by P. Jameson
Using his thumbnail, he scratched a T into the side of his cup. “Mauled. Hmmm. Not sure if I like that word for what happened between us.”
His mate’s mouth popped open, her eyes skirting away, shyly. Her reaction made him giddy. She might not want to want him, but she did. The knowledge was something he grasped onto like a life preserver.
“I could think of a few better words,” she muttered.
“Oh, me too. Like, sheltered. Protected. Handled …” Trager’s voice purred, “felt.”
She swallowed, once, twice, and then reached for her cup to swig the coffee. That was when he noticed the change in her scent. It was… she was… holy mother of fuck, she was aroused.
He gripped his knees under the table as his wolf went crazy, pawing inside, demanding Trager do something about it. He needed to touch her, to hold her, to satisfy her. Instinct demanded it. But he couldn’t. Not yet; maybe not ever.
If only he could get her alone, maybe he could show her what she meant to him. He could make her happy, he just knew it. He was born to make his mate happy. The Elders couldn’t be right about her, they couldn’t be. Look how responsive she was. And with just a few murmured words.
Her blush spread from her cheeks to her neck. He wanted to tease and nibble the hot skin there. If she’d let him, he would drive her positively wild. He would give it his all, and when he was finished, she would be his. He’d win her over, if it was the last fucking thing he did.
His breath came hard, as his chest pumped with the determination of the wolf. Each heavy breath brought more of her scent into his lungs. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever known.
Can’t touch her.
Her eyes returned to him, her gaze hot and troubled by her reaction. With that, he was lost to the wolf. And he didn’t care a single bit.
Chapter Five
Well, wasn’t this just peachy. A few flirty words and smoldering looks, and she was burning up her undergarments. It had been over a year since she’d had any physical contact with a man and her hormones could definitely tell.
The most ridiculous thing was that she couldn’t figure out why he was here, buying her coffee and flirting. Did he just flirt with every girl he came in contact with? He seemed like that type. Extremely enticing and fully aware of it. And all too willing to take advantage of his good looks.
What did he want?
Kerrigan raised her gaze to ask him but when her eyes tangled with his, her intended words froze in her throat.
His eyes were narrowed, eating her up as if he could sense her reaction—and liked it. Lips were pressed into an appraising pucker. He looked fierce and powerful. Wild, yet in control. Rough, but somehow soft.
In her entire life, no man had ever looked at her like that. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, that this man would be attracted to her. She wasn’t his type. She was responsible and put together, and… a kindergarten teacher for god’s sake. She didn’t barhop and wear leather. Not that the idea didn’t appeal to her at times. It just wasn’t her thing.
Trager leaned across the table, his torso moving in a fluid way that screamed pure sex, and inhaled, slow and deep. “You smell amazing.” His voice was a low purr, but hard around the edges. Like a fresh cotton ball, soft but thorny.
It was the thorny part that broke through her hormone induced fog. The terrifying outweighed the exhilarating in that moment, and she jerked to her senses.
“I… uh…” She stared into his flaming gaze but then had to look away. Definitely terrifying. Her heart pounded and her hand shook as she stalled by sipping her coffee. “It must be my shampoo,” she stammered out.
Kerrigan wrapped her arms around her middle and stared out the window, planning the best way out of this strange situation.
Trager slowly sat back, sighed, and gulped his drink while the silence stretched between them.
“Do you wash your hair with fir tree needles?”
The question was absurd enough to make her snicker. “No, why?”
She glanced at him. His eyes twinkled. The intensity was gone, all the desire that had blazed from his eyes and licked at her skin. He hardly seemed terrifying now, and the change shocked her. “That’s what you smell like. The forest and fresh flowers.”
It should have been the creepiest comment but somehow, it actually set her at ease. He wasn’t attracted to her. He was messing with her. Teasing. This, she could handle.
She let out a relieved laugh. “I burn a lot of candles.”
His lips quirked but he ducked his head for another drink of coffee, just as casual as could be. Kerrigan relaxed in her chair.
“So…” Small talk was what they needed, and she was pretty good at that. “What does a guy like you do on a Saturday?”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “A guy like me?”
“Yeah, a guy like you.”
Trager frowned. “You say that like you know exactly what kind of guy I am.”
She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. But I can guess.”
“Alright then.” He sat back in his chair. The movement caused his black tee shirt to pull tight over his chest. “Give it your best shot.”
The door chimed as a couple walked in. Their arms were glued to each other’s waist. A familiar pang tapped her heart, but she ignored it. It always went away if she ignored it.
She set her elbows on the table and pretended to examine Trager. “Well, let’s see. You clearly enjoy the thrill of danger, as is evident from the fact that you own a motorcycle—“
“Owned,” he said. “Past tense.”
“You have a job as a mechanic—“
“Construction.”
“You prefer blondes—“
“Brunettes.”
“You frequent bars and clubs—“
“So?”
