by Amy Pennza
She turned to Benjamin, her cheeks heating as she rubbed her forehead. So much for good first impressions. She might as well lick the glass while she was at it. “Yeah. We have mountains in New York, but nothing like this.”
He smiled, taking the car around another curve with smooth precision, his big hands encased in leather driving gloves as he gripped the wheel. “If you’re interested, I can take you up some of the trails later. The views are spectacular.”
She bit her lip. “I think Bard expected me to stay in the house.” Even as she said it, her rebellious streak reared its head. Her time in Elder Lake was limited. As nice as Bard’s house was, she wanted to see more than the inside of it.
Benjamin glanced at her, his smile at the ready. “Don’t worry about Bard. I promise his bark is far worse than his bite.”
It was an unusual thing to say about an Alpha. Typically, their barks and their bites were equally bad. “Will he really be gone until evening?”
“Oh yeah. When he’s working it’s like he dropped off the face of the earth. He pulls some really long shifts. Usually twelve or fourteen hours.”
Shifts? She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, when he gestured ahead.
“There’s Elder Lake.”
She followed the direction he pointed. At first, she saw nothing but trees and mountains. Then they crested a small hill and buildings came into view.
Benjamin gave her a look. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
But she barely heard him. She was too transfixed by the town. It was like a Swiss village—or at least what she imagined a Swiss village looked like. A cluster of brightly painted shops bordered either side of the road, their windows painted with old-fashioned letters that said things like “apothecary” and “general store.” The mountains soared behind everything, the snow stretching down the sides toward town. Sunlight sparkled over the white, striking tiny diamonds in the frost.
“Do you like it?” Benjamin asked.
She returned his smile. “It’s adorable. Why is it called Elder Lake?”
“The area is known for its blue elderberry shrubs. They grow wild in the Cascades.”
True to his word, they passed through most of the town in a handful of blinks. Just when she thought he might keep following the road straight up the mountain, he stopped in front of a quaint building with dark blue clapboard and a broad white porch. A sign in the window advertised “fresh-baked cookies—$12 for two dozen.”
She looked at Benjamin. “Your mom’s cafe?”
“She’s famous for her elderberry jam. Whatever you do, don’t ask her about it. She’ll give you a lecture on jam-making through the ages.”
Haley laughed. “I’m not sure how much I’d learn. I wasn’t a very good student.”
He offered her a soft smile. “I don’t believe it. From what I can tell, your mind is just as beautiful as the rest of you.”
Time seemed to freeze for a second. Was he hitting on her?
Duh. Of course he was. Awkwardness descended. Unsure what to say, she jerked a thumb toward the cafe, and her voice came out a lot higher than she intended when she asked, “Should we go in?”
He stared a second, then cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Come on.” He flashed her a smile and got out of the car.
A groan rose in her chest. She imagined herself describing the last few seconds to Lizette. “And then, when the really nice, hot guy called me beautiful, I suggested we hoof it into his mom’s bakery posthaste.”
Cursing her lameness, she left the car just as Ben appeared, his gloved hand extended.
Her heart sped up. She was perfectly capable of getting out of the car on her own. Maybe, in a salute to all the feminists that came before her, she should have rolled her eyes at the outdated gesture.
But she didn’t. Instead, a curious haze descended—and things seemed to unfold in slow motion. She found herself putting her hand in his and letting him help her from the car, his glove warm and smooth against her palm. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to the brick sidewalk. To anyone watching, they probably seemed like a devoted couple.
The thought brought her up short, and she stopped.
Ben stopped, too, concern on his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just . . .” She looked up and down the street. There were a couple of trucks and one SUV parked in front of some shops, but no sign of any residents.
She turned to Benjamin. “Where are all the people?”
“You mean werewolves.” He glanced around, then turned his gaze on her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “We’re not exactly known for being extroverts.”
She supposed it was true enough, although not all wolves were solitary. “Still, how do the shops survive with no customers?”
