Desert Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  Grant broke eye contact and dropped his hold on the briefcase, stung by the realization of who and what Paxton really was. Worse yet, the air in the cab suddenly seemed charged with wayward electricity that had nowhere to go due to the fact that his inner wolf had been awakened by the directness of Paxton’s gaze.

  “What I mean is that we can get to know each other better if you stay as planned,” he said, wondering if he could let her go at all now that he knew what eventually would happen to her. “Maybe then we’ll both understand where we’re coming from.”

  Everything about this new turn of events was dangerous, he realized. Remaining close to Paxton could be bad when wolf might call to wolf, setting free what now lay curled up inside her. Letting her go without an inkling of what she was would be equally dangerous. Her wolf had to show sometime and was long overdue. For wolves, timing was everything.

  She studied him frankly as she thought over his suggestion. Her eyes never left his face.

  “Will you consider buying me out?” she asked.

  “We can talk about that and the reasons I can’t agree to doing what you ask.”

  Grant’s mind whirled with things he wanted to say, but couldn’t.

  I now think your father might have been keeping Desperado for you, leaving it in my care, he wanted to tell her. For when you…in case you needed help and a place to go for a while, among others just like you.

  No way could he tell Paxton any of that, since he was only now beginning to understand it himself.

  Had her father meant to bring her here for this reason, intending for his heirs to meet? Could Hall have masterminded all of this to ensure his estranged daughter’s first transition from human to Were was in safe hands? Grant Wade’s hands?

  “How about if we discuss it now?” she said.

  Grant shook his head. “Give me a few hours to think things over.”

  She released the door handle and sat back, unable to mask her hopeful expression. “All right. A few hours.”

  He couldn’t help but notice how small she looked in the truck. Although Paxton had to be at least five foot five, she was a shade too slim and as willowy as the trees along the riverbed.

  She wasn’t lighthearted. Hints of sadness weighed down her shoulders. Did she possess a strong Hall family backbone under all that silk?

  It seemed that Andrew had also kept Grant in the dark about a few minor details concerning this legacy. And now, secrets on top of secrets had left him in the hot seat.

  Grant reached for the gearshift, mulling things over.

  Most likely Paxton didn’t know that her father had followed her life from behind the scenes, and how much Andrew must have loved her.

  Sooner or later, Paxton’s wolf would make an appearance. There was no way to postpone that event forever, no matter where she lived.

  And that made Andrew Hall one tricky son of a bitch.

  “You believe I’m your enemy, but we’re actually more alike than you know,” he said, growing more uncomfortable as the minutes passed. Because, hell…

  Just one long glance at those golden eyes of hers had done more than make him realize what kind of DNA she carried. It had also done him in. Captured him completely. Put him on her side. Whatever haunted her, now haunted him.

  His wolf wanted to growl in protest over the burden laid upon him, because the wolf had a heads-up on what her innate sense of sadness might actually be.

  Paxton Hall was a she-wolf in waiting, and her timing couldn’t have been worse. With a full moon due the following night, she’d be too close to a shape-shifting pack. If she were to face another wolf up close, that meeting might bring out the secrets kept from her all this time. And it wouldn’t be pretty.

  It seemed like more trouble had landed in his lap, and that these next few hours were not going to be easy to get through. He had asked Paxton to stay when it now might be imperative to keep his distance from her. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and offer comfort, something she hadn’t ever gotten from her estranged father…and that, too, could be dangerous for her.

  Damned if I do. Damned if I don’t.

  With one more glance at Paxton, Grant said, “I think I’ll need that drink.”

  The look she returned made his stomach tighten.

  “Make mine a double,” she said.

  Chapter 4

  As Grant Wade pulled the truck away from the curb, it dawned on Paxton that there might be a downside to remaining in his presence.

  From where she sat, on the opposite side of the truck, she still felt the impression of his hand on her elbow, left over from when he helped with her bags. When she had looked at his face, searching for more hints about his character, what she’d found was a man who might not be as happy to accommodate her visit as he seemed.

  They were at odds about Desperado, and Grant Wade showed signs of discomfort. Although he rested one arm casually on the window frame and the other on the wheel, those bronzed forearms were corded with tension.

  Were those arms sexy? Yes.

  Did that matter? No.

  So, why had she even thought of questions like those?

  Truth was, Paxton wondered what that smooth golden skin would be like to touch and chastised herself for thinking she’d like to find out.

  Her reactions to Grant Wade were as automatic as breathing. In her defense, most women liked strong, sexy men who didn’t overtly try to overpower with all that testosterone. Men who could easily take control of any situation, yet sometimes knew better than to try. Handsome men at ease in their own skins who radiated self-confidence and looked exactly like Grant Wade did, from Stetson to scuffed boots.

  Weren’t those things tied to what constituted wet dreams for women? Because surely she was going to have a dream like that about this guy tonight, no matter how far apart they stood on her father’s deal.

  “Name your poison,” he said to her as the truck rolled past a few strip malls and gas stations, its engine purring like a well-tuned tractor.

  “Iced tea. Heavy on the ice.”

  He gave her a sideways glance.

