"What do you care?" I exploded in a quiet snarl, surprising myself as well as her with the intensity of my reaction. "Seriously, what do you care, Anders?"
"I…care," she murmured, and her eyes filled with that strange sheen of pain. "I care a lot."
"But not enough to hook up with me," I snorted. "Not enough to even come around and check out our new rental. Or ask MacKenzie about me."
"I can't," she said, looking so defeated and forlorn that I wanted to console her. I wanted to slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her into my chest. Somehow, I resisted the impulse.
"Why not?" I demanded and backed her toward the wall.
As I advanced, she took a few faltering steps backward. Then it all poured out in an uneven rush of words. "My parents won't let me. They won't let me see you. After MacKenzie broke her ankle and what happened to Mim's fingers, they think you and the rest of your family are dangerous. They won't let me visit MacKenzie or have anything to do with you."
Her back touched the wall and I planted my fists on either side of her face. "And you just do everything your parents say?" I questioned her. "Like a good little girl?"
"My mother works at the school so she knows what I'm doing and who I'm talking to at the end of the day," she argued defiantly. "My father treated both Mim and MacKenzie for their injuries."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I rasped.
"It wasn't just that Mac's ankle was broken. Her face was beat up. And he insists Mim's fingers weren't sliced off by accident. The cut was too clean and straight. He says her fingers were cut off on purpose."
"So, that's why you're avoiding us? You think we're dangerous too? Like your father?"
"No!" She turned pale as she tilted her face up to meet my gaze. "You don't understand," she whispered.
"Well, maybe you should explain," I growled down at her, my hungry gaze fixed on her mouth, wanting to devour her glossy lips with a rough kiss.
She swallowed hard. "My father's serious about keeping us apart, even if it means turning you into the authorities, 'Fiyance."
'Fiyance? My heart did a jittery back flip at the sound of the short, personal nickname. It was the way she used it, with a quiet touch of affection that I hadn't expected, that I'd never heard from her before.
"I…I don't know what your situation is," she stammered. "But I know you're not American and I don't know if you have papers or anything. I don't know how much trouble you and your family would be in if my dad sent a bunch of ICE agents knocking on your door."
My anger was slipping away like snow melting on a sunny spring day. But I fought to keep a hold on it as I searched her eyes. "Why the hell didn't you just tell me? Or at least talk to MacKenzie, so she could tell me?"
Her cool veneer cracked. "I did it for you, okay! I was afraid if you knew how I felt about you, nothing would stop you."
How she felt about me? What was she talking about? My breath came in heavy jerks as I lowered my mouth closer to hers. "How you felt about me? How do you feel about me, Anders?"
Slowly, she lifted her hands to my shoulders. Then she looped her arms around my neck and pulled my forehead against hers. "Don't you know?" she whispered.
"How could I know?" I asked roughly.
"Because I know about you," she argued softly. "I know you're the kind of guy that wouldn't let anything stand in the way of what you wanted."
"You got that right," I growled, pushing my frame against hers and loving the way her heart thudded against my chest.
"That's why I didn't tell anyone why I had to avoid you. Can't you feel the pull…between us?" she murmured.
"God, Whitney," I panted. "You're killing me, here."
Her smile was soft as she looked up at me. "Well, please make sure I get at least one kiss before you die."
Chapter Thirteen
A heartfelt groan scraped from my chest and I captured Whitney's lips in a take-no-prisoners claiming that started with ravaging and went downhill from there. Or uphill, depending on your point of view. My mouth crushed hers with bruising force and my hands moved behind her body, molding her frame tightly to mine. But Whitney was giving back as good as she got. And if I did freaking die tomorrow, at least I'd have known the sweetest gift that life has to offer. Damn. I was smitten and whipped.
I pulled away sharply when I heard Peggy's office door creak open. But her footsteps took her around the arena toward the front of the building.
"We have to be careful," Whitney whispered against my ear, the touch of her warm breath doing dangerous things to my self-control.
