Reluctant Mate (Black Hills Wolves Book 11)

by Chandra Ryan

  She took a deep breath and pushed all her fears and concerns to the back of her mind. She would deal with them later. She had to concentrate on getting out of bed before she did any more damage. “I know.” She was happy her voice was steady and strong. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but I’m not sniffling over last night. I’m having allergy issues. Stupid pollen is making me feel wretched this morning.”

  “Oh.” He sounded relieved. Which meant he’d bought her excuse. “Can I get you a tissue or a glass of water?”

  Her resolve melted a little more. Damn his thoughtful heart straight to hell. Here she’d been plotting ways to get him out of her bed and he wanted to make her feel better. If she didn’t get out of here soon, she feared she might not ever leave. “No. Thank you. I’ll feel better as soon as I get up and start moving around.” She rolled over and stared up at him.

  “Is this the part where you kick me out of bed and tell me you’ll call?”

  She expected to hear a trace of bitterness in the words, but there wasn’t any. He seemed to be teasing her. His good mood made it harder for her to smile and nod. She liked him teasing her. “Hate to rush you off, but I do have plans in the city today.”

  He cocked his head, and his smile disappeared. “When are you going to bring your car in? I don’t like you taking so many trips when that sensor still needs replacing.”

  “I can’t today. I have plans.” She recognized taking care of her car was important. And the light had started to drive her crazy. “Tomorrow? First thing in the morning?”

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty book up tomorrow.”

  “You are?” There weren’t many cars in Los Lobos. It seemed improbable they’d all need repairs on the same day.

  “Oh, absolutely.” The glint in his eyes and the slight upturn of his lips spoke of mischief. “But you could spend the night at my place. I could make sure to work you into the schedule under those circumstances.”

  She shoved against his chest. “I don’t think so.”

  “I could make you breakfast.” He leaned over to kiss her, and her stomach fluttered. “I make a mean French toast. And I promise I’ll put all my dirty clothes in the hamper.”

  When he shifted to cage her body under his, she stretched out instinctually. She wanted him over her. The longing to feel his weight was painful. But she still had the good sense to stop him. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “Why?” He would call her on it.

  “Because you told me you have a shop full of cars to work on, and I have plans in the city.”

  He had the grace to smile sheepishly at her. “Oh, yeah. That.” He rolled off her. The move should’ve filled her with relief. Instead, she missed his warmth. Not a good sign.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “Okay. But promise me you’ll call when you get back.”

  If a promise would get him to leave before any more damage could be done, she would give him one. “I promise.”

  “Then I’ll talk to you later.”

  She nodded as he climbed out of bed. What little common sense she had left told her to look away. Staring at his well-defined abs and the perfect globes of his ass as he got dressed had to be the worst idea she’d ever had. So then, why couldn’t she tear her eyes off him?

  He turned to face her one last time before he left and caught her checking him out—she could tell by the cocky slant of his smile. He didn’t tease her, though. “Remember to call me when you get back.”

  “Promise.”

  But one hour later, as she pulled out of the small town, she was already trying to figure a way out of the promise. She could just not call. Forgetting about him had worked last time.

  But right away, she saw the flaw in the plan. Things had changed between them since the last time she hadn’t called him. If she tried ignoring him this time, he’d come looking for her. Wolves were possessive with the person they shared their bed with. Even knowing she needed to put some emotional distance between them, she felt territorial whenever she thought of him.

  She followed the small dirt roads leading away from Los Lobos until she got to the interstate. When her wheels hit the smooth asphalt, she sighed at the respite. The constant jostling as her car made its way over the ruts and potholes of the gravel roads grated against her nerves. The rest of the trip would be smooth sailing.

  Or, at least, she believed everything would be easier. Turned out not having to focus all her attention on the road freed up her mind to dwell on other things. And her brain fixated on her night with Jackson. She wished her fascination had been focused on the perfect dimple on his left ass cheek or the broad sweep of his shoulders. She’d be happy to drool over his physical attributes to her heart’s content. Instead, she couldn’t stop thinking about him as a poor lost Wolf growing up alone in the human world.

  When she finally pulled up to her friend’s art gallery, she was fit to be tied—and not in the good way. She’d become one huge walking ball of frustration and tension.

  Jenny commented on her mood the second Aimee threw her newest chalk drawings down on the counter. “Rough night?” Her gaze followed Aimee’s hand as she brushed her fingertips against the Jackson’s mark. “Oh. I see. You found yourself a young man.”

  She may be getting up there in human years, but the woman was still sharp as a tack. She had a wise vibe about her some older people were blessed with. Her wisdom had been one of the many reasons Aimee had been drawn to her when they’d met at an art festival a year ago. But this time, Jenny had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “So a handsome young fellow didn’t leave the mark on your neck? Don’t tell me the curling iron burned you. I won’t believe you.” Jenny stared at the bruise.

  “Yes. It’s a hickey. But it’s not what you think.”

  Jenny’s eyes got large, and then a radiant smile spread over her lips. “Wait. Maybe a guy didn’t leave the hickey, after all. Was it a girl? Do tell.”

