“What’s that?” Tanner peeked into the bag. Lube and condoms. Remus’s blood, is Shirl a mind reader? His face burning like a Beltane bonfire, he slapped the bag closed.
“What’s in there?” Chase reached for it, but Tanner snatched it away and shoved it inside one of the other bags.
“Nothing.”
Chase’s eye narrowed, and Tanner was bracing himself for an argument, but Shirl said, “I’ll put this on the Wildwood account. Now you boys head down the street to the diner.”
“Oh, no. We couldn’t.” Tanner shrugged into the jacket, relishing the scent of laundry detergent that meant clean. “We should get back.”
“Bullpucky,” Shirl said, piling the bags into Chase’s arms. “I already texted Wanda. She’s expecting you.”
“But—”
Shirl glared at him. “You need a square meal, boy. More than one.”
“I’ve eaten.” Tanner shrugged into the jacket. “I had a bunch of protein bars—”
“Those won’t put meat back on your bones. And while Ted’s a good host, he’s got other things to worry about right now than cooking for you. So don’t argue. Go eat.”
Tanner exchanged a glance with Chase, who shrugged. “Yes, ma’am.”
They headed for the door that led to Main Street, but as they were pushing it open, Shirl said, “Hold on.” She tossed Tanner a worn, leather-bound journal that looked as if it had more miles on it than Shirl did. “On the house.”
Chase held the diner door for Tanner, and the aroma of bacon and fresh bread wafted out, making his mouth water. If he was hungry, Tanner must be ravenous, regardless of his claims to the contrary, because Shirl was right. Protein bars, while okay in a pinch, didn’t really cut it compared to real food. Which—sorry, Ted—doesn’t include fish stew.
A woman as padded as Shirl was angular glanced up from pouring a cup of coffee for a guy at the counter. Her eyebrows shot up. “Take the table in the corner, boys. I’ll be right with you.”
As they made their way to the table in question, Tanner leaned closer to Chase—accompanied by a scent of clean skin and herbal soap—and murmured, “She and Shirl have the same hairdo. And nose.”
Plastic-laminated menus were already on the table. As Chase slid into the booth across from Tanner, he studied the woman again. Other than body shape, Tanner was right—she looked remarkably like Shirl, down to the cat-eye glasses, although hers were pink to match her retro waitress uniform, while Shirl’s were black.
When she bustled over to their table, Chase saw that her name tag read Wanda. Since the neon sign revolving on a pole outside, as well as the one illuminated in the left-hand window, declared this to be Wanda’s Diner, Chase made the leap that Wanda must be the owner.
“Howdy, boys.” She brandished her pot. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Chase said, and Tanner nodded enthusiastically. Chase could understand the feeling—the aroma from the pot was intoxicating.
She added a little flair by raising and lowering the pot as she filled the white ceramic mugs at each of their places. “What can I get you?”
Tanner scrabbled with the menu, his eyes widening as he scanned all the offerings. He hasn’t been to a restaurant in three months. Hells, other than some protein bars and a couple of spoonfuls of fish stew, he hasn’t eaten anything that wasn’t somebody’s trash for the last three months. “Um, a BLT, I guess. No mayo.”
Wanda cocked her head. “Hmmm.” She turned to Chase. “You?”
“A burger for me. Does it come with fries?”
“It does.”
“That sounds perfect.” He collected Tanner’s menu and handed both to her. “Thank you.”
“Mm-hmm.” She marched off, deftly slotting the menus into a pocket on the end of the counter on her way to deposit the coffeepot on a burner. She scribbled something on her order pad, then stuck it on a clothespin in the pass-through to the kitchen.
When Chase turned his attention back to Tanner, Tanner was cradling his coffee cup in both hands, staring down into the liquid. It’s as dark as his eyes.
“Tanner? Are you okay?”
