Curves & Alphas: A Paranormal Box Set: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance)

by Willow Brooks

  “I’d love that,” I spoke hesitantly.

  Even as honest as he seemed, as genuine as his voice sounded, in my limited experience, I had trouble buying into all he said. The words, so foreign to my ears, or at least being directed at me, caused a suspension of disbelief. Besides, everything he had said would have been some hokey line had I not wanted to believe him so desperately.

  “What were you drinking?”

  “Cosmo.”

  “Same for you?” He inquired of Chloe.

  “Yep,” she smiled.

  I envied her ease.

  When he moved into the crowd of people milling around now that the band was on a break, she winked at me.

  “What just happened here?” I asked.

  “I think the sexy lead singer guy you’ve been staring at all night likes you back,” she stated as if I were a fool.

  “Really? Could a guy like that possibly think I’m beautiful?”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” She asked, a hint of anger deepening her voice.

  I shrugged.

  “You need to read more romances, girl! Listen, Christina, I don’t know what’s up with you, but let that guy be the solution. Suck up the moment. Don’t overanalyze it. And, if presented the chance, have a one night stand!” She exclaimed. “When he comes back, I’ll thank him for my drink and make up an excuse about going to find Sarah.”

  “You’re going to leave me alone with him?”

  “Absolutely! This time, you are not avoiding your chance at a relationship,” she grumbled.

  “What chances?”

  “Exactly,” she huffed. “You don’t give any guy a chance to get close. You are beautiful. Let him think so!”

  “Okay,” I grumbled back. I swallowed hard and put a hand on my stomach. I needed to settle the hoard of butterflies that had gone to war in there. Tonight, with this guy, more than ever, I wanted to let go, to just see what would happen. If I could manage that would be the true question.

  When he came back and sat down, gorgeous smile lighting up his eyes and all, Chloe did as she’d said and made a quick exit from the table.

  “Look, I only have ten minutes left to my break, but I’m hoping that you will stick around till my last set is over. I’d love to get a chance to really talk to you,” he spoke with his beer bottle raised.

  When he’d finished, looking at me over his bottle as he took a long drink, he waited for me to answer. Surprisingly relaxed, I found my voice easily.

  “I’d love to. Do you write your own songs?” My steady voice in this guy’s presence sounded foreign to me, but the sound calmed the butterflies down to a mere rumble.

  “Mostly. The guys co-write on some, but I write the majority of them. Why?”

  “The wisdom in them, well, it touched me, made me think. I like that, when a song or a book can give me pause to really think about life. Maybe I was a philosopher in a past life or something,” I shrugged. The flowing words calmed my breathing even as looking into his eyes increased my heart rate.

  “Wow. That’s just about the best compliment I’ve ever gotten on my music. Pretty and smart. An unbeatable combo.”

  I couldn’t contain my grin or the red that faintly stained my cheeks.

  “So. You’ll stay? You promise?” He asked as he stood, beer in hand.

  “I promise.”

  “Good. It’s a date then,” he stated before he turned to walk back on stage.

  A date? Damn. I didn’t know what to do with that. Thankfully, I had another hour or so to think on it, or to think on him, really. It passed rather quickly, despite my anticipation, as did the wait for him and his band to pack things up. Chloe had waited with me, but then made another quick exit once he arrived back at our table. I’d said good-bye to her and Sarah with a smile so big it hurt my face to maintain.

  “Enjoy the rest of the show?” He asked, still standing.

  “Yes, I did,” I offered with the hint of a question in my voice in regards to him not sitting down.

  My mind of course fled to the fact that he’d changed his mind. Then it flipped to the idea that his interest earlier had all been some sort of a joke. Now, he was here to deliver the punch line. I watched his fingers, ones that had been so apt over the strings of the guitar all night, now tap the table. I could just let him off the hook, but I couldn’t again walk to my car alone. Images of the bloodied man, though fuzzy, filled my mind, came into focus, if you will.

  The wolf followed, as he had that night. Right now, faced with this dilemma before me, I no longer bought my hallucination or stress excuse for what I’d witnessed. Right now, I’d swear the wolf lurked, waiting for me. Maybe he’d kill me this time. Maybe I’d just been the second course who’d gotten away. I’d bet money that he waited for me right here in the bar.

  “Listen, Christine, I’d love to get out of here,” he said in a low whisper.

  “I understand,” I said, the hurt and anger cutting off my words.

  “No, I don’t mean without you, if that’s what you just thought. I want to leave with you. It’s just I was afraid to suggest it since we don’t know each other that well. I can take you out to an all-night diner or something. I just don’t want to be in the same club I just worked in for the past few hours. The band, friends who came to see us, I’ll never get to have a decent conversation with you. They’ll ruin any chance I have at getting to know you,” he rambled on, still in a whisper meant only for my ears.

  “Oh,” I exclaimed, turning two heads from the next table with the high pitch of my voice. You’d think he’d just propositioned me to sex right here on the table, the way I’d let my voice overreact.

