by Afton Locke
“Sure.” She helped Don up the stoop. “Meanwhile, I can make a grocery run.”
In the storeroom, Alan cut the steak and cheese sub he’d hastily fried up and gave his father half.
“I received an offer for the diner this morning.”
Dad’s grizzled eyebrows rose. “So soon? Who from?”
When Alan told him about Graham from the Starwood pack, he nearly choked on his sub.
“You mean you’d sell my heritage to a rival pack? What kind of son are you?”
“I have a job to return to.” Alan kept his voice calm, fighting the irritation prickling across his skin. “The pack proposed buying it as a group, but that could be drawn out and complicated. The quicker and cleaner the sale, the better.”
“I don’t want to sell it.”
“What!” Alan dropped his sub and the meat inside spilled out on the counter. “But you agreed.”
“I changed my mind. I have a better idea.”
“Can’t wait to hear it,” Alan said, crossing his arms.
“I want you to run it.”
He let out a choked laugh. “No way. I hate cooking.”
Having Shelley pressed close to his side making pancakes earlier hadn’t been too painful, though. Her presence calmed him in a way he couldn’t explain.
Don picked a piece of onion out of his beard. “So hire a cook.”
Why was everyone so determined to keep him here? Okay, the pack wasn’t, but Shelley and Dad—the only people who mattered to him—were.
“You know I have a life to get back to.”
“Oh, yes, your wonderful life.” Dad’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. “Why you’d rather freeze your balls off up there alone and sit in front of a computer all day is beyond me.”
Alan picked up his sub meat and downed it in a couple of bites. He was a monster, so he may as well eat like one.
“You weren’t here earlier when I threw a crate of tomatoes against the wall.” Sweat beaded across his brow from the mere thought of it. “I was completely out of control. Shelley and most of the pack saw it.”
“You could learn to control the beast like I did,” the old man shot back.
“Yeah, right.” Alan picked the cheese out of his bread and gulped it. “After I kill a few people along the way.”
Don waved a greasy hand. “Young people have no patience. A man belongs with his mate.”
“That happily-ever-after shit is for normal men and shifters.”
Dad set down his half-eaten sandwich. “Where do you think you came from? An alien spaceship? I had a woman once.”
An image of Alan’s mother flashed through his mind. She’d died when he was six from an illness. He remembered her gentleness the most. How she dabbed his runny nose when he was sick. Pulled his boots on before he went out into the rain. Best of all, how she snuggled with him before he went to sleep at night, reading him stories.
Shelley was gentle. Too much for her own good. He could easily picture her raising his pups.
“Weren’t you afraid you’d hurt her?”
“At first.” Don chuckled. “Let me tell you, we had some barn-burnin’ arguments, but I never harmed one hair on her head. Not even close.”
Alan popped an onion slice into his mouth, chewing it carefully instead of swallowing it whole. He suspected he’d never hurt Shelley, either, but he couldn’t trust a hunch. He stood, walked to the window, and gazed at the woods. When the black sedan had pulled up, he’d been so ready to sell. He wasn’t the same man he’d been this morning. Every minute he stayed in this place, the harder it became to leave.
“She’s better off without me,” he said. “I’ve told her so several times.”
“So, you’re going to leave her here to rot with no mate or children of her own?”
Alan gripped the windowsill. “I’m keeping her safe.”
“Why don’t you let her take care of herself instead of deciding everything for her? Hell, she takes care of everybody else around here.”
“She’s pretty amazing,” Alan agreed. “I don’t know how she finds time to do charity work on top of farming and helping out in the diner.”
“That’s not the half of it. When any of the pack children are sick, she visits them or sends them little gifts to cheer them up. And when her neighbor’s barn blew down during the last hurricane, there she was, hauling his animals to her farm to care for them. Reminded me of Noah’s Ark.”
Wow. She’d come a long way from the spoiled beauty queen of his high school days.
“The point is,” Don continued after a slow belch, “you’re too bossy. You treat me like a child, too.”
“If I’m so screwed up,” Alan asked, turning to glare at his father, “why are you so determined to make me stay?”
“Because there’s hope for you. I can’t die in peace until I get you straightened out.”
“Now who’s treating the other like a child?”
“You are a good cook, you know.” Don wiped his greasy lips and belched again. “Getting back to the woman…do you love her?”
Did he? The wolf inside him howled in reply as he sat down again and munched another slice of onion. After witnessing him throw a tomato crate against the wall, most women would have told him to stay the hell away. Shelley wasn’t most women. She saw the good in him no matter what. Not to mention her hard work and selflessness. The pack would probably fall apart if it weren’t for her. Moonlight Diner sure would have.
“Yes.” His answer emerged in a hoarse whisper. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
Don sagged before his eyes, leaning on his elbows as he hunched over the table.
Heart thudding, Alan rushed to his side and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live, today.” Dad blinked tired-looking eyes. “Talked myself out of breath.”
“You need to stop worrying about me.” Alan stacked their dirty plates. “I’ll drive you home so you can rest.”