He glanced up and smiled crookedly. “Fine. But it’s a little overwhelming, you know?” He gestured to the rest of the diner, which wasn’t full, but wasn’t empty either. “It’s remarkable how much we take for granted. How much of our lives are so easy compared to what they might be for people who aren’t as fortunate. I only had to deal with living rough for three months, and it was my own stupid choice. Some people have no choice at all.” He took a sip of coffee, his eyes closing as he sighed. “It puts some of the things I thought were so earth-shattering and horrible in perspective, you know?”
“What kind of things?”
Tanner set his cup down and started tracing the diamond pattern in the Formica tabletop with a finger. “Just things. Obligations.” He looked up and smiled. “Rethinking my puppy rebellion, I guess.”
Chase gripped his own cup, ignoring the heat that seeped through the ceramic and into his fingers. “I know this isn’t fair to ask, especially now, when it’s so soon, but—”
“Here you go, boys.”
Wanda set Chase’s burger and fries in front of him, but instead of a BLT, she plopped a steak, baked potato, and green beans in front of Tanner, along with a side of mac and cheese and three dinner rolls.
Tanner gazed at the spread on the table, his eyes getting bigger and bigger. “This, um, isn’t what I ordered.”
“A BLT won’t do for you, Mr. Skinnybones. Eat up.” She grabbed the coffeepot, topped up their cups, and bustled away.
Tanner stared after her. “I’ve heard of short-order cooking, but that was awfully quick,” he muttered. His gaze returned to the table and he gestured helplessly at the massive amount of food in front of him. “And I can’t possibly eat all this.”
Chase picked up his burger and took a bite. Mmmm. Perfect. Juicy, the ideal blush of pink in the middle, and ground coarse enough that it had some feel to it. He finished chewing and tried a fry. Crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside, with just the right amount of salt. He caught Wanda watching them as she poured coffee for another person at the counter, a smug smile on her face.
“I suggest you give it a try. Because Wanda strikes me as the kind of person who’ll stand over you until you eat all your vegetables.”
Tanner chuckled weakly. “You’re probably right.” He picked up his knife and fork and sawed off a piece of steak. When he put it in his mouth, his eyes closed, and he moaned. Gods, his face . . .
Chase shoved another fry into his own mouth so he wouldn’t moan in return. What I wouldn’t give for him to look that way because of me.
“This is . . . I don’t know whether I’ve forgotten what good food tastes like or if this is the best freaking steak I’ve ever had in my life, but it’s incredible.”
To keep himself from reaching across the table to cup Tanner’s face and totally embarrassing them both, Chase took another bite of his burger. “I don’t think empirical evidence matters. If it tastes like the best, then it is. Eat up, then we’ll head back to the cabin.”
Tanner shook a little salt onto his baked potato. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Chase asked around a mouthful of burger.
“For being such a bother.”
“You’re not a bother. You’ve never been a bother.”
Tanner stopped smooshing his potato to goggle at Chase. “I got you suspended.”
“How do you figure?”
“If I’d taken a stand, refused to go to the Bullpen when I didn’t really want to—”
“You did it because the other guys wanted it. You’re kind, Tanner. And unselfish. Those are pretty rare qualities, no matter what species we’re talking about.”
Tanner snorted. “More like weak and cowardly. If I were all that kind and unselfish, I wouldn’t have run off. I’d have stayed and faced the consequences of my actions.”
“My suspension was the cons
equence of my actions, not yours. Well, maybe Jordan and Gage had a little to do with it, but none of it is on you.” Chase swirled a fry in some ketchup. “One of the first things I remember about you was how you sat up with Artie, the third-year guy who was having trouble passing his education requirement, and helped him study for his exam so he’d qualify for his certification.”
“Anyone would have done that.”
“You made flashcards, Tanner. You sat with him for hours, drilling him until he could pass the test. Nobody else even considered that.”
Tanner ducked his head and cut another bite of steak. “It was an interesting subject. Don’t make me more altruistic than I am.”
“You did the same with Gage and Hector.”
“Same thing. I wanted to learn—”
“But wanting to learn doesn’t explain why you spent hours helping Jordan finish that damn Lego Death Star. I know for a fact you ordered a second one online because Jordan chewed up some critical pieces and buried them in the backyard so nobody would know.”
