by Chandra Ryan
She rolled her eyes. “What gives you the right to hunt me down in the dead of night?”
The voices he’d heard earlier reached him clearly, and he realized the sounds came from a stereo somewhere in the house. She hadn’t been ignoring him. She’d been taking a bath. But that didn’t excuse her earlier behavior. “You’re my mate, and you lied to me. You told me you were married.”
“I showed you my wedding ring. I didn’t tell you a damn thing.”
He snorted at the distinction. “You meant for me to think you were married so I’d leave you alone. Why? Didn’t like the universe pairing you with a commoner?” There. He’d told her the truth.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference to me if you were a homeless bum or the prince of a European country. I just want to be left alone.”
Yeah. Like she would’ve turned her cute little nose up at a prince. He didn’t believe her for one second. But he couldn’t come right out and call her a liar. That would kill any shot they had of getting together. He’d waited his entire life to find her. As much as she irritated him, he still hoped they would find a way to make some sort of relationship work. “Fine. But if you wanted me to leave you alone, you should’ve had the decency to tell me to my face. If your ring meant half as much as it should, you wouldn’t be hiding behind it. And you most certainly shouldn’t use the memory of your dead husband to lie to people.”
She glared at him, and her body trembled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah. That’s what happens when you go around lying to people.”
“Okay. You want to know the truth?” Her eyes snapped with anger, but her scent held a sweet undertone of pleasure. She enjoyed arguing with him.
“Please.”
“My husband died two years ago from cancer. My pack did nothing to help him. They could’ve, but they chose not to. So no, I don’t give a shit if the heavens open up and the stars align to spell out, ‘he’s the one.’ My pack turned their back on me, so I’ve turned my back on their traditions.”
“You’re going to punish me for what they did. Or what they didn’t do as the case may be?”
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Collateral damage.”
“But that’s not—”
“Life’s not fair.” She slammed the door in his face.
Most would consider their little spat a complete loss, lick their wounds, and be on their way. But he wasn’t like most people. If anything, their fight had convinced him the stars were right. She might not like the universe meddling in her life, but he was what she needed. And she was what he wanted.
Chapter Two
The next day dawned overcast and cool. Jackson hadn’t slept well, and he didn’t have the patience to be tired. Thankfully, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen helped improve his mood. A coffeepot with a timer had been the one thing he insisted on taking with him when he’d picked up and started over again. Waking to the rich smell of coffee had been worth the inconvenience of carrying the machine on his bike when he’d rode halfway across the country.
Of course, since his mate’s scent was infused with the coffee, the smell also held a layer of torment. But the anticipation also made the scent more alluring. It helped him to focus. Not that his new job required much focus. Today, he had three oil changes and a tune-up.
He shook his head at the easy schedule. At the last place he’d worked, he’d been called upon to do some of the most difficult diagnoses and unique rebuilds in the industry. Here he did oil changes. Yes, he owned this garage, but he wasn’t doing cutting-edge stuff out here in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t blame her if his profession were the real reason Aimee wanted nothing to do with him. The work in Los Lobos was pretty menial. But it was a job, and he needed this one. Not for the money. He’d saved up enough over the years to be comfortable. But no amount of money could buy him a pack, and he craved a Wolf family.
As soon as he grabbed a mug of joe, he got dressed and went down to his garage. There were benefits to having a light schedule—fewer cars in his shop gave him time to work on his newest sculpture. Since he lived in an apartment over the garage, he didn’t have to worry about wasting any time in the commute.
Most of his friends didn’t get his need to shape scrap metal into new creations. Hell, he didn’t understand it most days. But when he was alone with a blowtorch and a sheet of old banged-up metal, the universe made sense. He couldn’t care less if other people understood his passion. He needed the bubble of peace sculpting created for him to clear his head.
He put on his safety equipment and stepped in front of the pile of reclaimed scrap. He didn’t let his mind shift or sort through the shapes and textures. Instead, he followed his instincts. The shapes and colors called to him. Told him where they went.
Minutes bled into hours as he welded the pieces together. The current sculpture would be large when finished. The sheets of metal were heavy and bulky. He couldn’t help but smile with each new addition. The sculpture spoke to him.
As he was about to affix the next bit to the work, a loud car horn blew outside. Not only did the noise destroy the moment, but it also made him drop the piece on his foot. Thank God he wore steel-toe boots. They might protect his toes from being severed, but it didn’t mean they protected him from the pain, however. He would have a nasty bruise by the end of the day.
The loud bellow of a car’s horn echoed through the place again. His mood didn’t improve.
He looked up at the clock to confirm the time. His first appointment wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour. So, who the hell was causing the racket?
After he put the drop sheet back over his sculpture, he stormed out to the front of the shop. He still wore his face mask, but he had the tinted shield flipped up so he could see, and his heavy gloves added a layer of bulk to his massive hands. He knew he made an intimidating picture, and he wanted to make an impression. He hoped a rough and tough appearance might discourage future drop-in appointments. It was rude when people couldn’t respect his time enough to pick up a phone. When he walked out the hangar door and saw the convertible sports car with the top down and the petite blonde in the driver’s seat, though, he had a hard time resisting the urge to growl.