  Well, that made the truth seem downright ordinary. “No. A guy gave it to me.”

  “Geesh. Really? You don’t say.” Jenny shook her head then started buzzing around the space, making sure everything was ready for the gallery to open. “That, for the record, is what I thought had happened.”

  “I didn’t find some guy and hook up with him. It’s more complicated. He wants to have a relationship.” She rubbed her temple with a fingertip.

  “You young people. Always causing a stir about the most ridiculous of notions. Acting like the obvious is some sort of dark secret.” She came over to Aimee’s portfolio and flipped through the drawings. “Of course he wants a relationship. Men don’t leave marks on a lady if they want to keep things discreet.”

  She remembered the mark she left on Jackson, and her stomach clenched. “Sometimes people can get carried away in the heat of the moment.”

  “Only when the heart is involved. And if the heart is involved, they’re going to want a relationship.” Jenny sorted the pieces into two piles as she spoke. “I take it you’re under the impression you don’t want a relationship with this young man?”

  “No. I’m not under any impression. I know I don’t want a relationship.”

  She didn’t look up. “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t.”

  Jenny laid five of the chalk drawings on the countertop. Each and every one of them featured Jackson from a different angle. “Then I’d say you have a problem. Oh, and I’ll take these. You might not want to stare at him all day, but I’m betting I can find some buyer who will.”

  Jackson spent most of his day working on the sculpture. Walking away from her this morning had been painful. Allergies my ass. Waves of pain had radiated off her. She wasn’t in a good place. He’d wanted to hold her and kiss her pain away. She’d wanted space, though. So he’d respected her wishes. At the time, leaving seemed like the best course of action. He kicked himself.

  She’d said she didn’t have a problem with the sex, and he believed
her. Which meant something else bothered her. If he placed bets, his money would be on the husband. It seemed like the most obvious answer. Especially since she’d screamed it at him the first night he’d met her.

  Still, letting her go sucked. He welded another piece of metal to the base in an attempt to find some sort of sense of tranquility. He wasn’t to blame. Her pack had made the choice not to help her husband. He had nothing to do with the decision. Though, he couldn’t help but be a little relieved they hadn’t cured the man. Jackson liked to think he was a good guy. But as a guy, he was possessive. The thought of another man going home with Aimee made him want to destroy something with his bare hands.

  Which hadn’t always been the case. He shook his head. It seemed crazy, but when she’d first shown him her wedding ring, he’d been prepared to let her walk out of his life. Not anymore.

  The ringing of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts. He answered the call. When Aimee said his name on the other line, he had to clear the lump out of his throat.

  “Everything okay?” He hoped she didn’t hear the tremble of nerves in his voice.

  “Yeah, I’m good. The car is fine. I’m calling as promised.” She paused. “Can I bring it by around 9:00 a.m.?”

  She wasn’t going to spend the night with him. His stomach soured at the realization. “So, you’re passing on the offer of French toast.”

  Silence hung between them for a second. “I have some stuff I need sort through.”

  She was putting space between them again. Even after everything they’d shared last night. If the passion and connection they’d had wasn’t enough for her to take the first step, then he was out of ideas.

  “Don’t worry. I get it. I won’t keep pestering you. Bring your car by tomorrow, and I’ll fix it.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Or take it to someone in the city if you’re more comfortable with them. It doesn’t matter. Just get it fixed.”

  She sighed. “No. You don’t get it. This is all happening too fast. Too much is changing, and I don’t know what I want.”

  “I guess that’s a matter of perspective. Seems like it’s taken an eternity to me. And I know what I want. That you don’t even want to try tells me you’ve got it figured out as well.” He hung up before he could embarrass himself further by either begging or yelling.

  For the rest of the day, he tried to shake off the melancholy her call had left him with. He worked on the sculpture and tried his best to not focus on seeing her in the morning. If talking to her on the phone hurt this bad, he could imagine the pain seeing her in person would cause. He needed to move on. Forget she was his mate. Easier said than done.

  His heart ached with the need to be close to her, and his Wolf paced with anxious need. He’d always thought searching for his mate and not finding her was the worst feeling in the world. He’d been wrong. Finding her but not being allowed to be near her hurt far worse.

  When the clock hit five, he decided to close up for the day and head over to Gee’s Bar. Alcohol wouldn’t fix his problems, but it might numb the pain and frustration for a bit.

  Four hours and several whiskeys later, he concluded drinking didn’t help. Sharp pain pierced his chest. Instead of making his sense of loss better, he admitted the time he spent at the bar had only served to make it worse. He had nowhere to go but home—alone and dejected with enough alcohol in his blood to make him feel sorry for himself.

  He settled his tab and made his way out into the night. Once out in the cool, crisp air, however, he caught Aimee’s scent. The aroma acted like salt in his wounds and made his Wolf howl with pain. As a human, Jackson understood Aimee’s need for patience and space. His Wolf didn’t get it, though. He craved the presence of his mate.

