For the Love of an Outlaw (Outlaw Shifters Book 1)

by T. S. Joyce

  “Your dad wouldn’t have wanted you hanging around the likes of him, just so you know. Whatever you’re doing here, get your business done quick and come back to town. Triple Creek has rooms open, and it’s real comfortable.”

  “Yeah? Is it a place my dad would approve? Do me a favor, Cooper. Don’t talk about what my dad would and wouldn’t want. I knew him best, and he was fine with Trigger. Thanks for the ride.”

  Whoa, what had made her say that? She’d just stuck up for Trigger Massey. The scary boy from her school days. Before she could pop-off anymore, she shoved the creaking truck door open and dragged the suitcase out of the back. She wasn’t usually rude to people, but what he’d said made her angry for reasons she couldn’t figure out.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Cooper said out the window, and then his truck was blasting down the road away from her, the exhaust billowing smoke behind it.

  Ava watched the old truck until it disappeared around a bend in the road, and then she zipped up her too-thin jacket, pulled her winter hat down lower over her ears, and began dragging her suitcase down the snowy road of Two Claws.

  She tried to call Colton as she struggled and slipped up the lane, but her phone was getting zero service out here. Great. She didn’t even know if Colton was here, and she suddenly grew nervous about meeting Trigger alone.

  Why hadn’t she packed snow boots? These booties really were the most impractical shoes to wear out here, but she’d been living down south for so long where winters were mild, she hadn’t worn snow boots in years. She would need to go to town and buy some tomorrow, and perhaps a thicker jacket too.

  It felt like she walked for three days, and hell yep, she was muttering curse words the entire way because, really, things couldn’t get much worse. She was freezing, and this road went on for twenty-five miles for all she knew, and it was getting darker by the minute. The roiling storm clouds above decided to poop snow right as she was kicking herself for giving into Colton’s request to come here, and as the fat snowflakes fell down around her, she stopped, chest heaving with breath, and glared up at the sky. Mother Nature was being a heifer with her timing.

  When Ava looked at the road again, there was movement from far off. She squinted her eyes, but it was hard to see clearly through the falling snow. Something large approached, closer and closer until she could make out the edges of a black horse and a man riding it straight-backed and proud. He wore a cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, a blue plaid shirt, but no jacket, like the weather didn’t bother him at all. And as his horse closed the last ten yards, it began prancing and snorting, trotting sideways toward her, his eyes rolling and wild. The man atop the black horse didn’t seem concerned, and when he lifted his chin, she could see his face better.

  She hadn’t thought about Trigger Massey in a long time before Colton called her, but by God, he sure looked different from when he was a kid. He was the same age as Colton, so thirty-one now. His beard was thick and black, and his eyes matched the ebony color. His nose had been broken and healed slightly crooked, though it suited his rigid features. His dark hair was shaved short on the sides under his cream-colored cowboy hat, and there were tattoos up his neck and on both hands. She could only assume he was covered with ink on his arms as well. There was no welcoming smile or hint of kindness in his sparking eyes. Only annoyance dwelled in his features. That part she completely recognized. That part hadn’t changed one bit in the ten years since she’d left Darby behind.

  “You need better shoes,” he said in a deep voice. “Would’ve taken you half the time to get to the cabin.”

  “I’m aware. Thank you.”

  “And probably a better jacket, too. This place ain’t a high fashion runway. No one gives a shit what you look like here.”

  Well, this was going about as bad as it could go. With an angry glare, she dragged her suitcase through the snow and marched past him. “I’m here as a favor,” she said over her shoulder. “You could at least pretend to be polite.”

  “I didn’t call in any favors, and you don’t owe me anything.”

  “No, but Colton did, and I owe him plenty. Unfortunately.” God, it was cold out here.

  She stumbled over a rock that had been hidden by the snow and nearly fell.

  “Here,” Trigger said from way too close.

