Amber's Ace (6 page)

What had happened to him that day, the day he’d suffered a career-ending disaster at the very moment she and Garnet were rescued from their years of captivity and horror? What had caused his terrifying accident? She didn’t know. From her recollection of seeing him on the snowy TV screen, it’d seemed like he’d heard something no one else could hear, and had been dumbfounded and befuddled by it. What had he heard? What force had struck him so powerfully catastrophe ensued?

She sighed. What would it be like to know him better? To actually talk to him about something more than bananas?

From time to time, Amber looked up from her work in the window at Julie’s place to see him staring at her through the glass, surrounded, as always, by a gaggle of hero-worshipping boys and starstruck girls. Whenever she’d catch him, her face heated, melting everything inside her. He’d stare into her eyes until she got the message he telegraphed then he’d give her a brief nod in salute and disappear from sight, his gaggle of fans trailing after him.

“Sis?”

Brightly colored beads spilled from their containers as Garnet cleared her throat to get her attention and then held up a tiny orb for Amber’s approval, moving the colorful bead to and fro to catch the sunlight before stringing it onto a gossamer-thin piece of wire.

The twins’ fledgling jewelry business had started to take off, helped by Julie’s inclusion of commemorative chokers or special ID bracelets in some of her baskets. Customers had begun to ask to see the twins’ designs, especially for young girls’ First Shift parties and similar occasions, much to the shy delight of the Northridge women.

Sometimes, one or all four of the town’s elder ladies stopped by to see how they were doing. The presence of one or more of the four at Amber and Garnet’s table had become something of a routine. After Miss Fern and Miss Claire spent their mornings baking and delivering their baked goods to Los Lobos Books and More, maybe grabbing a cup of tea there or at the Los Lobos Café, they’d invariably drop by Julie’s to sniff the latest mini-cupcake concoctions, sample a few or Julie’s more exotic flavors, and admire the twins’ new work.

“Checking out the competition,” they liked to joke.

The eldest of the elder ladies, Miss Lonnie, whose two daughters were rumored to have “disappeared” under Magnum’s rule, seemed to have a special fondness and affinity for the twins, pulling up a chair at the butcher-block table to “help” string beads. More often than not, she and Garnet would have to completely redo her attempt later, but they’d never tell her as much.

All four women were at the table when a scene outside on the street made Amber suck in a sharp breath and drop the tin container holding her newest, most coveted stones. As she gathered the baubles on the tabletop and tried to grab those rolling to the floor, she pretended not to notice the glances all four matrons exchanged with each other as they looked outside at the small parade passing by. When they turned back to Amber, she ducked under the table, face on fire, to retrieve her gems. She straightened up again, her heart thumping.

“Oh,” said Miss Lonnie, patting the bib of her overalls. She drew out her spectacles, perched them on her nose, and peered outside the window with a sigh. “There he goes again. That hottie of all hotties, Riley Morgan.” Behind the glasses, her eyes twinkled. “That male sure likes his bananas, doesn’t he? Maybe one day he’ll open a juice bar or smoothie store and serve his special protein shakes.”

“Oh, ho, ho, ho.” Miss Fern nodded her agreement, her gaudy, chunky bangles rattling and tinkling as she lifted an arm to coquettishly pat her short, dark hair, just beginning to go gray. “You can say that again.”

“Maybe one day he’ll open a juice bar or smoothie store and serve his special protein shakes?”

“No, the thing before that,” Miss Fern corrected.

“That male sure likes his bananas, doesn’t he?”

Miss Fern turned to her friend, eyes flashing. “Are you purposely being so obtuse?”

“Ah,” said Miss Lonnie, with an even bigger, more dramatic sigh. “There he goes again. That hottie of all hotties, Riley Morgan.”

“I’d do him,” Miss Kathy announced.

The others turned toward her and rolled their eyes. Miss Kathy could always be counted on to blurt out what the others were thinking. Or even what no one was thinking. Although no one ever asked Miss Kathy her age, unless they wanted to see a splash of her quick temper, she clearly was old enough to be Riley’s grandmother. Maybe great-grandmother.

“What?” Miss Kathy inquired, all innocence and peppermints, as she trained her deep, woods-brown eyes on each of her companions. “Like no one else here thinks Mr. Big, Tall and Gorgeous has got moves? And that he’d put those whopping athletic muscles to spectacular use in the sack?”

