FROST SECURITY: Richard

by Glenna Sinclair

  “My friend,” I interjected, stepping around Karen and going to his side, putting my arm around his waist.

  He stiffened up for a brief moment, then seemed to relax into my touch.

  “We, ahem, just recently met.”

  Karen's eyes widened a little as he reflexively put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close, a smile forming on his lips as I glanced up at him. “Yeah. Just, you know, met.”

  I almost melted from that arm around my shoulders, too. It was just so warm and protective. I breathed deep, inhaling his smell for the first time from so close, his deodorant and his general manly musk. I shivered a little, smiling despite knowing that this was all just an act. “And I was just about to cook him my spaghetti Bolognese for the first time,” I added, knowing exactly what I was insinuating.

  I mean, I didn't want to lie to her. Karen was my friend, after all. But, at the same time, I didn't want her getting wrapped up in all this death threat business. Sheila was already kind of involved in it, I guess, but why should it all spin out of control and pull my entire life into it? Karen didn't deserve that, did she? But, besides that, there was something inside me that screamed for me to be protective of Richard. Especially against Karen. She'd jump on any man moving, as long as he had two legs, and a, well . . . you know.

  “Well,” Karen said, nodding and smiling, “guess I'll leave you two to start supper, then.”

  I reluctantly broke away from Richard's embrace and crossed the room to her. “Well, it was good of you to stop by,” I said, pulling her into another hug. “Sorry we couldn't chat longer.”

  She laughed. “Don't mind me, honey. I was just going to see if you wanted to go into town to grab a drink, anyways.” She squeezed me tight. “But, since you're occupied, I figure I'll just give Sheila a call.”

  We broke our hug.

  “Richard,” Karen said, “lovely to meet you. You two should call me sometime soon, we can all go out for dinner.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Richard agreed with a smile. “Sounds good. Sure, sometime soon.”

  And with that, she was gone, her designer boots crunching on loose rocks of the walkway, then tramping through the gravel.

  “Well,” my security blanket said after a moment, “that was interesting.” She got in her BMW, shut the door behind her, then seemed to wait for a moment.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, making a face. “I just didn't, you know, want her pulled into this whole thing. That's all.”

  “Say no more,” he replied with a shrug. “Just glad to be of assistance, I guess.”

  “Not going to charge me extra for that, are you?” I asked as I squeezed by him and went into the kitchen.

  “I'll talk to Peter about it,” he said easily, “but I don't think it'll be an issue. Now, if I have to to dinner duty, also, that might be an issue.”

  I laughed as I began to pull out the ingredients I'd need: canned tomatoes, tomato paste, some ground beef that I'd picked up a couple days before, all the seasonings you'd expect in Italian food, and some romano cheese and wine.

  “Cook often?” he asked as he slinked past me, surprisingly graceful for his large size, and grabbed the coffee pot.

  “A little bit,” I admitted. “Mostly just for myself, though, but occasionally for my friend Sheila.”

  “Not for Karen,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “Karen's got certain ideas about food,” I confided, “that I can't match. She takes pictures of her meals when we go out.”

  He laughed. “I'll admit, that is a little strange.”

  “She's sweet, though,” I said. “And I've known her forever. She and Sheila are probably two of my only friends left in Enchanted Rock, you know.”

  “Why'd you move back, then?” he asked, taking a sip of his hot coffee.

  “The mountains,” I said with a smile as I tried to reach one of the pots I'd stuffed away at the top of my cabinets. I went to climb up on the counter, not even thinking about it.

  Richard touched my shoulder before I could climb all the way. “I got it.” He pulled down the pot for me, just like a gentlemen, and set it aside.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling and blushing. “Can you make julienne fries, too?”

  He laughed and stepped back from the stove. “Actually, I think I've completely outlived my usefulness when it comes to the kitchen.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked. “You just think that.” I pulled a can opener out from the drawer and slapped it in his hand. “You can work one of these, right?”