“How— But—”
“Because Jordan told me.” Chase popped another fry into his mouth. “He’s got the impulse control of a squirrel in a walnut grove and the attention span of a flea, but he’s got a good heart.”
Tanner chuckled and dug into his meal with more enthusiasm. By the time Chase finished his burger, Tanner had eaten everything except the potato skin and one roll. Chase took one for the team and finished the roll off for him.
Wanda beamed at them as they got up from the table, then bustled over to press a paper bag into Tanner’s hands. “Some doughnuts for tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Share them with Ted. They’re his favorites. Although there’s something special in there for you too.” Chase wrestled his wallet out of his pocket. He probably had enough cash to cover this—barely—but Wanda waved him off. “I put everything on Ted’s account. You boys can settle up with him later.” She patted them both on the shoulder. “Get along now.”
They walked outside into the chilly, ocean-scented breeze. Tanner stared at the door. “Well. That was weird.” He glanced up the street at Stuff ’n’ Things. “This whole place is weird.”
“Dude. You just spent three months loping around Portland as a wolf, and then we got attacked by a bunch of monsters made out of mud. I don’t think we can cast stones when it comes to weirdness.”
“I know, but . . .” Tanner shrugged. “You’re right.” A black car drove slowly past, and Tanner ducked behind Chase.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s stupid.” Tanner’s attempt at a smile wasn’t very successful. “I guess I’m still in avoidance mode.”
Chase fought the urge to put his arm around Tanner and shield him from any threat, real or imagined. “Don’t apologize. Are you ready to head back to the cabin?”
“So ready.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “I think that potion of Bryce’s is starting to wear off.”
Chase peered at him. Perspiration gleamed on Tanner’s forehead, their bags rattling in his grip.
“Shit, Tanner. I think you’re in shift withdrawal.”
“Shift what now?” Tanner’s gaze darted right and left, and he hunched his shoulders, curling over the bags he clutched to his stomach.
“Shift withdrawal. It’s a thing. Have you heard of it?”
“N-n-no.”
Chase eased the bags out of Tanner’s trembling hands, then gripped his elbow and towed him, unresisting, down the street and around the side of Stuff ’n’ Things. “We need to get back to Ted’s cave. You need to shift.”
“Shift? But I just got done with a m-marathon shift. W-w-why would I n-need to d-d-do it again?”
“Precisely because it was a marathon.” They weren’t even halfway up the hill behind Dewton, and Tanner was already panting. “It doesn’t happen so much now, but in the early days when the country was more forest than town, before humans started cutting down all the trees, weres sometimes lived in wolf form for months, usually in the winter. They were more nomadic then. No permanent compounds.”
“H-h-how do you know that? There’s nothing written—”
“Of course there’s nothing written. Fricking paranoid nomad wolves didn’t want anyone to know about something that could make them look weak. My grandfather told me about it when I was a pup, then denied it afterward, so I could never get many details. Apparently after a shifted winter, they often experienced a withdrawal. If they didn’t ingest the right herbs or something, they could have convulsions.”
“What herbs?”
“I don’t know!” Chase kicked a rock out of his way. “Grandpa never said. But you need to shift again, at least for a little while, until we can talk to Dr. MacLeod and see if he can figure out some kind of druid remedy.” He glanced around. “The trees mask you from town here. It should be safe for you to shift.”
Tanner shook his head, the tremors racking his entire body now. “No. Not h-here. Not in the open. Someone could see. C-cave.”
“If you’re sure.” Tanner nodded jerkily. “Okay, then. Lean on me. I won’t let you fall.”
By the time they got to the cave, Chase wished he’d insisted on the shift, because Tanner could barely walk. As soon as they got inside, Chase flung the bags down and grabbed one of the blankets off the shelf to spread on the ground. “Come on. Let’s get you out of your clothes so you can curl up on the blanket.”
Tanner’s fingers were shaking so much that in the end, Chase had to undress him, lowering him to the blanket to remove his boots and socks, unbuttoning his shirt—gods, he’s so thin—then easing him to his back to slide his pants and underwear off.