If there was one thing the four ladies had in common, it was their friskiness when it came to the males of the species, despite their long and happy matings.

Amber’s suspicions grew. Was that banana encounter in the general store
really
a coincidence?

The ladies murmured different degrees of agreement with regard to Miss Kathy’s speculative thoughts on Riley’s sexual prowess, all but confirming Amber’s suspicions.

“Little doubt that male could please a lady,” Miss Lonnie said. “Or that he’d be generous with his partner and a gentleman in bed.”

“He is a gentleman,” Miss Fern said. “His mama raised him right. And he’s kind. Patient. Like he is with the cubs.”

All four pairs of elderly eyes flickered to the view outside the window then rested on Amber then darted to each other again. She’d have to be visually impaired not to catch the silent signals passing between the ladies. And with her extra-sharp wolf senses, she was hardly that.

No question. For some reason, it seemed the four matrons had set their sights on her and Riley.

“Ladies….” she warned.

Outside, Riley continued up the street, trailed by his usual gaggle of clamoring boys, some wearing baseball gloves and tossing balls in the air, others carrying bats and other equipment.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little case of hero worship going on,” Miss Claire mused.

“Heard Riley takes a bunch of the kids out to the watering hole to swim from time to time,” Miss Lonnie mused. “Or to sift for ‘gold’ at Hidden Maiden Creek. That’s a place you like to go, isn’t, Amber? You and Garnet get a lot of your best gems there, don’t you?”

The fire in Amber’s face threatened to ignite her whole body. She couldn’t deny she visited the watering hole from time to time. Or that she and Garnet plucked their most colorful stones from the shallows and banks of Hidden Maiden Creek. She hadn’t seen Riley there since that first day, though. She hadn’t known he took the cubs there to “sift for gold.”

Her trips to the two locations had nothing to do with Riley, she lied to herself. She liked the serenity of the spots whether or not he showed. Both places relaxed her. She liked watching the kids at the watering hole, so unthreatening and full of life, and she loved the secluded tranquility of Hidden Maiden Creek, so rich in gems and so good for the twins’ burgeoning jewelry business.

Unlike adults, the cubs remained essentially harmless, no matter how unruly or boisterous or even bullying they became. They wouldn’t inflict any intentional hurts. Even Garnet came with her to watch them from time to time. Though she had to admit the sight of Riley’s bare chest and arms, the exhibition of his lean, taut eight-pack, provided the watering hole with an extra, added allure.

“He really seems to like the kids,” Miss Kathy agreed. “Always has time for them. And they adore him. He lets them climb all over him. That man will make a great baby-daddy someday.” The outspoken older woman stared at Amber until she squirmed a little in her seat.

Would he?
Her brother, Brick, absolutely doted on his tiny kit-cub twins, and no one would have expected that. Could she have a family one day? She’d written off that part of her life. But thinking of Riley made her want to dream again.

“Heard he’s agreed to organize the young ones into little league teams and give them some coaching,” said Miss Fern. “Some of the males are clearing space for a diamond out near the schoolhouse.”

“What about you, Amber?” Miss Kathy demanded, her dark eyes lit with mischievous fire.

Amber nearly choked on the sip of coffee she’d taken to wet her suddenly dry mouth. The conversational topic of Riley Morgan set off major panic alarms in her head so loud the fluttering butterflies in her belly plummeted mid-flap to the pit of her stomach.

“Um, I-I-I’m a little old for a little league team,” she stammered at last. “I’m not working on the diamond.” She put down her cup and then decided her last comment sounded ungrateful, considering the way the pack had attempted to cosset and embrace her and Garnet since their return to Los Lobos. “Though I would, of course, if they need help and someone asked me.”

“No, no, no, dear,” crooned Miss Lonnie, patting her hand. “Miss Blabbermouth wants to know—”

“If you’d do him,” Miss Kathy interrupted impatiently. “I can speak for myself, Old Woman. He’s one hot-as-sin stud, don’t you think?”

“They would make a lovely couple, wouldn’t they?” mused Miss Claire. “Amber so fair and Riley so dark. They’d surely make some beautiful young together.”

