ll bring something.”

  He nodded and turned back to his grandmother.

  Addison took a deep breath and then pulled down the gravel drive and onto the street.

  And though it made her feel like she was in eighth grade, she began mentally calculating the hours until she would see him again.

  13

  Addison

  Later that night, Addison stood in the kitchen with Mei, rolling out gingerbread dough.

  Beatles music was playing on the radio and Mei was rummaging around in the cupboards looking for raisins.

  “Aren’t currants the same thing?” Mei asked, holding out a can.

  Addison giggled.

  “What?” Mei asked.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that apron,” Addison said.

  Mei looked down at her chest where the phrase Rock Out With Your Crock Out was emblazoned next to a picture of a crock pot.

  “Well, you’re a fine one to talk,” she said.

  Addison grinned at her own apron, which said Hello. Is It Me You’re Cooking For? beside a line drawing of Lionel Ritchie’s face.

  Their host, Helen must have had a thing for funny aprons. Though they had never seen her wear one. Helen always wore a very nice apron with a tasteful vegetable print when she cooked. Neither of them quite dared to use it while she was out.

  “Nope, currants aren’t the same,” Addison said. “We can skip the raisins.”

  “I’ll keep looking,” Mei said, opening another cupboard. “So, are you nervous for tomorrow?”

  Addison thought for a moment.

  “I’m nervous,” she admitted. “But for all the wrong reasons. That kiss - it changed everything.”

  “Yeah, shifters sure know how to kiss,” Mei said dreamily. “But he didn’t say anything to you about a mate bond?”

  “Nope,” Addison said, shaking her head, her heart sinking.

  Mei nodded, but remained silent.

  Addison knew what her friend was so eloquently not saying. Both her best friends were mated to shifters. Neither had been able to resist declaring their bonds. Bianca’s mate had quit his job to avoid her when she was too young for the bond.

  Whereas Ryan seemed quite content to spend time with Addison, even, apparently, to kiss her. But he had not breathed a word about mate bonds. He’d never even asked her on a real date.

  Addison knew intellectually what that meant.

  But somehow her body and heart were still blissfully content in the idea that Ryan was the one.

  “It’ll all work out,” Mei said encouragingly. “I found the raisins. That’s a good sign, right?”

  “It’s a great sign,” Addison said with a smile.

  Thank goodness for best friends.

  “So how was the research today?” she asked Mei, hoping a change of subject would lighten the mood.

  “We went to the local police to try and chart traffic patterns,” Mei said.

  “How did it go?” Addison asked. “Did they help you?”

  “Well, you know, Dale Evans and I go way back,” Mei joked.

  “Oh god, I forgot how many times he was here when we thought you were being stalked,” Addison said.

  “I was being stalked,” Mei said. “Just because it was by accident didn’t make it any less creepy.”

  “Agreed,” Addison said. “So Officer Evans helped you?”

  “He shared what he had, which wasn’t much,” Mei said. “The only place they’ve tracked lately is Amherst, where the Rustic Kitchen used to be? The neighbors complained that people were going too fast, so they measured traffic and then put in speed bumps.”

  “Do a lot of people use Amherst to commute?” Addison asked doubtfully.

  “Not really,” Mei replied, shaking her head. “And besides, the only data is very recent. We were hoping to track trends over time.”

  “Hello,” Helen called from the center hall. “It smells heavenly in here.”

  “She’s back,” Mei said to Addison, waggling her eyebrows.

  Helen had been out on a date with Officer Bill Guernsey of the Springton police force. They had met when he responded to a 911 call for help at the house.

  Helen swept into the room, looking resplendent in a lavender skirt and black turtleneck sweater, her dark hair in a smooth bun on top of her head. There was something girlish about the half smile on her lips, though of course, Helen Thayer would never admit it. She was a woman of a certain age, after all.

  “How did it go?” Addison asked.

  “It was marvelous,” Helen replied, her eyes twinkling.

  “But you’re home so early,” Mei said.

  “Bill is on the early shift this week,” Helen explained. “And you girls know I like to eat early anyway.”

  “What did you talk about?” Addison asked.

  “Our childhoods, the town, his work and mine,” Helen said with a smile.

  “Do you think you’ll see him again?” Mei asked.

  “Well…” Helen trailed off.

  “What?” Mei demanded.

  Addison prayed for her friend to ease off, poor Helen hadn’t dated in a long time.

  “Well, he kissed me,” Helen trilled, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “Score,” Mei yelled.

  “That’s so nice,” Addison said, giving the older woman a smile with a real feeling of sisterhood.

  “Is he a good kisser?” Mei asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Helen said.

  “Then I guess you’ll see him again,” Mei said approvingly.

  “Yes, I think so,” Helen said, stealing a bit of dough from the counter. “Mmm, this is so good.”

  “It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” Addison said proudly. “Want to join our baking night?”

  “Sure,” Helen said. “But I’m changing first. I see you found Brad’s old aprons.”

  “Brad’s aprons,” Mei echoed, nodding as if everything now made sense.

  “We were wondering if you collected funny aprons,” Addison explained.

  “I always hated them,” Helen declared. “Though now that you girls are wearing them they seem much funnier than before.”

  “Thank you,” Mei said, giving a little bow.

  “I can’t believe he kissed me,” Helen said, shaking her head. “I’ll be back.”

  “Love is in the air,” Mei said, snatching a bit of dough.

  “Hopefully,” Addison said, grabbing a cookie cutter.

  “My god,” Mei said. “If he’s not in love with you already he will be when he eats these.”

  “Thanks,” Addison said, grabbing a heart shaped cookie cutter and putting it to work.

  Mei grabbed a baking sheet and they went to work preparing the cookies.

  A few minutes later Helen returned to join them, slipping on an uncharacteristic apron that said I Believe I Can Fry, which sent Mei into hysterical giggles.


  The conversation turned to Bianca’s pregnancy and then to their work on the research project. Helen nodded and asked questions, while pulling out a seemingly endless collection of antique tin cookie cutters from various cupboards.

  The warm kitchen and the company of women that cared about her lifted Addison’s spirits.

  When the cookies were all cooling and the dishes done, they sat at the island, each with a glass of milk and a warm cookie.

  Addison felt contented. If Ryan was too dense to realize she was his mate, then forget him. She had friends who felt like family. Life was good.

  14

  Ryan

  Ryan got out of the car and hurried around to help Grandma Stevenson out.

  She clutched a wooden salad bowl in one arm, but offered him the other.

  “Now remember, Ryan, no shifter talk here,” she told him firmly. “Most of the families here don’t know a thing about the pack or the magic or any of it.”

  Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Most of the small college town was blissfully unaware of the wolf pack in their midst. He’d managed to keep the secret his entire life, surely he wasn’t going to spill the beans in the middle of a potluck supper.

  “Of course,” he said patiently. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Good, good,” Grandma Stevenson said. “And I’m sure Addison knows too.”

  “Yes, she knows,” Ryan said.

  “Why isn’t she riding with us again?” Grandma Stevenson asked.

  Because I lost control and kissed her. Because she’s not really my fiancée even though I want her to be…

  “She had an errand to run with her friends first,” he said mildly. “She’s walking over.”

  Grandma Stevenson frowned but stayed silent as they climbed up the stairs of the Cortez’s porch.

  The door flung open before they could knock, and Eva Cortez sailed out the door to wrap Grandma Stevenson in her embrace.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” Eva said in her lovely deep voice. “And you brought your famous salad with homemade blue cheese dressing.”