by Linda Palmer
Wolf-Run
Written by Linda Palmer
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Ebooks are not transferrable and are to be read by the purchaser only.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Cover Artist: KitCat Designs
Editor: J.M. Smith, Charlene Kyle
First Edition
© 2010, Linda Palmer
Wild Horse Press
This book is dedicated to Joyce Smith, who is not only Jewel Lambert's proud Mimi, but the kind of friend who can brainstorm one second and keep a distracted
author from walking into the men’s restroom the next!
You're a jewel, yourself, in case you didn't know.
Chapter One
The minute I graduated from W.L. Samuels Academy in May, I ditched the role of nerdy girl-next-door to play confident woman of the world. That was the plan, anyway. Two months later, nothing had changed except my wardrobe and my living quarters. My wardrobe changed because a nice sales clerk had taken me under her wing. The living quarters, because my parents had just built a guesthouse for me so I'd keep an eye on things instead of getting an apartment of my own. Nevertheless, I hadn't given up trying to be different, the reason I volunteered at the Adult Education Center in the first place. Wallflower me would never have done such a thing; new me embraced the opportunity to help people trying to better themselves.
Yeah, right.
My cowardly heart banged painfully in my chest the first night of class, which made mixing and mingling pure torture. So when I finally found the nerve to approach one of the seated students—a guy at that!—I gave his bitter-chocolate eyes full credit.
"Hello," I said, politely offering him a handshake. "Cassidy Norris."
Those gorgeous eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he took, shook, and quickly released my hand. "Brody." Interesting. To give my knocking knees a break, I settled into one of the folding metal chairs across the table from him.
"So...what's your story?" I asked, nervously playing with the fashion scarf knotted loosely around my neck. Brody looked too young to be legally free of high school, but why else would he enroll in a GED prep class?
"Don't have one."
"Oh come on. Everybody's got a story." I smiled and leaned forward.
He leaned back just as much. "Not me. Um, aren't you a little young to be in an adult ed class?"
"I'll trade you my age for your story."
"No deal."
"Okay, how about this... " I thought for a second. "My age and my story for your story?"
"What makes you think I even want to hear it?"
"Anyone would." That was a lie, something rare for me.
"It's very interesting."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
He shook his head. "Nope."
So much for flirting… how did other girls do it? "I know...my age for your last name."
"Anderson."
"Eighteen."
"No freakin' way."
"Excuse me?"
"No. Freakin'. Way! You can't be more than fifteen." I glared at him. "For your information, I never lie. Never!" Well, not that much, anyway. Frustrated, I waited for him to say something else. He didn't, which meant I was only kidding myself. Once a dweeb, always a dweeb, right? I was never going to rise above it. I started to give up and get up, but for some reason gave it one last shot, instead. "Why don't we make this easy? What will it take for you to talk?"
It was his turn to think, and he took his sweet time doing it.
"Pizza... You and me - after class. If you're really not jail bait, that is."
Whoa! I had not seen that coming. My heart rate kicked up a notch, which made it hard to think. Was I brave enough to follow through? Before I could decide, Jean Potter, the instructor, cleared her throat very deliberately.
"May I please have your attention?" She waited for people not facing the front—as in me—to shift their chairs so they could see her.
With a soft sigh of disappointment, I obediently turned my back on Brody Anderson.
"Hello, everyone, I'm Ms Potter, your instructor. Welcome to your first night of class. Our goal is simple: preparation for the Arizona General Educational Development test in January...."
While she droned on and on about attendance
requirements, planned areas of study, and test sites, I tried to picture myself eating pizza with Brody. It was scary as heck, but I wanted it more than anything. So I glanced over my shoulder and whispered, "Deal."
The boy couldn't have looked more shocked if I'd slapped him.
"We have several honor graduates from area high schools who'll be assisting us over the next few weeks," continued the teacher. "Volunteers, would you please stand?" I reluctantly stood, along with three other girls and a couple of guys. I heard a soft, "Shit!" and knew it came from Brody, who'd probably assumed I was a student, too, once he learned my age.
"Feel free to ask for their help at any time, that's what they're here for. Now, are there any questions before we begin?"
Since there weren't, Ms. Potter dove right into lesson one of the Language Arts/Writing segment. The other volunteers and I stayed low key until the students got out their workbooks. We roamed the room answering questions, most of them asked by adults with poor reading skills or heavy accents, which indicated English, might be their second language. Brody didn't say a word to anyone and never made eye contact with me again.
When class finally ended, I waited nervously by the door for him to exit. He shouldered past with a curt, "Deal's off."
"Cluck, cluck," I blurted in desperation.
He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned. "What did you say to me?"
"Just something a chicken like you should understand."
"I'm not chicken."
"Why else would you cancel our date?"
"It wasn't a date, and I'm cancelling because honor graduates don't hang with dropouts."
