“I can guarantee that wolf wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head.”
“Ha. You didn’t see what I saw. He was going after her.”
Jake couldn’t argue with that. He’d been going after Rachel for some time now, only not in the way Lionel thought.
Lionel’s glance skittered past Jake again. “So do you want your clothes? I have them out in my truck. I didn’t expect to see you here, or I would’ve brought them in with me.” Lionel blushed again. “I mean, it’s obvious you don’t want them now. You have this whole nudist thing going on. But they’re nice clothes. A little dusty, but nice.”
“I’d like them back,” Jake said. “Thanks.”
“All righty!” Lionel swung his arms back and forth. “I’ll just go out and get them.” He started toward the door right as Rachel came through it.
Jake was relieved to see that she’d left his duffel in her truck. All she carried was her purse and a mesh bag containing what looked like coffee and candy bars.
“Hey, Lionel!” Setting her purse and mesh bag on an end table, she gave Lionel the biggest, fakest smile Jake had ever seen.
“Hi, Miss M. I see you’ve been buying candy bars again.”
“Well, yes, I have.” She looked over at Jake with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. “I see Jake’s been keeping you company while I was gone. How nice.”
“Yeah.” Lionel shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been having a conversation. I told him it was fine with me if he wants to be a nudist.”
Rachel coughed and ducked her head. When she looked up again, her eyes were swimming with tears of laughter. She swiped at them with the back of her hand.
Lionel glanced at her, his brow puckered. “Are you okay, Miss M?”
“Yeah, fine.” She nodded vigorously. “Just swallowed wrong. You were saying?”
“About this nudist thing. I think Mr. Hunter needs to be careful out on the trail. He could get arrested.”
“Mm.” She cleared her throat. “Well, that’s good advice, don’t you think, Jake?”
“Excellent advice.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Can’t have a naked man running around scaring the kids.”
“Exactly!” Lionel smiled in triumph. “That’s what I told him.” He peered at her. “You’re not a nudist, are you? Wait. I don’t want to know the answer to that. If you are, don’t tell me. I don’t want that mental image.”
“I’m not a nudist, Lionel.”
“Whew.” His shoulders sagged. “That’s good to hear. Well, I’ll go get Mr. Hunter’s clothes and . . .” He glanced from Rachel to Jake. “Uh, how about if I just leave them by the front door? You two probably want to be alone.”
Jake decided to put an end to this party. “By the door would be great, Lionel. Thanks for picking them up for me.”
“No prob.” Lionel started out again but paused and turned around. “About tomorrow morning . . .”
“Come at your regular time,” Rachel said. “Jake has some friends in town and he’ll be meeting them in the morning. I’ll be out in the workshop, as usual.”
That plan made sense, but Jake couldn’t help feeling sad that he wouldn’t be spending the morning with her. He’d come back after meeting with the Hunters, though. Wouldn’t he?
“Then I’ll be here in the morning.” Lionel hesitated, his manner suddenly shy. “I have that piece of wood nearly carved. Should finish it up tonight. I could bring it over tomorrow if you want.”
Rachel gave him a genuine smile this time. “I would love for you to do that. I can hardly wait to see it.”
“Then I’ll bring it.” Lionel’s natural good cheer had returned. He grinned at both of them. “See you later.” Head held high, he walked out the door.
Rachel glanced at Jake and dissolved into laughter. “A nudist?”
Jake gestured toward his towel-draped body. “The guy finds my clothes under a bush and walks into the house while I’m wearing nothing but a towel. I thought it was a brilliant deduction on his part.”
“I suppose so.” She continued to chuckle. “So you just agreed with his conclusion and let it go at that?”
“I started to contradict him, but then I realized he’d handed me the only logical explanation, so I rolled with it. Better to be thought a nudist than a werewolf.”
“There’s that.” Her gaze roved over him. “You’d make a pretty impressive nudist, though.”
“Thanks. Not my thing. As I’ve said, I was raised in a conservative household. Even our shifting was done in private.”
“And yet, you stripped down in front of me in broad daylight. That seems out of character, now that I think about it.”
“Oh, it was.” He walked over to her. “But when I’m with you, I get sort of wild and crazy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed.” She lifted her face to his. “And I like that in a werewolf.”
“Good.” He cupped her face in both hands. “Because I think it’s about to happen again.” His lips hovered over hers when a rap sounded at the door. “Damn. I thought he was going to leave them and go away.”
“Me, too.”
The rap came again.
Rachel sighed. “Let me go see what he wants. He’s only trying to be helpful, after all.”
“I’ll go check the ribs. They should be about done.” Jake reluctantly let her go and walked into the kitchen. The towel started to fall and he knotted it more securely.
Had he been the nudist Lionel thought he was, he would whip the towel off and discard it, because the major part of the food preparation was over. But being a nudist was the last thing Jake would consider. The more he thought about his behavior on the trail, the more he marveled that Rachel could get under his skin and make him do something so uncharacteristic.
He heard the front door open. Sure enough, it was Lionel.
