Hidden Moon (Hot Moon Rising #4) (5 page)

Nevertheless, Alan sat stiff and straight in his seat. Getting too attached wouldn’t be a

good idea. It would make his father’s eventual passing even harder.

“You’re younger than I am. It weakens with age.” Don glared at him over the rim of

his coffee mug. “I’d give anything to feel that kind of energy again.”

“Shelley told me a little bit about your illness.”

Don scooped some eggs into his mouth. “I’ll get over it.”

“Dad, a weak heart isn’t a cold. It’s not going to get any better.” He gazed at his rental

car out the window, wishing he could get in it and drive it back to the airport. “Have you

made…plans?”

“What plans?” he asked with a deep scowl. “Picked out a burial plot, you mean?”

Alan looked away. “I meant your property, especially the diner. It’s the nerve center

of the pack.”

“The diner? All I know is I need to get my sorry old ass over there so I can serve the

breakfast crowd.”

Alan’s toast sat, dense as a rock, in his stomach. Dad was seriously in denial.

Unfortunately, it fell on his shoulders to get him out of it. A few siblings would come in

handy right about now. So would the support of the pack. Fat chance of getting that.

“Do you have a will?”

“I suppose so.” He knit his thick silver brows. “Your mother made me write one

before she passed. At least I had a sound mind and body back then.”

“Good. Who inherits your property?”

“You’re an only child, aren’t you? What the hell do you think?”

Alan didn’t know whether to laugh or scream, but the will would make it easier to

escape to his normal life.

“Got it, but you can’t run the diner anymore, at least not singlehandedly.”

23

The breakfast dishes jiggled as Don stood, shoved his chair into the table, and

hobbled toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Alan called after him.

“To put my cooking gear on.”

“But Rita is coming at eight,” Alan insisted.

“Screw the caregiver. Moonlight Diner is my life, and I’m going to run it until I drop

dead.” He flung open the bedroom door then clung to it, panting.

Alan rushed to his side. “Keep acting like a pigheaded fool and it’ll happen sooner

than later. You’re dying.”

“You think I don’t know it?” the older man snapped.

“Then go to bed and stay there. You need to take it easy.”

Dad grabbed his T-shirt with surprising strength and shoved him backward. “Fuck

you!”

Alan’s muscles contracted as the beast in him jumped to life. A canine lengthened,

piercing his lip and drawing blood. Reminding himself his father’s fear and loss spoke

for him calmed the beast down in time. Barely.

“You win,” Alan said with a measured breath. “Let me grab a quick shower. Then we’ll

go to the diner. I’ll help you cook today.”

What about tomorrow? He wasn’t sure he could get through the day, let alone

another. By tonight, he needed to have a plan in place for his father’s final days. He

should’ve known the old man would fight him every step of the way.

Alan trudged toward the bathroom. Maybe some hot water would give him the

strength he needed to get through the challenge facing him. Whatever he had to do, he’d

grit his fangs and do it. The sooner he could return to the sane life waiting for him up

north the better.

***

Shelley unlocked Moonlight Diner and carried in a crate of oranges fresh from the

grove in her family farm. She’d make her bigger, weekly delivery tomorrow. This

morning, she needed to tackle payroll and clean the refrigerator, which Don had

probably left dirty enough to fail a health inspection.

24

Much as she loved being surrounded by the pack, she hoped for some time alone. She

hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and when she had, she’d dreamed of Alan—sinking

his wild fangs into her neck in the mating bond while he pumped his hardness into her.

She’d woken up drenched, especially her panties.

Before opening the large refrigerator to load it with oranges, she touched her lips.

Because wolves were quick healers, the swelling had disappeared. Had she really torn

into his pants like a dog in heat?

In high school, she’d dreamed of a romantic prom date with him. In it, she accepted

his corsage, held his hand, and slow danced with him to a love ballad while she gazed

into his chocolate-brown eyes. While his alluring scent wrapped around them, she

kissed him, slowly and tenderly. The promise of beautiful lovemaking hovered around

them, but lust was not part of the picture.

Acting like a whore in a dirty, old pickup truck didn’t come close to the dream. His

scent had completely overpowered her, melting away the years and heating her stewing

guilt to the burning point. Her recent fatigue from doing too much lately hadn’t helped

her self-control, either.

By looking at her, would Curtis guess what she’d done with another man? Was the

truth in her eyes? After confessing her true feelings to Alan, she’d found several text

messages from Curtis on her phone. Apparently, he’d spotted her empty truck in the

diner lot last night and wondered where she was. She’d replied to ease his mind, relieved

she could do it digitally.

As soon as she saw him today in person, though, she had to tell him she couldn’t

marry him. Anticipation twisted her stomach. She’d sensed Alan didn’t want to hang out

in Moonlight very long. Most likely, she’d end up alone. It would be better than being

with the wrong man, though. Maybe she could convince him to stay. After all, they were

mates.

The bell above the front door jingled as she stowed the last orange. She frowned. It

was too early for the breakfast crowd. She hadn’t had a chance to fire up the grill yet.

Dusting off her hands, she headed to the dining room.

A thrill shot through her at the sight of Alan. He must have just showered because the

neck of his shirt looked damp and he smelled like fresh soap. Underneath, his unique

scent teased her, reminding her of their passionate kiss and the taste of his hardness.

25

She looked down at her tank top and frowned. Not even noon yet and it already had a

couple of dirt smudges on it. She might as well not even bother to wear white.

Blinking, she noticed Don standing beside him, wearing his apron when he should be

home resting instead. By the grim set of Alan’s jaw, she suspected the older man had

won an argument. Alan definitely had his hands full. Good. Maybe his father’s

stubbornness would keep him here for a while. At least long enough to convince him she

was right for him.