“You have got to be freaking kidding me. You do not get to blow me off, send me on my way, and then expect me to come running at your beck and call.”
With wide eyes and her mouth hanging open in a slight O, she looked every bit as surprised as he. He found comfort in her expression of bewilderment.
“I didn’t….” She blinked rapidly. Damn if her eyes weren’t glassy as if she were going to cry. “I didn’t realize you were the mechanic. My check-engine light came on this morning, and I’m going for a drive in the city. To the real city. Not this joke of a town.”
She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who rambled. Hell, he’d had a difficult time getting her to say two words to him the night before. Nor did she strike him as the type who cried at the drop of a hat. Yet she currently rambled with unshed tears in her eyes. He had to assume their encounter had startled her as well. He should let her off the hook. And if she’d apologized, he might have considered letting bygones be bygones. Since she hadn’t, however, he decided to stand firm against her watery gaze and her gabby disposition. But he did soften his tone.
“Maybe if you’d had a conversation with me instead of coming up with ways to get rid of me, I would’ve had the chance to tell you I’m the mechanic. Hell, you would’ve had my phone number.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I apologize for being rude. I wasn’t expecting to bump into my mate last night. You threw me.” She put the car in reverse as she spoke. “Not literally of course. But still, there’s no excusing the way I treated you. I can understand why you don’t want to help me. I’ll just leave.”
“Wait.” He was irritated with her, but he couldn’t in good conscience let her drive out on the open road when her car needed fixed. His Wolf would
n’t let him. He needed to protect her. He came around to her door to look at the dashboard. “Let me check out the car before you take off.”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll find a mechanic in the city.”
Like hell she would. He would be the only man checking under her hood. “Come on, Aimee. Any pressure on the gas and you’re going to back over my foot. Let me figure out why your light is on, and then you can be on your way.”
She stared at him for a second longer. For one heartbeat he thought she’d refuse. But she took a deep breath and put the car into park. “I guess me running you over would give a whole new meaning to the phrase, ‘got off on the wrong foot.’” She would’ve sounded snarky if it weren’t for the shy smile she wore.
“Wait. Did you make a joke?” He found the improbability of her trying to make him laugh as amusing as the statement.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Kind of.” He opened the driver’s side door and then held out a hand to help her.
“I’m not always an irrational bitch.” Yet, she didn’t take his offered hand. She was a walking contradiction. She could be funny and charming one second but aloof and stuck-up the next. But not all mysteries were bad. Finding out what brought out her softer side might be fun.
He sat down behind the wheel and closed the door. “I’m going to pull this into the shop. We’ll get the engine hooked up to the diagnostic computer and have you on the road in no time.”
The car ran smoothly into the bay. He didn’t hear any coughing or squealing under the hood. And when he put the vehicle into park and turned the key to the off position, it didn’t shudder. All good signs. “A lot of times these lights can be triggered by sensors. But we’ll get the issue figured out.”
He looked up to see her making her way toward the sculpture. “What’s this?”
“It’s mine.”
The look she threw him reminded him of the ones his mother used to use when he’d said something ridiculous. “I was just curious. I wasn’t going to steal it the second you turned your back.”
“I don’t know.” He got out of the car and took off his gloves and mask before wheeling the computer over to the hood. “You look pretty shady to me. I’ve heard designer clothes and perfectly polished nails are the equivalent of gang tats these days.”
She gave a light and airy laugh. “Now who’s being funny?”
He glanced over his shoulder but realized she wasn’t waiting for a response. She’d already started walking to toward the sculpture again. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t look under the tarp.”
She turned toward him, but she didn’t pout or plead as he’d expected. “Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay? I’d assumed you were used to getting what you want.”
She shrugged. “I could see how you’d think that. But you’re doing me a favor. After the night I put you through…I owe you.”
“And you think not fighting me on this one thing will be enough?” His voice was dry.
“I’m hoping it’ll be a start.” She came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.
“The start of what?” He knew he would regret asking the question. There was no way she would give him the answer he wanted to hear. But he couldn’t resist.
“I wasn’t exaggerating or throwing a temper tantrum when I said I wouldn’t accept a mate. But I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I’m sorry and I would like to have a do-over.”
“A do-over, huh?” She stood so damn close. Heat radiated off her body.
“I’m Aimee Crest.”
He turned to take her hand but then realized she hadn’t backed away. His nose almost touched hers. It wouldn’t be anything to lower his mouth and taste her. Would she be sweet or bitter? He swept his tongue over his lips as he contemplated the question.
Aimee stared up into the most captivating green eyes she’d ever seen. Her fingers itched for her chalks. It’d been almost a decade since she’d set aside her preferred art form. But the time disappeared as the moment swept her away. She needed to capture this. Sketch the planes and angles of his face.