  Before he could think better of the action, he started following the scent. He expected to find her at her house. He kind of hoped maybe he could sweet-talk her into letting him come in. But her trail went the opposite direction. She’d gone into the woods. Why?

  He didn’t have to worry about her safety. Her Wolf could take care of her if something out in the night meant her harm. But she didn’t have to be in danger to be cold, tired, or sad. The thought of them both being lonesome bordered on idiotic. If he could find her, then they could be lonely together. Rubbing his body all over hers would take care of his problem, and he swore he’d find a way to help her with hers.

  The ground was muddy and treacherous as he stepped off the road and into the undergrowth. A couple twigs scratched at him and pulled at his hair as he walked past them. But he didn’t let his focus shift. Not while he tracked her. For the first time that day, the world made sense again.

  Each footstep was silent, but when the sound of muffled crying ahead of him reached his ears, he stopped and crouched. The sound tore at his heart. He had to fix this. He had no idea how, but he had to do something.

  He crept forward until he could see her. He made sure to stay upwind so she wouldn’t catch his scent. As much as he hated the idea of spying on her, he needed to figure out what was wrong if he had any chance at making things right.

  “I like him, Max.” She sniffled as she sat down and tucked her legs under her. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. I never imagined myself with a Wolf. It just kind of happened.”

  He’d never felt like a bigger heel. She’d snuck out here to tell her husband about him, and here he was eavesdropping on the private moment. He should leave, give her the solitude she needed.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Or maybe he could stay for a little while longer. She didn’t have to find out he’d overheard her.

  “I don’t want anyone to ever replace you in my heart. You were my first love. You stood at my side through everything. The good and the bad years. You didn’t desert me—not once. And there were a lot of bad years.” She lay down on the ground. “But I can feel him deep inside my soul.”

  He’d never felt worse about a woman saying she had feelings for him. The words were exactly what he wanted, everything he’d been working for. But hearing them in this context felt like he’d ripped out his own damn heart.

  “He’s a good guy. I think you would’ve liked him. Oh, and he’s an artist. He makes the most wonderful sculptures. He’s making one now. It reminds me of the daises in your mom’s garden.”

  A flower? She thinks the sculpture looks like a flower? He had no idea what the piece would end up being. He never did. He hadn’t thought it looked like a daisy, though.

  “I spent the night with him last night.”

  This was surreal. She’d told her dead husband about their evening together.

  “We had an amazing time. And he told me about his family and his youth.”

  He leaned forward to hear her better and lost his balance. He managed to catch himself before he fell, but he stepped on a twig in the process.

  “Who’s there?” She sat up and looked around. If he were still, he would’ve escaped her attention. But he didn’t want to hide any longer. He felt shitty enough about how much he’d already heard.

  “It’s me.” He stepped out of the woods to make sure she saw him.

  She brushed the tears off her cheeks. “How long have you been standing there spying on me?” There was pain in her voice but no anger. He wished for the anger. That particular emotion dissipated in an instant and didn’t make a ball of guilt form in the pit of his stomach.

  “Longer than I should’ve been.”

  “I see.” She straightened her back until her posture appeared painfully stiff.

  “Look, I’m sorry I—”

  She held up her hand to stop him. “No. No more. Tonight isn’t about you.” She shook her head. “I need to say good-bye to my husband.” Her voice broke as she said the word, and it took every ounce of control he had not to put his arms around her and comfort her. “And I’d like to do that without an audience.”

  “Of course.” He turned and walked home with a heavy heart. They had a chance. She’d said it herse
lf. But winning felt an awful lot like losing.

  Chapter Six

  He spent the next three days finishing the sculpture. The more he worked on the piece the more he saw a daisy. Kind of a messed-up daisy, but the work had flowerlike attributes.

  “Have you heard anything from her?”

  He jumped at Erica’s voice. He’d been so wrapped up in creating he hadn’t heard her come in. Not a good Wolf moment for him. “Nope.” And he didn’t expect to. She’d been trying to tell him the same thing since the first day they’d met. He just hadn’t understood what she meant then. But he’d learned. She wasn’t ready.

  “Maybe you should go talk to her.”

  “Nope.” He’d screwed up by pushing and chasing her. He’d decided he would have to wait for her to come to him. And she would. In her own time. Hopefully.

  “Fine. But when I saw her in Gee’s Bar last night—”

  He turned to face Erica and flipped up his welding mask. “What the hell were you doing in Gee’s Bar without me?” She was his baby sister. She had no business hanging out with Wolves. They were too wild to be trusted around her.

  “Having a fucking drink, Jackson. I’m a big girl, and big girls go to bars and have a drink from time to time.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “These men aren’t like the boys you’re used to drinking with.”

  “Thank God.”

  This wasn’t good. Had he been so wrapped up in his own grief he’d forgotten to keep an eye on his sister? “I’m serious. You can’t play your games with a Wolf and expect to walk away unscathed.”

  “I don’t play games.”

  “Really? Tell me again why James and Haley’s engagement went sour?” The current rumor was his dear little sister had set James up with a hooker then paid the woman extra to video tape them having sex.