“Sorry to bother you again, Miss M, but I forgot to ask if you’ve seen that wolf. I still don’t trust it not to come back around here, and I don’t think Mr. Hunter understands that it’s a dangerous animal. He talks just like you, like it’s no problem.”
Rachel’s reply was filled with kindness. “I know you’re worried, Lionel. I promise if I’m threatened by that wolf I’ll call you right away.”
Jake smiled. Instead of lying to the kid, she’d managed to dodge the question entirely. Nicely done.
“Make sure you do call me,” Lionel said. “Anyway, you might as well take the clothes since you’re standing here.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, now I really am leaving.”
“Good night, Lionel.”
“See you later, Miss M.”
The front door closed and Rachel approached the kitchen. “I’m sure you heard all that with your super-duper ears.”
Jake walked out to meet her. “I did. You handled it well.”
“I left your clothes just inside the front door. They definitely need washing. Assuming the coast is clear, would you like me to bring in the duffel bag?”
“Yes, please. And as much as I feel like ravishing you, I’m really, really hungry. And the food’s ready.”
“Then let me get your duffel so you can get dressed and we can have dinner.” Her silver eyes held the promise of what was to come. “No rush. We have all night.”
The way she said it almost made him reconsider having dinner first. But he hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he’d expended a lot of energy since them. While Rachel went out to her truck to grab the duffel bag, he went back into the kitchen for the bowl of salad he’d tossed earlier.
As he located place settings and opened a bottle of red he’d found in her wine rack, he anticipated the pleasure of sharing another dinner with Rachel. Although he cooked for trekking clients out on the trail, he ate most of his meals at home by himself. He hadn’t thought he’d minded, but now that he’d experienced having Rachel around for this daily ritual, he’d miss her enthusiastic presence.
By the time she returned with
his duffel bag, he’d put all the food on the table and had even located a couple of candles and candlesticks.
She laughed in obvious delight when she noticed the flickering tapers. “I’d forgotten I had those.”
“You don’t eat by candlelight?”
“It seems sort of silly if you’re by yourself.” She set down the duffel and glanced at him. “Especially in the summer when it’s bright as day.”
“I know. We don’t really need the light, but I’ve always liked the look of candles. Werewolves are drawn to fire.”
She seemed intrigued by that idea. “Do you eat by candlelight?”
“Hey, do I strike you as the type of male who lights candles before diving into his solitary meal? I hope to hell not.”
“Well, no.” She grinned. “That doesn’t conjure a picture of a manly man, or, in your case, a rugged werewolf.”
“That’s right. So the answer is no, I don’t eat by candlelight. I make do with firelight on camping trips. But in some situations, candles are perfect. And this is one of them. I’m glad you had a couple of tapers in your cupboard.”
“Me, too. Well, here’s your stuff. I don’t know if you want to get dressed here, or—”
“I’ll take it into the bedroom.”
“Right. You like privacy.”
“I do. Go ahead and pour the wine. I’ll be right back.” He picked up the duffel and carried it into her bedroom. Then he came back out and scooped up his clothes lying by the front door. “If you have a plastic bag, I’ll stick these in my duffle.”
“Sure. Hang on.” She set down the wine bottle and popped into the kitchen. Soon she was back with a plastic grocery sack. “I don’t have many of these. I take my own bags to the store.”
“I’m with you on that.”
She smiled as if that meant a lot to her. “Glad to hear it.”
He dumped everything in the bag but on an impulse pulled out the shirt. “Good thing I didn’t lose this. It’s my favorite T-shirt.”
“Yeah? I hate to admit I didn’t notice your shirt this morning. Let me see.” She held it by the shoulders. “Wow, nice.”
“I found it several years ago on a trip to Idaho.” The T-shirt was black, imprinted with an image of wolves sitting around a campfire. Underneath was lettered The Gathering.
“I can guess why it’s your favorite. It’s a pack.”
She was right, of course, but until now, he hadn’t understood why he’d been so drawn to the graphic on this shirt, other than the obvious—it was wolves and fire, both of which he liked.
“You may live like a lone wolf, but that’s not who you are,” she said gently. “You need a family.”
“Guess so.” Embarrassed by the catch in his voice, he covered it with a laugh. “Damn, we’re letting the food get cold. You know how I hate that. Be right back.” Turning quickly, he walked into her bedroom. He didn’t realize until he got there that he’d been in such a hurry to escape his own emotional reaction that he’d left her holding the shirt.
She understood him in a way that no one ever had. Naturally he’d had guilty fantasies about building a life with her. Now she’d unearthed his deepest desire, one he hadn’t admitted to himself until now. He longed to create a mighty werewolf pack in the heart of Alaska, where the legend had begun. And she was the one he pictured by his side. There was only one problem with that dream. She wasn’t Were.
Chapter 21
Even without the rice, the meal was incredible. Rachel gazed at Jake over the rim of her wineglass. “You’re one hell of a cook.”
“Yeah, if you ignore the rice disaster that set off your smoke alarm.”
She waved that aside. “Things happen. It’s hard to concentrate on your rice when long-lost members of the Hunter pack show up. You probably need to call them. I told them you would.”
