“Wait…you were trying to get me naked?” He knelt beside her and wiped up some of the mess.
She grinned. “I didn’t plan on stopping with your shirt.”
Heat crept up his neck. “Oh.”
She laughed. “You really haven’t had many women over, have you?”
“I told you. You’re the first.” And if he got his way, she’d be the last. He didn’t plan to leave a trace of doubt in her mind after tonight. She couldn’t leave town tomorrow. She couldn’t leave him. He gathered the mess of paper towels and tossed them in the trash. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What’s that?” Her gaze lingered on his chest, and she licked her lips.
Dear Lord, if she didn’t stop looking at him like that he’d never be able to speak a coherent sentence again. “Umm…” He cleared his throat. “That was my only jar of tomato sauce. I’ve got nothing to put on the spaghetti now.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked before looking him in the eyes. “You’ve got ketchup, right? Isn’t that tomato sauce?” Peering into the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of Heinz. “It’s in a bottle rather than a jar, but the first ingredient is tomato sauce. This should work if we heat it up.”
“I never thought of that, but I think you’re right. Let’s do it.” He washed the pot in the sink and set it by the ketchup before grabbing the dried pasta from a shelf.
Alexis wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”
He paused and inhaled, and a faint, sweetly pungent odor with the sharp reek of something burnt greeted his senses.
She nodded to her left. “I think it’s coming from the oven.”
“Oh, crap. The bread.” He yanked the oven door open, and cloud of black smoke billowed into the kitchen. It rose quickly, wafting toward the ceiling, and he fanned it out of his face as he chased it toward the smoke alarm.
Too late.
A high-pitched squealing sound filled his apartment and probably half the block. Grabbing a paperback, he fanned the book in front of the device to dissipate the smoke, but the damn thing wouldn’t turn off. He mashed the reset button with his thumb and blew into the plastic cover. Nothing would silence the incessant screeching, so he tore it from the wall and yanked out the battery. Glorious silence filled his throbbing ears.
He took a deep breath and set his jaw. This was no big deal. He could save face. He’d go back in there, they’d laugh it off, let a restaurant cook them dinner, and maybe they’d finish the other thing they’d started this evening.
He sauntered to the kitchen and found Alexis with her backside pressed against the counter, her hands gripping the Formica so tightly her knuckles turned white. Sam sat at her feet, a ridge of hair down the center of his back standing on end.
Karen stood at the sink, fanning the smoke out the window. “If you’re going to try to cook for him, at least figure out what you’re doing before you burn our house down.” Her voice held a venom he’d never heard from her before, and from the look on Alexis’s face, Karen had done more than insult her lack of cooking skills.
He moved to stand next to Alexis and draped an arm across her shoulders. “Thanks for your concern, Karen, but we’ve got this under control.”
“You obviously don’t. Spaghetti with ketchup?” She picked up the bottle and curled her lip before setting it down. “You shouldn’t be in the kitchen with your shirt off, especially with an inexperienced cook like her. You could have been burned.”
He grabbed his shirt from the counter and yanked it over his head. “I had tomato sauce, but it spilled on the floor. And I am the inexperienced cook. I was making dinner for Alexis.”
She flashed an unbelieving look. “And what is this supposed to be?” She gestured to the burnt mess she’d retrieved from the oven.
“I was trying to make bread.”
Alexis slid her arm behind his back. “And it was a sweet gesture, Bryce. I appreciate the effort.” She kissed him on the cheek and rested her other hand on his chest.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it felt a little bit like she was claiming him. He suppressed a grin. Something about the idea of Alexis feeling the need to fight for him warmed him from the inside out.
Karen ignored her comment. “What did you put in it?”
Bryce shrugged. “Just what the recipe called for. Flour, salt, soda…I used Dr. Pepper. Should I have gone with something clear?”
Karen laughed. “Soda means baking soda. Not the kind you drink.” She shook her head. “You know what? I made a pot roast, and there is plenty for everyone. Why don’t you come down and have dinner with Michael and me?”
