Cat Scratch Fever (9 page)

Leaning across the steering wheel, he keyed the ignition. The sluggish roar of the engine alerted Chevy that it was time to haul his snow-covered ass into the cab. With an effortless leap, the dog landed on the front seat and shook himself off with a full-body wiggle before jumping in the back. Grimacing, Dante swiped the snow from his seat. Satisfied he’d adequately prevented a case of soggy rear, he climbed in and slammed the door. The interior of the vehicle still carried the alluring essence of Lilly. Closing his eyes, he dragged her scent deep into his lungs. A moment later the stench of wet dog and one of Chevy’s crowd-clearing gas bombs intruded on the idyllic moment.

Cursing and hacking, Dante buzzed the window down. “You just had to wait to do that in here, didn’t ya?”

Chevy’s only response was an innocent expression as he peered around the backseat as if he was trying to figure out where the noxious smell was coming from. Shaking his head, Dante buckled his seat belt. The overwhelming urge to check in on Lilly and see how her ankle was faring got the better of him, and he turned the nose of the truck in the direction of her cabin. Five minutes later, he braked next to the large snowdrift blocking her drive. Disappointment and a heavy dose of sexual frustration washed over him as he eyed the empty spot where her SUV should have been parked.

Damn it, the stubborn cat couldn’t have waited until he called Shane and had him stop by with the plow? Not only that, she seemed bound and determined to aggravate her injury. He had half a mind to track her down and drag her back to his place so he could make good on his threat to tie her to his bed. Then maybe she’d finally stay off her bad leg. Not to mention it’d give him great pleasure to give her plenty reason to
want
to stay put.

Setting his jaw, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Shane’s number. His cousin’s voicemail popped on, and Dante left him a message to swing by Lilly’s place and plow her drive. No doubt that would shock the hell out of Shane and give him plenty to speculate on. A portion of his surliness evaporating, Dante grinned and headed to the pet goods supply outside of town.

Chevy began his excited chorus of woofs before they’d even coasted to a stop in front of the barn-red building. Thanks to the free treats doled out by Dante’s cousin Jamie, the Pet Palace was akin to Doggie Disneyland—every local Fido’s favorite place on Earth.

Jamie met them at the door with a basted beef bone that was practically the length of Dante’s forearm. His tail thumping wildly, Chevy stared at the bone like he’d just fallen into a rapturous trance. A long trail of drool puddled from his mouth. Dante snorted. “Real dignified of you, boy.”

Jamie slapped him on the arm. “Be nice to my sweetie.” She offered Chevy an affectionate scratch behind the ear before handing over the treat.

While Chevy sprawled on the cement floor and gnawed contentedly on his bone, Dante headed to the back of the store, where the aisle of Morgan’s Wolf brand was stocked. He scanned the nearly empty shelves, gratified to see that the new line of gourmet canned foods he’d introduced last month seemed to be selling like hot cakes. Grabbing his notepad and pen from his jacket pocket, he jotted down a quick tally of the items. He’d compare the list with the inventory Jamie kept in storage so he’d have a better idea which products seemed to be more popular. Once that task was finished, he browsed the other dog food aisles, checking out his competition. As he passed the cat section, his lips quirked. He’d never given much serious thought to breaking into that particular market, but maybe he should give it a go in deference to his bride-to-be.

Moving on, he inspected the display of cat toys. His gaze zeroed in on a wooden wand that had a leopard-print fleece ribbon attached to it. A bundle of feathers dangled from the end of the fabric. He ran his thumb over the feathers, his mind conjuring the endless hours of fun he could have teasing Lilly’s nipples and clit with the toy. His cock stiffening in approval of that plan, he grabbed two of the wands—the leopard print one and another in hot pink.

Raised voices suddenly broke out near the front of the store. He instantly recognized Anna Gifford’s patronizing whine, and his muscles tensed. Tempted as he was to sneak through the rear exit, he couldn’t leave Jamie to deal with Satan. Biting the bullet, he stalked toward the entrance.

Anna stopped arguing with Jamie and plastered on a sweet smile that belied the poisonous viper lurking beneath her spoiled, rich-bitch exterior. “Dante,
darling
, there you are.” She took a step toward him, and Chevy stopped chewing on his bone long enough to deliver a menacing growl. Anna was the only person Chevy ever did that to. Just further proof that the dog was an amazing judge of character.

