by Alison Paige
“Dress shirts. Surprise.” All long sleeved, all linen, some with folded collars, some with short mandarin collars, but no two alike. “Decisions. Decisions.”
She snagged a plain white shirt, pleated, with a stylish wrinkled look and shoved her arms through the sleeves. “Very cool.”
She pulled the collar over her nose and inhaled. It smelled like flowery detergent, but underneath, woven into the fabric was the sweet, earthy smell of Gray. Odd that a washing hadn’t removed his scent completely. She’d suggest a better detergent. Or not, if she planned on wearing any more of his shirts.
A final deep whiff and she wandered around the room looking for the intercom while she buttoned. The shirt was big on her, brushing her mid-thigh, with sleeves an inch past her hands.
“Perfect fit.” Gray’s smooth voice made her jump. She spun to catch him lying back, propped on his elbows, watching her. He wore that same I’d-like-some-of-that look on his face from last night with a sexy lopsided grin to top it off.
Her cheeks warmed. She laughed. “You like it? I figure it’ll make up for the T-shirt you ruined last night.”
“Your T-shirt was already torn.”
“It covered the important parts.”
“And bloodied.”
“But still wearable in a pinch.”
“You said I could tear it. In fact, you enjoyed it.”
“Fine. You want me to take this off?”
He sat straight, eyes wide. “Yes.”
She laughed at his eagerness. “Later. I smell food. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Always.” He winked.
Maizie blushed again. The man could melt icebergs with those eyes and that voice. “Good. Me too. I think your intercom’s broken, though. I could hear people in the kitchen but I don’t think they can hear me. Where’s the speaker?”
“No speaker.” Gray reached for the phone next to the bed and held it for her to see. “Through the phones.”
Maizie blinked at the receiver in his hand. “But I heard Annette and Greta.”
“My cook.”
“Whatever. I’ve never met her, but I know her name. Why? Because I heard them talking. How did I hear them talking if there’s no speaker? I can smell that bacon like it’s in the room…and the eggs and toast. She’s squeezing oranges right now.” There was a reasonable explanation. There had to be. But something about saying it all aloud made her heart race, her words rush, as the realization sank in.
“Okay. Let’s talk.” Gray put away the phone then held a hand out to her. “Come here. I want to explain—”
“Can we just forget about that for now? I already know. That’s why I came.” Maizie waved the gesture away from the end of the bed. Did he think she was joking? She was hearing through walls, through floors. Now was not the time to discuss a theft he committed twenty-one years ago.
Gray’s hand dropped. He blinked. “You know?”
Ugh. Did he really think Granny wouldn’t have told her about the locket? About him being at the accident? What else could put that guilty glint in his eyes, the soft regret in his voice?
“You may be friends with Granny, but I’m blood,” she said. “I know about the locket. Okay? I’m not pissed. I’m not happy you stole it, or that you waited twenty-one years to give it back. But I’m not pissed. Okay, maybe a little. But that’s not what made me come here last night.”
“Then what?” Gray sat with one knee bent on the bed and the other dangling over the edge, covers at his waist.
“What? What made me come here? I…had some questions. About the accident. About that night.”
He shrugged, his face darkening with his sobering mood. “So ask. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Was that attitude? He was giving her attitude, now? “No?”
“No. I’m not a thief…Little Red.” He made the nickname sound like an insult.
She matched his scowl. “Don’t call me that.”
Gray shook his head, threw back the covers and stormed past her to the bathroom. His beautiful body, tan and muscled. “You’re a child. Their child.”
He returned, wearing a gray silk robe, the lapels and sash a lighter shade. “Next time you come to a man’s house accusing him, get your damn facts straight.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you give Granny my mother’s locket yesterday? A locket you found at the site of their fatal accident? A locket you’ve kept for twenty-one years?”
He turned on her. The movement so fast she dropped her arms, losing the cocky stance. “Yes. I found the fucking locket at the scene of an accident. My wife’s fatal accident.”
