Bree grinned. When she was sixteen and Sensei decided she had no calling for martial arts, he’d finagled her a job at a restaurant. She’d not only found her true calling, but also had paid for culinary school by waitressing. “I’d love it.”
Chapter Nine
At the outskirts of Cold Creek that night, Zeb impatiently waited for Alec to catch up. Although his fur warded off the misty cold, the snow wedged in the pads of his paws was uncomfortable as hell. He was ready for a warm tavern and a beer.
He heard the pines swaying, a sprite rustling into her treehole for the night…and then a faint padding as the oversized cougar stalked out from behind a house. The cougar’s paws were the size of dinner plates, and Zeb braced himself—just in case—then almost laughed. Was this how the little human felt when he was around?
With a lash of his tail, Alec pounced on a wayward leaf like a kitten would, obviously to put Zeb at ease.
Fucking observant sheriff. Zeb headed into the forest, sniffing as he went. Normal scents. Deer. Weasel. Hare. Catching a trace of something foul, he put his nose down, moving slowly, working the air. There. A huge footprint. The heavy claw marks were bigger than a grizzly’s. He whined to catch Alec’s attention.
The cougar joined him, brushing against his shoulder. Sniffing, studying. A low snarl.
A few minutes later in the cave, Zeb shifted to human, tied his hair back, and donned the clothing he’d left in a niche in the rock wall. Nice setup here. The hidden tunnel under the tavern let shifters enter the forest without the risk of a human stumbling over a pile of clothes.
After Alec pulled on his sheriff’s uniform and combed his fingers through his sandy brown hair, he nodded at Zeb. “A good night’s work.”
“The tracks were old, but it’ll be back at new moon.”
“We’ll be ready this time.” Alec’s voice was grim. The Cascade Territory’s head cahir had taken the loss of life in his territory personally. Zeb had discovered Alec’s easy-going attitude overlay a steel core and a logical mind. Now the cop knew what to smell for, he’d be watching for new tracks like a winter-starved weasel.
Alec motioned toward the stairs. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a beer.”
The sheriff is buying me a drink, not trying to lock me up. Amused, he followed Alec upstairs through the concealed door in a closet, out a private room, down a hall, and into the main tavern itself. The place had filled while they ranged the forest, and a wave of scents hit Zeb like a blow: beer, wine, perfumes, cologne, sweat. The country music might be good, but the babble of too fucking many people drowned it out.
“Pretty full tonight.” Alec stopped at the bar and checked his watch. “I need to get back, see what damage Jenkins has done to the town.”
“Want us tomorrow?” Shay should have finished the bookkeeping by then and be in a better mood. Earlier, he’d discovered the previous owner’s “records” were receipts stuffed in a drawer, and the constant growling from the office had driven Zeb out of the lodge. After years of lone wolfing, he wasn’t fucking ready to have a fucking roommate.
“Tomorrow, yes. Same time and we’ll meet here again. That way I can get a beer.” Alec slapped him on the shoulder, shocking the hell out of Zeb. People didn’t touch him. Too big, too mean looking. This cahir didn’t seem to notice.
After holding up one finger to his littermate behind the bar, Alec strode away.
Zeb leaned an elbow on the bartop and studied the crowd. Noticing three dwarves at the out-of-the-way corner table, he bowed his head politely and received the same in return.
The Cosantir’s mate, Vicki, was working as a barmaid again, although she was one of Alec’s deputies, as well. When Zeb had met her at a Gathering, she’d been overwhelmed by her first heat. Now she was laughing and trading insults with the customers. He was pleased to see she’d adjusted and found her place.
A sweet voice caught his attention. Carrying a small tray she could use one-handed, Bree was taking drink orders. As she wove her way around the tables, her sunny hair gleamed in the light from the wall sconces. The wavy tangle stopped just above her waist, drawing attention to the way her jeans cupped her round ass. An inch or two taller than Vicki, she was even curvier and totally appealing. Fuck.
