by Susan Bliler
Closing her suitcase, she carried it out to the living room, looking around to ensure she hadn’t missed anything. The place was as clean as when she’d moved in and reluctantly, she bid her temporary home a mental farewell as she opened the front door and exited.
People silently watched her carry her things through the compound. It was almost as if they’d been ordered to keep quiet. She waved to a couple of the women she knew from cooking class and they timidly waved back.
“Hey, let me!” Bull bounded down the steps of his cabin and took her two suitcases. She permitted it and they walked in silence a moment before he finally looked around at everyone who was watching and asked, “Which one of them has been messing with you?”
“None. No one,” she amended. “There just isn’t a bed in the guest cabin and apparently Modess didn’t know that, so…”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bull’s brows dip down. “No bed? Where the hell did it go?”
Turning to look at him in confusion she asked, “There used to be a bed in there?”
“Well yeah. What pack has a guest cabin with no bed for the guests?”
“Henry,” she declared on a huff staring straight ahead as she fumed. “Henry’s the one who told me Modess didn’t want a bed in the guest cabin.”
At the mention of his name, Bull loosed a vicious growl that had Hillary’s attention jerking back to him. Her lips ticked up and she asked, “How’s Simone?”
“Getting better every day,” he growled, still sounding angry.
“Thanks for taking her in and taking care of her.”
“Don’t thank me for shit like that, Hillary.”
Brow furrowing in confusion she asked, “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away, just kept stride beside her. Finally he shrugged a shoulder. “Just doesn’t feel right to be thanked for taking care of Simone. She’s a good woman….great actually. Any shifter would be lucky to…” His words died off though as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
Hillary couldn’t stop the smile that took her lips. Bull did like Simone! Wanting to throw him a bone she agreed, “Simone is really good people. She’s had it rough, though. She fights everything because she thinks she has to. It’s how she was raised. Always brawling, always hurting. But she’s the most loyal person I know, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.”
Beside her Bull frowned and asked, “What do you mean, she’s had it rough?”
“It’s not my story to tell, Bull, but be patient with her. I promise you, she’s worth the wait. She’s worth your fight.”
He dipped his chin in a nod. “I have no doubt she is.”
At the front door to Modess’ house, Bull pulled the door open and set her suitcases just inside. Standing, he eyed her and smirked. “Modess is good people too.”
Holding up a hand, Hillary stopped him. “You don’t have to tell me that, Bull. I see him!”
“Well…good. That’s real good, because he sees you too, Hillary, and he hasn’t let himself see a woman in a long time. No one besides Wanda and she’s safe now, protected by Christian. She’s happy with Christian. Modess needs to start looking for his own happiness.”
Her cheeks flushed at the statement and she dipped her eyes to her sandaled feet. “I’m a temporary fixture here, Bull. Me and Modess,” she shook her head. “We can’t work.”
“Well, you moving into his house tells me otherwise. Good luck.” He turned and jogged down the stairs before stopping to ask, “Hey! Modess and I have to go to town tomorrow for a few hours. Can you think of anything Simone needs? I asked, but she keeps saying she’s fine.”
Hillary beamed at the thoughtfulness of the question. “She’s been borrowing clothes since she’s been here. If I give you her sizes, can you pick her up a few things?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Good. I’ll give the list to Modess, you can get it from him, yeah?”
“Yes!” Bull was grinning like an excited school boy now. “Thanks, Hillary.”
“Thank you for taking care of Simone!”
He gave her a warning look but his lips were still curled up.
“Oh yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to thank you for shit like that!”
He gave her a thumbs up and then turned to head back to his cabin and Hillary assumed a waiting Simone.
Stepping into Modess’ house, Hillary called out, “Hello?” No answer came so she took a few more steps inside. “Hello? Modess?”
There was still no response and unsure what to do, Hillary walked around just looking at things. The last time she’d been here was the night she’d brought him a PB&J and he’d threatened to tongue fuck her! Even just the memory stained her cheeks and had liquid heat gathering between her legs.