“What?” She couldn’t breathe. “Fatal? But I thought she just moved away.”
“No.” Gray straightened and seemed to reel in some of his anger. “She’s the reason I was there. I didn’t give a damn about your parents. They’d killed her. Mowed her down like a…a…” He made a frustrated growl and turned, walking to the turret windows off the sitting room.
“What are you talking about? We didn’t hit anyone. We hit a wolf.” Her own words sent a shiver down her spine, made Gray’s shoulders tense as he stared out the windows. She knew, but she didn’t want to.
Memories flooded back. “We were driving to pick up Granny. My parents were happy but…I wasn’t. I didn’t want to leave my forest.”
“My forest,” Gray said.
Maizie barely heard. “Daddy had just gotten a promotion. We’d be moving…”
Gray knotted his arms over his chest. “They were trespassing in our forest. Mine and Donna’s.”
“It was dark and raining. We took the shortcut.”
“They were driving too fast,” Gray said.
“The wolf, it jumped out of nowhere.”
“She had every right to run in her woods.”
“My parents couldn’t stop. They tried…”
“Not hard enough.”
“Daddy jerked the wheel. We went over the side. Mommy was screaming, Daddy too. And then those eyes, cold green, heartless eyes…” Her gaze focused on Gray’s back. “The wolf. The wolf that caused my parents’ death. It was your wife. Your wife was a wolf. A werewolf.”
His voice was soft and cold. “And I’ve gone and mated with her killer’s child.”
“But there’s no such thing as—”
Gray turned, anger etching his expression. “As what? A werewolf? Stop lying to yourself, Maizie. You’ve been doing it long enough. What do you think attacked you last night? What do you think I am?”
She flinched. He was so angry. No. It wasn’t anger glistening in his eyes, it was guilt…and blame. “Ohmygod, you blame my parents for your wife’s death. You blame me.”
Gray dropped his gaze, his expression softening. “No. You were just in the car. She was dead. You weren’t.”
“Yes, you do. You blame me, just like I blamed her…” Gray met Maizie’s gaze, but he didn’t stop her from continuing the thought. “All this time, you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Made Granny keep me away. Stick to the path, Maizie. Stay away from that part of the forest. Beware of the big bad…wolf.”
“Maizie…”
A knock at the door stopped the conversation cold.
“Mr. Lupo?” Annette was quiet on the other side for a moment. “Mr. Lupo, I have a message for Ms. Hood. I’ve also brought breakfast.”
“Come in,” Maizie said when it was clear Gray wouldn’t respond. He stood stoic, feet planted, his back to the windows, his arms folded over his stomach.
Annette opened the door, juggling a bed tray, her bright smile vanishing when it met Gray’s dark glower. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted—”
“No. It’s fine. We’re…” Maizie glanced at Gray, “…finished. We’re done.” She looked back to Annette hovering half-in, half-out of the room.
“What’s the message, Annette?” Gray asked.
One hand under the tray, she pushed up her glasses then grabbed the tray again.
“Oh. Yes. Green Acres Nursing Home called. They’d tried to reach Ms. Hood and when they couldn’t they called here. Apparently Ester had a small health scare.”
“What?” Maizie’s heart stopped.
“Oh, no, no,” Annette hurried. “She’s fine. It was just a scare. They took her to the hospital last night and released her this morning. She should be back at the home by now.”
This morning? To the hospital and back already? “What time is it?”
“It’s nearly four,” Annette said.
“Four? PM?” Maizie watched her nod. “That’s not possible. I slept more than fourteen hours?” She looked at Gray.
His gaze remained fixed on Annette, silent, his brows tight, jaw stiff. It wasn’t until Maizie spoke again that he flicked his attention to her.
“I have to go.”
“Where?” he said.
“Where do you think? I have to make sure my grandmother’s okay.” She went to the bathroom and grabbed her sneakers. They were speckled with blood, but it wouldn’t affect how well they’d protect her feet.