Others had noticed, as well. She was collecting interested looks from the entire male population of the bar, even Daonain. But, true to form, humans started the trouble. Drunk, human, and male spelled pain in the ass, and the center table held four PITAs.
One latched onto Bree’s arm tightly enough she couldn’t jerk away without spilling the drinks. Another had the effrontery to grab her ass.
Taller than everyone in the room, Zeb had a clear view. He started to push his way through the crowd.
She scowled and snapped something, but the human males only laughed. And then, she pivoted and planted her foot into the ass-toucher’s stomach. Man and chair went over backwards, skidding a few feet until coming to rest against the adjacent table.
She hadn’t even spilled a drink.
She turned toward the other male. He snatched his hand from her arm. With a swing of her blonde hair, she moved away as if she’d never been stopped.
Fucking amazing. Zeb adjusted his jeans around a disconcerting hard-on and returned to the bar.
Calum was waiting for him. “Could you do me the favor of taking out the trash? Just the two. Politeness is not required. The others may stay.”
“With pleasure, Co—Calum.”
As he moved away, he heard Calum murmur, “I rather thought so…”
At the PITAs’ table, Zeb stopped beside the worm who’d grabbed Breanne’s arm.
“Yeah? What?” the human said.
Zeb bent and spoke quietly, “The owner says, ‘leave.’ I reallyhope you stay.”
The guy was out the door before Zeb straightened. Well, fuck. Talk about ruining his fun. The other human had regained his chair. Hand on his gut, he still looked green.
Zeb’s lips twitched. Bree had some power in that kick.
One more piece of garbage to dispose of. He grabbed the asshole by his shirt collar and dragged him like a deer carcass across the room. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the trash out the door and paused to make sure he wouldn’t come back in. Apparently, the human had urgent business elsewhere. Pity.
Zeb glanced at the other two at the table. They held up their hands as if he’d drawn a pistol. So he nodded. When he returned to the bar, his spot was empty of encroachers.
Calum set a dark beer in front of him. “From Alec. And that was nice work. Thank you.” He’d returned to drawing drinks before Zeb processed what he’d said. It was fucking strange to be thanked for having a good time.
The beer was cold and malty, and somehow the tavern had taken on a pleasant atmosphere.
A few minutes later, Bree halted beside Zeb. After setting her tray on the bar, she grinned up at him, her eyes dancing with humor.
His breath stopped in his throat, and heat surged through him. The little female was deadly when she directed that smile at a male. For fuck’s sake, she’s human. He didn’t realize he’d frowned until she took a step back.
He tried not to let it hurt.
Then her chin rose, and she forced herself to regain the distance she’d retreated. Brave little female. Her lips curved up again as she said, “When Calum told me the garbage would be removed, I thought he meant bussing the tables. Then I saw you—” Her laugh reminded him of bubbly water in a rocky creek.
“Anyway, thank you,” she finished.
Without thinking, he rubbed his knuckles down her cheek, and she stilled, staring at him like a sparrow spotting a bobcat. Damn. He set his hand back on the bar. “You handled the problem. I just did disposal.”
“Very neatly too.” Although her words were light, her expression had turned cautious. She watched his hand as if it might fly up and strike her.
“Little female.” He waited until her gaze met his. “You weren’t afraid when you took on two dru
nks.” He knew what she smelled like when she was afraid—exactly the scent he caught now. “There’s only one of me, yet you are frightened.”
She started to shake her head in denial.
“Don’t lie.”
“Fine.” Her glare was diminished by the hint of terror in her eyes. “They were little—no, they weren’t,” she corrected. “You’re just so very big. And unfriendly. And you loom over me.”
She turned to grab her tray off the bar and stopped.
Holding the drink orders off her tray, Calum was watching them. He tilted his head at Bree. “I regret again, he would be difficult to cut down to size.”
The double meaning didn’t escape Zeb, and he lifted his beer in acknowledgment.
As the Cosantir moved away, leafing through the tickets, Bree glanced up at Zeb. “I can’t decide. Does he like you or not?”
