Longing for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 5)

by Roxie Noir

  It’s just Annika, actually.

  So the cute girl from the bakery was also involved.

  For a split second, Sam let himself hope. He didn’t really know Annika, but he knew that she’d sparked something in him, even if he was determined to be a miserable bastard about Calder this weekend. He put his phone into his pocket and frowned at the wall of his cabin.

  What if, he thought.

  “Fine,” he said out loud to his empty house. “I’ll go to the bar.”

  Sam parked on Main Street and walked. As he turned the corner, he saw someone sitting on a motorcycle, helmet under his arm, frowning at his phone. Sam stood still, just watching.

  As if he knew someone was there, Calder looked up. He slid his phone back in his pocket without looking at it again and shook his hair out of his face.

  “You heading out?” Sam asked, walking over.

  “Just back to my sister’s,” Calder said. “I’m house sitting while they’re on their honeymoon.”

  “How long is that?”

  “Two weeks,” Calder said.

  They looked at each other for a long moment.

  “Do you have to go over there right now?” Sam asked.

  “No,” said Calder. “It’s a nice night, you want to take a walk?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That sounds good.”

  They didn’t talk for a few blocks, until they were almost out of town. Sam’s hands were in his pockets, and he felt muted by the sheer weight of the things that he could say. He’d practiced the whole way over, muttering to himself in the car, but now he had no idea where to start.

  Another block, the end of town. They found themselves by the river, on a boat ramp that hadn’t been used for ages, and they looked out at the water.

  Start anywhere, Sam thought. It’s too tangled of a mess for the starting point to even matter.

  “Sorry I left yesterday morning,” Sam finally said.

  “I deserved it,” Calder said. “Thanks for the suit, though. That was a lifesaver. Maybe literally.”

  Sam let himself smile a little.

  There was a long pause before Calder spoke up again.

  “I wish I hadn’t left all those years ago,” he said.

  “I think you needed to,” Sam said. “You couldn’t stand seeing her everywhere, and after a while, you couldn’t stand seeing me see her.”

  “That’s a reason to leave for a week, maybe two,” Calder said. “A month, tops. Not seven years. But the longer I stayed gone, the harder it felt to come back.”

  “What’s done is done,” Sam said.

  “I missed you,” Calder said. “I missed you both.”

  “I miss her too, but not how I used to,” Sam said. “There’s no question mark there. I’m never going to not miss her, but she’s gone. That’s it.”

  “I missed you exactly the same,” Calder said. “I used to go to gay bars looking for men with green eyes and tattoos, but they were always disappointing. I did a lot of sneaking out of apartments early in the morning.”

  Sam laughed.

  “Nobody matches my sexual prowess?” he asked.

  “I never got a hickey the size of a fist from any of them,” Calder said. He looked over at Sam.

  Sam craned his neck around and looked at the hickey, still vivid and purple, on the side of Calder’s neck. Calder hadn’t even tried to cover it.

  “That’s pretty bad,” he agreed. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t lie,” Calder said, grinning. “You’re not sorry. You wanted me to remember exactly where I’d been, and you wanted half the world to know, too.”

  I didn’t want him to be able to think nothing happened, Sam thought.

  “Did they?”

  “Yeah.”

  There was another long pause, and Calder laced his fingers through Sam’s, warm and familiar. Calder looked down at their hands, then at Sam’s arm.

  “I’m scared that I’m the same,” Calder said. “I’m afraid that I left and did all these things that I thought would make me better, that would make me fix myself, and none of it worked.”

  He swallowed and looked over at Sam.

  “And then I got back, and I saw you, and you changed. You got through it and you did all this self-improvement, and now I feel left behind, in the dust.”

  “Calder,” said Sam.

  “You look different,” Calder went on. “Remember when I knew your body by heart? I don’t anymore. Not because I forgot but because I got left behind.”

  “I lived in our house for a year after you left,” Sam said. “I told myself I was going to live there forever. That I was going to die there, with all her things and all your things, and by God, I believed it. For a long, long time.”

  He swallowed, remembering that year. He’d felt like a ghost, like he haunted the world instead of living in it.

  “And then, one morning, I got up and I threw away a pair of her shoes.”

  Calder squeezed his hand.

  “Then I threw away more, and I learned to cook and I started an apprenticeship and, for fuck’s sake, I started meditating. I went to a shitload of therapy. I moved out of that house. And years went by. And one day I realized that I was never getting either of you back but maybe everything was okay anyway, that I could get by picking up blue-eyed men in bars and running a tattoo shop and reading thick Russian novels at night.”

  “And I showed up and ruined it?”

  “And I saw you holding a bunch of plates in a doorway and almost forgot how to breathe,” Sam said. The words were pouring out of him now, the pure, unvarnished truth.

  “I’m never going to get over you, even if I never see you again. I hate knowing that, but it’s true.”

  Sam took a deep breath. Calder’s thumb rubbed over the knuckles of his hand, something Calder had always done automatically, without thinking.

  “I almost didn’t come to Greta’s wedding because I was afraid you’d found someone else,” Calder said. “I don’t know what I’d have done. I’d have walked into the sea. I’d have dug a hole and buried myself.”

