How to Flirt with A Naked Werewolf (33 page)

“I’ve got to go,” I told them, my voice thick. “I love you guys, I really do. I’ll try to come home for a visit soon, OK? Iloveyoubye.”

A few minutes after I hung up, the cell phone rang again. It was such a relief to see the caller ID and not feel that dread. I smiled. “Did you forget something, Mom?”

“What’s bothering you, baby?”

I opened my mouth to protest. “Nothing’s bothering—”

“I know this is probably a strain on the delicate peace we’ve just built, but honey, I know when something’s wrong with you. Is it a man?”

I hung my head. “How did you know?”

“Well, I’ve never heard that kind of hurt in your voice before. And you’ve never been in the kind of relationship where you could be hurt like that,” she said. “So it stands to reason that this is something new for you.”

“It sucks, Mom. It really, really sucks.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

This was new, too—Mom asking for information instead of demanding answers, which was good, because I was going to have to edit heavily anything I told her. I was not ready to tell my parents about the baby yet. For one thing, they might insist on coming up to visit, and I couldn’t have them traipsing through the complicated werewolf soap opera that had become my life. And second—well, really, the possibility that they might come to visit was reason enough. One good phone call isn’t going to make me
that
optimistic.

“I can’t talk about it right now, Mom. There’s too much going on. But I will, soon. I’ll call in a few days, OK?”

“I love you, Mo. I just want—I want you to be happy. You say that you needed to figure out who you were without us. But you’ve always known what you wanted, honey. And sometimes I made it hard for you to have that because I thought I knew better. And I’m sorry. I never wanted you to doubt yourself. You know what you want. You wouldn’t have traveled so far without knowing what you want. You’ve gone the distance. Now, maybe it’s time to sit back and let what you want come to you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” My forehead creased as I stared at the phone and wondered what exactly my mother had been smoking to bring out her logical side. “That’s oddly appropriate and well-timed advice.”

“Oh, honey, don’t be sarcastic. I’m trying here.”

“I’m not!” I exclaimed. “Seriously, that’s very helpful.”

“Really?” Mom sighed. “I’m so glad. Though, honestly, I don’t know why you sound so surprised. I’ve been giving you good advice for years.”

“Don’t push it.”

20
 
 

The Hormones Speak

I
WAS BAKING A THIRD
batch of what Evie was starting to call my triple-chocolate “misery brownies”—a new bestseller for the saloon—when Oscar set up a howl and ran for the door. I jumped at the soft, insistent knock. I tried to control the pounding in my chest as I raced to the door, oven mitt still on my hand.

I yanked the knob (somewhat clumsily, given the oven mitt) and found my local forest ranger on my doorstep with a bottle of red wine and a pizza from Mama Rosario’s, the only decent place for a pie in a fifty-mile radius.

“Alan.” I sighed, instantly ashamed at the disappointment coloring my voice. “Funny, I didn’t order a pizza. Someone must have prank-called the ranger station.”

Alan laughed. “I hope you like pepperoni and sausage. And I hope you don’t mind me just stopping by. Mo, you—you just looked so sad at work this afternoon. I wanted to come by and cheer you up.”

It was galling how quickly that made me tear up. I smiled, opening the door and taking the wine, a nice table red, from him. “I love pepperoni and sausage.”

We sat on the couch, chowed down on the best pizza available in northwestern Alaska, and talked. But I couldn’t seem to get comfortable. I sat with my back against the armrest, my legs folded against my chest like a shield, as I sipped grape juice. Alan gradually slid closer across the couch, until he pulled my feet into his lap. He traced the bones of my ankle lazily with his fingertips. I pulled my feet under my butt and sat on them.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said. “We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together lately, but now that you and Cooper—”

“I don’t want to talk about Cooper.”

Alan’s smile seemed to brighten. “Me, neither.”