  Ava nearly jumped out of her skin when he took the suitcase handle from her. What the hell? He had been up on the horse, and then one second later he was down beside her, offering to take the suitcase. That man was scary fast and agile.

  “I can get it myself,” she said, gripping the handle tighter.

  Trigger narrowed his eyes and stood to his full height. Holy macaroni, the man had grown half a damn foot since she’d seen him last and was now as wide as a creek. His shoulders were powerful and pressed against his flannel shirt, and his neck was thick with muscle. He was sexy as sin, but the devil was in his eyes, and a wise woman didn’t muck with a dangerous man like him. He took a step closer, and then another, until his chest nearly brushed hers. He looked down his nose at her, then bent forward. She honestly didn’t know if he was going to kiss her or kill her. It took everything she had to stand her ground. He yanked the suitcase handle out of her hand and leaned in closer, his lips right near her ear. “I’m not gonna watch you struggle this damn frilly suitcase another quarter mile just because you’re being a stubborn woman. Get on the horse. It’s supper time and I’m hungry, and having you here pisses me off. Pop off less, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  “You mean don’t talk.”

  Trigger straightened his spine and angled his face. “Your words, not mine, but I don’t disagree.”

  “You’re still an asshole.”

  He gave her an empty, careless smile. “Guilty. Get on the horse, Ava, before I lose my patience and leave you out in the snow.”

  She hated him. Hated him for being just the same as he was, hated him for bossing her around first thing, hated him for trying to intimidate her. She matched his empty smile and flipped him the bird, and then she did an about-face and marched through the snow without looking back.

  She was pretty sure he growled when he passed her on the horse, her luggage dangling to the side like it didn’t weigh anything at all, but she didn’t care about his man-tantrums. He was pissed off she was here? She felt the same!

  Dick-weevil-anal-fungus-meathead. Probably hung like a gerbil, and too mean for girls to like past his pretty face, so he was just bitter and angry and—and—sexually frustrated enough that he had tricked himself into thinking he was some kind of demigod who could order people around. Well, not her. No siree-bob. Maybe his rugged good looks made some girls fall over themselves to mind him, but she would rather chew off her own leg than be bossed around by the likes of him. He’d been rude when they were kids, and he was just as rude now. There was something very disappointing about a man who refused to improve with time.

  What Colton saw in him as a friend, she would never in a million years figure out.

  It took her a good fifteen minutes before she reached the front of a small cabin. She was cold, huffing breath, exhausted, and in a foul mood, but at least when she shoved the door open, the innards of the house were warm and her suitcase was sitting in the middle of the small entryway. It would’ve taken her a lot longer to get here if she was dragging that dang thing through the snow the whole time. And bright side number three, Trigger was nowhere in sight. It smelled like food, and her brother was standing with his back to her in a modest kitchen with wooden counters that matched the cabinets.

  “Why didn’t you pick me up from the airport?” she asked. That part still stung. Yeah, they didn’t get along, but he could’ve shown a little care.

  With a sigh, Colton braced his arms against the counter and said, “Because I didn’t want to have this moment in public.”

  “What moment?”

  He turned around, slowly, and locked his attention on her, but she could only stare in horror at the mangl
ed and scarred left side of his face. Deep claw marks were etched into his cheek, from his temple all the way to his jawline. The marks just barely missed his eye.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she whispered, dropping her purse where she stood. “What happened to you?”

  “Bear attack.”

  “When?” she said much too loudly.

  He winced and hunched his shoulders. “Five years ago.”

  “And you decided to never tell me?”

  “Well, I lived, didn’t I? And there wasn’t much to tell. I got attacked, I survived, you weren’t around to see the scars, so what was the point?”

  “God, we’re so broken,” she murmured, tears burning her eyes. “So terribly broken.” And she realized in that moment she hadn’t really had a family since she’d left. She’d been on her own, Colton had been on his own, and they’d built totally separate lives. And there was tragedy in that, even if they didn’t get along. She should’ve known if something this horrific had happened to him. And how many things about her life had she kept from him? Most of them. She barely even recognized her own brother. Even his eyes looked a different color from what she remembered.