“People come into town when they need something. Everyone knows everyone, so most business owners just leave their doors unlocked and locals can stop by whenever.”
“That’s got to be a nightmare for inventory management.”
He chuckled. “I suppose so, although Mom has never complained.”
“How many wolves live here?”
“Around seventy, but more than half of those are latents or old people.” His gaze grew steadier, and his voice was soft when he added, “We’re hoping to change that, though.”
Uh oh. Here they went again.
This time, though, he spared her from replying by tilting his head toward the cafe door. “Ready for your elderberry jam lecture?”
It was easy to return his smile. “You promised me pancakes.”
His face split in a grin. “You’ll get those, too. I promise.”
He ushered her forward, his palm gentle in the small of her back. Just as they reached the door, movement in her peripheral vision made her turn and gaze down the sidewalk.
A lone figure—a male from the look of him—in dark jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt moved away from them. He walked at a good clip, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets.
Ben reached from behind her and pulled open the door, making a small bell tinkle over their heads.
The male in the hoodie slowed, then looked over his shoulder. His gaze connected with Haley’s. Bright red hair shone under his hood, the cut long enough in the front to make bangs flop over his forehead. His stare drilled into her, making her nape tingle.
She turned enough to catch Ben’s eye. “Who is that?”
“Hmm?”
She twisted around again. “That guy in the—”
He was gone.
Ben spoke behind her, a blend of curiosity and confusion in his tone. “Who?”
She squinted, struggling to see down the stretch of sidewalk, but the figure was gone. “No one, I guess.”
“Probably just somebody heading out of town.” Ben pushed the door wider. It seemed to jerk away from him, and the wood smacked against the wall, setting the bells jangling wildly.
Haley took a quick step back.
He gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry . . . I’m still getting used to my Gift.”
The smell of baked goods rushed out of the shop, drawing her attention away from the street. She stepped into the cafe, then let her gaze wander.
Like its exterior, the cafe’s inside was charming, with exposed brick walls and square wooden tables topped with glass jars full of wildflowers. One wall held built-in cabinets stacked high with gleaming white plates and cut crystal, and another sported a tall wooden bar lined with metal stools. Behind the bar, silver taps rose from a counter like elegant swans. A glass shelf groaned with a row of bottles sporting liquid in every color of the rainbow.
Haley turned to Benjamin. “Is that a—”
“Soda fountain. I used to work here when I was a kid.” He flashed her his bashful smile. “Until my mom fired me for sticking my head under the chocolate syrup dispenser. I was a chubby kid.”
She laughed, her mind conjuring an image of a plump, dark-haired boy sneaking ice cream toppings.
&nbs
p; “Ben?”
They both turned as a young woman in an apron bustled from a back room.
Werewolf. Haley sensed it at once—like sparks firing against her skin or someone brushing her hair the wrong direction when she was in wolf form.
The woman’s blond ponytail bounced as she hurried toward Benjamin, her pretty face split in a smile. Her eyes were the same blue-green as his.
And she wasn’t young.
A human would never know the difference, but werewolves did. Haley did. It was something about the eyes, or maybe even more subtle than that. Nature had gifted their species with the ability to keep time at bay, but no magic could ever truly erase it. Time had a weight to it, and it hung around older wolves like an invisible cloak.
Haley tried not to feel awkward as Benjamin and his mother embraced. She drifted toward one of the tables and bent over the flowers, studying the assortment of blooms.
“You must be Haley.” Benjamin and his mother had broken apart, and now his mother stood beaming at his side.
Haley straightened, self-consciousness crashing over her. Why hadn’t she taken time to smooth out her hair before leaving the house? She pushed an errant curl behind her ear. “Hi. I mean, yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Glenna Rupert, and of course you know my Ben.”
Haley nodded. “He drove me here.”
Ugh. Dumb, Michaels. Just dumb.
“And your parents were Finders?”