Quicker than I could blink, Alan leaned in and brushed his lips across mine. I froze as his hands skimmed gently along my ribs, brushing the sides of my breasts before resting on my shoulders.

It would be so easy just to let him kiss me, to let him make everything all right for just a moment. I was tired of the constant, nagging loneliness. I was scared of being alone, of raising the baby by myself. Alan could take some of that away, even for just a little while. But it was so wrong. It was beyond betrayal to be kissing one man and knowing I was pregnant with another man’s baby. I was dizzy with nausea . . . and not because of the pepperoni and sausage. I whimpered and pushed him away gently.

“Are you OK?” he asked, his brows drawing together when he saw my pale, clammy cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t,” I told him. “With things the way they are right now with Cooper so unsettled, I just can’t. I couldn’t do that to him. I’m sorry, Alan. You’re such a—”

“Please,” he said, leaning his forehead against mine. “Please don’t give me the ‘you’re such a nice guy’ speech.”

“But you are.” I smiled and was relieved when he grinned back at me, kissing my forehead.

“Fat lot of good it does when I can’t find a nice girl who will have me.”

“It’s not you, it really is me. Look, I haven’t told anyone here in town yet, but I just want you to understand why I can’t—Oh, hell, Alan, I’m pregnant.”

All of the color drained out of Alan’s face, then it turned a sort of eggplant color and then back to bone white. “Oh,” he whispered quietly, gathering me close to him and giving me a squeeze. He rested his chin on my head. “What are you going to do?”

I shrugged. “I’m going to have the baby. And I think I need to stay here to do it.”

“Have you told Cooper?”

I shook my head.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“That afternoon I slapped him in front of the grocery store.” I smiled despite myself. “Oddly enough, the slapping was not pregnancy-related.”

“Don’t you want to tell him?”

I laughed, pressing my hands to my eyes. “I know he deserves to know, but I don’t want him to feel like he
has
to be with me, like he’s obligated to stay because of the baby.”

“If you’d let me, I would take care of you, both of you. I would make you happy, Mo.” Alan pulled my hands away from my face and laced my fingers through his.

Somehow I knew he would offer. Alan was just that kind of guy. And he
would
take care of me and the baby. He’d be the kind of dad who would tell bedtime stories, coach hockey, spend hours on Christmas Eve putting together bicycles and doll-houses. But I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t take away his chance to have children of his own with a woman who loved him, really loved him, as more than just a good friend.

“That is the best offer I could ever ask for,” I told him. “But it wouldn’t be fair, to any of us.”

He nodded, disappointment hardening the line of his jaw. “I understand.” He stood up and then awkwardly plopped right back next to me. “You know what? No. I don’t understand. Cooper is gone. He hasn’t been back in weeks, Mo. And he’s either too selfish or too lazy to come back and end things with you permanently. Why would you want to wait around for him to
decide
to come back and
decide
whether he wants this baby? Why are you letting him do this to you?”

“That’s none of your business, Alan. Don’t bad-mouth Cooper because you’re angry with me. You’re a better friend than that.”

The expression on his face was thunderous as he stood again, squaring off against where I sat. “Fine, then, as your
friend
, I’m telling you you’re wasting your time on someone who isn’t good for you. I hate seeing you like this, all pale and miserable. You were so bright and alive when you got here. I want you to have that spark again, the one that made me fall for you the minute I laid eyes on you.”

“Alan, don’t. I can’t. I can’t feel that way about you. My feelings are . . . they’re my problem. I’m sorry if it’s hard on you to see me like this, but I’m working through it. Please don’t be angry with me or with Cooper. You’re one of my best friends here, and I couldn’t stand it if I lost you. But I can’t let you talk about him that way, either. I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it,” he said, his mouth set in a grim line. “It’s like you said, my feelings are my problem.” He slapped his ball cap onto his head and grabbed for his keys. His face softened when he saw my own tight, distressed expression. He kissed my cheek.