Dad nodded, wheezing as he stood. “Since you don’t like anything I’ve proposed today, I’ll keep it simple and give you one request.”
“Which is?” Alan slid his arm under Dad’s armpit and guided him toward the door.
“If you must sell the diner, don’t do it until I’m gone. Not even to the pack.”
Alan squeezed his eyes shut. The man was impossible. “Why?”
The old man, frail and thin on his arm, growled like the majestic wolf he’d always been. “Because I said so.”
Alan knew what he was up to. He figured if his son stayed long enough, he’d never leave. Even more reason to get out of here. His logical mind listed the things he needed to do.
Get Dad home and into bed. Call Graham Linden and tell him the diner wasn’t for sale, ever. Notify the pack of Dad’s request. Most importantly, call the airline because his ass was flying out of here tomorrow morning no matter what. Let the pack members run the diner like they had before he’d shown up. It would be good practice for when they finally owned it.
Before he left, though, he needed Shelley to know he loved her. His stomach dropped to his feet as if he stood inside an elevator with a snapped cable. For some reason, revealing his feelings scared him worse than losing control of his beast.
***
Shelley rushed into the diner around three in the afternoon to make pies for dessert. Farming chores, it seemed, were never done, but they’d kept her mind off Alan. If he didn’t want to be with her, she couldn’t change his mind. She was tired of throwing herself at him and looking like an idiot. Even though she didn’t believe for one minute his uncontrollable temper would ever harm her, she appreciated his concern.
She couldn’t control the diner sale, either. For the first time since he’d arrived, she looked forward to watching him leave. Back to the life that was more important to him than her and the pack. Letting him go felt better than a breath of fresh breeze on a humid afternoon.
“Please don’t call him that.” Shelley’s heart fluttered along with her hands. “Never mind. What is he going to do with it? Is he here?”
“He’s going to sell it to the pack, but the old man requested we wait until he passes away.”
“That’s wonderful!” Shelley exclaimed. “I want to be one of the owners. We could redecorate.”
Maybe she’d written Alan off too soon, but she refused to get her hopes up about a relationship. He’d shot her down too many times. She’d settle for his helping the pack, which was a lot more important than her selfish desires.
“You read my mind, girlfriend.” Barbara flung her hand toward the faded, red-checked curtains and dark paneling that looked like something from the 70s. “Men have no taste. This place needs a serious renovation.”
When Shelley took a step toward the kitchen, Barbara handed her a sealed envelope. “Oh, and he asked me to give you this.”
Having no idea what it could be, she broke a nail ripping into it. The small envelope, made of heavy paper, reminded her of the ill-fated prom invitation and Barbara’s role in it.
Was Alan paying her back for it? Did he keep pushing her away because he could never forgive her for that miserable night?
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out the card.
I could write another poem because there are so many in my heart, but I’ll keep it simple.
You are cordially invited to Don’s cottage at 7 pm for a romantic, home-cooked dinner.
Go home and get some rest. The pack will fill in for us at the diner tonight.
Alan
She read it again and two more times. Alan planned to cook her dinner? Why? She lifted her knuckles to her mouth and bit down. Had he changed his mind about their relationship? Or chosen this way of saying good-bye? Butterflies did an aerial show in her stomach. To find out, she’d have to show up.
Barbara leaned closer. “Well, what does it say?”
Since the other woman had been giving her the cold shoulder since Alan arrived, Shelley figured sharing might heal the friendship. “Alan is cooking me a romantic dinner.”
“Sounds serious.” Barbara wrinkled her nose. “I heard you slept with him.”
Familiar peer pressure jabbed Shelley in the spine. “So?”
“So, you should’ve married Curtis. He’s gorgeous and sane.”
Shelley put a hand on her hip. “Alan has a genetic mutation. He’s not insane.”
“Think twice.” Barbara pointed a finger at her. “Or you might end up in the hospital from one of his spastic fits. Or with a bunch of mutated pups even freakier than he is.”
“I don’t like your attitude,” Shelley bit out.
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a friend.”
“Well, I don’t need friends like you! Not anymore.” After turning on her heel, she marched out.
Chapter Seven
Alan whistled a tune as he opened the front door of his father’s house at dusk. He’d called Graham to tell him he wasn’t selling the diner. The man had said he was very sorry to hear it and to contact him when he reconsidered. Not if he reconsidered but when. Sore loser. He’d find something else to buy and get over it.
Better still, a plane to Dulles leaving late tomorrow morning had a seat with his name on it.
Who was he kidding? The reason he whistled was tonight’s date. He couldn’t give Shelley a relationship, but he could enjoy a real date like a normal man. The crotch of his jeans tightened as he anticipated making slow, sweet love to her. Maybe it would help him get through his celibate future. He didn’t want the beast rutting her on the kitchen counter to be her only memory of him, either.
And, hard as it was, he’d tell her he loved her. She knew he’d leave sooner or later, so it couldn’t hurt.
Rita met him at the door. The sight of her wide eyes and mouth pulled down at the corners shot a bolt of adrenaline through him.