“Damned if I can tell.” Zeb looked into her big blue eyes and deliberately rubbed a knuckle up and down her soft cheek. Why did he feel the need to get her accustomed to his hands on her?
He watched her stiffen and over-ride her instinct to retreat. Gutsy little human. He asked, “Got suggestions on how to make friends with people?”
“I’ll think about it.” She knocked his hand away from her face in a skillful move. “In fact, I’ll make you a nice long list.”
* * *
An hour later in the tavern kitchen, Bree reluctantly pulled on her jacket and headed toward the door. It had been so fun to be back in the midst of people, surrounded by conversation and laughter. But now she’d been sent home like a baby. Jeez.
Earlier, Calum had seen her limping and told her to take a break. She’d tried for a few minutes, but sitting while Vicki worked had been impossible. Unfortunately, when Bree had handed him a new pile of orders, Calum had thanked her, taken her tray away, and ordered her to leave.
She glanced back. Yes, he was watching to make sure she obeyed.
Fine. I’m going. And maybe he was right. Her thigh throbbed as if teeth were biting at it. And even though she’d used her good arm to carry the tray, her wounded one ached. So did her shoulder. Overdone it a little, dummy?
As the door closed behind her, shutting off the babble of voices, she took a slow breath of cold night air. Up above, fat stars dotted the black sky. In the east, white-topped mountain peaks gleamed in the waning moonlight. Seattle was beautiful, but it had never grabbed her throat like this.
Smiling, she set out along the side of the building toward the shortcut she’d discovered earlier. Fishermen staying at the lodge had made a bee-line trail through the woods to the tavern.
As she moved away from the lit windows, unease crept up her spine. She’d walked over in the dusk, not thinking about how dark it would be on the walk home. Where was that darn four-footed Elvis when she needed him?
A huge man stepped out of the shadows.
Terror stopped her breathing. Every instinct said flee—but the door was too far. She lurched backwards, bringing up her guard. As her bad leg quivered with her weight, sickness balled in her belly, knowing what would come.
The monster didn’t move, but gave a long-suffering sigh. “You gonna threaten me every time we meet?” He stepped into a pool of light. Black hair, wide shoulders, a corner of his mouth tipped-up. Zeb.
Relief melted her bones, and she sagged against the log wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Weak apology.”
Her hands were shaking. “It was an explanation, not an apology.”
“Uh-huh.” He wrapped his fingers around her arm and tugged her forward. Effortlessly. “Let’s go.”
“What do you mean? Go?”
He nodded at the crowded parking lot. “No car. Means you walked.” The pressure of his hand on her low back kept her moving.
She started walking so he’d have no excuse to leave his hand there—right above her butt. “Did you wait for me?”
“The night isn’t safe.” He looked down, the moonlight turning his scars white. “Especially for little females.”
“Oh.” He’d wanted to protect her? She frowned, realizing she was starting to get used to him—mostly. “I appreciate it.”
He sure didn’t talk much, but his presence on the block-long path was oddly reassuring. Okay, a lot reassuring. Even a monster might think twice before taking him on.
But he walked way too fast, considering the moon-dappled darkness. When she tripped on a tree root and stumbled, he grabbed her arms. Fear shot through her at the feel of his powerful hands, but he set her on her feet, released her without a word, and waited.
After a minute, when her heart had withdrawn from her throat, she managed, “Thank you.”
He grunted his answer, but curtailed his long stride to her shorter one…the most gallant rude man she’d ever met. Did he even know how to talk to a woman?
Her nervousness flipped into humor. “So, have you lived in Cold Creek all your life? Are you from this area?”
His brows drew together, and he scowled at her in disbelief—you want me to talk?
Stifling a laugh, she raised her eyebrows and waited.
“Shay and I just moved here.” He paused and added, “I grew up in the Canadian mountains.”
Mountain man fit him well, but she couldn’t imagine him as a child. “Is your family still there?”
The muscles of his face tightened to rival the hardness of granite. “No family.”
