The Fairy Tales Collection (23 page)

The sun was setting and she looked up and
down the road.  How many times had she driven to Nana’s and never once seen
another car?  Too many to hope that someone would come along and give her a
ride that was for sure.  She was at least six miles from Nana’s house and she
studied the woods to her left.  It would be faster if she hiked through the
woods to her grandmother’s house but the sun would set before she made it.  Did
she really want to be wandering through the woods in the dark?  The chances of
being eaten by a bear or cougar were disturbingly high.

And wolves.  Don’t forget the wolves.

Right.  The wolves.

“The road it is,” Rowan muttered before
grabbing her backpack from the backseat and slinging it over her shoulder.  She
spared another glance at her cell phone, hoping that maybe the cell phone
service gods were smiling upon her, before snorting and shoving it into her pocket. 

She started down the road, walking at a
brisk pace and trying not to think about how this was the exact way every
horror movie in history started out.  A woman walking alone on a remote road in
the middle of the woods.  God, she was just asking for an axe-murderer to keep
her prisoner in his basement.  Maybe if she was lucky, he wouldn’t make a
lampshade from her skin.  She should never have let Belle convince her to watch
that horror movie marathon last month.  Her imagination was way too active for
–

Miracle of miracles – there was the noise
of a vehicle behind her.  Her heart thumping in her chest, she swung around and
squinted at the dark red truck driving up behind her.  She recognized the truck
immediately and her heart began to pound for an entirely different reason.

“Goodbye horror movie, hello porno,” she
muttered under her breath before sticking out her thumb.

The truck slowed to a stop beside her and
she pulled open the passenger door.  “Hello, Rafe.”

“Hello, Ms. Jameson.  Your car broke down.”

It was a statement not a question but she
nodded anyway.  “Yes, can you give me a lift to my grandmother’s?”

Without waiting for his reply, she climbed
into his truck and dropped her backpack on the floor between her feet.  Rafe
inhaled deeply before grimacing and moving until he was pressed against the
driver’s door.

Rowan felt a flush rising up from her
chest.  In the pretense of wiping sweat from her forehead, she took a quick
sniff of her armpit.  She had showered after the gym and washed her hair but
Rafe’s reaction suggested she smelled about as appealing as a dead and
decomposing skunk.

“Maybe I could take a look at your car,” he
suggested.

“Do you know anything about cars?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

She grinned at him.  “Well thanks but I
think it’s going to require an actual mechanic.”

He drummed his fingers against the steering
wheel.  It was obvious he didn’t want her in his truck, and she sighed before
opening the passenger door, grabbing her backpack and hopping to the ground.

“See you around, Rafe.”

She slammed the door shut and trudged down
the road.  She was surprised to realize that she was close to tears and she
berated herself fiercely.  What did she care if Rafe Taggert didn’t want
anything to do with her?

He wanted something to do with you the
night of the Centennial Celebration.

She ignored her inner voice.  Thinking
about that night would do nothing but get her all worked up and there was no
way she was masturbating with her grandmother sleeping in the room next to
hers.  That was just all kinds of ick.

“Ms. Jameson, wait.”

She walked faster as Rafe’s footsteps
crunched in the gravel behind her.  When his hand closed around her arm, a
lightning bolt of lust lit up her insides, and she turned to face him.  He
inhaled again and immediately dropped her arm before backing up a few steps.

“Where are you going?”  He asked.

“I told you - to my grandmother’s house,”
she said.

“I’ll give you a ride,” he said.

She studied the pained expression on his
face before shaking her head. “No thanks, I’d rather walk.”

“It’s at least five miles and it’ll be dark
soon.”

She shrugged.  “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not walking down an isolated road
in the dark, Ms. Jameson.”

“I can take care of myself, Mr. Taggert,”
she said.  “Have a nice evening.”

“Get in the truck, Ms. Jameson,” he said
with a hint of annoyance.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll carry you to the damn truck,” he said
through gritted teeth.

“How will you carry me?”  She asked.

“What?”

“How will you carry me?  Will it be all
romance novel-like where you gently cradle me in your arms, or will I be thrown
over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes?”

“Sack of potatoes,” he snapped.