Alexis tightened her grip on his waist, and he could’ve sworn he heard a growl rumble from her chest. “We’ll pass.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and stepped away to usher Karen to the door. “I do appreciate the invitation, ma’am, but this was supposed to be a date. I’ll take her out somewhere for dinner.”
He stepped onto the landing and closed the front door before lowering his voice. “What are you doing, Karen? You can’t let yourself into my house when I’ve got company over and start insulting my girlfriend.”
Karen crossed her arms. “She’s your girlfriend?”
“With any luck, she might be some day. I’m working on it.” He crossed his arms to chase away the chill in the air.
She glanced at the Ford on the curb and huffed. “She lives out of her car.”
“She’s going through a rough patch right now. It can happen to the best of us.”
Her jaw clenched. “She’s using you.”
While he appreciated Karen’s concern, her judgment of the woman he cared for grated on his nerves. He needed to nip this cat fight in the bud before it turned ugly. “She’s not using me.” He chuckled. “I practically had to beg her to come over.”
“I know you like to save people, but believe me, this won’t end well. You can’t save someone like her. I tried once, and I ended up alone and pregnant.”
He sighed. “She’s not Bobby…and I don’t have the parts to end up pregnant, so the worst she can do is break my heart. Cut her some slack, huh? She’s Macey sister.”
Karen swallowed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry I turned into a mother hen on you. I just…I need to protect my boys.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “I’ll give her a chance.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Tell Michael ‘hi’ for me.”
“I will.”
He stayed outside as she shuffled down the stairs toward her own apartment. Hopefully he’d seen the end of the turbulence with Karen. Convincing Alexis to stay was already hard enough; the last thing he needed was another woman driving her away. When he opened the door, Alexis stood in the living room with her arms crossed over her chest.
A fire burned in her emerald eyes, and as she arched a brow and drummed her fingers against her bicep, he fought off a smile. “Does she do that often?” she asked.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do what?”
“Let herself in whenever she wants.”
“She didn’t mean any harm. I’m sorry about that.” Damn, she was cute when she was jealous. “She heard the smoke alarm, and if my place burns down, hers does too.”
She inclined her chin. “Is there something going on between you?”
“What? No.” He moved toward her. “Karen is like…she looks out for me…like a second mom.”
“A mom who would’ve been ten years old when she had you.”
“Okay…how about an older sister? I swear, Alexis, there is nothing going on between me and Karen.” The only woman he wanted to have anything going on with was standing right in front of him. If she didn’t understand that by now, he’d have to do a better job showing her.
She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Her pupils dilated when she looked at your chest. She finds you attractive.”
He laughed. “Who wouldn’t?”
Alexis rolled her eyes. “I believe there’s nothing going on between you
because I don’t think you’d lie to me…and…you’ve got no game.” She grinned.
His mouth dropped open. “I’ve got game.”
“Do you?” She slinked toward him and ran her fingers up his chest before placing a soft kiss on his lips. Then she nodded toward the kitchen. “You call that game?”
His teeth clicked as he clenched his jaw. He wanted to argue…to defend his manhood, but what could he say? “I see your point. Let me get rid of that godawful science experiment and get cleaned up.” Then he’d show her game. He strutted into the kitchen. “Would you have known baking soda wasn’t the stuff you drink?”
She laughed. “Everyone knows that.”
Not everyone. He grabbed the bread pan with both hands, and searing pain exploded across his skin. “Godammit! Shit!” Dropping the pan on the counter, he peered at his palms. “Damn thing’s still hot.”
Bright-red marks covered his palms and fingers where he’d made contact with the heated glass. His skin warped, as if the top layer no longer connected to the skin beneath. His hands throbbed, and he bit the inside of his cheek to hold in a groan. “That’s gonna blister.”
“Let me see.” Concern danced in her eyes as she gingerly took his right hand in hers. She tilted her head. “That’s not so bad.”