"Now that's just stupid."
"I call it smart. You don't even know me, Cassidy."
"And never will if you back out now. So what do you say?
Pizza Pizazz in five?"
I thought he'd never answer.
"You must have a death wish," he said when he finally did. With a brisk nod I took for a solid yes, he abruptly left me and walked through the July drizzle to a beat-up truck with mismatched fenders and no tailgate.
I heard the engine grind for several seconds before it came to life. Though I couldn't actually see the smoke that billowed from the tail pipe, I could smell it. Dad, who was all about clean air, would've wigged if he'd been around. He wasn't, of course. He and mom were both in Washington, as usual. Dad was at a senate hearing on abuse in nursing homes, and Mom, at a prochoice rally. Thank God for Max, dad's half-brother, who handled marketing for Heritage Books, the publishing company my granddad started. If I needed an adult for anything, he played the part nicely, which was why I adored him. Max had been in Europe for months on business and was finally back in the states at a Las Vegas trade show. I checked in with him
off and on so he'd know I was okay.
By the time, I drove my Infiniti SUV to Pizza Pizazz, which had the best pizza in Wolf-Run, Arizona, it poured. The raindrops on my skin didn't mix well with the AC, so I actually shivered when I ducked inside and looked around for Brody, who should already be there since he left school first. When I didn't see him, I stepped back outside and scanned the parking lot, something I should've done before getting out of my car. His truck wasn't there.
So he'd stood me up. With a sigh of real disappointment but no surprise, I headed inside once again. What was it about me that repelled the opposite sex? I wondered for the zillionth time. Boyfriends had been few and far between, not surprising. Samuels Academy was an all-girls' school, after all. But best friends had been rare, too, which made me feel like the town's biggest loser, and I didn't mean weight. No wonder I wanted so desperately to change my image. I automatically checked out my reflection in the glass door, in particular my new clothes. I looked okay...didn't I?
"Cassidy! Over here!"
I located the source of the yell and reluctantly walked over to a table where three other alumni of Samuels sat.
"Hi," I said, noting that Danielle had highlighted her hair, Misty now had fake talons, and—oh my God—Brit's boobs had blown up at least two-cup sizes, not that I made a habit of checking out other girls' assets. Those puppies begged for attention. Graduation presents from doting parents with poor judgment, I guessed.
Danielle, as usual playing spokesperson for the group, looked me up and down in obvious surprise. "Straight hair and new threads! Hot date?"
"You bet." Okay, so I lied a lot.
"Could that be him?"
I turned to look where Misty pointed and saw Brody just outside the glass door. I smiled and waved. He stepped indoors and began brushing off raindrops. I heard gasps and a malicious giggle from the trio at the table and tried to see my dinner date through their eyes.
Brody stood tall with wide shoulders--nothing wrong with that. Hair, dark brown and short, just the way I liked. As for his face, well, a small scar on his cheek in the shape of a crescent moon brought to mind the words ruggedly handsome. So what was their problem? Halfway to Brody, I guessed their amusement probably resulted from his clothes. He wore torn jeans. Not the kind that came with strategic tears, like I had on, but a pair that must've caught on something and ripped just under the left knee, leaving a hole the size of a golf ball. As for his Pink Floyd tee, well, it looked like it had from a concert back when the group actually performed.
It all boiled down to perfect in my opinion, which was why I slipped my arm through his and headed us to a booth in the corner. My possessiveness shocked him even more than me, so he dragged his feet just a little en route and quickly disengaged when we got there.
"I thought you'd stood me up," I said, sliding onto the bench seat.
He sat opposite me. "I stopped to get gas."
"Oh."
By then, a waitress reached the table. We both ordered colas. She handed us menus and left to get the drinks.
"I've got a half-off coupon," I said, grabbing up my shiny new hobo bag to dig around for it.
"I have money." He sounded defensive.
"So do I, but why spend it if we don't have to?" I waved the slip of paper under his nose.
Our waitress brought the drinks, took our pizza order, and left.
"You go first," I said to Brody, resting my elbows on the table between us.
"First...?"
"Life story, remember?"
"Oh, that. There’s nothing much to tell."
I could see we'd go nowhere fast if I didn't take the lead.
"Let's start with this: why did you drop out of high school?"
"To piss off my mom."
"Did it work?"
"Don't know. I haven't talked to her in over a year." Whoa! "Why not?"
"Something happened to me right after I did it." Hm. "Don't you miss her?"
He shrugged instead of answering.
"So why didn't you two get along?"
"That's kind of personal."
"Sorry. Where's your dad?"
"That's personal, too."
"Oh." Well that had gone nowhere. So much for making conversation or hearing all about him.
His gaze clashed with mine. "Time for your life story, and it better be as good as you said."
Oops. I played with my straw. "Actually, I might've exaggerated."