“In that case I’ll save my dignity and your
back and get in the truck,” she said.  She turned and marched back to the
truck, climbing in and buckling her seatbelt as he slid behind the wheel and
started the truck.  She stared silently out the window as he drove.  It didn’t
take him long to roll down his window and she risked a quick glance at him.  He
practically had his head out the window and she felt another flush of
embarrassment.  Jesus, how bad did she smell?

He drove an older truck, the front seat was
a bench seat, and despite her embarrassment an image of her sliding to the
middle and unbuttoning his jeans flooded through her.

Roadhead!
 
Her inner voice said delightedly. 
Oh hell yes, girl.  Give the man
roadhead!

Shut up!  He thinks I smell.  He’ll
probably barf if I get any closer to him.

She folded her arms across her torso and
grimly ignored her inner voice’s insistent clamouring to suck Rafe Taggert’s
dick.

Rafe tried to take shallow breaths. 
Rowan’s scent was driving his wolf mad.  He realized he was nearly sticking his
entire head out the window and he forced his head back into the truck as Rowan
made a soft sigh and folded her arms across her torso.  She was wearing a plain
white t-shirt with a V-neck, and the movement pushed her small breasts upward
into delightful little mounds.  He stared at her cleavage as his wolf howled
loudly.

He gripped the steering wheel when an image
of Rowan sliding across the seat and unbuttoning his jeans flickered through
his head.  She would pull out his cock and stroke it with her warm hands and
when the head was slick with precum, he would wrap his hand in that glorious
red hair and guide her mouth down.  She would lick him clean with her soft
little tongue before sucking him and –

Focus!

His wolf snarled angrily when he snapped
himself out of his little fantasy and he growled at it in return.  Rowan gave
him a startled look and he flushed as he realized he had growled out loud.

He cleared his throat as she returned her
gaze to the window.  He needed to speak to Rowan about what had happened and
this was the perfect time.  He pushed the image of her mouth on his dick out of
his head and tried to smile at her.

“Ms. Jameson, we need to talk.”

“Do we?”  She said softly without looking
at him.

“Yes.  I need to apologize for the other
night.”

“What night would that be, Mr. Taggert?”

He scowled at her.  “You know what night.”

She shrugged.  “You mean the night of the
Centennial Celebration when we nearly had sex on the front lawn before you ran
away like a scared little boy?”

“We didn’t nearly have sex and I didn’t run
away,” he said.

She turned to face him, arching one perfect
brow.  “Really?  Because I distinctly remember you telling me that you just had
to fuck me before you ran away, leaving me extremely hot and bothered.”

He sighed loudly.  “I’m sorry.  It was
incredibly inappropriate of me to say that.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why was it inappropriate?  We’re both
adults.  I want you and you want me.  Why shouldn’t we sleep together?”

“I’m too old for you, Ms. Jameson.”

She scoffed loudly.  “Hardly.”

“I am,” he insisted.  “I could be your –
your damn father.”

“My father is fifty-eight years old, Rafe,”
she said.

“I was drunk that night and – “

“Bullshit,” she said angrily.  “Don’t
insult me by pretending you were drunk.  At least be man enough to admit that
you want to have sex with me.”

“Fine,” he snapped.  “I want to have sex
with you.  It doesn’t mean I should.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Because I’m too old for you,” he
repeated.  “What part of that isn’t clear?”

“You’re forty, not ninety,” she said. 

“And you’re twenty-five,” he said. 

“What if I was thirty and you were
forty-five.  Would that make it better?”  She suddenly asked.

He shook his head.  “No.”

“Age is just a number,” she said.

“I’m sorry but I’m not comfortable with the
age difference,” he said.  “I’m attracted to you but I made a mistake that
night and I – I just wanted to apologize and tell you it wouldn’t happen
again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”  She
said.

God, the girl was relentless.  He rubbed at
his forehead.  “Are you listening to anything I say, Ms. Jameson?”

“Yes but what you’re saying is ridiculous.”

“It isn’t.  I’m too old for you.  End of
discussion,” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes and he couldn’t decide
if he wanted to spank her or kiss her when she muttered, “Yes, sir.”

They were at her grandmother’s cabin and he
said a silent prayer of thanks as he turned into the driveway.  Lydia was
sitting on the front porch and she walked over to the truck as Rowan gave him a
brittle smile.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Taggert.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Jameson.”