  “I don’t think alcohol would further my cause much. Do you?” Not wanting to relax, Paxton leaned back against the leather seat, liking the masculine smell of the truck. The trip to Arizona had been taxing. She would have given anything to be able to close her eyes.

  “Hotel choices,” he said. “Big or small?”

  “Cheap.”

  He nodded.

  “Then you’ll give in and buy me out of all that acreage. Or vice versa,” she added.

  “You’re pretty confident one of those two things will happen?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Her companion didn’t reply to that question and angled the truck into a parking space beside a small roadside café.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Famished, actually.”

  “I hope you like burgers.”

  “Not unless they come with fries.”

  “Then you, my fine lady, are in luck,” Grant Wade said as he turned off the engine. “Though you will have to sit across from me.”

  “I’ll manage somehow,” Paxton returned.

  The café was nearly empty this time of day. A few small tables ringed a linoleum patchwork floor and three faded red booths hugged the windows. The only waitress in sight, dressed in faded jeans and an apron, eyed them curiously when she and Grant slid into a booth. After Grant returned the glance, the waitress ambled over.

  “I guess I’m conspicuously foreign,” Paxton said when their order went in.

  “This is a place for regulars. Anyone new is suspicious.”

  “Maybe she likes you. She’s staring.”

  “Nope. Shirleen is just curious. She has imprinted with…” He stopped there without finishing the strange remark.

  “Does that mean she’s engaged to someone?” Paxton asked.

  Her cowboy nemesis took a swig of the iced tea Shirleen had brought over. “Yep. W
estern slang for people coupling up.”

  Paxton didn’t share how much she might have liked to couple up with Grant Wade after first laying eyes on him, since that wasn’t going to happen. She hoped to get the paperwork signed and be back on a plane.

  They ate in silence, an unspoken truce, of sorts, with the curious waitress looking on. Grant didn’t seem to notice the scrutiny, but Paxton couldn’t get much of her burger down. She was relieved when Grant took care of paying the bill. By the time they headed for the truck, evening was settling in with a pink glow on the horizon.

  “It’s quite beautiful,” she said, staring at the landscape for a few minutes before getting into the truck. “I had forgotten about that. Maybe I was too young to notice.”

  “You remember being here?” Grant Wade asked.

  “I remember a few small things. Mostly unimportant stuff.”

  “Like pretty sunsets?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Like that.”

  “There’s no place better for showy horizons than this one,” he said.

  “Not even in Texas?” she asked, testing her new theory on Grant Wade being that former Texas Ranger.

  “Similar, but not the same,” he replied, opening her door and playing the gentleman card well. He added, “You know about Texas?”

  Paxton shrugged.

  “Know thine enemies?” he suggested.

  “Hopefully you aren’t one of them.”

  “Hopefully not,” he agreed, waiting for her to climb in. “We just shared fries.”

  More silence ensued as they drove to the edge of town. What more was there to say without getting back into the argument over the property? Grant had asked for time to consider everything she had suggested. That was fine, if he didn’t take too long.

  “I’d like to go there tomorrow,” she finally said when a tiny motel on the edge of a wide expanse of desert came into view.

  “Back to Maryland?”

  She shook her head. “Desperado.”

  He took a beat to reply. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

  “You’ll be driving over my property every time you go in or out of that old town. I think you owe me a look, don’t you?”

  His hesitation wasn’t subtle.

  “I can always rent a car,” she persisted. “I wouldn’t be trespassing if I stopped at the gate. I won’t bother the ghosts.”

  When he offered no comment, Paxton got the impression Grant Wade might be hiding something out there in the desert that he didn’t want anyone to discover. Had he found gold?

  “You said valuable,” she noted.

  He glanced at her.

  “You mentioned that my father left you something valuable.”

  “Did I?”

  She waited him out, wondering what kind of actual reason there could be for keeping her away from the old town. Maybe Grant was planning on reopening Desperado as a tourist attraction and didn’t want to mention that. Perhaps his deal with her father had been to make the old place live again and earn Grant Wade, former Texas Ranger, a decent living. If so, the deal was terribly shortsighted, since everyone involved had to realize that no one could reach Desperado without her permission granting the right-of-way.

  Surely her father’s lawyer would have pointed out to Grant that buying her out would be to his benefit? The truck had stopped without her noticing. Grant got out, took her bags from the back and again came around to open her door.

  “Small and cheap,” he said with a nod to the motel.

  Funny, Paxton thought. That’s exactly what she felt like as she watched Grant Wade enter the lobby of the two-story U-shaped building ahead of her. Small and cheap. She’d sell the land for a song if it meant getting back to her life without taking Grant Wade up on whatever emotion he hid behind those sunglasses.

  Reluctantly, she followed Grant to the lobby, trying hard not to stare at the way his jeans emphasized his magnificently compact backside and how his auburn hair, badly in need of a trim, brushed his shirt collar. Taking stock of those things made her uneasy. Still, she had to assess her opponent and hope that the best person would win this argument.

  As the hot wind caressed her face, Paxton felt even stranger, in a déjà-vu kind of way, as if it wasn’t actually possible for a person to get over their beginnings.