  “Is that why you had to get shitfaced before you showed up at my door, you were afraid of what you’d find?”

  Calder smiled.

  “I could have handled that better,” he said.

  “You could have asked your sister,” Sam pointed out.

  Calder laughed. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask,” he said. “I just thought about that moment where you held the door open for me a thousand times, because I had all these crazy fantasies that I’d see you again and the stars would fall from the heavens and an orchestra would play and we’d kiss and then skip through a meadow or something stupid. And then I did see you and the stars didn’t fall. You held a door open and I just walked through it and I was on the other side, and that was all.”

  “The stars never fall,” Sam said. “You remember our first date?”

  “You mean the time we ate dinner together in the dining hall in college?” Calder asked, grinning. “The stars didn’t fall for you?”

  “Not even when my roommate walked in our ‘study session’ afterwards,” Sam said. “He didn’t talk to me for about a week after that.”

  They watched the river for a moment and Sam thought back to all those years ago, when he’d met another college junior in his psychology class with deep blue eyes and wild black hair. They’d both nearly failed the psychology class, despite studying together constantly.

  “It was stupid of me to think,” Calder said. “I’ve been reading too many books where that happens. Two people see each other, the world stops spinning. Fireworks explode, there are grand romantic gestures, someone says a bunch of pretty shit to someone else. They kiss and then it’s happily ever after.”

  “I can see the appeal there,” Sam said.

  “It’s not real, though,” Calder said. “Love is never rooms filled with flowers and laying down on a bed covered in rose petals. Sometimes it’s getting plaste
red and showing up on a front porch with no shoes because you think you might die if you go one more second without seeing someone even if they might not want you.”

  “So I should call off the rose petals?” Sam asked. “I thought it was a nice touch.”

  “Can you get a refund?”

  Sam laughed.

  “Why are you reading romance novels, anyway?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Calder said.

  They turned around, still holding hands, and started walking toward town.

  “Tell me on the way home,” Sam said.

  Chapter Nine

  Annika

  The week after the wedding went by in a blur.

  Annika spent nearly all of that Sunday asleep or watching stupid TV, giving herself a break from the insanity of running a bakery and doing a wedding. Monday she booked two more summer weddings, and a slew of people requested cakes: birthday, retirement, even a prize for a bowling tournament.

  She was almost too busy to think about Calder, and by extension, about Sam. She still didn’t know what was going on, but over and over again, she was glad she hadn’t gotten herself involved.

  Clearly, there was something going on there beyond her pay grade. Annika didn’t think she could possibly date two men at once, let alone two men at once who clearly had long-standing, deep seated issues with each other.

  It was a whole new minefield, and she’d sworn off minefields all together. They were filled with mines.

  Ten days after Greta’s wedding, Annika came into the bakery at 5am and Scarlet was already there, taking a sheet of quiches out of the oven. Annika put on her apron and started the first carafe of coffee, which they’d probably get through before the bakery even opened to customers.

  Scarlet grabbed a cup of coffee and drank it black, leaning against the counter for a few moments, taking a break. She was oddly quiet, and Annika frowned, drinking her own coffee and watching the dough hook of the industrial mixer at work.

  Scarlet said nothing, just stared off into space.

  “Okay, what is it?” Annika asked at last.

  Scarlet looked at her, eyes narrowed, like she was trying to figure out the right wording for something.

  “Out with it,” Annika ordered.

  Scarlet took another sip of coffee and swallowed it, holding her mug in both hands.

  “I think Calder moved in with Sam,” she finally said.

  “You think?” Annika asked. “Don’t you see Sam every day?”

  “He’s not the talkative type,” Scarlet said. “I tried asking, and I got lots of one-word answers. A few grunts.”

  “So how do you know, if he won’t even tell you whether he’s living with his boyfriend or not?”

  “I think he’s wearing Calder’s shirts,” Scarlet said. “Sam has some pretty strict ideas about fashion, meaning that I’ve only ever seen him wear jeans and black t-shirts.”

  “And now he’s wearing other shirts?”

  “He was wearing a red Dollywood t-shirt yesterday,” Scarlet said.

  “Dollywood?”

  “I had to look it up. It’s Dolly Parton’s theme park, in Tennessee.”

  Annika looked down at the machine kneading the bread and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She knew why Scarlet was telling her all this, but it seemed like awfully thin evidence.

  “Maybe it was laundry day and he has a secret love for Dolly Parton,” she said.

  “Maybe,” Scarlet said, slowly. “Though I asked him when he was at Dollywood, and he grumbled something about how the shirt was a gift.”

  “You’re not really selling this, you know,” Annika said. “A grumpy guy with too many tattoos and a guy with an itch for getting on his bike and leaving.”

  Scarlet laughed.

  “He’s not usually grumpy, just quiet,” she said. “He’s annoyed that I’m prying into his personal life. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s only pretending to be annoyed. I think he’s really happy and he’s not sure what to do about it.”

  What a weird problem to have, Annika thought.

  “I just don’t know,” Annika said.