After granting Chevy an irritated glance, Anna returned her focus to Dante. Her attention fell to the cat toys he carried. She frowned but didn’t comment on them, instead choosing to launch into her favorite topic—their nonexistent relationship. “My father is hosting a dinner tomorrow night for a few of his investors. I just wanted to double-check that you’re still coming.”

Anna’s stubborn self-delusions were nothing new, but it didn’t lessen his annoyance. “I told you before and I’m telling you now—it’ll be a cold day in hell before I spend an evening with you. Or your dad.”

Obvious displeasure bracketed Anna’s mouth. She flicked her gaze in Jamie’s direction, her scowl deepening as she took in Jamie’s smirk. Refortifying her phony smile, Anna gazed at Dante. “I thought we were done playing these hard-to-get games. Foster—”

“Needs to mind his own damn business,” Dante cut in. “Whatever
arrangement
you and my old man have cooked up behind my back is dead in the water.
Comprende
? You’re gonna have to find another schmuck to sink your claws into.”

A snicker shot from Jamie, which only brought a flush to Anna’s cheeks and fire to her narrowed eyes. Tugging the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder, Anna tossed her curly brown hair in a defiant flick. “Sooner or later, you’ll see what’s good for you, Dante. Then you’ll come crawling to me.” With that parting shot, she pivoted and sashayed through the exit.

Jamie grunted. “God, I can’t stand that evil bitch.” Her expression suddenly turning worried, she glanced at Dante. “What if she’s right though?”

He frowned. “About me crawling to her? No damn way.”

“I know you don’t want to. But your dad wants this merger pretty badly. And we all know that Anna is a pro at getting what she wants, especially since she has her daddy’s wallet at her disposal.”

“It’s not going to happen. You and the rest of the pack have my word on that.”

Jamie gave a solemn nod. “You’ll do right by us. You always have.”

Something that no doubt chapped Foster’s ass, big time. There probably wasn’t a minute that passed when his old man didn’t regret not siring another son—one who’d show a semblance of obedience.

Pushing his father to the back of his mind, Dante whistled for Chevy to follow as he headed toward the register. He tossed the cat toys onto the checkout counter and dug for his wallet while Jamie moseyed to the other side of the register. Her eyebrows lifting, she picked up one of the wands. Her scrutiny shifted from the toy to him. “Uh, did you adopt a cat?”

“In a matter of speaking.” Before Jamie could question him further, he flipped her a twenty and waited for her to count out his change. Soon enough, Jamie—and everyone else within a thirty-mile radius of Hope Falls—would know about him and Lilly. In order not to arouse suspicions regarding his and Lilly’s newfound romance, he needed to leak the information without it looking like he was deliberately trying to draw attention to their charade of a relationship. Planting little clues like the cat toys and having Shane plow her drive would ultimately go a long way in backing up their ruse. Giving his frowning cousin a properly enigmatic smile, he strode to the entrance and held the door open for Chevy to trot outside with the giant bone clamped possessively between his teeth.

Three minutes later he pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the gas station. Judging from the amount of cars lined up at the pump, he wasn’t the only one preparing for the possibility of the power being knocked out by the big upcoming storm this weekend. He briefly debated the feasibility of topping off his gas cans for the generator during the trip back home on Saturday, but the bed of his truck would be overloaded as it was with the product samples he’d be bringing back. Not to mention he’d promised his cousin Harper the delivery of that load of firewood.

Grumbling, he braked behind an idling Jeep and flicked the heater to low so it wouldn’t continue blasting him in the face. The sound of Chevy munching on the beef bone competed with the Garth Brooks number floating through the speakers. Dante crooked his elbow on the window frame and eyed the steady flow of traffic easing through the opposing lane.
I always pick the wrong damn line.

Across the street, a familiar tan SUV rolled into the Bowl ’N’ Brew’s parking lot. He sat up straighter in his seat. Craning his neck, he watched as Lilly parked near the front of the building and climbed from her car. Despite the fact she was swaddled within her body-concealing balloon coat, his cock still saluted at the sight of her.