"Even here?" I asked huskily, and pulled in a lungful of air that was laced with her intoxicating scent. By now, my knuckles were throbbing as my barbs ached to surface but I battled the urge. If my barbs extended, they'd leak blue venom all over the place as my instincts commanded me to mark this girl as my own. Crap. Why couldn't anything be simple? A gargoyle's courting impulses are so…complicated.
She nodded as she held my gaze. "Peggy's an old friend of my mom's. They talk all the time."
I groaned. "Why don't I know that?"
"Because you haven't been talking to me," she murmured, and a slight smile touched her swollen lips, making it crazy difficult for me not to kiss her again.
"You haven't been talking to me either," I pointed out on a low rasp.
She nodded and pulled a finger down my neck, over the black "vest" that showed in my open shirt. "I'll try to do better. But we need to be careful."
"Okay," I gave in with a whisper. I cupped the side of her face in my hand and rubbed my thumb into the corner of her mouth, rocked by the delicate texture of her skin. "But I have to see you. Tonight."
"I'm not allowed, 'Fiyance."
"I don't have to talk to you," I insisted, and pushed her long fall of hair behind her shoulder. "I just need to see you. Please, Whitney."
She hesitated, then said, "The basketball team is practicing tonight at seven."
"I'll be there," I murmured and touched my lips to her mouth for a last taste that lingered a little longer than it should have. But I was afraid it might have to hold me for a while so I made the most of it, losing myself in the honeyed flavor of her mouth while we stood jammed against the wall, our hearts pounding together in a hot rhythm of hunger and sweet aching need that I wanted to last forever.
So, yeah, at the end of the day I stumbled home pretty much in a daze. Seriously, I was pathetic. Not that I'm complaining. But when I walked in the front door of our rental, I thought the guys would notice the change in me. I thought everyone would take one look at my face and ask me what had happened. I felt so…different. Changed. I expected Havoc to start giving me a hard time right away.
But if the pack noticed anything, they didn't mention it. Not even Mac or Mim said anything and—let's face it—girls are more perceptive about stuff like that. I checked out my reflection in the wide mirror that hung on the wall in the living room and couldn't believe I looked the same. I sure as hell felt like an entirely different person. Whole, somehow. Complete. I wondered if that was the way Valor felt around Mac. And Dare felt with Mim.
"What's wrong with your mouth?" Havoc asked halfway through dinner.
"What do you mean?" I countered, quickly dragging my wrist across my mouth in case I was wearing some of Whitney's pink lip-gloss. My mind had wandered during dinner and I'd been thinking about her. Specifically, of the kiss we'd shared at the stables.
Havoc lifted his fork and jabbed it in my direction. "Your mouth is bent the wrong way."
"It's called a smile," Dare chuckled as he helped himself to another potato.
"Nay, it can't be a smile. Defiance never smiles. Unless…" Havoc's pale green eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who'd you kill?"
While the rest of the pack snickered, I pulled a warm roll from the basket on the table and threw it at his face. He caught it in one hand and tore off half with his teeth, grinning as he chewed.
"Are you suggesting that Defiance is only happy whe
n he's killing something?" Valor chuckled.
Havoc rocked his chair back on its hind legs. "Not at all. I'm sure he's also happy when he's riding a horse…and kissing a lass."
A flash of heat spilled across my cheekbones and I wondered if Havoc knew how close he was to the truth.
"Do you mean at the same time?" Dare questioned jokingly.
Havoc cut an appraising look in my direction. "For Defiance to squeeze out a smile, he'd probably have to be doing both at the same time. And the lass would have to be way pretty. And it would have to be a lovely sunny summer day with no harpies on the earth. And he'd need a pouch full of gold coins."
I jerked my chin upward in agreement. I didn't add that it would have to be the right lass. "I gotta get down to the school," I announced, and pushed back in my chair. "Can you give me a lift, Mac?"
"You're going to Whitney's practice?" she asked, looking pleased.