“I should.” He didn’t look eager to grab his phone.
“They seemed nice enough, Jake. And they were close friends of your parents, right?”
“Yes.”
“It might be really great to talk about your folks with someone who knew them back when. The Hunters probably have some good stories you haven’t heard.”
“Maybe. In fact, I’m sure they do.” He poured himself more wine and started to give her some, too.
“That’s okay.” She placed her hand over her glass. “I’m not as big as you and I don’t want anything to interfere with—” She started to say our last night because she thought it probably would be. But she decided not to put that into words, which would depress both of them. “Our fun and games,” she said, finishing on a positive note.
Jake set down his wineglass. “In that case, maybe I’ll leave this for later.” Heat flared in his eyes. “Afterward.”
“Jake, you need to make that call.”
“Right.” With a sigh, he pushed back his chair and stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take my phone out on the deck, in case they want to talk longer than a couple of minutes. There’s nothing more annoying than being subjected to someone’s one-sided phone conversation.”
“True.” She didn’t say what she really felt, that listening to him interact with his own kind would be fascinating. She didn’t want him to think she was a voyeur, peeking into the intimate life of his species.
Yet when he took his phone outside, she felt excluded. She didn’t like being reminded that she wasn’t a part of his world, but in fact, she wasn’t. Not only that—he didn’t want her to be.
Truth time here. She could rave on all day about her willingness to adjust to his culture, but he hadn’t asked her to do that. Instead he constantly emphasized his opposition to bringing her into the werewolf community. If she didn’t shut up about it, she would start to sound pathetic, like a werewolf groupie.
Gathering the dishes, she carried them into the kitchen and loaded them in the dishwasher. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she was an excellent galley slave. Within ten minutes she had the food put away, the kitchen sparkling, and the dishwasher running.
Inching her living room window blind aside, she was able to see Jake pacing her deck while he talked on his phone. He didn’t look particularly relaxed. Having the Hunters show up seemed to have put him on edge.
She got that. Living up here, far from her parents, she was used to being her own person. She’d left California to move to Alaska partly for that reason, to establish herself as an individual.
Jake’s motivations for leaving Idaho seemed very similar to hers. But now Idaho had come to him, and that sense of freedom might be slipping away. She certainly experienced that whenever her parents came to visit, much as she loved them.
With nothing more to do, she walked into her bedroom. His duffel bag sat on the floor in a corner, but Duncan MacDowell’s book, which she’d taken without permission from his bedside table, lay on the bed. She hoped he wasn’t upset that she’d tucked it into the duffel.
Because she’d drawn all the blinds earlier in the day, the room was fairly dim except for the light from her bedside lamp. Nudging off her shoes, she propped pillows against the headboard, picked up Duncan’s book, and settled down to read.
Several pages later, Jake’s voice broke her concentration.
“I can’t let you keep that.” He stood in the doorway, and the scene wasn’t terribly different from the time he’d first caught her reading this book, except they were in her bedroom and not his. His expression, though, was completely different. He looked at her with deep caring and more than a little concern.
“I know I can’t have it,” she said. “But are you upset because I brought it over here?”
“Not upset, exactly. Worried, maybe.”
“Why are you worried?” She wished he’d come over to the bed so they could be closer while having this conversation, but she wasn’t willing to ask him to do that.
He leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t want you to become fascinated with the Were culture.”
That hit her wrong. Who was he to sa
y what should fascinate her and what shouldn’t? “Too late.” She heard the defiant tone of her voice but couldn’t help it. “I’m already fascinated.”
“That’s Duncan’s gift. He has charisma, which is why he has so many female followers. And he makes the life of a werewolf appear to be a glamorous alternative to the ordinary existence of humans.”
“That’s not so difficult to do, Jake. I’ve discovered that urban Weres glide through the city in chauffeured limos and have private jets at their disposal. Duncan describes a world of wealth and privilege. I’m beginning to wonder how many of my clients are werewolves.”
“From what I know, quite a few.”
She stared at him. “What do you mean, from what you know? Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“I didn’t tell you that?”
“No, you did not.” She was secretly thrilled that he’d been paying such close attention to her and her career.
“You built your reputation on your rendering of a certain wolf who looks quite a lot like me. Don’t think the werewolf community hasn’t noticed.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Are you telling me they recognized you in my carvings?”
“They did. Most humans think all wolves look alike, except maybe for some different coloring. But we don’t, and a few Weres are convinced that you’re reproducing versions of me.”
She was stunned. “Are Ann and Bruce Hunter convinced of that?”
“They might be. We didn’t get into that, fortunately. If push came to shove, I could point out that the wolf is actually my dad, not me. They’d probably take a closer look and agree, since they knew him so well. But I have to be careful not to sound defensive, as if I have something to hide.”
“And you didn’t used to, but now you do.”
“It seems so.”
She hated asking the next question, but she had to hear his answer. “Do you regret knowing me, then?”
“No.” His low, urgent response was all she needed. Pushing away from the doorframe, he came over to the bed. “I’ll never regret what we’ve had, Rachel.”
Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel Page 23