“Mom!” Benjamin—who obviously went by Ben—slapped a hand against his forehead and half-turned toward his mother. “You can’t just ask stuff like that.”
“What?” Glenna gave him an innocent look. “I asked about her family. What’s wrong with that?”
“Mother.”
Glenna put up her hands, her expression both affronted and good-natured—a look only mothers seemed to manage. “Fine, fine. I’ll go get you two some pancakes.” She nodded again, as if that settled things, then turned and walked to the back, ponytail swishing.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Ben turned to Haley with a groan. “I am so sorry about that.”
Haley waved it off. “Not a big deal.” Except it kind of was. In werewolf society, asking about someone’s Gift was considered the height of rudeness—like inquiring after their salary or demanding to know when they last had sex. It was personal information, but there was another element, too. Wolves with non-physical Gifts like Healing and Telepathy were vulnerable to those with Gifts that made them stronger and faster than others. Healers were revered because they saved lives, but wolves gifted with Telepathy were often viewed as weak and thus undesirable. In previous centuries, there had even been efforts to kill off bloodlines known for passing on the Gift.
Her biological parents had indeed been Finders blessed with enhanced speed, but it didn’t really matter. For whatever reason, she hadn’t inherited their abilities.
Or any abilities.
“Hey.” Ben’s voice was soft. “I’m really sorry, Haley.”
In the late morning light, his eyes were more green than blue. And there was real empathy in them. Which made sense. For most of his life, he’d been a latent, too. Somehow, that made it okay for her to ask, “What’s your Gift?”
His smile was gentle. And kind. “I’m a Stalwart.”
Wow. “It must have been a shock to discover you have Superman strength.”
He gave a low chuckle. “I definitely ripped off my share of doorknobs in those first few months.”
She laughed, picturing it. “Stalwarts are kind of rare, aren’t they?” It was a Gift that tended to run in certain families.
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Then why—” She snapped her mouth shut before she could finish her sentence.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “You can ask me anything.”
Somehow, she believed him. So she took a deep breath. “You made the Turn. You have a desirable Gift. So why in the world would you want to meet me?” There was vulnerability in her voice. She could hear it. But she’d probably never see him again after today, and she wanted answers.
For the first time since they met he looked a little uncomfortable. Then he sighed. “Stalwarts are rare, yes, and their parents usually pledge them in marriage at birth. There’s not a Stalwart female in the country that would consider me as a mate.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him, but there was bitterness in his voice when he added, “No one wants a former latent for a son-in-law.”
The explanation slammed into her, the force of it like a punch in the gut.
“So you settled for me?” The words jumped out before she could stop them.
Surprise flitted across his features. “Haley, no.” He reached out a hand as if he might touch her, then seemed to think better of it and let it drop to his side. “Listen, it’s not like that—”
“I hope you two are hungry!” Glenna bustled from the back, her arms laden with plates. A dark-haired woman with even more plates followed.
The two of them wove around tables with expert precision, making it look easy despite balancing two dinner plates each on either arm. The smell of syrup and butter filled the air.
Glenna nodded toward a large table near Haley and Ben. “Right here should do.”
Ben sprang into action, walking to the table and pulling out a chair.
Ugh. He obviously expected her to sit in it—and eat the wobbly stack of pancakes his mother was unloading. But she’d lost her appetite after his revelation.
Still, she didn’t have much choice. She could walk out of the cafe in a huff, but she still had to make it back to Bard’s house. It was either eat the pancakes or tell Ben where to shove them. As good as it might feel, she couldn’t do that. Not in front of his mother and the mystery woman, who was currently placing a little tray of jelly packets in the center of the table.
Ben waited, color high on his cheeks. His eyes—earnest as ever—seemed to plead with her.
Oh, what the hell. She went to the table and sat, then shrugged out of her jacket. Behind her, Ben seemed to release a breath as he pushed her chair in.
Her nape burned, and it wasn’t the dreamy warmth that came from having a handsome male see to her comfort. Whereas his chivalry had been sweet before, now it was just irritating.