Fidgety and uncomfortable, she made her way to the one place she knew best. The kitchen. Her plan had been to make Modess a nice lunch in his home for once, but as she searched the cupboards and fridge, she discovered everything was basically empty.
“Whatcha doin?”
Startling hard, Hillary shrieked, slapping a hand to her chest as she rose and spun in one movement to level rounded eyes on Wanda. “You scared the piss out of me,” she accused.
Grinning, Wanda leaned her shoulder against the doorway to the kitchen. “If you’re hungry, you won’t find any food in here.”
“I was just,” she waved a hand toward the fridge. “I was going to make us some lunch but you’re right. He doesn’t have anything except a few beers and a bottle of ketchup. Even the pantry’s empty, if that’s what it is.” She pointed toward what she assumed was a pantry because it was a large closet space just off the kitchen lined with shelves. The only thing that had her wondering though was the lock on the outside of the door. Who locked food in a pantry?
“It used to lead outside,” Wanda looked at the door. “Because he’s such a big bastard, I thought Modess would need a large pantry so I had Bull and Christian build that on for him.” She clucked her tongue. “Tsk. Doesn’t even use it.”
Hillary crinkled her nose and waved at the kitchen. “How does he maintain his size like this?”
Wanda shrugged. “Come on. We’ll go into town and get you two some supplies.”
“I can’t. I don’t…I don’t have any money.”
“Modess has plenty.” Winking, Wanda crossed to the freezer and pulled out a coffee can. Popping the lid, she stuck her hand in and pulled out a wad of cash.
“We shouldn’t…”
“Don’t worry. He asked me to run to town to stock him up.” She shoved the cash into her pocket. “Seems he’s got a guest to impress.” Hillary blushed and Wanda shoved off the wall. “Come on, girl. Let’s go get this Alpha some groceries.”
Two hours later, Wanda was standing at the large butcher block island in the center of Modess’ kitchen. It had been floured down and she was rolling dough balls into flat circles when she heard the front door open and booted feet approach. Trying to act natural, she quickly scanned the kitchen. It wasn’t too messy so hopefully Modess wouldn’t be too pissed about her commandeering his kitchen. Two cast iron skillets bubbled on the stove, one with slices of sirloin and potato bubbling in a tomato sauce and the other with creamy refried beans seasoned with garlic salt, olive oil, and covered in melted cheese.
“Something smells delicious.”
Looking up, her eyes collided with the Northern lights green of Modess’ as he stared at her. His words had her mind going back to the last words he’d said to her in this house and she quickly ducked her head. “Thought I’d make you a thank you meal.”
He crossed to pull out one of the stools that sat opposite of where she sat at the island. “Thank you meal?”
Shrugging one shoulder, she kept her eyes on her task. “Thanks for giving me a bed.”
“Have you seen the bed yet?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t snoop. Just around the kitchen for dishes.”
“Then it could
be a mat on the floor for all you know.”
She grinned, knowing he was teasing. “Well, it’d be better than cramming myself into an armchair or having to shift to sleep on the floor.” She rolled her neck at that but stilled when Modess growled.
“I didn’t know you were being treated so disrespectfully. If I had, I would have remedied it sooner. No one told me.”
That had her brows snapping into a frown. “I told Wanda the second day I was here. I’m surprised she didn’t say something.”
“Wanda knew?”
Hillary stopped rolling out tortillas to look up at him. “Yeah. She knew. And she’s the one that sent me to you that night with a peanut butter sandwich. Said it was your favorite.” Her wheels were spinning now. “It isn’t. Is it?”
Groaning, he shook his head. “No. It isn’t.” Lifting a hand he brushed his knuckles against his beard. “She came here this morning and told me you were hurt. I went busting over there assuming someone had done something to you and then I scented your pain.”
Hillary rolled her shoulders, “My pain from sleeping on the floor.”
“Fucking Wanda!”