A frisson of fear rippled through Amber. The conversation had careened too far out of control.
Oh my Goddess. They
are
trying to set me up with Riley!
Her mind buzzed with a whirl of discordant thoughts making her light-headed and a little nauseated. The idea people might speculate about her with Riley—about her and
any
male—she wasn’t ready for that. She might never be ready for that. But whenever he stood close to her, when his masculine scent washed over her, enveloping her in a blanket of excitement and security….
Sweet Luna
. As much as he thrilled and aroused her, she felt so incredibly safe in his presence. But adult males meant pain and servitude. Didn’t they?

She bent over her work, beyond muddled.

Miss Claire toyed with the amber teardrop dangling from the pendant around her neck and gave Amber an assessing look, ignoring her discomfort. The stone seemed to glow. “The rock is never wrong.” She nodded. “I can feel the heat.”

“Sheesh,” said Miss Kathy. “You need that hunk of fossil to tell you what’s plain on the girl’s face? If her cheeks got any redder, they’d burst into flame.”

Amber studied the dregs of coffee in her cup, her hand tightening around the mug handle. She forced her fingers to uncurl before they snapped off the curved piece of pottery.

“So…you want to help with the field, dear?” Miss Fern inquired. “I don’t think you really need an invitation.”

“But I-I….” She ran out of suitable words, her brain frozen on the idea of “doing” Riley Morgan.

“We’re very busy,” Garnet said softly, coming to her sister’s aid at last. “And we don’t know anything about ball fields.”

“Nonsense!” broke in Miss Lonnie. “None of us do, dear.”

Miss Kathy snorted. “Like you’re out there behind the schoolhouse every day, Lonnie!”

“None of us are, or have been,” Miss Fern pointed out reasonably. “But what’s not to say we can’t?”

“Too many men,” Garnet whispered, and then busied herself with selecting the perfect beads to string.

The older women exchanged frowning glances, their sorrow and sympathy for the younger woman plainly evident.

“They are just men, dear,” Miss Lonnie said. “We are much smarter than they are. Look how you and Amber have used your wits to get where you are today. You’re both amazingly strong young women, whether you realize it or not.” The older woman rested a gentle, grandmotherly hand on Garnet’s arm, caressing the back of G’s hand with a soothing circular pattern. Surprisingly, Garnet did not flinch away.

Miss Fern snapped her fingers. “We can make a party of helping with the field. Like they did in the old days of barn raisings and such. Like the Amish did in that dreamy Harrison Ford movie
Witness
. We can bake.”

“Like you need an excuse to bake!” Miss Kathy said.

“Look at it this way, ladies. It’s a great opportunity to ogle sweaty, working, half-naked males with their shirts off.”

Miss Fern turned to Amber with a wink. “Consider this your invitation, dear.”

Riley surveyed the baskets and other displays arrayed on the long folding table set up on the newly cleared field. Originally, the town’s elder ladies, supported by Drew, the pack alpha, had thought they’d place the table somewhere on the perimeter of the diamond, maybe in the area between where the stands and the backdrop eventually would be built. Instead, some brilliantly calculating mind—his—had chosen to showcase the infield. He’d ordered the table set right across the center of the diamond, right over the pitcher’s mound and stretching halfway to first base on one end and halfway to third on the other.

Genius
. With the table placed over the mound, no one would expect him to demonstrate pitches. He’d practiced throwing long hours with his right hand, but his skill level wasn’t anywhere close to what his left had been. Good enough to show the young how to hold the ball, where to place their fingers over the seams, the arc of their arms, how to shift their center of gravity, transferring weight from one leg to the next. But he’d be no one’s first-round draft choice. He didn’t mind showing small groups of cubs the proper ways to hold and throw baseballs, but he didn’t want to put on a show for the pack or address the zillions of questions he still couldn’t remotely answer, starting with “What the hell happened to you out there?”

No one would believe he’d heard a mate call long distance from South Dakota to New York, when he’d never even laid eyes on or scented his mate. That hadn’t happened until he’d returned to South Dakota and encountered his shy, shimmering blonde angel out by Hidden Maiden Creek. Well, maybe Gee would believe it.

A few nights after he’d first returned to Los Lobos, he’d sat at Gee’s bar having a few beers too many and opened up to the giant were bear who knew everything there was to know about the Black Hills Wolves Pack.