“I hope you don’t mind if Sabine and I eat with you,” Glenna said. She pulled out a chair and sat without waiting for an answer. Then she flashed Haley a smile. “We get busy around lunchtime, so we try to eat before the big rush hits.” She glanced at the other woman. “And Sabine makes the best pancakes in the territory.”
The dark-haired woman chuckled as she took her seat. “You mean the only pancakes in the territory.” Her voice was low and husky—almost hypnotic. It suited her, complementing her dark, glossy hair and brown eyes. They were large and soft, with an almost liquid quality. Even in jeans and a flour-covered apron, she was supermodel beautiful.
And here I felt good about putting on mascara before we left the house.
Sabine looked at Haley—and for a split second, those dark eyes seemed to bore right into Haley’s head.
Just as quickly, the moment passed. Sabine smiled. “I’m Sabine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Haley frowned. What the hell just happened? She started to speak, but her tongue was like sandpaper in her mouth. She grabbed her water glass and took a gulp, then spoke in a rush as the water went down. “Haley Michaels. You too.”
Glenna looked between them, then told Haley. “You came on the right day. Sabine stays busy with her garden, so she doesn’t work very often.”
Ben spoke, his tone warm with affection. “Much to the town’s chagrin.” He nodded toward Haley’s pancakes. “You should eat while it’s hot. Sabine really does make the best breakfast.”
Haley focused on her plate so no one could see her eyes—or the exasperation that probably lurked there. Was there
anything Sabine couldn’t do? She was beautiful, well-dressed, and apparently a master chef. Why didn’t Ben marry her instead?
“I’m a latent,” Sabine said.
Haley jerked her head up. “Excuse me?”
Sabine gave her an apologetic look. In her low, soothing voice, she said, “Sorry. I like to get that out of the way whenever I meet a new person. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I just find that saying it up front answers a lot of questions people might have.”
A surge of sympathy—and maybe a little shame—washed over Haley. Sure, Sabine appeared to have everything. But the reality was far different. In a way, her poise and beauty must feel like a curse. On the outside, she had every quality a male could want. But any interest she might attract would disappear like smoke once males found out she was incapable of making the Turn. As a latent, she couldn’t complete the lux catena. And that meant no pure-blooded werewolf would want her.
Haley knew all about that. Except in her case, her latency had been evident to all, probably because her wolf had been so deeply buried.
Sabine was different. Her wolf must have hovered just out of grasp, because Haley could feel its power.
Another tragedy. Sabine’s wolf was like a starving man who could see a feast through a sheet of glass but never touch it. It was a slow starvation—and one that Sabine herself had to feel.
Haley met the other woman’s gaze. “I was a latent, too.”
“Yes, I know.” She glanced at Ben before favoring Haley with a smile that reached her eyes. “We’re all rooting for you and Ben here to hit it off.”
Ben let out a soft groan. “Good grief, Sabine, you’re as bad as Mom.”
Sabine laughed.
Glenna gestured around at everyone’s plates. “Let’s eat before all this wonderful food goes to waste.” She nodded at Haley. “Then I’ll tell you why Bard Bennett is so angry with me.”
As if a general had just issued a command, Ben and Sabine grabbed their utensils and dug in, their heads bent over their food. Glenna did the same, spreading a thick layer of butter over her topmost pancake before drizzling syrup over the whole stack and tucking in.
With an inward shrug, Haley followed suit. As soon as she cut into the fluffy tower, her appetite came roaring back. The first bite proved Ben right. Sabine really did make the best breakfast. The pancakes were toasted golden on the outside and soft and fluffy on the inside. After twenty-four hours without food, the combination of pancake, butter, and syrup was like heaven. As she ate, she swore she could feel her muscles gaining strength. No wonder she’d nearly broken down in front of Bard last night. She’d been stupid to skip meals. As Dom liked to tell the trainees at the Lodge, “A hungry werewolf is a dangerous werewolf.”