“Jackson Cooper.” The words came out as a whisper.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jackson.”
“Likewise, Aimee. But I’m going to need you to take a step back.”
She followed the command without even realizing she had. When she snapped out of the haze, however, her face became hot with embarrassment. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just stand there gawking at you.” She could only imagine how awkward the moment had been for him.
“It’s okay. Really.” But he walked between the back of the diagnostic computer and her car as if the space she’d given him still wasn’t enough.
“I’m not crazy. I used to be an artist. When I saw your face, I started picturing all the lines and curves I would need to recreate it.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Used to be? I didn’t know a person could stop being an artist.”
“Yeah. Well. You know pack life goes.”
“No. I don’t. I’m a city Wolf. I’ve never had a pack of my own.”
“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t even know being raised outside of a pack was a possibility. Every Wolf belonged to a pack. Didn’t they? “The pack didn’t need an artist. They needed an environmental lawyer. More specifically, Magnum—our Alpha at the time—needed an environmental lawyer. He had to keep the government and hunters off his land. And what Magnum needed, the pack provided.” She sneered as she remembered the conversation. He was her Alpha, and she did what he said. If not, he would have made sure she had no future at all. To give her extra incentive, he made sure to tell her that before he killed her, he would torture her parents in front of her. “Since I had the highest LSAT score, I got to be a lawyer. Whether I wanted to be one or not.”
“Sounds rough.” He looked back at the drop cloth but didn’t say anything else.
She would never admit how bad life had been back then to him. That was water under a bridge she’d burned long ago. Besides, she was tough. She didn’t need to cry on a guy’s shoulders. “They paid for law school. And I got to help protect the rights of animals who weren’t able to speak for themselves. I helped the wolves, which helped our pack.” She may have hated Magnum for threatening her and her family and forcing his will on her, but becoming a lawyer hadn’t been all bad. “And college is where I met my husband. All in all, life as a lawyer was good.”
“Life as a lawyer was good? Did you die or something?” He focused his attention on the codes the computer had given him rather than her.
“Might as well have.” She crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn’t believe she’d already told him so much about her life. But venting did feel good. She hadn’t been able to complain to anyone since coming back to Los Lobos. Everybody in the pack had their own problems to deal with. Hers seemed small in comparison. Since he asked, however, he’d pretty much volunteered to be a sounding board. “I’ve been told I’m too old to continue practicing law.”
He laughed as he focused his attention back on her. “Darlin’, you don’t look too old from where I’m standing.”
“Thank you. But appearing younger than I should is kind of the problem.” Her heart started beating harder as his gaze swept over her body in appreciation. “I could only credit my youthfulness to the miracles of plastic surgery for so many years. And I’ve reached my limit.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Not many Wolves do until they’re told it’s time to retire and drop out of sight.”
He nodded and then started disconnecting the computer from her car. “You need to replace your oxygen sensor. I’ll have one shipped overnight. The car should be fine for you to drive until it gets here, though.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s what I’m here for.” He went over to a small cabinet and picked up a card, grabbed a pen, and scribbled something on the back. “Here. My personal cell number is on the back.�
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Her heart froze with panic as he held the small slip of paper out to her.
“I’m not propositioning you, Aimee. I just don’t want you showing up at my place and honking like I’m a gas-station attendant ever again.”
Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Oh. I am really sorry about that.”
“Then take the card and call me to make an appointment to replace the oxygen sensor.”
Everything around her slowed as she reached out to take it from him. She still remembered the thrill his touch caused the night before. She might have done her best to ignore the attraction at the time, but this time she anticipated it. And as her fingertips brushed against his, she was thrown back into normal time. The experience left her more than a little shaken and overcome by a curious sensation similar to vertigo.
“You okay?”
She looked down to see her fingers still touched his. She hadn’t moved back. And neither had he. “No.” She felt light-headed, and everything took on a hazy, soft focus. “I think I’m a little faint.”
“Let’s get you a bottle of water and a place to sit down.”
Before she could stop him, he’d swept her up in his arms and carried her to the other side of the bay. She hadn’t been this close to a man since Max died. She hadn’t thought she wanted another guy anywhere near her. But she had to admit she liked his strong arms wrapped around her body. It helped that he smelled like lemongrass and cloves, which made him both spicy and enticing. She wanted to inhale as much of his scent as possible just to have part of him lingering in her body.
“Aimee?”
“Yeah?” The word held a dreamy cadence. Why would it sound like that?
“Did you sniff me?”
“What?” She jerked away from him so fast she had to clutch his shirt in both fists so he didn’t drop her.
He sat her down on a couch and grabbed a bottle of water out of a small fridge. “I’m not upset if you did. You just surprised me.”
What was she supposed to say? She’d surprised herself as well. She hadn’t meant to smell him. She’d reacted on instinct. Instead of answering him, she opened the water and started to drink. Stalling made matters worse, though, as he seemed content to let her take as much time as she wanted. He sat down next to her and waited.