He almost smiled. "Tell it to me anyway."
"Well, I'm an only child, born and raised in Wolf-Run. My parents are both very liberal lawyers involved in causes, so—"
"'Causes?"
"They represent the underdog. You know, gays and lesbians, unwed moms, orphans, the elderly, the homeless, any minority—"
He raised his hand to stop me. "I get the picture." I nodded. "They have a house in Washington because of their lobbying and stuff. I rarely see them. In fact, they missed my graduation. My Uncle Max flew in for it, though."
"They just leave you here alone?"
"Why shouldn't they? I'm legally an adult. Besides, they're very busy with very important stuff."
The waitress appeared with our pizza, which she placed in the middle of the table. Neither of us said anything until she left. I helped myself to a slice on the Hawaiian half and took a bite before I realized that Brody was staring at me, the oddest expression on his face.
"What?" I asked, delicately covering my mouth since it wasn't polite to talk with it full.
"Do you work?"
"Sort of… my dad pays me for keeping an eye on the place while he and Mom are gone. That means I'm in charge of hiring help for the lawn and gardens, making sure the cars get in for scheduled maintenance, paying bills, and stuff like that. There are also all of my parents' long-distance crisis like rescheduling flights and booking last-minute hotels. Thank goodness for Iris, our housekeeper. If she wasn't around, I'd probably be doing all their cooking and cleaning, as well." I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. "Do you work?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
Brody just shook his head and got a slice from the pepperoni side. He ate half of it before he spoke again. "You're going to college, I guess."
"Yeah, sure. I start in August."
"Full ride scholarship?"
"How'd you know?" I didn't tell him that I didn't really need it since my grandfather set up a trust fund for me that had kicked in when I graduated from high school. Instead, I took a sip of my drink to wash down my food. "I've been accepted at the University of Arizona, where I plan to get a degree in Ecology and Evolutionary Biology."
Brody laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Actually it's more ridiculous than funny."
"What is?"
"That you and me are even in the same restaurant, much less sitting at the same table." He suddenly slid out of the booth and got his worn leather wallet from his back pocket. He dug out a twenty, which he tossed on the table. I barely had time to react before he strode straight to the exit and right out of the restaurant.
Oblivious to the stares of curious diners, I dashed after him, skidding slightly on the tile floor when I turned sharply for the door.
"Wait!" I yelled charging right into the chilly downpour. I caught up just as Brody reached his truck. I grabbed a handful of his shirt to keep him from getting into it. Steam rose from the pavement, an eerie result of cold rain pounding hot asphalt.
"What's wrong? Why are you leaving?"
For several seconds, Brody just looked at me. He sighed and shook his head. "Why did you talk to me tonight?" I blinked rain out of my eyes and tried not to think about what it was doing to my painstakingly straightened hair, not to mention my carefully layered, too-thin tees. "I'm working at being more outgoing."
"There were lots of other people in that room. Why didn't you practice on one of them?"
"I don't know." I hugged myself to hide my peek-a-boo nipples. "Maybe because you looked so lonely
sitting at that table all by yourself."
"You did it out of pity?"
"Definitely not!"
"Then why?"
"What difference does it make?"
"A lot." He gripped my upper arms and yanked me closer, a move that lifted me up on the toes of my shoes. I still had to tip my head back to meet his piercing gaze. "Why me, Cassidy?
Why me?"
"Your eyes."
"What?"
"Your eyes! They're so beautiful. No, that's not it." I shook my head. "They are beautiful, but they're also very...deep. No, that's not it, either."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Brody demanded, abruptly releasing me.
I staggered back before I got my balance, then stepped close again and caught his face with my hands. He tried not to look down at me, but in the end, had no choice.
"There's more to you than meets the eye, Brody Anderson," I said, careless of the words falling off my tongue. They came from somewhere deep inside; I couldn't have stopped them if I'd tried.
He laughed, but not with humor.
"I want to get to know you better."
"Why?"
Because I'm already half in love with you? No, I couldn't say that. "Just do."
Brody suddenly put a hand behind my neck, dipped his head and covered my mouth with his in a long, wet kiss that scared as much as thrilled me. So much for half in love, I wanted to jump his bones right there. As it was, I threw my arms around his neck and tried to deepen the kiss even more. He growled and tore me loose. "Baby, you're playing with fire." His words didn't quite register, and no wonder. My head spun; my heart hammered; I forgot how to breathe, much less speak.
With a wry shake of his head, he opened the door of his truck and slid behind the wheel. "You’re such an innocent."
"I am not!" I mean, I knew what went where and that it would feel incredible. I also knew I wanted to do it with him and the sooner the better.
"Yeah, you are. It's practically tattooed on your forehead." Still dazed, I thoughtlessly touched the area in question. Brody really did laugh then, which made me drop my hand in chagrin.