“If you say so.” His voice sounded strained, and he took a deep breath to rein in the wuss and act like a man. The skin on his fingertips was already puckering, moisture building beneath the loose layer of flesh. He held in a whimper. Men didn’t whimper.
Alexis gently ran her fingers over the burned areas of his hand, and he’d be damned if the woman didn’t have a magic touch. The throbbing subsided, and as she brought his fingertips to her lips and kissed them, the pain ceased entirely. She did the same thing to his left hand, and just like that, the agony was gone.
“You bring kiss-it-and-make-it-better to a whole new level.” He looked at his hands, and his eyes widened. “The burns are gone. How’d you do that?” He turned his hands over a few times and rubbed his palms together. No trace of the injury remained. His mind reeled. All she did was touch him. His skin should’ve been a blistered mess by now.
The woman had a way of making him feel better whenever she was near, but there was no way in hell she’d healed his wounds with a touch. It wasn’t possible. “Alexis?”
He looked at her, and she closed her eyes, her body swaying as if she were on the verge of passing out.
“Are you okay?” He clutched her shoulders, steadying her.
With a deep inhale, she opened her eyes and nodded. “I’m fine. Those burns were pretty deep.” She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs across his cheeks. “I’m okay. Why don’t you put some clean clothes on, and I’ll take the pan to the trash outside? That smell is horrible.” She grabbed a dish towel from a hook and folded it over, using it as padding to pick up the mess. “I don’t think the pan is salvageable.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He stood motionless as she walked to the door, his mind running in circles. What just happened?
She paused in the threshold. “Go change, goofball.” She grinned and shut the door.
Goofball? Well, it was better than dumbass.
He dumped his dirty clothes in the washing machine and pulled on a pair of clean jeans and a black T-shirt. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he stared at his hands. No matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for what she’d done to him. How had the pain stopped instantly like that? And where were the blisters?
He took a deep breath and blew it out hard. Macey had her psychic ability to read spirit energy. Her friend Rain claimed to be a witch, and they both insisted she could cast spells. It was possible Alexis had the ability to heal, wasn’t it? Hell, why not? Plenty of faith healers claimed to have powers like this. Maybe they weren’t all scam artists after all.
He put on his shoes and padded to the living room, where he found Alexis on the couch, petting Sam. She looked so comfortable in his apartment, lounging with his dog like she belonged there. His heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to race or skip a beat as he paused to look at her. Having her here felt almost too good to be true. Almost…magical.
He shuffled to the couch. “Are you ready to tell me what you did to my hands? Do you have some kind of weird power like your sister and her spirit sensors?” He sank onto the cushion next to her.
She bit her bottom lip in that oh so sexy way of hers, and her eyes tightened with uncertainty. “What I did…drains me. Can we get some food, and then I’ll try to explain?”
He held her gaze, searching for a sign that she planned to avoid the issue, that she was concocting a lie to appease him. He only found fatigue. “Fair enough. There’s an Irish pub a few blocks away. Good food. Great whiskey.”
She smiled. “Sounds fantastic.”
“Are you too tired to walk? I can carry you on my back if you are.” He winked.
“Really?” Her musical laugh danced in his ears, adding warmth to the hominess she already brought to his apartment. What would it take to convince her she belonged here?
“Or we can drive.”
Giving Sam one last pat on the head, she rose to her feet. “A walk would do me good, but…can I borrow your jacket again? I lost mine.”
He sauntered to the door, took the one she’d worn a few times from the rack, and held it out to her. “How’d you lose your jacket?”
She slipped her arms through the sleeves and kissed him on the cheek. “I left it at Eric’s.”
The mention of her abusive ex stopped Bryce in his tracks. The fact that sorry excuse for a man had hurt Alexis fanned a fire of hatred in his heart so hot that he might not be able to stop himself from tearing into the asshole if he ever saw him again. A sour sensation burned in his stomach, and he caught her hand. “Have you heard from him lately?”