Fisting her hands, betrayal bit hard as Hillary muttered, “Why? We’re supposed to be friends! Why would she do that to me?”
His eyes darkened and she instantly recognized his anger. “She thinks she’s a matchmaker. Apologies. I’ll take care of it.”
Matchmaker? Suddenly, Hillary’s heart was hammering against the wall of her chest. Did Wanda really think Modess could ever be interested in a woman like her? She nearly snorted. He was Alpha of the most renowned pack in the North West, and she was just plain old Hillary from Shadow Wolf.
Chapter 16
Modess couldn’t keep his eyes off Hillary as she worked in his kitchen. She’d told him how she and Wanda had gone to town and bought supplies to re-stock his kitchen. Now that he got to thinking on it, he realized Wanda was the reason his cupboards had suddenly gone barren once she became aware that he was trying to avoid the mess hall and Hillary. His meddling sister had some pay back coming.
His eyes drifted to Hillary as she stirred whatever in the hell smelled so damn good on the stove. He followed her as she crossed to a cabinet to pull out a small bottle of some spice. Seeing her so comfortable in his kitchen felt right. Swallowing hard, he let his eyes travel from her red curls that were pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, down her back, stopping on her lush ass in tiny jean shorts. His gaze finally skimmed down her smooth legs and settled on her bare feet. When she turned, he jerked his eyes back up and grinned like he hadn’t just been checking her out. “What…what are you making?”
“Chicano, refried beans, salsa, and homemade tortillas.”
He had no idea what chicano was and he’d never eaten Mexican anywhere but at the one restaurant in the nearest town. It smelled fucking fantastic and had his belly growling. “Where’d you learn to cook?”
“My mom,” she beamed, her eyes going distant as she looked up and stared at the wall. “She was the pack cook. We called the position the Spoon Keeper. She was the best cook in the world. At least, to me anyway.
He watched as a smile started at the corners and slowly claimed her lips until even the hint of trepidation was smoothed upward. Holy fuck! Had delight ever looked so good on anyone? No. Hillary was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, but a smiling Hillary…she took his damn breath away.
“She had this rolling pin, it was my Grandmother’s. She always told me that when I became a good cook, she’d pass it on to me. I couldn’t wait!”
Modess hated watching her smile fade. He wanted her delight back, but he had to know. “What happened to it?”
“It’s…it’s back in my cabin at Shadow Wolf.”
“When did she give it to you?” he pushed.
“She didn’t.”
Looking down, she hid her eyes from his view. “She died when I was sixteen. Because Mom and I had lived alone and because I was old enough, Michael let me keep Mom’s cabin and all her belongings. I just woke up one day and Mom was gone and she never came back.”
Silently, he studied her. He knew how it felt to lose one’s parents. He didn’t want to open old wounds, but he wanted to know as much about Hillary as he could. He had to know if there was some way he could help her. “How’d she die?”
“Apparently, one of the males in the pack wanted to claim her. She wasn’t having it and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. One night after dinner, she was cleaning the kitchen and he ambushed her. Figured if he could just mount her, then the rest would follow. He figured it would bond her to him somehow.” Pride filled her eyes when she lifted her chin and looked right at him. “She fought. She fought to the death.”
“And this asshole?”
“Michael put him down. He’d been making advances on other women too, even mated ones. He wasn’t right.”
Thrumming his fingers on the island, he thought about what she’d told him. “I’m sorry, Hillary.”
“Yeah,” she muttered looking up from her dough. “I’m real sorry about your parents too.”
They held like that, locked in each other’s gazes until Hillary tore her eyes away.
“Hey! Can I help?” He shoved back from the island and paced around to stand beside her, his bicep brushing her shoulder.
Looking up at him with a grin, she crinkled one eyebrow. “You know how to cook?”
“Hell no! But you’re supposed to be a teacher, right? Teach, woman!”
Giggling, she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “First things first, Alpha Wilder, wash those damn hands.”