Jesus, he had it bad. If he wasn’t careful, his hunger for Lilly could morph into something a lot more dangerous to his sanity.

Chapter Eight

Lilly tugged off her gloves and stuffed them into her coat pocket as she ventured past the threshold of the Bowl ’N’ Brew. Blowing on her numb fingertips, she surveyed the motley crew of patrons occupying the scattered tables and the stools lined up at the bar. She was pretty damn certain they were the same customers she’d seen the last time she’d visited this redneck hangout. Hell, maybe they’d never left.

Unfortunately, she didn’t spot Shane. He had to be here somewhere though, since his truck was outside. Loosening her scarf, she approached the bar. The pair of werewolves dressed in matching flannel to the left of her sniffed the air in an appreciative way that made the short hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.

Ignoring her prickling nerves, she flagged down the bartender. The kid gave her a suspicious glance before moseying over. “Yeah?”

She decided to momentarily overlook his rudeness. “Would you know if Shane Morgan is around?”

“No idea.”

“I could have sworn that’s his truck outside.”

“Could be.”

Apparently the kid was under the impression he’d be charged for overusage of words. Biting back her frustrated retort before it could fully form, she turned on her heel and strode toward the bank of windows separating the bar from the bowling alley. The windows offered her an unimpeded view of the lanes. There were only a handful of people in there, and none of them were Shane. She pivoted—and gasped in surprise as she almost collided with the flannel twins from the bar.

The werewolf standing directly in front of her licked his chops. “You smell good.”

His dark-haired companion grinned lewdly. “Yeah, and your lips are real purty too. Bet you’re mighty talented with them.”

Despite her flicker of apprehension, she couldn’t temper her innate sarcasm. “No more so than your boyfriend Bubba, I’m sure.”

The blond werewolf frowned. “Who the hell is Bubba?”

His friend elbowed him in the ribs. “I think that was supposed to be an insult.”

“Yeah?” Blondie scowled.

Clearly these two skipped school the day they were passing out brains. “Fun as it’s been chatting with you, I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

“Who?”

She glared at the dark-haired werewolf. “That’s none of your damn business.”

Unmistakable menace flashed in the other wolf’s eyes. “We’re making it our business.”

She tamped down her instinctual fear. These two bullies couldn’t do anything to her here without bringing trouble down on themselves. Squaring her shoulders, she attempted to push past the blond werewolf, and squeaked when he shoved her back toward the wall of windows. She opened her mouth to cry out for help just as Blondie went flying sideways.

Blinking, she stared at Dante’s tight, enraged features. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather the werewolf he’d flattened to the grungy, threadbare carpet. Dante’s lips pulled back, putting his sharp incisors on fierce display. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking head off.”

The werewolf on the floor gaped at Dante stupidly. Unfortunately, his companion seemed a little faster on the uptake. He swung a meaty fist at Dante, connecting with his jaw. Unprepared for the blow, Dante staggered sideways. He shook his head before breaking from his momentary befuddlement and lunging at his attacker. For a few seconds, the soundtrack of smacks, thumps and grunts as the two of them whaled on each other competed with the Bluegrass music blaring from the jukebox. It was like watching a weird outtake from
The Dukes of Hazzard
.

Mystified, Lilly shot a desperate glance toward the nearby bar patrons. Everyone seemed more interested in the episode of
The Price Is Right
playing on the big screen than the fight breaking out in their midst.

Freaking rednecks.
Her grumble turned into a yelp when the other werewolf wobbled to his feet and made a swipe at her. Dante stopped in mid-punch and directed his fist at Blondie instead. From the corner of her eye, Lilly spied Shane stepping from the hallway that led to the restrooms. Unlike the others in the room, his gaze immediately trekked to them. His eyes widened briefly as he gaped at Dante. The next instant, Shane charged in their direction and collided with the dark-haired werewolf in a flying tackle. Lilly quickly ducked out of the danger zone, flattening herself against the edge of a nearby table.

For several minutes all she could do was stand by helplessly while Dante, Shane and the two other werewolves continued pounding on each other. And to think, she’d only stopped in here because she wanted to get her damn driveway plowed. Yet one more reason for her to eternally hate snow.