Lydia knocked on his window and he rolled
it down.

“Hello, Rafe.”

“Hi, Lydia.  How are you?”

“Good, thanks.  Rowan – did your car break
down?”

Rowan nodded before grabbing her backpack. 
“Yeah, a few miles back.  Mr. Taggert was driving by and gave me a ride here.”

“How nice.”  Lydia smiled at him.  “Come in
for a piece of pie, Rafe.”

“Oh no thank you.  I really should get
going and – “

“Nonsense,” she interrupted.  “I just baked
a fresh one and it’s apple – your favourite.”

“I really can’t, I – “

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Lydia said
as Rowan slid out of the truck and slammed the door shut.

Lydia held out her hand to Rowan and
squeezed it gently as Rowan kissed her cheek.  “I’m so glad you’re here,
honey.”

“I am too, Nana.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder.  “Rafe? 
Come in, please.”

Sighing softly, his wolf growling happily
at the prospect of spending more time with Rowan, he shut off his truck and
followed the two women into the cabin.

“Have a seat, Rafe,” Lydia said over the
loud barking of her two miniature schnauzers.  He dropped into one of the kitchen
chairs as Lydia pulled some plates from the cupboard.  Normally the dogs were
all over him when he dropped by but at this moment Scrappy and Scruffy only had
eyes for Rowan.  They danced at her feet, jumping and yapping and licking
eagerly at her hands when she reached down to pet them.

You are not jealous of a couple of damn
dogs
, Rafe snapped inwardly when his wolf growled
possessively.

“I’m just going to put my stuff in the
bedroom,” Rowan said to her grandmother.

Panic flooded through him and he couldn’t
stop from blurting out, “You’re staying overnight?”

Rowan gave him an odd look as Lydia said,
“I’ve got my girl for the weekend.  It’s been forever since we’ve had a
sleepover, hasn’t it, Rowan?”

Rowan nodded before disappearing into the
bedroom.  The dogs followed her and he could hear her talking softly to them. 
He told himself not to look at her when she returned but he couldn’t stop from
tracking her across the cabin.  She bent and rummaged through the fridge and he
studied the curve of her small ass.  He knew exactly how firm that ass was and
his wolf made a hungry little growl of need.  He jumped in his chair when
Lydia’s hand touched his arm, and tore his gaze from Rowan’s ass.

Lydia, a small, shrewd smile on her face,
was staring at him and he blushed furiously as she placed a piece of pie in
front of him.  “Eat up, Rafe.”

He ate a forkful of pie, barely tasting the
sweet apples and flaky crust.  His lust and his sudden panic that Rowan would
only be a mile away on the night of the full moon had taken away his appetite
but he ate another forkful and smiled at Lydia.  “It’s delicious.”

“Thanks.”  She set a glass of water in
front of him and he drank half of it to try and force the pie down.

Scrappy and Scruffy had finally decided to
say hello.  They stood on their hind legs and pressed their front paws against
his knee but before he could pet them, Rowan sat down in the chair across from
him.  They abandoned him immediately and raced each other under the table to
try and get to her first.  Barking excitedly, they bounced and jumped until
they were both sitting on her lap.  She put her arms around them and petted
their chests as Lydia laughed.

“Don’t take it personal, Rafe.  As soon as
they see Rowan, everyone else ceases to exist.”

He smiled politely as Lydia gave Rowan an
affectionate look.  “My girl always did have a way with animals.  Ever since
she was a baby.  When she was born, I had an old German shepherd who took to
her right away.  He wouldn’t let anyone near that cradle when she was sleeping. 
Laid at the foot of it and kept her safe, he did.  I always told her she
shoulda worked in a vet’s office.  She’s got the touch when it comes to dogs.”

The old woman paused and drank a sip of
tea.  “Wolves too.”

Rafe dropped his fork, it clattered loudly
on the table, and stared at Lydia.  “I’m sorry?”

“Wolves, Rafe,” Lydia said.  “My girl has a
way with wolves.  Did I never tell you about the time she was three and
wandered off into the woods?”

“Nana,” Rowan said.  “I’m sure Mr. Taggert
isn’t interested in this story.”

“I am,” Rafe said.  “Go on, Lydia.”

He knew the story, hell, he’d been there,
but he wanted to hear it from Lydia’s perspective.