“What’s happened to Dad?”
Please tell me he hasn’t passed yet. Today, they’d shared the best conversation of their lives. When the bad news finally came, he wanted to get a phone call or an email, not be here in person. That would be too close. Too unbearable.
“He’s fine now,” Rita said in her usual calm voice.
When he glanced down at the bloody tissues in her hand, his heart shot into overdrive. The brownish-red streak on her orange pants must be blood, too.
“What the hell?”
“Oh, this?” She looked down. “Just a nosebleed. He, eh, had some visitors earlier.”
“Pack members?”
“Not from our pack. Two men in suits. One of them was named Graham something or other.” She handed him a card from the counter. It looked exactly like the one he already had. Same dude, all right.
Holy orange pulp. Starwood had come here? To threaten a sick old man? He bounded toward his father’s bedroom.
“From now on, no one is allowed in the house unless they’re from our pack,” he barked out. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Her eyes widened even more as she took a step back. “Will you be home the rest of the evening? Should I cook dinner?”
Alan nodded. “Fix something special. I’m having a date over.”
“I’ll set out some candles,” she replied, finally smiling. “Sounds like amour is in the air.”
It was, but Starwood had ruined the mood of his date before it had even begun. He still needed to talk to Shelley, though. She needed to know what the Moonlight pack was up against.
He stepped into Dad’s bedroom and gently closed the door behind him. A bit of dried blood clung to a skin crevice at the end of the man’s nose as he lay in bed. It made his face look paler and his hair whiter.
Alan clenched his fists. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing. Now sit down and calm yourself before you strain something.”
Still crabby. A good sign. Alan turned down the talk show on the small TV, dragged a chair closer to the bed, and sat.
“A couple of dudes in fancy suits came over, asking me to sign some papers.” He wrinkled his nose. “Well, first they asked. Then they demanded.”
Cold sweat bloomed across Alan’s skin, and the smell of pork chops drifting in from the kitchen made him nauseous. He should have been here to protect him.
He wiped his forehead. “Did you sign?”
“Hell no, I didn’t sign those fool papers.” Don gripped the edge of the sheet, which lay neatly folded across his chest. “They’d have to kill me first.”
“Your safety is more important than a restaurant.” Alan waved a hand. “What did you do?”
“You know how prone I am to nosebleeds.” Dad held up his index finger, tipped by a yellowed fingernail. “I just stuck this up my nose and brought one on. Bled all over those fancy papers.”
His pajama top was spotless, though. Rita must have changed his clothes.
The strain in Alan’s chest gushed out in a laugh. “You’re something else.”
But his beast stirred, squeezing his muscles—preparing him for battle? The Starwood pack had gone too far.
“Did they hurt you?”
“They didn’t lay a hand on me.” Dad’s brows bristled, and the brass bed squeaked as he pumped a fist in the air. “They knew better than to try.”
But they were both aware a sick, aged wolf would be no match for two younger, stronger ones.
“And I told them if they came back with more papers, I’d throw up on ’em and their suits, too.”
Alan stood and cracked his knuckles. “There won’t be a next time.”
Don’s nose twitched. “I smell fried pork chops and corn bread.”
“I’ll have Rita bring you a tray so you can stay in bed.” Alan looked down at his feet. “Shelley is, uh, coming over for dinner.”
“Is she now?” Dad grinned. “My advice today must have gotten into that thick skull of yours.”
“It’s not what you think. I plan to tell her how I feel, like you suggested, but mainly I’m going to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye?” Don’s voice softened to a whisper. “Sounds like you’re planning to leave soon.”
Alan squeezed his hand but couldn’t look at him. “My plane leaves tomorrow, but don’t worry. You’ll be safe. I promise.”
But how could he guarantee his words? He was leaving. No sweat. Derek and Rand owned The Defenders, a private security agency. He’d hire them to guard his father’s home around the clock. Starwood would probably lose interest and move on to greener pastures soon, anyway.
He glanced at his watch. Since Rita was cooking, he had time to pack before dinner. How strange. The one thing he’d looked forward to since the night he arrived now felt about as appealing as an old dog turd.
***
Shelley ran a hand through her hair after ringing Don’s doorbell. It felt weird not to wear the usual rubber band. Next, she smoothed the rose-colored dress she wore. It had flowing lines and spaghetti straps. She’d even worn high-heeled sandals. When was the last time she’d dressed up? She spent so much time farming and handling food she probably smelled like a turnip.
Alan answered the door in dark jeans and a long-sleeved striped shirt. He still wore his black bandana, though. His melted-chocolate eyes took her in from head to toe.
“Come in, my lady.” Bowing, he held out a hand.
“I like the formality,” she said as she clasped it. “You clean up pretty nice, Alan.”
The wolf in her was too busy sniffing his sexy scent to inspect his clothes too closely, though.
He whistled. “So do you.”
She stepped inside, and her stomach did a little flip when she realized they were alone.
“Where’s Don?” she asked.