  And, like that, we started dinner. All that grace and quiet confidence seemed to fade from him as soon as we got into the cooking, in earnest. But, he never was afraid to ask what was next, or what I was doing. The recipe was one my grandmother had taught me, and I knew it by heart, so I walked him through the steps as I opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass.

  We talked about his life in the military, but not the war itself. I didn't want to pry. One of my friends from school was a vet, one who'd seen combat, and I knew enough to not try and dredge up old feelings. But, we discussed our families, our parents. He'd lost his, while mine had run from each other, to opposite ends of the country, as soon as I was in college. It wasn't the same, but as often as I saw them, it kind of felt that way. Especially when I thought about the brave front they'd tried, and failed, to put up while I was in middle school and high school.

  “Just,” I said as I tasted the sauce, “like get a divorce, alright? That's what I wanted to scream at them my freshmen year in high school, you know? Leave me out of the fights.”

  He nodded, laughing a little. “Yeah, I know how you feel. I'd rather have had a single mom growing up than have all the fighting.”

  I nodded, the wife starting to take hold. “Sheila and Karen, they kind of understand. They were there for the fights, but Sheila's parents love each other, and Karen's father passed away when I was at college. Mom still hasn't remarried, due to the illness, but they loved her to death, gave her whatever she wanted.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “It's tough to try and find people that actually understand where you're coming from.”

  “How's that pasta coming?” I asked. “I'm starving.”

  He checked the time. “Almost there. Smells delicious.”

  We ate supper and, after taking Eli and Wallach down to the creek for a supervised walk, called it a night. It was early, but the stress of the day had exhausted me. I laid out his bedroll on the couch, blankets and sheets and a pillow, and we said our good evenings. I had to pry Eli and Wallach away from him so they'd come to bed with me.

  As I lay there in bed, listening to all the night noises that accompany a secluded cabin in the country, I couldn't get Richard out of my thoughts. I couldn't help but feel like there was something between us, some sort of connection. Did he feel the same way about me? Was he tossing and turning as he tried to sleep on my couch? Or was I just another job, identical to all the rest? Of course he wasn't like other guys I'd dated. But, maybe that had been my problem? I'd always dated the same type.

  Woah there, Jessica, my mind reminded the rest of me. You're getting ahead of yourself here. You hardly even know this guy, and he's spending time with you because he's drawing a paycheck. That's not exactly the basis for a long term relationship. Besides, shouldn't you worry about other, more important things? Like who the hell is terrorizing you and forcing you to hire private security?

  “Shut up, brain,” I muttered as I rolled over in bed, producing a low grumble from Wallach.

  But, even as I drifted off to sleep, Richard kept invading my thoughts and feelings. Those gray eyes of his, those strong arms, how honest he seemed, how sure and confident he was. Till he got behind a chef's knife, of course.

  And then, finally, I was out like a light.

  Little did I know, I should have listened to my brain. There were bigger, more important things to worry about than Richard's dreamy eyes.

  Much more important.

  Chapter Nine
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  Richard

  I lay there on the couch, fighting my urges. The first was to go barreling off into the woods, full tilt, to run as free as the wind as twice as fast.

  There was no fucking way that was going to happen, though. Not in a million years with my client curled up in the room next door. Even though I was curled up on the couch in just my boxer briefs, I was still on watch. I was confident, of course, that even if I was dead asleep I'd still come to in a heartbeat if someone kicked through that front door, or tried to sneak in the back. Between me, Eli, and Wallach, we had this place secured.

  The second urge, though, was even harder to fight. It was stronger than anything I'd ever felt, even worse than my blood growling at me to run wild through the woods, to howl at the moon, to chase down the prey with Wallach and Eli at my side. My blood sung at me. Tear into Jessica's bedroom and tell her exactly how I felt about her, about how I knew from the top of my head to the soles of my feet that we were supposed to be together even though we hadn't known each other even for a whole day. To make love to her, to make her mine, and to never let her go.