“You’re completely wild. The thought of settling down gives you hives. Commitment is something you can’t even begin to comprehend.” The disdain in her voice was palpable so she tried to tone it down a notch. “I’m guessing you’re a loner, but I bet… I bet you didn’t go home last night.”
His mouth hung open. She kind of hoped she was wrong about that last part, but no. The evidence was in his dropped jaw. The satisfaction from having pegged him right and the disappointment that he was involved with someone else co-mingled. Or… maybe he wasn’t involved with anyone. Maybe it was a one and done. Except that really didn’t make her feel any better either.
“True, I am wild.” He smirked. “Most women like that about me. The thought of settling down fills me with so many emotions I can’t even name them all, but it does not give me hives. Commitment is definitely a concept I understand. To a fault, actually. And I was out all night, but it wasn’t anything close to what you’re imagining. But now that we’ve got me all figured out, what does a woman like you do on a Saturday?”
A woman like her. Yeah, she could see why he’d taken offense to the statement. But now she was dying to know what he thought he knew about her.
“A woman like me… goes to the farmer’s market. That’s where I’m heading after this.”
He nodded. “The farmer’s market. Sounds about right.”
“Have you ever been?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
She expected him to say more but he just stared. His eyes were the deepest blue, and it seemed like they could see so much more than what she really wanted to show him.
“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to take your turn? Let’s see if your ideas about ‘a girl like me’ are correct.”
Running his hand along his jaw, he sighed. “I really only know two things about you.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re extremely judgmental and you don’t like motorcycles. But…” He imitated her stance with his elbows on the table. “If I had to guess… I’d say, you’re very organized, responsible, level-headed. A rule follower—“
“So, you imagine I’m boring then.”
“—on the o
utside. But inside, it’s total chaos. A wild tornado. You worry, you fret, you wish for more. You care too hard, too much, and probably don’t get the same dedication in return. Inside, you burn hot, passionate, but you’ve never shown that to anyone because it’s safer not to. So, you button everything up with your sweet little cardigans and good-girl beige pants, and stick to yourself. Oh, one more thing, I bet you read those trashy romance novels, don’t you?”
Holy crap. Kerrigan swallowed so hard it was audible.
“But then again, maybe I’m wrong. As you were.”
God, he was so right. Even down to the romance books. Was she really that transparent?
Kerrigan didn’t answer. Instead, she finished off the rest of her coffee and gathered her things. “Thanks for the coffee, Trager.”
He nodded. “What’s your name?”
Oh, yeah. She hadn’t told him. Yet, she felt like she’d bared her soul. Unwillingly, but whatever.
She stood and pushed in her chair. “I’m going to the market. Do you want to tag along?”
His eyes flared wide. “Are you asking me to go to the farmer’s market with you?”
Well, when he put it like that, it sounded silly. But she nodded anyway.
“Or we can just say our goodbyes and you can go make up for lost sleep.” She headed for the door. “Your choice.”
She didn’t look back to see if he followed.
Chapter Six
His choice? No, if it was his choice, he’d carry her fireman-style to his beat up truck, drive her out to his cabin, tuck her into his side where she couldn’t get away, and sleep with her until he was rested enough to figure out their next step. But she’d asked him to go with her. No fucking way was he going to deny her. In fact, his wolf lapped it up like warm milk. His mate asked him to do something, and he could comply. There was absolutely zero harm in accompanying her to the market.
Trager was literally bouncing in his steps as he followed her out of the café.
“So, how far is this farmer’s market?”
She threw him a sideways grin. “Just a couple blocks. You up for it?”
“Sure. I’m too tired to sleep anyway.”
“I know what you mean. Like, your body wants rest but your mind won’t quit.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
They walked without talking, the car engines and birds providing the background noise. It was a nice day, breezy, and not hot. The morning was still new enough that dew lined the pavement where the sun hadn’t touched it yet.
The farmer’s market was a world like he’d never seen before. Brightly colored tents and tables lined the sidewalk, made even more colorful because of the goods they contained. Fruits and veggies and flowers galore. Jars full of colorful jams and sauces. Handmade soaps and lotions and jewelry. There were concession stands that boasted the best cinnamon rolls, lemonade, and barbecue in the county.
Trager glanced at his mate. Her eyes were bright, her lips curved in a small smile.
“We’re late,” she said. “But that’s okay. Better late than never.”
True, the area was full of people already.
Starting at one end of the market, the two of them made their way to the other. When they’d reached the end, Trager knew what a kumquat was, how to prune a rosebush, and where to buy milk from grass-fed cows.
A kooky old man had tried to show him how to weave a basket, but luckily, his mate saved him from certain failure. She’d surprised him when she reached over and took his hand. Immediately, he’d dropped the reed, basket forgotten. The old guy chuckled and waved them away, but Trager barely noticed. All he knew was the soft feel of her small palm against his larger, rough one.
When they were clear of the basket weaver, she dropped his hand as if it was no big thing. But it was. He had to work to keep his head from spinning with excitement.
“Where should we have lunch?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“We should eat before we head back. And before I load up with groceries.”