  She looked at her feet, then tipped her face toward the motel’s neon sign. Her gaze flicked to the light of the lobby’s open doorway, filled at the moment by Grant Wade. He was waiting. But what, exactly, was he waiting for—the woman to tag along behind him, or the completion of a deal in his favor?

  Maybe she was just projecting her own thoughts on the matter, because, damn it, the man was messing with her sense of justice. Grant Wade, in the flesh, suddenly seemed like the perfect guy to manage a ghost town in the Old West.

  And he was looking at her in that way he had, making her feel as though she was the only woman in the world on his mind.

  Chapter 5

  What did Paxton think he was going to do with the old ghost town?

  Grant had taken to swearing under his breath and did so repeatedly in honor of the situation he found himself in now as he stood on the threshold to Paxton’s room. Half the space in that room was taken up by a bed, and in a perfect world, he and Paxton might have worked through their differences on top of it. Of course, they weren’t going to do any such thing. He had to get in and get out without lingering.

  Cautiously placing one boot inside, then the other, Grant set Paxton’s bags down on the carpet. With his hands now free, he thought seriously about reaching for her and got the feeling she might have been willing to have that happen.

  Then again, maybe not.

  Besides, he was needed elsewhere.

  Open curtains at the window allowed the evening moonlight in. That light was a reminder that he’d need to be on guard again tonight for the return of the slippery rogue he hadn’t been able to catch in the months before. His pack would already be prowling near the hills, careful to avoid ranchers doing the same thing. After four months, most of the valley was in an uproar.

  Paxton stood in the doorway behind him. She hadn’t followed him inside. Her watchful gaze burned a hole in the back of his shirt, and that was bringing up all sorts of wayward emotions that were never good for a werewolf to have in a closed space.

  “Well, guess I’ll head out.” Grant brushed his hands on his jeans as if wiping away the idea of an imminent and untimely appearance of his claws. He was usually good at compartmentalizing his emotions.

  “My thanks are piling up,” she said when he turned to face her. “Pretty soon I’ll be the one owing you a meal.”

  Grant nodded. “No thanks are necessary. It’s an awkward situation we’re confronted with. I’ll be the first to agree.”

  She remained in the doorway, blocking his exit. Maybe Paxton was afraid of what he might do if she came inside. Maybe she could read his mind about that bed.

  “I’ll need a car,” she said.

  “You can have the truck if you need to go somewhere.”

  He fished in his pocket and tossed her the keys.

  “I’m going to Desperado in the morning,” she reminded him.

  “I’d advise against it, Paxton, unless I’m riding along.”

  Palming the keys, she said, “How will you get home if I have these?”

  “Friends.”

  “Do you live nearby?”

  “I live on the ranch near Desperado’s gates, as you quite possibly already knew.”

  “In my old house?”

  Grant noted how her voice had lowered. She’d likely be remembering the house she grew up in. My house, she had said. Did she think of it fondly?

  He said, “It’s still there. A little worse for wear, but standing. I’ve made some necessary repairs.”

  “After you sell, or I sell, will you go back to Texas?” she asked, which Grant thought was pretty cheeky for someone facing an opponent in a motel room located in a state she hadn
’t set her stilettos in since she was six years old. Just how far would her confidence take her, though?

  He didn’t glance again to the window. Didn’t need to note where the moon was. He was looking at Paxton with his wolf’s eyes, watching her unfasten the top button of her shirt because she was used to a more moderate climate.

  Sensing his attention, she dropped her hands to her sides. “That was not an invitation.”

  Ignoring the comment, Grant pointed to the floor-model air conditioner. “Press the button on the left and you’ll soon feel better.”

  Paxton’s cheeks colored slightly. He noticed that, too. Now that dusk had come and gone, and darkness had arrived, moonlight flooded the motel’s balcony behind her as she tossed his keys back to him.

  “See you tomorrow,” Grant said, with his hat in his hand like every good Texas boy under a roof. “Breakfast?”

  She shook her head. Paxton’s hands were shaking, too. Why? Were her quakes a sign of pent-up anger? Maybe the moon was finally affecting her in some small way?

  That was bound to happen sometime.

  Moving to the window, Grant closed the curtains halfway to mute the moonlight. A random thought crossed his mind that moon children all over the world would be tuning in to that bright silver disc in the sky.

  But this wasn’t the time for explaining anything about that to the woman across from him. She wouldn’t have believed him, anyway.

  “I’m leaving. It’s safe to come inside now,” he announced, heading for the doorway she hadn’t yet entered.

  They were face-to-face, very close for a few seconds before Paxton stepped back. Close enough for Grant to feel her warm breath on his chin and to observe the tight line of her full, lush lips. There was no eye contact between them this time, which was for the best. Any further connection with those haunted amber eyes of hers, and he might have…

  Well, he might have forgotten about who she was and why she was here, and also about proper decorum with strangers.

  “Breakfast?” he repeated to scatter the images of what he might have done in this room with Paxton Hall if she had been anyone else.

  “I’ll meet you out there,” she said soberly. “At Desperado. I’ll find my way.”