  She’d failed him, he’d failed her, and it shouldn’t have been like this.

  “I’m glad you’re finally back,” he said gruffly, running his hand over his short, dirty-blond hair. “I wanted you to come before…” He swallowed hard. “Well, all I mean is I wished you came sooner.”

  “I didn’t mean for that either.” She felt the need to explain. “It’s just, I wanted to leave here so badly, and I didn’t want to come back that first year. I didn’t want to get sucked back in. I wanted a shot at building an existence outside of here. And the longer I was away and the less contact with this town I had, the easier it was and the less I thought about…”

  “Me,” Colton murmured.

  Ava’s stomach curdled, and she was too ashamed to say the truth, so she dipped her gaze to the scraped-up wooden floors instead.

  “It’s all good, Ava. We can both beat ourselves up, but what will that fix? Nothing. Do you want one can or two?”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “One can of ranch-style beans or two. Me and Trig usually eat four apiece.”

  “You eat canned beans? For a whole meal?”

  “Well, not just canned beans. We add steak to them, too. Look.” He forked a steaming sirloin from the pan on the stove and smiled. Only the scarred side of his face wouldn’t allow a grin on that side, so his expression was crooked. “You can call them something fancier if you want. We’re serving edible squish-pebbles, Princess. One or two cans?”

  “Um. One. Can of…beans. Would be nice. Thank you.” Kind of. Note to self: get snow boots, warmer jacket, and adult food from the store tomorrow.

  “If you want to put your suitcase away, Trig has a guest room down there.” Colton gestured toward a hallway off the living room and went back to cooking.

  “Wait, I’m staying here? With Trigger? I thought I would stay with you.”

  “Well, I’ll be right out the door and about a hundred yards west of this cabin, but my place is just one room. You will be more comfortable here.”

  “With Trigger Massey?” she asked in a dead voice.

  “Yes, with Trig. Ava, he’s good. You’re safe here. Trust me.”

  “Like you were safe?” she asked quietly.

  “I told you it was a bear attack. What do you want me to do about that? They aren’t really in any man’s control. They happen. I got lucky. I lived.” But his tone had gone dark midway through, and he didn’t sound like he believed the lucky part. “Go on, put your things away. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” she murmured, grabbing the handle to her suitcase. He’d dismissed her, and normally she would’ve fought it, but Colton was really different than she remembered. A few minutes by herself to process everything was probably a good idea.

  She would’ve been careful dragging the wheels across wooden floors, but these were all banged up, and a few more scrapes and scratches would only add to the rustic character. The first bedroom had a king-sized bed with a frame made out of polished, natural, knotty wood. There was a huge dream catcher hanging above the bed, and the top drawers on the small dresser were open…and full. The comforter on the bed was forest green and all disheveled like it hadn’t been made in a long time. She couldn’t judge Trigger though, since she hadn’t made her own bed in a month. What was the point? She never invited anyone over.

  Farther down the hallway was a bathroom and one smaller bedroom about the size of a large closet. There was a twin bed in there and a small space to walk to get to it, but that was it. There was barely even room to set her suitcase on the floor, so she hefted it onto the bouncy, squeaking mattress instead.

  “There wasn’t enough room for a dresser,” a gruff voice said from behind her.

  With a yelp, Ava jumped and clutched her chest, as if that would keep her heart from pounding right out of it.

  Trigger reached right over her like he had no concept of personal space and pulled a cord on the wall. A set of three shelves released with a click. “I built these.”

  “O-okay.”

  He didn’t budge, just stood there, looking down at her from mere inches away.

  He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll get girl-food tomorrow.”

  “Girl food,” she repeated.

  “Yeah. Salad and fruit and shit.”