This wasn’t how Chase had envisioned getting Tanner naked, but sex was the farthest thing from his mind. All that mattered was making sure Tanner was okay. He stroked Tanner’s arm. “Go ahead. Shift now. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
Tanner nodded miserably and rolled to his hands and knees. Chase had hoped that when the transformation started, the withdrawal symptoms would fade, but even after Tanner was in his wolf form, he was still shivering, head hanging low.
“Damn it,” Chase muttered. He glanced around the cave. I doubt chili or canned lima beans are going to help. His gaze landed on the jumble of bags. The clothes from Stuff ’n’ Things wouldn’t help, nor that leather-bound book Shirl had handed Tanner as they’d left the store. Maybe in that other little bag? The one Tanner said was nothing?
Chase pawed through the stack until he found it. But when he looked inside . . . Condoms? Lube? Oh my fricking gods. Not thinking about that now. In desperation, he yanked open the bag from the diner. There, on top of a half-dozen glazed doughnuts, was something with For energy scrawled on its wrapper. Chase snatched it out of the bag and unfolded the paper. It was an odd cakelike number speckled with green. He sniffed. Definitely savory instead of sweet. In fact, it smelled a little like Dr. MacLeod’s recovery potion.
He broke off a piece and tasted it. Not bad. Although it had that dense texture that Jordan always complained healthy food had. It’s worth a shot. After all, Wanda had nailed their meal choices. He scrambled to the other side of the cave, where Tanner was huddled on the blanket.
“Hey, buddy. I know you feel like shit right now, but our friend at the diner sent along something that might help.” At the very least, it couldn’t hurt.
Tanner turned away, but when Chase stroked the thick fur on his back, he sighed and lifted his head. Chase broke up the doughnut and, piece by piece, fed it to Tanner. By the time it was gone, Tanner’s eyes were a little brighter, and shivers only lifted his fur sporadically instead of constantly.
Ah, what the hells. Chase stood up. Tanner raised his head and whined. “It’s okay, buddy. Just getting ready to join you.”
He took off his own clothes, tossing them aside, then shifted. Whoa! The scent of bear was even stronger to Chase’s wolf nose. But it was Ted’s scent, and Tanner’s was there too, which was all that mat
tered. Chase lay down facing the cave mouth, his body cuddled next to Tanner.
Chase lowered his head to his paws, but he kept his ears pricked and his focus on the cave entrance. He didn’t know what had gotten Tanner so spooked—either today in town or back in November when he’d first run, but he knew one thing for certain.
Nobody was going to get past him to hurt Tanner. Nobody.
Tanner drifted in a half-waking state, unwilling to leave the dream where he was clean and warm and, for a wonder, not hungry. And where Chase’s scent was clear in the air.
Although in all his other dreams of Chase, there’d never been bear scent.
Tanner jerked awake. Chase. The golems. Dewton.
The instant he raised his head, Chase—in gorgeous wolf form—nuzzled Tanner’s ruff and then stood up. Tanner had seen Chase shift before—it was one of the rules at the Doghouse that all the juniors’ shifts had to be accompanied by a shifted senior until they passed their level two certification. But the other guys had always been there, and Chase’s attention was usually on the younger weres like Jordan, who tended to be overly exuberant or prone to pranks.
For some reason, watching him shift now, in this cozy, private space, felt different. Intimate. Also a little pervy, if he were honest. So he turned away.
Chase knelt beside him, his scent muted in his human body. He hasn’t put any clothes on. He’s still naked. Somehow, Tanner repressed a whine, but when Chase held out a tentative hand, Tanner butted it with his forehead.
Chase stroked Tanner’s spine, making Tanner’s right rear paw paddle helplessly. How embarrassing! But Chase didn’t laugh like Finn would have. “Hey, buddy. You’ve stopped shaking. Are you ready to shift back? We should probably get back to the cabin while we still have a little bit of light.” Chase chuckled. “Although after a couple of hours spent surrounded by Ted’s scent, I don’t think we’ll have trouble following the trail, even with our human senses.”
Howling on Hold Page 16