“I didn’t expect to see you, Mr. Shifflett,” she said, hiding her attraction to his son

with a poised smile. “Have a seat and I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, but we already ate,” he grumbled, heading toward the kitchen. “Alan, cut

some vegetables for omelets. I’ll get the grill going.”

“I tried, but he insisted on coming.” Alan shot her a defeated grin and shrugged. “I’m

going to help him out here today.”

She stared at the swinging kitchen door. “Don’t worry. He’ll wear himself out and

realize he needs to rest. That’ll get through to him better than being told what to do.”

When he took a step toward the kitchen, she grasped his forearm and steered him

toward a corner instead.

“About last night,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

“You mean it wasn’t a dream?” His face hardened. “I figured you’d regret it. Consider

it forgotten.”

Panic welled up in her when he turned to leave. “No, I meant every word I said. The

wolf in me bypassed the romance, but we have time for that.”

“I’m here for my father, not romance. I thought I made that clear.”

A cold chill swept through her. “When Curtis arrives, I’m going to tell him I can’t

marry him.”

“Well, don’t base your decision on me.” He swept a cool glance over her. “I have a job

and a home to return to. I don’t plan to stay.”

She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her shorts. The gesture felt strange because

she always kept her hands busy. At the moment, though, nothing mattered except

getting to know the man she truly wanted. She forgot about the day’s chores and even

Curtis.

“So, what do you do for a living?” she asked.

26

“I’m a computer programmer. I design software.”

“You were always the smart one.”

“Working with logic gives me self-control.” His stony expression softened. “Or at least

the illusion of it. I taught myself the skills I needed and got my college degree online at

night.”

“Sounds like we have hard work in common.” Did he use it as a distraction like she

did? “I wrote you some letters after high-school graduation, but you never answered

them.”

“I figured they were a joke,” he said without expression.

She withdrew her hand from her shorts pocket. “I want you to know I kept this.”

He stared at the folded piece of notebook paper she handed him. The thing had been

opened so many times it was as frayed and worn as an old scrap of cloth.

“What’s that?”

“One of your poems, from English class.” She lowered her eyelids, feeling like a

teenager all over again.

He opened it so slowly and carefully, she had a hard time imagining his past violence.

Watching his gentle fingers made her ache to feel them on her body. He’d written about

beauty, and she didn’t have to ask who’d inspired him. His lips moved as he read it

silently, and she fought the urge to kiss them again. He finally looked up, his eyes deep

pools of melted candy.

“You kept my poem all these years?” he asked.

“I stored it in my bureau, but I brought it today, hoping I’d see you.”

When he handed it back, she held up her palm. “You wrote it, so you should keep it.”

“But I wrote it about you, and I’m afraid it doesn’t change anything.”

Should she stash it into one of the deep pockets on his cargo pants? What was the

use? She folded and jammed the paper back into her own pocket as she scrambled for

something to say. He clearly wanted to return to his other life and forget her. She might

as well stay out of his way until he did. It would make it easier to get him out of her

mind when he left…again.

The sound of a metal pan dropping to the floor pierced the quiet.

“I have to go help Dad,” he mumbled as he rushed away. But when he looked back,

the wolf in her gasped at the longing in his eyes.

27

Before she could calm the emotions swirling through her, the bell above the door

jingled again.

“Hey, beautiful.” A familiar kiss brushed her cheek.

Curtis was here already, and she hadn’t even had coffee yet.

He eased into the nearest chair, graceful as always. “You’re here early. Need any

help?”

“No, thanks. Alan and his father are in the kitchen.”

Still prickling from Alan’s rejection, she glanced toward the kitchen door. Ripping up

the old poem later might make her feel better, but she doubted it.

“Is he going to take over running the place?” The edge in his voice made it clear he

wasn’t thrilled at the idea.

“I don’t know.”
And don’t care,
she thought, feeling like the spoiled teen she used to

be.

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Well, ask them to cook us some steak and

eggs. I’m starved.”

The urge to marry him to spite Alan zapped her harder than a bolt of electricity, but

she had more maturity than that. She’d made her decision, and Alan’s aloofness this

morning gave her the nerve she needed.

She gripped his hand to still it. “We need to talk first.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” He narrowed his blue eyes. “You’ve made your

decision about us, haven’t you?”

She nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “Curtis, you’re a very special man.

I’m so thankful you’re part of the pack and my life.”

“But—”

Dropping her hand, she forced herself to look into his eyes. “I can’t marry you.”

“What?” He froze for a moment then blinked and tossed his head. “You were with

him last night, weren’t you?”

“No…yes. He’s my mate.”

Curtis stood, scraping his chair across the wooden floor. “Do me a favor and don’t

invite me to your wedding.”

“I’m not marrying him, either,” she said, her voice dull and dead.

“Well, I hope you’ll be happy alone.”

28

He reeled toward the front door and bumped into Derek on his way out.

“Sorry, man,” he told the tall Alpha with a quick bow of his head.

“No problem.” Derek entered and turned to her with a puzzled frown above his

golden eyes. “What’s with him? And you, for that matter. Did you two have an

argument?”

Usually, she loved the connectedness of the pack. When one hurt, the others felt it.

Today wasn’t one of those days. At the moment, she wished she had a simple life to

escape to like Alan did. She sniffed, fished a tissue out of her other pocket, and wiped

her eyes. Were her tears for him or Curtis? Probably both—for very different reasons.

“Yes, Derek. I told him I’m not marrying him.”

He straightened Curtis’s chair and sat in it. “I think that’s a wise decision.”

“You do?”

“He’s not your mate. The union would not strengthen the pack.” He patted her arm.

“Be patient. Your true mate will find his way to you eventually.”

She wadded up the damp tissue. “I’m afraid he already has.”