  She hadn’t told Scarlet that she’d kissed Calder the night after Greta’s wedding, because she didn’t need the other girl getting any more ideas about how she should be managing her love life.

  That’s not to say she didn’t think about it, though. She thought about the kiss, and she thought far too much about what Scarlet had said that night: don’t imagine them naked in bed together.

  “Well, I think they’re trying,” Scarlet said. “Thought you might want an update.”

  Scarlet left around noon, and after she’d been gone for a while, Annika spotted her sunglasses on the counter next to the baking sheets.

  They looked like they’d been placed there, intentionally. Not left accidentally.

  Annika narrowed her eyes.

  Scarlet thinks she’s clever, she thought. I should show her by just keeping these here and not taking them over to the Midnight Gun for her.

  She looked into the main room of the bakery. There was no one there; the rush was usually in the morning. She could leave for ten minutes and it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Fine,” she said out loud, grabbed the sunglasses, left a note on the door, and hurried to Sam’s tattoo shop.

  She got there just as someone else was leaving, a tall guy she didn’t recognize with his arm encased in plastic wrap. The bells jingled as she walked in, and Sam looked up from where he was wiping down the tattooing chair.

  “Hey, Annika,” he said.

  Annika held up the sunglasses, walking further into the store.

  “Scarlet left these,” she said. “I thought I’d run them over before her shift starts.”

  He laughed.

  “She ought to be paying you as a courier service,” he said.

  “I don’t mind stretching my legs,” Annika said.

  Sam took the glasses from her, his fingertips just barely brushing hers. Annika’s stomach tightened, and as he turned and put the glasses on a shelf, she had a hard time not checking him out, all tattoos and ropey muscle, his t-shirt doing a poor job of hiding what was beneath it.

  What really got her was how unaware he seemed of his hotness, like it was an accident or something.

  “I like your shirt,” she blurted out.

  Sam looked down at it like he couldn’t remember what it was.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I went to the Grand Canyon once as a kid,” she said, nodding at the shirt. “Family vacation. I remember getting in trouble for threatening to push my older brother off the edge.”

  “I’ve actually never been,” Sam admitted. “I’ve been to Yosemite and Yellowstone, but not the Grand Canyon.”

  “You should go,” Annika said. “It lives up to the hype.”

  Sam laughed, his eyes crinkling. Annika felt something squirm inside her, and she bit the inside of her lip, suddenly feeling nervous and indecisive.

  “Once Scarlet is a pro, maybe I can leave her in charge of the shop for a week and we can go check it out,” he said.

  We? Annika thought. Is that proof, or just something he said?

  “You can’t do that, it’s my plan,” Annika said.

  “You got her for three whole days before Greta’s wedding,” Sam said. “Isn’t it my turn?”

  “We’re going to have to work out some kind of Scarlet-sharing plan, clearly,” Annika said. “I feel like divorced parents fighting over a kid.”

  Oh shit, she thought instantly. What a weird thing to say.

  “Next thing you know, we’ll only be communicating via lawyers,” he said, joking with her.

  “Right,” Annika said. “I’ve gotta get back to the bakery. See you in court?”

  “See you in court,” he said, his smile following her out the door.

  Two days later, it was Scarlet’s purse. She’d left it hanging on the wall, and Annika stood in the bakery, glaring at it.

&nbs
p; I know what you’re doing, Scarlet, she thought. You’re not half as sneaky as you think you are.

  Sam was on the phone when she walked in, so she stood there for a moment, looking at the art on the walls. Most of it was pictures of tattoos that he’d done, interspersed with watercolors and drawings. In one corner of the waiting room, she recognized Scarlet’s cover-up art: the ugly wolf into a flower, the three moons into an owl on her forearm.

  With a shock, Annika realized that Scarlet had been working for her for a year. It felt like longer.

  “Scarlet’s stuff again?” Sam asked, putting the phone down.

  “Her purse,” Annika said. “She’s probably gonna need it.”

  “We should set up some kind of pulley system,” Sam joked, carefully taking the purse from Annika by the strap. “Save you the walk.”

  “I don’t mind,” Annika said, a little too quickly. Then she changed the subject.

  “Did you do all these?” she asked, looking at the walls.

  “Sure did,” said Sam.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I always wanted to be an artist.”

  “Is it frustrating?” Annika asked. “Only getting to draw what other people want?”

  “Not really,” Sam said. “I can do whatever I want on my own time. Besides, this is what keeps the lights on.”

  “That’s hard to argue with,” she said.

  “You got any tattoos?” Sam asked. He leaned back against the partition between the tattooing chairs and the waiting area, his black t-shirt settling across his torso.

  It wasn’t unattractive.

  “No,” said Annika, shaking her head and laughing. “I’m more the safe, good-girl type.”

  “I see plenty of good girls in here,” he said. He looked at her for a minute, like he was considering something.

  “The other day, I tattooed a butterfly on a middle-aged woman who said she had two kids and a minivan,” he said, then lowered his voice. “Way, way up on her upper thigh. She wouldn’t tell me why a butterfly, but it was definitely only visible from a certain angle.”

  “It must have been an awkward session,” Annika said. She could feel herself blush a little.