“Well, I told Rowan to stay in the yard
while I answered the phone but my girl’s stubborn.  I was only gone maybe five
minutes but, sure enough, I came out into the yard and she was gone.  God, did
I panic.  I grabbed my shotgun and hightailed it out into the woods, screaming
her name like a banshee.  Didn’t take me too long to find her.  She was by the
river.”

She grinned at Rafe.  “Only she wasn’t
alone.  A wolf, biggest one I’ve ever seen, with dark grey fur and a white
patch on his chest was standing there with her but not
just
standing
there.  He was hovering over Rowan like he was keeping her safe and Rowan,”
Lydia patted Rowan’s hand, “why she had her arms around him like he was a big
old teddy-bear.”

Rafe risked a glance at Rowan.  She was
stroking Scruffy’s ear - or maybe it was Scrappy’s, he never could tell the
damn dogs apart - and staring at the top of the table.

“What happened then?”  He asked.

“Well, you can imagine how afraid I was. 
Rowan was giggling and hollering about the doggie and I was standing there
trying not to wet my pants.  I told Rowan to come to me and she did, thank God,
but not before she grabbed that wolf’s head, yanked him down and kissed his
nose.  Twice, Rafe.  Twice.”

She sighed and took her own bite of pie. 
“Truth be told, I did wet my pants a little when she kissed that wolf.  But it
never moved.  It stood there, still as can be, while she squeezed its face and
kissed its nose.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s impressive,” he said quietly. 

“It was probably someone’s husky or wolf
cross,” Rowan said suddenly.  “I doubt it was an actual wolf.”

“You think I can’t tell the difference,
Rowan?”  Lydia said crossly.

“I think you were very scared and the mind
can play tricks on a person when they’re that frightened,” Rowan replied.

“It was a wolf, sweet girl.  You don’t
remember but – “

“You don’t remember?”  Rafe interrupted.

Rowan shook her head and a tingle of
disappointment went through him.

Idiot!  It’s good that she doesn’t
remember.

“Didn’t you say you saw a wolf at the
Woodsmen Pub?”  Rafe said.

Shut up!

“What?”  Lydia turned to Rowan.  “You saw a
wolf at the Woodsmen?”

Rowan nodded.  “Yeah.  I was in the back
parking lot having a,” she paused and a tinge of red coloured her cheeks,
“getting some fresh air and there was a wolf at the edge of the forest.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Rowan said.  “Well, it sniffed
me and I touched it but then it left.”

“What did it look like?”  Lydia asked
curiously.

“Grey with a white patch on its chest,”
Rowan admitted.

Lydia blinked at her.  “Maybe it was the
same wolf as when you were a baby.”

Rowan laughed.  “Nana, even if that was a wolf,
this wasn’t the same one.  That was twenty-two years ago and this wolf didn’t look
old.  It looked young and very healthy.”

His wolf made a low growl of pride and Rafe
could barely stop from rolling his eyes at it.  He glanced up and clamped his
hand around his fork.  Rowan was staring at him and he could smell the sweet
scent of her lust for him.  With an inward groan he shovelled the rest of the
pie into his mouth and stood.

“I should be going.  Thank you for the pie,
Lydia.”

“You’re welcome, Rafe.  Thanks for stopping
and picking up my girl.  The woods are no place for a young girl to be alone.”

“My pleasure,” he mumbled.  He nodded to
Rowan, “Nice to see you again, Ms. Jameson.”

“You as well, Mr. Taggert,” she said.

He walked across the cabin, acutely aware
of Rowan’s gaze, and waved half-heartedly before leaving.  He climbed into his
truck and backed out of the driveway.

What are you going to do about tomorrow
night?

Nothing.  So Rowan’s going to be close
by during the full moon – it’s not a big deal.  I can avoid her.  I’ll just go
deeper into the woods than I normally do.

What if you run into your pack?

Not my pack anymore and I won’t run into
them.  They’ll be on the other side of the river.

His stomach churning with a combination of
lust and panic, he drove home.

* * *

“That was nice of Rafe to give you a ride,”
Lydia said cheerfully as she cleared the table.

“Mmm,” Rowan said.  Staring at Rafe’s tight
ass as he left had thrown her deep into a fantasy that involved her riding him
in a distinctly unladylike way.