"If you can get me down there in ten minutes," I countered, avoiding her inquisitive gaze and wondering how she put things together so quickly. All I said was I needed a ride to the school. But girls are good at putting two and two together. A guy could add that up all day and never get to four.
Havoc joined me at the entry closet, dragging his lumberjack coat from the hanger.
"Where do you think you're going?" I muttered.
He looked at me like I was crazy. "Are you kidding? If Whitney's wearing shorts, I'm there," he said.
"Not this time," I growled, eyeing him fiercely.
"Why not?" he argued defiantly. "The last time I looked, she wasn't wearing your rune. You have no claim on her."
I grabbed the front of his T-shirt. "Don't start with me, Havoc."
"Okay. Okay," he growled, shoving away from me. "Don't get all bent and lose your sense of humor. God knows you don't have much to spare."
That pissed me off. But before I could retaliate, Victor intervened. "If you don't mind hanging around tonight, Havoc, I'd like to discuss some new ideas for our bows. I was thinking some polished insets might look good."
I shot Victor a look of thanks while Havoc's eyes narrowed on him at the same time. He probably knew exactly what Victor was up to, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He pulled his hands back over his dreads and eyed me critically. Then he hung up his coat. "Say hi to Whitney for me," he muttered as I slipped out the door behind Valor and MacKenzie.
I didn't get to talk to Whitney but it was great watching her in the gym. There weren't many other students in the stands and it was almost like having her all to myself. I just propped my chin on my fist and stared at her. Blatantly. Some of her teammates teased her about it but I didn't care. I was whipped and I couldn't have been happier.
And I got to see her again on Thursday, down at the stable. True, most of our interaction consisted of her flirty smiles and my hungry glances but it was better than nothing. A lot better. We even shared a long kiss in Romeo's stall. But we had to be careful to hide our feelings from Peggy. We didn't want anything getting back to Whit's parents. The stable was the only place we could get together without raising their suspicions. I didn't want to screw that up.
I tried to keep her out of the saddle, since Romeo was a sore spot between us and I didn't want to spend our time together fighting. So I got her to teach me how to handle a longe line then spent an hour showing her how to repair a girth rope.
Alexa showed up in the afternoon and hung around for a while before she got bored and sulked off. My eyes narrowed on her back as she slammed through the stable's front door, her auburn hair glinting red in the sun. I still didn't like that red glint, not on her. And I couldn't help the uneasy feeling that it might mean trouble for us at some point in the future.
Chapter Fourteen
We woke up on Saturday to falling snow. The sky was overcast, and fat white flakes were dumping to the ground, making it clear they were in it for the long haul. Whitney had told MacKenzie she was going skiing to make sure her parents wouldn't get suspicious about her spending so much time at the stable. So that meant I wouldn't be seeing her today but I consoled myself with the idea that we could spend Sunday together.
As I got ready to slog my way across the park to the stables, MacKenzie called on Valor's phone and offered me a lift, which I was happy to accept. So we grabbed our coats and headed over to her place. Mac had taken a break from looking up mining claims and was watching the weather channel when we stepped through her front door. She reported that the storm was a huge system and wasn't moving very fast. It sounded like we were in for a lot of snow.
Down at the stable, Peggy was surprised but happy to see me. "I didn't think you'd risk coming in!" she exclaimed.
"The horses are still here," I pointed out. "And they still need to be hayed and watered."
"Well, thanks," she said warmly. "I appreciate the help. But you'd better plan on leaving early or you'll never get home."
I didn't tell her I could always get home. I'd flown in snow before.
But it was some serious snow. By ten o'clock, we had a foot on the ground in Pine Grove and the mountains were getting even more. Peggy checked the Internet in her office and reported there was three feet up at the higher elevations. I leaned on my rake and smiled, thinking of Whitney skiing. I imagined she was in heaven. I didn't know that the heavy, wet stuff falling from the sky wasn't considered ideal powder conditions by Colorado's skiers and boarders.