  “Well shit sounds disgusting, but salad and fruit would be good.” She let off a nervous laugh, but he didn’t seem amused by her poop joke. Great, he didn’t have a sense of humor either. These next two weeks were going to be super-fun.

  He rocked from his toes to his heels to his toes again, then lowered his gaze to hers. “It’ll storm again tonight.”

  “But the weather report said—”

  “It’s wrong. Trust me.”

  “Okay then.” Psychopath. “Sooo, I think I should get to work on your finances after dinner.” If one could call canned beans dinner.

  He nodded curtly. “The faster you get through it, the faster you can leave.”

  She gave a too-bright smile. “Exactly. If you could gather your taxes from the last three years, any investments, retirement accounts, a detailed list of debts and credit card balances, as well as a list of monthly expenses, that would be extremely helpful.” She pulled a folded spreadsheet out of her bag. It had lines for expenses and a questionnaire so she could get to know what kind of spender he was. “Also, I need paperwork on all streams of revenue you have coming in. And I’ll need access to your bank accounts. You can either give me read-only access or give me the passwords to your online bank accounts.”

  “That’s pretty invasive, don’t you think?”

  “If you’re worried about me stealing all your money, don’t be. I’m a professional, and if you had money to steal, I wouldn’t be here. You can change your password the second I’m finished assessing the damage.”

  His dark eyes narrowed to slits. “Great.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Steller,” he muttered.

  “Super-dee-duper.”

  The corner of his lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but disappeared so fast that, for a moment, she thought she imagined it. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never once seen Trigger Massey smile. But that split second of a amused expression had completely changed his features. He could be a dashing man, not just dangerous looking, if he let that slip more often. She should encourage it.

  “You have a nice smile,” she said.

  Trigger narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed the air. “Beans are on.” And then he did an about-face and left her there with her mouth hanging open.

  Okay then.

  She took a test sniff of the air too, but she didn’t smell anything but the faint aroma of sawdust. Maybe he had just built the shelves.

  She
gave her attention to the fold-down shelves and ran her fingers across the top. No dust. In fact, the entire room was spotless, and the sheets and comforter had been folded neatly at the end of the bed for her to put on fresh. It was better than she’d expected from a bachelor.

  Not in a big rush to devour beans, she unpacked her suitcase and even set her make-up and other toiletries on the counter in the small bathroom next to her room. God, this was uncomfortable. She couldn’t believe she was in Trigger’s house, much less staying here for two weeks. This was what nightmares were made of.

  “Ava, hurry up! We’re waiting on you!” her brother called from the other room.

  Annoying. Plus, if she was honest, she was stalling. This place was homey, but it wasn’t home, and she was missing her little efficiency apartment. She should be home right now, sipping hot chocolate, playing an old record in the background, and working on all the stuff she hadn’t gotten done at the office. Not in the wilderness, not in the hometown she never wanted to revisit, with some hot, but unnerving, weirdo who was light on manners and heavy on fiery looks, silence, and awkwardness.

  “Oh my God, Ava!” Colton called. “You don’t need to put make-up on or fix your hair. This ain’t the Ritz, and no one here cares what you look like. I’m hungry, and my food is getting cold! You know what is worse than anything in the whole motherfuckin’ world? Cold food. One foot after the other. Let’s go.”

  If Trigger Massey didn’t murder her in her sleep, Colton was going to drive her to jump off a cliff. Either way, the next two weeks were getting bleaker by the second.

  Barely resisting the urge to stomp down the hallway like she had when she was a teenager when Colton pissed her off, she glided gracefully into the living room with a plastered smile on her face. But where she’d expected a pair of giant, tatted-up cowboy behemoths, Colton was the only one sitting at the counter on a rickety old stool that didn’t match the other two. He was shoveling beans into his maw from a can. He slurped a stray edible squish-pebble, as he’d so eloquently called it, and around that bite of food he said, “I quit waiting on you.”