  The place had thinned out considerably since the band had stopped playing. I could only assume that he knew everyone left. As if in confirmation, he nodded to the two who now stared at us and spoke to them by name. In short order, though, he introduced us and excused us. With his hand resting lightly on my back, he ushered me out of the club.

  This time I walked into a poorly lit parking lot with the gentle touch of what I hoped to soon be a special man in my life. I could probably chalk those overzealous feelings up to my inexperience, but I didn’t care. He felt like an old friend standing there beside me. Maybe that was the way I wanted to feel, needed to feel in order to recklessly go through with tonight. But after last week and every night that had followed, I figured the whole of the universe owed me a good evening.

  The night itself, the waning moon, shone brighter than any I’d ever known. I planned to ride out this fairy tale romance bit, too, as long as I possibly could. I’d let him be my knight in shining armor for as long as he wished to play along. Even if only for a few hours, I’d play along.

  “Where’s your car?” He inquired.

  “Right over there, the baby blue thing one row back,” I pointed out, trying to not sound as embarrassed as I felt about the old rusty car I still owned. It had been my father’s. Another thing I couldn’t get rid of for no real good reason, although I’d created many.

  I deemed it a necessary sacrifice to Chloe when she started in on it every time she had to be seen in it. I kept my expenses down to keep my low-paying sucky job. She didn’t know that the job’s whole purpose was to allow me more time to write. I squeaked by each month. Sometimes I even had a little left for a few splurges on clothes or bubblebath. Yet, most of the time I lived frugally from paycheck to paycheck, always putting money away, saving for the day I quit my job to write full time. A pipe dream now, it felt more realistic if I at least saved for it. Of course, I’d have to actually let someone read one of my stories first.

  He escorted me to my car. Sure it was just my own nerves rattling me, but I swore that his hand on my back trembled a bit.

  “So, do you know the diner two blocks down?” He asked as he leaned over my open door.

  He looked to be posing for a cover for GQ instead of talking to some chick he’d picked up in a bar after a long night of work.

  “I do. But, if you woul
d rather, we can go back to my place and order a pizza or something,” I offered, the shake in my voice altering each of my words.

  “You sure?” He questioned, his grip tightening on the door. “You don’t know me at all.”

  “No, but Sarah’s friend, Matt, I think it was, or was it Mike…anyway, he does. Apparently he had only good things to say about you. I’m just tired of the crowd noise by this time of night.”

  Sarah had talked about a guy at work, but she’d said he’d liked the band, not the lead singer in particular. She’d never clarified if this guy knew the band personally or not. Still, I didn’t want to seem too much the stupid, desperate girl I planned on being tonight. I couldn’t explain the change in me, but I would swear it was all his fault. Maybe the confidence shown in his easy stance was so great that it was catchy. Maybe the words in his songs had given me a false sense of knowing this stranger. However, if he had such deep thoughts, he couldn’t be all bad. Didn’t account for his sexual tastes, but tonight, I’d already promised myself to take every chance offered. Other women did it. Even I’d figured I would be more cautious after last weekend, but a sudden recklessness took over this cautious girl, and drowned out everything I thought I knew about myself.

  “Hmm, I’ll have to thank this Matt or Mike once I figure out who she was talking about. Pretty common name.”

  He paused then, and I busied myself by rubbing my hands together as if they were cold rather than shaking.

  “How about I call a friend of mine with a pizza shop, pick us up a pie, and then head to your place?” He offered. “I’ll just need the directions and how you like your pizza.”

  “Pizza, anyway it comes,” I admitted with barely any heat rising to my full cheeks.

  For once, I didn’t care if someone thought I looked this way due to too much pizza or whatever food had been spoken of. With him, I was going to be me, even if this mysterious version of myself. I gave him directions to my place, and then watched him walk to his car. Locking the door, I belted myself in and prayed he’d show up. Apparently, the real me had only lingered in the background waiting for her chance to pounce on my current dream.

  Chapter Four

  At home, I busied myself, worked off anxious energy by brushing my teeth, fluffing my long dark curls, and re-applying my make-up. Fidgeting by adjusting my dress around my curves, I surveyed my appearance from all angles in my full-length mirror. In my mind, I heard him call me ‘beautiful’ again. I wouldn’t doubt him. Maybe big girls were his preference. Stranger things could happen. Look at my wolf.

  I stopped then. I no longer saw myself in the mirror. Trembles took over my body as I let myself deal with the fact that I’d deemed that beast my protector. More important, I believed my brain. I’d stopped fighting the image, the reality of that moment in time.

  A strange realization dawned on me. Somehow, the profound meanings wrapped in mournful harmonies of his music had changed my memory, or at least the way I looked at it. I’d found some peace. Several of his songs had been about being someone’s protector. He’d spoken of being a harsh savior, a man in the shadows, as well as a guy who could never have his girl. I couldn’t shake the way his music had spoken to me, made me accept so much about myself as if he knew me, had written just what I’d needed to hear. Such a connection with anyone in this life, it had to be a gift.