He did and short minutes later she had his hands dusted in flour and was teaching him the finer points of not pressing too hard to roll out a tortilla to the perfect thickness. It was impossible! She kept calling his attempts crepes before peeling them off the cutting board, rolling them into a ball, and telling him to try again. He tried to press gently, but apparently gentle wasn’t his forte. Each time the rolling pin was pushed all the way through until it hit the butcher block island top.
Finally, with a snarl that ended in a laugh, Hillary took the rolling pin from him and pointed at the stove. “I’ve got the perfect kitchen position for you. Taste tester. Give it a go.”
He did. Everything was so damn good that he kept eyeballing her mound of dough wondering when she’d be done so they could eat.
She barked at him to stop eating all the dinner and to set the table, which he did to the best of his ability. He was just setting out a couple cans of soda when she came into the dining room and set one of the cast iron skillets onto a trivet. Earlier, when she’d told him to place the trivets on the table, he’d scanned the kitchen and wondered if he could fake his way through. She saw him though and giggled, indicating the iron thingies hanging on the wall near the oven. Hmmm, all this time he’d thought they were just decorations that Wanda had hung.
A few trips later and dinner was settled on the table. It felt intimate. While the table was large enough to seat ten, he’d placed one setting at the head of the table with one right next to it. Modess held out a chair for Hillary and she was seated with a murmured, “Thank you.”
When he claimed his seat, she stared at him expectantly. “Will you pray?”
Pray? Uhhhhh… Clearing his throat he nodded in a jerky movement and folded his hands. “Grandfathers…we, uhh, thank you for this food and for the hands that made it. Mmmm, we ask that you continue to keep our pack strong and fierce. And we ask that any enemies who dare to challenge meet a violent and bloody end.” He paused a moment thinking on if there was anything else he should ask of the Grandfathers while he had them on the line, but Hillary cleared her throat and said, “Amen.”
Guess not. “Amen.” Lifting his head, he looked at Hillary to see if she appreciated his prayer. It was the first he’d done since his parents had been alive and it wasn’t a bad prayer if he did say so himself. Hillary was trying not to smile though and he was about to ask her why bu
t she grabbed for the plate of tortillas.
“You’re going to love this. It was my favorite thing my mom made.” She pulled a soft tortilla from where the stack was wrapped in a kitchen towel. “Try this!” She smeared butter onto the tortilla and because it was still so warm, it melted instantly. She held the folded tortilla out to him, and just because he could, he leaned forward and took a bite straight from her hand.
Holy fucking shit! Moaning, he let his eyes close as he chewed and savored. She hadn’t been lying. He loved it.
Her delighted giggle had his eyes peeking open just in time to see her bite off the same end of the tortilla. She too moaned and chewed stopping only to speak around her bite. “There’s nothing better than homemade tortillas. Noth-ing!”
His hands moved to pile food onto Hillary’s plate only stopping when she protested it was too much. He then filled his own. They ate in companionable silence and everything was wonderful. The creamy, salted refried beans were delicious. The steak-filled chicano was new but probably one of the best things he’d ever eaten. The homemade salsa had just enough kick to have him rushing to the kitchen to grab them two more Cokes. On his return, he dipped a tortilla chip into the salsa and studied it a moment. “Is that avocado?”
“Yeah,” she winced. “You like avocado?”
“Didn’t before.” He shoved the chip into his mouth and chomped. “Do now.”
“Good!” she grinned. “I love a man who isn’t afraid to try new things.”
They ate and talked and it felt so damn right that by the time they were both leaning back in their chairs, stuffed and sipping on their Cokes, he was already wondering how he kept this.
“How are classes with the ladies going?”
She peeked up at him from beneath the fan of her lashes. “Cooking or yoga?”
Just the memory of her doing yoga had him reaching under the table to pinch his dick so it wouldn’t go straining for her attention. Too late. “Cooking,” he clarified.
“Great!”
He loved how she always perked up when she talked about her classes. He just couldn’t decide if she was happy with the teaching or with the cooking. He was about to find out.