Peggy must have seen me leaning on my rake like I had nothing to do. She came out of her office and threw a bunch of keys at me. "What are these for?" I asked, frowning down at the clump of metal in my hand.
"The brass one opens the garage door," she said. "The silver one starts the truck."
My heart went thunk, thinking she wanted me to take her truck out and pick something up for her. I wasn't sure she'd believe me if I told her I couldn't drive. I was eighteen! In America, nobody doesn't drive at eighteen. And even if I managed to get the truck started and crawled out to the road, I'd probably spin out in the snow and kill somebody.
"I was hoping you'd plow the parking lot for me," she said.
Plow the parking lot. I guessed that was better than trying to get into town. "I've…never operated a plow before," I said slowly and left out the part about how I'd never operated a vehicle, either.
She waved her hand. "The levers are inside the cab. You'll figure it out," she said like she had every confidence in me.
So I pulled on my jacket and went to figure it out.
Inside the white pickup's cab, I took stock of my surroundings. There was a lever at the top of the console and it was pulled all the way back. I'd seen a similar lever on MacKenzie's Jeep that was used to put the car in four-wheel-drive. It looked like I was in 4 Low. That sounded like it might work for plowing.
The lever closer to me was for putting the truck in gear. It was labeled with numbers and I knew that MacKenzie always started her car in first so I figured I'd try that. Then there were a bunch more levers over on my left that I assumed were used to operate the plow. I'd worry about them after I got the truck moving. I'd watched MacKenzie drive plenty of times and had a fair idea of what had to be done.
Taking a steadying breath, I depressed the clutch pedal with my left foot and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over a few times then died. I tried again, this time giving the engine a little gas with the right pedal. The engine complained a bit but eventually rumbled to life.
I allowed myself a tight smile and slowly lifted my foot off the clutch while applying my right foot to the gas pedal. The big truck lurched forward a foot then died. Even though I was still inside the garage, I looked around to make sure nobody had witnessed my mistake. And I was glad Peggy's office was at the other end of the stables where she couldn't look out her window and see me.
Foot by foot, I lurched my way out of the garage. Then I got the hang of it—or maybe I just got lucky—and started crawling across the parking lot in first gear. I wondered if I should adjust any
of the levers but didn't want to mess with anything and kill the engine again so I didn't. And I was afraid to stop or even try the reverse gear so I turned the steering wheel and inched slowly around the parking lot in a circle.
Believe it or not, my plowing technique actually kinda worked. I started out by making a big circle around the edge of the lot, then closed in on it while the plow collected snow and piled it in the center of the large space. And like forty-five minutes later, I was circling a huge tower of snow at the impressive speed of approximately one mile an hour.
So I repositioned the angle of the plow and attacked the looming mountain of snow one swipe at a time. And every time I clipped the side of it, snow cascaded over the truck in a heavy fall of white fluff that the windshield wipers could barely keep up with. But finally, I'd cleared a large oval space in the parking area. Feeling a surge of pride, I slowly inched back into the garage and put on the brake for the first time since starting. I turned the key, pulled it out and slipped it into my pocket.
A dark gleam caught my eye as I slid from the driver's seat and I took a minute to walk around a long workbench and check out three black motorcycles parked against the wall. They were nice bikes and I wondered who they belonged to. Peggy didn't seem like the biker babe sort, even if you took into account the fact that she must have been a young woman at some point in her life.
"How'd it go?" Peggy called from the other side of the arena when I stepped through the stable door a few minutes later.
"Want to take a look?" I asked, more than happy to show off my work.
Outside, she planted her hands on her hips, her breath misting in front of her face as she looked around for a little while.
"Is something wrong?" I asked when she started chuckling, wondering why she was laughing and starting to feel a little defensive.
"No. No," she answered. "It's fine. I've just never seen a lot plowed quite like this. If we had a hose and some water, we could make a rink and play hockey."
Trying to decide if that was a good thing, I sent her an offhand smile.
The Greystone Bundle (Books 1-4) Page 65