  I stood there staring into space until a light knock on my front door roused me. Trembles turned to quivers with the realization that this savior, tonight’s, a man not beast, stood waiting for me at my door.

  “Pizza delivery,” he stated with a grin as he held up the pizza like a trophy.

  “That was fast,” I congratulated him.

  “Ah, I know the guy. Well, also, he owes me a few favors, and tonight I asked him to start paying up.”

  “Well, smells good. Come on in,” I gestured him toward my living room. “Make yourself comfortable in there, and I’ll grab some plates and napkins.”

  “Great.”

  I thought the same as I watched his ass walk away from me. I’d never tire of that view. That thing was tight in two perfectly rounded globes. If I so much as got to run my hands over them tonight, I’d call this my best date ever. I’d never had a real relationship, but I’d had my limited-by-choice share of awful dates. Never had one of those men had an ass even close to his. You couldn’t just judge a guy by his backside, but the view didn’t hurt.

  “You want a beer?” I croaked.

  “Sure. Whatever you got. I’m not picky. Never met a beer I couldn’t get down,” he laughed. “I may have choked a little, but I’ve gotten it down.”

  “I don’t have anything fancy, an amber ale,” I said as I shrugged and handed him the bottle.

  As he opened the box and put a piece on each of the two paper plates I’d set out, he asked, “So what do you do for a living, Christina?”

  “Oh, I’m just a secretary,” I offered, then bit into my pizza to avoid further depiction.

  “There is no such thing as just an anything, my father always said. He always told me that every job needs doing, so the servant and the rich businessman have equal value. Of course, he was a servant—“ he suddenly left off, as if he’d said too much.

  “So, your father is gone then?” I inquired with a soft voice

  “For some years now,” he answered.

  “Mine, too. Just a few years now, but I lost my mother when I was only eleven. I know the pain, but we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I can see where you got your intelligence, though. I’m still just blown away by your lyrics, the emotional depth, the real compassion for the plights of your fellow man, the wisdom men your age don’t typically possess. My own grandfather never had such wise words to impart as one of your songs did tonight... Sorry, I’m rambling.”

  “No, I’m enjoying your insights. I’m truly touched by how much you enjoyed my songs. Most people tend to not get me. They like the band, the style of music, but I’ve been told quite a few times to lighten up on the lyrics. Apparently I depress people and shit. Some smartass member of the band once gave me a cartoon that his sister drew of a guy slicing his wrists with the caption of having heard one to many Lex Roberts’ songs. They found it wildly amusing.”

  “Seriously? I find it sick. I can’t imagine anyone complaining about what you write, what you do. In fact, I’d say I felt like you more got me, like at times you spoke just to me, words I needed to hear so desperately. Anyway, it’s just that, as I said, each song made me think,” I mumbled before taking a big bite of my pizza to shut myself up.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me. To know I had an impact on you, that you understand the messages I feel compelled to put out there, well... oddly, I don’t have the words at the moment to describe what I’m feeling. Sorry. Doesn’t happen often. I told you that you were a distraction. Anyway, tell me more about yourself. What do you like to do outside of the obviously necessary evil of your job?”

  I chewed, then swallowed hard. Taking a sip of beer first, I grew conscious that his eyes never left my face. I had a good rack, a perk of being full-figured, but he looked at my face, right into my eyes as if searching for my soul. Touched, I shocked myself when the following words flowed out of my mouth like an erupting volcano that had been dormant for centuries.

  “Well, I love to read. I’m a real bookworm. I’ll read any book I can get my hands on. The librarian here in town knows me on a first name basis. But honestly, my true passion is writing. I’ve done it for years, secretly that is…”

  “Really?” He asked not hiding his surprise.

  “What, you don’t think me capable?”

  “Shit, no, not at all, it’s just…it’s just that we are both writers then. I didn’t expect to have so much in common with you. Tell me more about your writing since you’ve already heard about all of mine.”

  “Um, well…” I stumbled, unsure now that I couldn’t take the admission back.

  “Oh, don’t clam up o
n me now, word girl,” he prompted.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” I admitted. “Secretly, for years, I’ve written short stories, fearing I couldn’t get through writing a whole novel. Though I wish desperately that I could. I have boxes of stories from before my laptop days, and stored files of them now. Not a soul has ever read a one of them, so I’ve no idea if I’m even good or not. But I love it. And, I keep my crappy job because it’s nine to five. Then I’m free to write. I couldn’t survive without it. Sorry to burden you with all of this.”

  “Burden me? What kind of word is that to describe what you just told me? I’m honored to be the first to know.”

  “Do people often bare their soul to you? Maybe it’s a symptom of feeling like you’ve bared yours to them with your songs?” I questioned, and then bit my lip as I awaited the answer.