“He’s a handsome man, isn’t he?”

“What?”  She stared at her nana as the
woman ran water into the sink.

“Rafe Taggert.  He’s quite handsome.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“No?  The way you were checking out his ass
as he was leaving suggests otherwise.”

“Nana!”

Lydia laughed.  “What?  I may be old,
Rowan, but I’m not blind.”

Rowan sighed and rubbed the top of
Scrappy’s head.  “Fine, maybe I’ve noticed how attractive he is.”

“He is a looker, that one,” Lydia said. 
“And he seems to be fond of you, as well.”

“He isn’t,” Rowan said shortly.

“Old, not blind,” Lydia repeated
cheerfully.

“He says he’s too old for me,” Rowan said.

“Age ain’t nothin’ but a number, sweet
girl.”

“That’s what I told him but he disagrees,”
Rowan said.  “He is attracted to me, Nana.  We sort of made out a little the
night of the Centennial Celebration but he’s avoided me since that night and
today he made it perfectly clear that it had been a mistake.”

She stood and dried the dishes that Lydia
was placing in the drying rack.  “I can’t get him to change his mind.”

“You will,” Lydia said.

“What do you know about him?”  Rowan asked.

“Not much, to be honest.  He’s a quiet one,
doesn’t like to share.  He’s been a real help to me as of late though.  He
drops in at least once a week to make sure I’m doing okay, and he’s been
helping me with some of the repairs around here.  Fixed the leaking faucet and
helped dig up my vegetable garden this spring.”

“Has he always lived alone?”  She asked.

“If you’re asking me if he’s ever been
married, no he hasn’t,” Lydia said, “but he hasn’t always lived alone.  His
family lives in the woods on the south side of the river.”

“His family are those weirdos across the
river?”  Rowan said in surprise.

Lydia gave her a disapproving look.  “Just
because a person doesn’t want to live in town surrounded by people who can’t
stop stickin’ their noses in other people’s business, doesn’t make them weird,
Rowan.  Don’t be so judgmental – your momma and I raised you better than that.”

“Sorry, Nana,” Rowan said.  “I didn’t mean
it the way it sounded, it’s just – no one really knows anything about them. 
They come into town maybe every six months, they homeschool their kids, and God
knows how they even get money.  They don’t work in town, that’s for sure.  I
know Rafe’s a loner but he doesn’t completely cut himself off from the rest of
the world like they do.”

“Maybe that’s why he left,” Lydia said.

“What do you mean he left?”

“Well, about fifteen years ago, Rafe and
his mother left.  They moved away for a year or so, nobody knows where, and
then Rafe returned by himself.  He rented a place in town, started up his
landscaping company and then eventually bought the cabin just down the road.”

“So where’s his mother?”  Rowan asked.

Lydia shrugged.  “No one knows, and Rafe
refuses to talk about it.  Most folk thought he would return to his father but
whatever happened between them wasn’t solved with a year’s absence.  No one
knows for sure what happened between Rafe and his father but they have nothing
to do with each other.”

“He’s never said anything to you?”  Rowan
asked.

“No.  Like I told you, he’s a quiet one.”

“He must be lonely,” Rowan said quietly. 

“He is.”

Rowan stared at her grandmother and Lydia
shrugged.  “He won’t admit it but he’s lonely.  Some people are meant to live
alone but he ain’t one of them.  Sooner or later he’ll realize it and find
himself a woman to settle down with.”

A surge of jealousy went through Rowan and
Lydia grinned before tugging the glass from her hand.  “You’re going to break
that, sweet girl.  You thinking you’d like to be that woman he settles down
with?”

“I hardly know the guy.  And maybe he’s
right – there is a big age difference.  That has the potential to cause all
sorts of problems.”

Lydia cupped her face with her warm hand. 
“Is it the age difference that’s making you hesitate or the fact that you just
might be finally wanting something more than a roll in the hay?”

“Nana!”  Rowan’s face turned bright red and
Lydia laughed.

“You think I didn’t have my fair share of
boys back in the day?”

“And this conversation is over,” Rowan said
with a grin. 

“Seriously, sweet girl,” Lydia said
solemnly, “that man’s going to do everything in his power to push you away. 
Don’t let him.  There’s something special between the two of you – anyone with
half a brain can see that.”

* * *