“Wait. You mean we’re going all the way back through there?” he asked, horrified.
She laughed. “Of course, silly. You shop, eat, and then buy. Then you go home. That’s how it works.”
“But what about the basket guy? I can’t go through that again.”
Her smile was so big her eyes crinkled. God, she was amazing. He wanted to make her do that for the rest of their lives. If she gave him a chance, he would.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from him. Big bad basket guy won’t hurt you. I promise.”
They stopped at a barbecue truck, and there was only a small argument when Trager insisted on paying for her pulled-pork salad. Finding an open picnic bench wasn’t easy but they managed to catch a couple that was just leaving.
Trager demolished two brisket sandwiches and started on a double order of fries before he noticed her staring.
He wiped his mouth. “What?”
She shook her head, running her fork though her salad, but not putting any in her mouth.
“Is your food okay.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
He started to reach forward and lift her chin so he could see her eyes, but then remembered how she’d reacted when he touched her in the coffee shop. “Hey. What is it?”
She shook her head again, but then gave him a shy smile. “How do you eat like that?”
“What do you mean?” He’d eaten quickly, but he’d kept his manners.
“I mean…” She hesitated. “How do you eat so much and stay so… fit.”
Trager shrugged. “I don’t know. I run a lot, I guess.” His wolf required many calories.
“Oh. You’re a runner? I never would’ve suspected that.” She almost looked disappointed as she returned to picking at her food.
Trager eyed her as he finished off his fries. Sip water. Stir salad. Sip water. Tiny bite. Rinse, repeat.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
She frowned. “I am.”
“Hardly.”
Carefully, she forked another tiny bite and swallowed it. But her movements were awkward, stilted. Trager remembered the barista’s rude comment and wondered…
But no, his mate was a very confident woman. When they were talking in the café, she’d seemed so sure of herself. Was she… was she ashamed of her body? How could she be? Didn’t she realize how beautiful she was? The whole damn morning, he’d had to be careful not to stare at her chest. Surely to god, she knew she was beautiful.
“Please quit watching me,” she murmured, still moving the food around her tray.
“Why?”
“Because it’s rude.”
Trager reached across the table and snatched the fork from her hands. When her head snapped up, he said, “I watch what I want to watch. And right now, that’s you.”
Her eyes narrowed as her head tilted to one side.
“Another thing I want, is for you to stop thinking about whatever it is you’re thinking about, and eat.”
“Tell me, Trager, do you always get what you want?”
“Mostly. If I’m lucky.” Without waiting for her to respond, he scooped a big chunk of pulled pork onto the fork and held it to her mouth. “Open.”
She rolled her pretty brown eyes. “Don’t be silly. I can feed myself.”
“Open.”
As his mate stared at him, he could see the conflict in her eyes. The shock at what he was doing, the desire to not comply… the submission, when she finally parted her lips. He watched intently as she closed her full lips around the morsel, and took what he offered.
The wolf growled his approval, but Trager managed to keep it quiet. Feeding his mate, what a wonderful indescribable feeling.
“More,” he murmured, readying another bite.
She hesitated. “I can take it from here, really,” she said, quietly.
“No. I want to feed you.” Damn wolf. But Trager couldn’t fault that part of him. This was too fantastic, much too sa
tisfying. So he let her see a bit of his wild side. “Open your pretty mouth. Now.”
She gasped, but complied, and took his offering.
He leaned across the small table and fed her bite after bite until the meal was finished. With his thumb, he wiped the sauce from her bottom lip and then licked his finger. It wasn’t lost on him how close that was to kissing her lips. Close, but still not close enough.
They stared at each other for untold minutes, her eyes dazed. His, he knew, were on fire.
Finally, she broke the connection to gulp from her water bottle, and his wolf calmed a fraction.
“Feel better?” he asked.
She nodded, a slow smile creeping along her cheeks. “We should get to shopping, I think.”
And shop, they did.
In her purse—which was more like a tote, or maybe a small suitcase—she had eight cloth shopping bags, and they filled every one of them to the brim.
“You know,” she said as they were walking back to the café. “I’m not sure how I’m going to get all these bags home.”
Trager yawned. After all the walking and the not-sleeping, he wasn’t sure how he was going to drive home without passing out.
“You look tired. Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. I’ll make it.”
“You sure? How far is it to your place?”
“Oh, thirty minutes or so.”
They were almost to the café when she stopped walking. “You need coffee. And not the crap they sell at the café. You need real coffee. So you can drive home safely.”
His eyes drooped but he had to grin at her concern. “What do you suggest?”
She adjusted her bags and pursed her lips. “How about this, you drive me and my groceries home, and I’ll make you some real coffee. Then you can get home easily, and crash. Sound good.”
Go to her place? Where she lives and sleeps and bathes and… god. No, it didn’t sound good; it sounded wonderful. And maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, but he couldn’t see a single reason to say no.
“Sounds perfect.”
Chapter Seven