“Annette told you she’s fine.”
Maizie came out hopping, struggling into one shoe and then the other. “I have to check for myself.”
“So call Green Acres. You can use the phone here.”
“I’ll call from the cottage. I want to shower before I go in to see her anyway.”
“Shower here.”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
“What you’re wearing is fine.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his robe. Shrugged. “Or I’ll send Annette out to buy you something more suitable. Whatever you need.”
Why was he making this so difficult? He should want her gone as badly as she wanted to go. Except that she didn’t really want to leave him. Gawd, so much had changed so fast. Everything had gotten screwed up and twisted. She wanted him as much as she had twenty minutes ago.
But how could she stay when he obviously hadn’t worked out his feelings about her part in the accident? How could she stay when she hadn’t worked out how she felt about his part in her parents’ death?
“You have to stay, Maizie.”
“I really don’t.” She focused her gaze on the opened door. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She couldn’t risk seeing that look in his eyes—anger, blame, hate. She’d rather never look at him again.
“It’s not safe,” he said. “You don’t understand—”
“No. You don’t understand.” She closed her eyes, emotions clogging her throat. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. “I don’t have time for this shit. I told myself I didn’t have time for a romantic relationship from the start. I told Granny. I’ve already neglected the shop. And now I’ve neglected Granny. That’s enough. I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for you.”
She ran. It wasn’t mature, it wasn’t brave, but it was the only thing she could do. She had to get away, get some distance from all those feelings, the memories, the confusion of what she thought she knew, what she thought she wanted. She had to get some distance from him.
By the time she reached the cottage she’d made herself sick. She’d run the whole way and gotten a stitch in her side, and her stomach was tying itself into knots.
She went in the backdoor. She’d left it unlocked last night. “I just need to eat something.”
In the kitchen all she found were a few cans of diet soda and two jars of peanut butter. She leaned against the counter, soda beside her, and ate. It was the best peanut butter ever. She looked at the label after every few bites. “It’s not even name brand.”
She finished the jar in minutes, scraping the spoon on the bottom to get every speck of creamy brown heaven. When she could see through the clear bottom, she tossed the empty jar in the trash and had the other opened before she realized what she was doing.
“Crap. I should just spread it directly on my ass.” She scooped the spoon in three more times, then finally set the jar down and backed away. When she reached the steps her stomach growled, then cramped. She winced and after a few seconds the pain subsided.
She jogged up to her bedroom and grabbed her cell phone from her purse. She had Green Acres on speed dial. “Hi. This is Maizie Hood. I’m calling to check on—”
“Maizie, hi. This is Clare, from the front desk. Your grandmother is fine. She had a little angina attack last night, but they checked her out at the hospital and she’s already back. She’s sleeping now. I can tell her you called.”
“Thanks, Clare. Tell her I’ll be in tonight.”
“You bet.”
Maizie snapped the phone closed, tossed it to the bed and snatched her fuzzy robe from the rocking chair as she passed. Her stomach rumbled again and she winced through the twinge of a cramp. “An entire jar of peanut butter in one sitting does not do the body good.”
She went to the bathroom and pulled the cream shower curtain from the old clawfoot tub. She turned on the hot water, let it run. A shower would make her feel like herself again.
Although last night’s shower had made her feel better than herself, better than she had in years. Even with the injuries, she’d never felt so good, so turned-on, so alive. Was it Gray or something else?
Naked in front of the medicine cabinet mirror, Maizie eyed the bite on her shoulder. Two little puncture wounds and twin runs of red dots. She turned, peering over her shoulder. The back was a little worse, some scabbing but still remarkably healed. She put her foot on the toilet seat and checked her calf. The bite was nearly healed just like her shoulder.
A cramp made her grab her stomach, she winced, bending a bit to take the pain. It passed, but the intensity was obviously increasing. What was wrong with her?