  I flipped over on the couch, repositioned my pillow, snuggled deeper into the covers. Because, all that, of course, sounded bat-shit even inside my own head. I rolled back over again, faced the back of the couch. That didn't work for me, so I switched sides again, my eyes squeezed tight against the tempting moonlight streaming in through the blinds and around the curtains.

  What was going on with me? Was this just a shifter thing? Or did all men go through this when they'd met an amazing woman?

  As far as I knew, though, none of my pack mates had ever had this happen to them. At least, of course, they'd never spoken about it when we sitting around shooting the shit, kicking back beers after a long day. I guess shifter men weren't all that different from human ones, though. Even during my time in the military, I'd never really talked to the other guys about something like this. I mean, we'd talked about girls back home, about how much we missed civilian women we could actually date.

  But even back then, the longing had never been anything like this.

  My phone buzzed quietly, on the little side table just above my head. I reached up and grabbed it, saw a text from Peter Frost.

  “I'm outside, watching the cabin,” it read. “Go run and get some of that nervous energy out. I know you need it. Can practically smell it from here.”

  I grinned, not even caring about how he'd known. All that mattered was that my pack mate, my pack leader, was watching out for me.

  “Just a quickie,” I typed back, hitting send.

  I got up off the couch and, still wearing just my boxer-briefs, padded softly to the back door on bare feet.

  I unlocked the deadbolt and slipped out back, the nighttime air in the fifties, cool and soothing across my skin as I stepped out onto the deck. I stripped off my boxer briefs, baring my naked body to the woods, and walked down off the wooden structure. My toes sunk into the soil of the little copse of trees, dead leaves and pine needles crunching between my toes, the cool air wafting over my nude form.

  I took a deep breath as I stepped out into the grass, my head thrown back, my arms outstretched to either side. As soon as the moonlight hit my skin, it was like my body took that one little instance of relief and everything rushed towards it, like a balloon popped with a needle, exploding with excitement.

  I changed, my body shifting, my skin sprouting fur. It was like the worst canine puberty ever, my teeth growing longer, my snout extending, my ears stretching and repositioning, my bones reforming. I fell to my hands and knees. My arms lengthened, my legs shortened, till all that remained were four powerful wolfen limbs covered in a thick coat of brown fur. True, it was painful, but it was a good kind of pain. Like you get after a hard workout, or a marathon. The pain of growth, of transformation.

  At the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't have changed this close to the house in case I'd woken Eli and Wallach, but I'd had to listen to one of the songs thrumming through my body, and the one to change and run had been the less messy of the two.

  I bounded off into the grass, down through the little creek that burbled behind Jessica's cabin, running, splashing, slathering, letting my mind clear. Now, I could ask the questions my mind had been too grateful to ask earlier.

  How exactly had Peter known I'd need to shift tonight? How had he been sure I'd need this release? Was this something he was aware of, a part of shifter lore I just didn't know because my father hadn't been around to teach me? Or was it something that even my father would have withheld, making sure I didn't just placebo effect myself into believing it?

  There was so much about shifters, my own people, I still didn't understand. About my culture, about the blood rushing through my veins, even after all these years.

  But, as I stretched my legs on the run out to one of the nearby mountains, running and panting with my tongue lolling out the side of my jaws, I tried to forget about all those questions again. This was a time to let my brain clear itself, to make it more manageable for tomorrow.

  Something told me that the threat to our client was very real, and Frost Security was the only thing standing in harm's way. Even if Jessica never felt a single drop of affection for me, she'd still needed need my help in the morning.

  Chapter Ten

  Jessica

  Groggily, I came to the next morning, just the light from my digital alarm clock lighting the room with its soft green hue as it shown six-fifty on its face. I didn't get any morning sun on this side of the cabin, which always made it a little difficult to get moving. But, I managed to stumble out of bed and pull my robe on over my pajama bottoms and old purple and gold high school t-shirt.