“Not a peep.” She laced her fingers through his. “Let’s go eat.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alexis held Bryce’s hand as they strolled through the neighborhood toward the tavern. Massive oak trees wrapped in twinkling white lights created a canopy over the sidewalk, and wreaths and tinsel adorned the homes along the path. Quaint, modest houses sat next to huge nineteenth century buildings with white columns and gas lamps for porch lights. The area had a cozy, welcoming ambience that she’d like to get used to.
Bryce remained quiet on the walk, giving her time to figure out how much to tell him. She wanted to spill it all. To tell him everything about herself, about her abilities. But to expose the werewolves to him would be a bigger step than she was ready to take.
Werewolves shared their secrets when they planned to make a serious commitment. While she knew, without a doubt, that she wanted to be with Bryce, the idea of settling down…of trusting someone…had her insides tied in knots.
If she could get out of her head and let her wolf take the lead, she’d be able to admit he was her fate-bound. Hell, her wolf had been trying to convince her to make the man hers since the day she met him. It was time she started listening.
She clutched his bicep with her free hand and leaned into his side. He was warm, strong, kind. He deserved to know everything, but could he handle the truth? Would he believe her?
He patted her hand on his arm. “We’re almost there. You doing okay?”
“I’m good.” She caught his gaze, and the words I’m a werewolf danced on her tongue. She bit them back. “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?”
He laughed dryly. “I don’t do much for the holidays anymore.”
“Why not?”
“There’s not much to celebrate when you’re alone.” A sadness she’d never heard before laced his voice. An ancient pain she didn’t dare drag up for him to relive. Bryce was charismatic, friendly…everyone seemed to like him. A man like him wouldn’t be alone unless he chose to be.
“Surely there are plenty of single guys at the station throwing parties, going to bars. Why don’t you celebra
te with them?”
“I do occasionally, but…” He stopped and faced her. “It may not seem that way, but I’m an introvert at heart. I enjoy hanging with the guys, but it drains me. I need my alone time to recharge my batteries.” He opened the pub door and motioned for her to enter. “And speaking of doing things that drain you, I believe you owe me an explanation.”
The wooden floor creaked as she stepped through the doorway, and she slipped out of Bryce’s jacket, folding it over her arm. Dim, green-shaded lights hung from chains above the twenty or so tables scattered about the restaurant, and an impressive assortment of whiskey bottles lined the shelves behind the dark wood bar. A hostess seated them at a small table in the corner, and Alexis ordered the shepherd’s pie, while Bryce went for an English breakfast. As the server scurried away to enter their orders, Alexis excused herself to the restroom. She hoped the extra time would give her a chance to come up with an easy way to explain to a skeptic that magic was real, but she returned to the table with nothing.
As she slid into her seat, Bryce leveled a heavy gaze on her.
Her stomach tensed. There was no easy way to say it. Bryce liked to deal with facts, so that was what she’d give him. “I healed you. I have…healing abilities.”
He blinked at her, saying nothing.
“Like how Macey can read spirit energy, I can access my own healing energy and share it with others. It takes a toll on me, though, so I don’t do it very often.”
He shook his head. “That’s impossible. You can’t heal someone with a touch.”
“I…” She paused as the waiter delivered their food. “I can, Bryce, and I did it to you. Twice.”
The muscles in his jaw worked as he ground his teeth. “Twice? You mean both hands?”
“Also when Eric hit you.”
He exhaled in a huff and scooped a forkful of beans into his mouth. She could practically hear the gears turning in his mind as he rolled over what she’d said. She’d had a hard time believing in magic herself in the beginning, even after she’d transformed into a werewolf the first time.
She gave him time to process and picked up her fork to break open the layer of mashed potatoes on top of her meal. Steam wafted out of the pie, and she swirled the utensil through the ground beef, picking up a scoop of meat, potatoes, and veggies and placing it on her tongue. The savory medley melted in her mouth, and she took another bite as she waited for Bryce to respond.
Bound by Blood (Crescent City Wolf Pack Book 3) Page 13