Maizie shook her head, put her foot down. “Ugh. You’re fine. This isn’t some horror flick or fairy tale.”
More likely Gray had some sort of curative agent in his water to keep the animals on the preserve healthy. Yeah, that made more sense than her turning into a… She wouldn’t dignify the thought.
Maizie stepped into the tub, adjusted the water temperature, closed the curtain and pulled the lever for the shower. Warm water cascaded over her body, washing away every touch, every kiss Gray had left on her. Too bad it couldn’t wash away the hot memories of his body pounding into hers.
Or the craving for him to do it again.
Chapter Ten
“Who did it?” Gray stood at the edge of the pool, arms folded tight across his chest. “Which one of you mutts committed suicide last night?”
Lynn raised her head to turn to the other cheek, one eye squinting at Gray. She was on her belly, topless, tanning in the late-afternoon sun. “What are you grumbling about?”
“Who sank teeth?” His hands fisted tight under his arms, thoughts of them squeezing around one of their necks flashing through his mind. Dammit, this wasn’t like him, but when it came to Maizie his priorities changed.
Rick shrugged from the back end of the diving board. “What difference does it make? It’s what you wanted. What we all needed.” He took three long strides, bounced once then angled headfirst into the pool.
“What’s done is done.” Joy sipped her iced tea then set it on the table between her and Lynn before finding her place in the romance novel she held. “I’m sure it was an accident, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“An accident? She fall into someone’s open mouth?” Gray didn’t need to be told. He was positive he knew which one of them would dare touch her.
He dropped his arms, striding along the pool to loom over Lynn. “Where is he?”
Lynn lifted her head again, squinting. “Who?”
“Your dead mate,” Gray said. “At least he will be once I get my hands on him.”
“It wasn’t Shawn.”
“Bullshit.” He’d had to pry the mutt’s jaws off Maizie. Being new, Shawn had the least control and the least respect for the pack. Gray looked to the house, saw the curtains in Lynn’s bedroom window flutter cl
osed. Coward. Without a word he headed for the glass doors, murder in his mind.
“Gray, no. No! He didn’t do it. I swear,” Lynn screamed behind him. He knew she’d gotten up, was chasing after him. “Rick! Rick, stop him. He’ll kill him.”
Rick scaled the metal ladder at the end of the pool just as Gray neared. He foolishly stepped in front of him, hands up, as though that would even slow him down.
The newcomer would die. Someone had to pay for turning Maizie, for forcing him to face a fact he’d been working twenty-one years to avoid. Maizie was his mate. She’d always been his mate. His marriage to Donna should never have been. She’d deserved better. By the time Rick pushed against his chest, Gray’s whirling thoughts, his heavy guilt had weakened the foundation of his rage.
“Uncle Gray, it wasn’t Shawn,” Rick said. “He got excited and chased after her when she ran. He’s a new wolf, still learning control. But we stopped him. We had him back under control. He wasn’t the one who bit her.”
“Then who?” He was yelling now, his voice so close to a roar his throat protested, growing sore. “Who did it?”
Rick shook his head, looked away then back, chin high, eyes defiant. “It was me. Okay? I did it. I turned her. I told you I would if you didn’t.”
Anger, pain, guilt and remorse churned into a furious storm inside him. Gray exploded, shoving at Rick’s chest, sending him backward several feet. The younger man caught himself, landing on the balls of his feet, ready to fight if he had to.
“C’mon, boy.” Gray spoke through his teeth. “We end this today. Take the pack or get out.”
His body tight, Rick snarled at Gray, edging forward a little, but not attacking. Rick was born a werewolf and stronger because of it, but Gray was older and turned by his late wife, the strongest among them. She’d chosen him to be alpha, sensing the natural strength within him. It would be a battle, but Gray had rage on his side.
“No. Stop it.” Shelly scrambled out of the sunken hot tub and raced to the other side of the pool. “Ricky, if you lose you’ll have to leave. You can’t fight for alpha and then go back to subordinate.”