  Careful to let Eli and Wallach keep sleeping, and not to wake Richard either, I slipped out into the living room, past my bodyguard's snuggled up and sleeping form, and padded into the kitchen in my fuzzy socks. Mornings in the mountains are cool, even during the summer, and you always wanted to keep your feet covered. I started up the coffee with some of the beans I'd ground the night before and looked around the kitchen, wondering if I should bother with making breakfast, or just stop off and grab something at the little bakery on my way to the Curious Turtle.

  As I was looking around, I noticed some pine needles and maple leaves the boys must have dragged in last night. I frowned, more upset with myself for not sweeping up the mess before I went to bed the night before. Guess I must have had more wine than I'd thought, I figured, and grabbed the broom and dust pan from beside the fridge. I began sweeping up the tiles, clearing the area.

  As the coffee began its drip, my boys began their inevitable scratching at the bedroom door. I headed back through the living room, creeping along past the couch where Richard lay, and opened up the bedroom door. “Come on, guys,” I whispered, “back door.”

  They ignored me, completely, and bolted through the doorway and right past me. “Dammit, guys!” I hissed as they barreled down on Richard's sleeping form.

  “Huh?” Richard groaned, sleepily, as Eli's big form piled on top of him, tail wagging so hard his whole body moved with each to and fro, and he began frantically licking Richard's face. “Matthew?” he asked groggily as Wallach climbed up next to his brother and began running in little circles on Richard's hip and flank. “Huh?”

  With a hand to my mouth, I tried to stifle a laugh as I went over, began to pull them off. “Guys,” I said, laughing as I forced Eli to the floor, “leave him alone, he's not even awake yet.”

  Richard wiped a hand down his face, sitting up, his burly, lightly haired chest bared to the cool air. He scratched lazily, blinking the sleep away. “Morning,” he said, stretching with his arms over his head, showing off a couple military inspired tattoos on his side and upper arms. Skulls on one arms, identification tags on his ribs.

  “Uh,” I said, so eloquently, as my eyes tracked down his chiseled form, past his massive pecs, to his washboard abs that looked great even at seven in the morning. “Yeah
.”

  Wow.

  He looked up, met my eyes, realized I was staring. He gave me a lopsided grin, followed by a little bit of a blush, and went to cover himself with a blanket. “Sorry,” he muttered, “not used to sleeping on couches.”

  I giggled and smiled back a little as I grabbed Eli and pulled him off towards the back door. “It's okay,” I said back over my shoulder as I stuffed Eli and Wallach both out onto the deck so they could go to the bathroom. “Coffee is going, if you'd like some.”

  “Yep,” he replied with a yawn. “Coffee sounds good.”

  I shut the door behind the dogs and turned back around just as Richard was standing up from the couch, wearing just his boxer briefs. He wasn't facing me, and went to pull his clothes off where he'd draped them over the coffee table, but now it was my turn to blush as I took in his full form, his sculpted muscles, his popped veins, his perfect, full, muscular butt and legs like tree trunks.

  I carefully shut my mouth, keeping it from collecting flies, and turned back to the kitchen, took a deep breath as I fumbled for a coffee mug. Well this had turned into one hell of a way to start my day.

  “What time do you normally head into the gallery again?” he asked from the living room as I began pouring my cup of morning coffee.

  “Around Seven forty-five, eight o'clock,” I replied, careful to keep my eyes focused on the hot, black liquid filling up my ceramic mug, and not on the hot, military veteran security professional in my living room. “That fine with you?”

  “It's your time line,” he replied as he walked into the kitchen, the floor shaking a little as he came up behind me, on my right. “We're getting paid to follow you, remember?”

  I didn't turn around, a mental image of his nearly naked form filling my mind. I knew if I did, I'd just start blushing again. Instead, I bit my lip and turned to my left, heading for the refrigerator, and the half and half it contained. “Uh, yeah,” I said as I pulled open the fridge, letting the even cooler air refresh my heated face. “I remember.”