Her heart softened with pity. “Me, neither.”
“No luck with your picture?”
“No. Nobody’s ever seen them.” No family. All alone now. Grief slid through her. I miss you so much, Ashley.
They walked another minute in silence, then his hand on her arm stopped her. He pointed and whispered, “Bobcat.”
With gray-brown fur and black-tufted ears, it looked like a cat on steroids. “It’s so pretty.”
He actually grinned, a brief flash of white teeth in his dark face. Her heart hitched. For a second she saw him, not as a huge protector or a threat, but a man. Not a gorgeous one…but devastatingly masculine.
Swallowing hard, she started walking again. Faster.
The shortcut ended on Wildwood’s dirt road by the lodge. He didn’t speak as they went past the lodge and turned onto the narrower road to her cabin.
After unlocking her door, she started in, only to be blocked by a muscular arm.
“Wait.” Zeb stalked through the cabin, checking any hiding places. When he returned to where she stood in the door, he nodded. “Good night, little female.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said.
He touched her cheek with his knuckles again, an infinitely gentle slide that set her nerve ends quivering. “But you are.” His gaze ran from her toes to the top of her head, leaving heat behind. “Definitely little.”
He inhaled, and a crease appeared in his cheek. “Very female.”
He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “Very soft.” His mouth moved over hers again, so lightly, not taking, but coaxing until she leaned into him, lost in the feel of the firm lips against her own.
She jerked back. What was she thinking? “Um.” She gave him a wary look.
His expression unreadable, he ran his finger over her damp lower lip. “Goodnight, little female.” He walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.
She stared after him and jumped at a loud thump.
“Lock it.”
She did.
For the first time in three weeks, she slept the entire night.
Chapter Ten
The mid-day sun was bright and clear as Shay rolled down the windows of his truck, hoping the brisk air would chill his temper before he reached the lodge. Cold Creek was too small to avoid Gerhard, but if the alpha-hole bared his fangs at Shay one more time, he’d be spitting teeth for a month.
No, dammit, punching him was a bad plan, since the alpha would take it as a challenge. Be polite, furface. Shay growled in frustration and tur
ned onto the dirt road. Most of the items on his checklist were completed: spare linens stocked, a new refrigerator in the back of the truck for cabin five, a routine test ordered on the well water, septic pumping done. The Wildwood business was coming together nicely.
After parking at the side of the lodge, he jumped out, itching as if ants had crawled into his clothes. Damned metal truck. He scratched his chest, wishing he could trawsfur and roll in the dirt.
As he stepped onto the porch, the distinctive crack of a pistol split the mountain silence. Shay stiffened. The sound had come from behind the cabins, somewhere in the forest. Another shot. Two more. Someone either was in trouble or was hunting in posted territory.
He glanced toward Breanne’s cabin, feeling a quiver of unease. Her car was there, but no one moved inside.
Best go investigate. With luck, the shooter would be a trespasser, and he’d have a valid target for his frustration. He strode through the lodge, out the side door, started to pull off his shirt, then stopped. Running around as a wolf might get him peppered with bullets. With a grunt of annoyance, he stayed human and headed into the forest.
Three more shots. Shay broke into a run.
A few minutes later, he sniffed the air. Not trespassers—Breanne and Zeb. He slowed as he reached a clearing, then stopped to watch.
Their backs were to him. Zeb fired a few shots, all hitting the hand-drawn paper target, before handing the pistol to Breanne. Shay lifted his eyebrows. Shooting lessons? The thought of an armed female was unsettling, but maybe humans did that sort of thing.
His partner had set up a decent firing range. A massive tree had toppled sideways and created a hollowed-out area in the slope that would stop any stray bullets. Zeb’s jacket and a backpack with a gun case and boxes of bullets lay nearby.
Silently, Shay watched as Zeb demonstrated the proper stance. Frowning in concentration, Breanne copied the position like a cub imitating its mama.
No need to disturb the lesson. Shay started to head back when the breeze shifted.
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