I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“If you need anything, anything at all, you call me. I’ve seen my sisters pregnant enough times to know the drill. Even if you just need Saltines at two in the morning, you call me, got it?”

I nodded. Alan gave me a brief hug and let himself out.

At the sound of the door shutting, I sighed, scrubbing my hand over my face. “That went well.”

I gathered the dirty plates and dumped the wine into the sink. I turned on the shower and let it beat over my neck and shoulders, which seemed to have been clenched since Alan first kissed me. How could that have gone so wrong so quickly? I wasn’t exactly caught off-guard by Alan’s interest, but I thought I’d sent clear signals that I wasn’t available. I found myself analyzing every little detail of the night, everything I said, everything I did, to try to find something that Alan might have interpreted as a “go sign.” Maybe I shouldn’t have let him into the house in the first place. Maybe I should have started ignoring him the moment Cooper left, to prevent this sort of thing.

When the hot water ran out, I pulled one of Cooper’s shirts from my closet, wrapping myself in his scent, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror. My eyes were red and puffy from crying. My face was paper-white. I looked like one of those vengeful ghost characters from an Asian horror film.

“Pathetic,” I grumbled. I dragged a quilt from the bed and padded out to the front porch. I settled into one of the Adirondack chairs Cooper and I had picked out and stared up at the sky. It was a full moon, watery silver light washing over the yard, the trees. The air was soft and as warm as it could get at night in Alaska. Oscar settled at my feet, standing guard against feral squirrels. I tried to think of something calming. I closed my eyes, listened to the trees rustle, and thought about sleeping out under the stars on that horrible camping trip. The more details I tried to recall, the more real the picture became. I focused on the smell of singed marshmallow and woodsmoke. I felt strong arms wound around me and the warmth of the fire against my face. I heard a branch crackle under pressure from the flames.

And then another.

My eyes popped open. That wasn’t my imagination. I’d really heard that. I sprang to my feet, quilt puddling around my ankles.

“Cooper?” I called.

For a moment, I thought I’d miscalculated, that his presence was only imagination, a pretty story I told myself to ease my hurt feelings. I feared that there was something else in my woods, the thing that Cooper was afraid of. And I was standing defenseless on my front porch in a T-shirt and my underwear.

In the distance, I heard paws beating against the ground, underbrush whipping against whatever was running toward me. I saw the glint of moonlight reflecting off blue-green eyes before I saw his face. The blurring transition of wolf to man no longer shocked me. It was as much a part of him as his smile or the smooth golden skin that was so clearly defined in the pale light as he stepped out of the edge of the trees.

I sprinted toward him. I’m not sure what Cooper was expecting, but I doubt he foresaw my right hook landing against his jaw. Several things happened at once. I shouted “Ow!” and shook out my smarting fist. Cooper yelped and cupped his hand around his face. I used my good hand to continue Cooper’s well-deserved whoopin’.

“You asshole!” I spat. “I can’t believe you did that to me! How could you?”

I smacked his shoulders and chest over and over, growling, “Stupid! Thoughtless! Arrogant! Moron! Werewolf!” with each blow. He let me rage against him until my arms were weak and my head was resting against his neck. He picked me up and carried me toward the house, murmuring apologies and pressing kisses on my jaw, my chin, my mouth.

Cooper opened the door and slammed it behind us. He carried me to the spot in front of the fireplace where we’d made love for the first time. There were no flames in the hearth, but I didn’t miss the gesture: time to start over. My shirt had been discarded somewhere near the door, and my panties were an unmourned casualty.

Cooper grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him, wrapping my legs around his waist while he ran the tip of his nose from my temple to my navel, kissing and licking my overheated skin at every step. He smelled of man and woods and animal. His hair seemed shaggier, falling over my eyes as he kissed my eyelids, the bridge of my nose, the curve of my jaw. He buried his hands in my hair, pressing his face into the wild, dark strands. “Missed you,” he growled. “Missed you so damned much. Love you.”