“I—” He blinks, then narrows his eyes on me. “You know what campsite I’m at?”
“No, I don’t,” I gush. “I . . . just a lucky guess.”
His lopsided smile is all the proof I need to know that he doesn’t believe me. He has probably heard some of the other employees fawning over him and his friends, and suspects we all know where to find them.
My confidence deflates just as suddenly as it arrived. I trickle of sweat slides down the center of my back, and it’s not because the store is hot.
“Well, the itching stuff isn’t for me,” Luca explains. “My buddy picked a poor spot for a toilet last night.”
“He’s not the first.” I laugh awkwardly and start to step out from behind the counter before I remember the booty shorts. Instead of showing him myself, I point to the aisle he needs. “You’ll find some cream there.”
He looks in the direction I indicated, then flashes me a smile-wink combo before he turns. I sag against the counter the instant he is gone. My knees are shockingly weak, my pulse is a jackhammer in my ears, and I’m pretty sure the offensive thing I smell is me.
Who is this guy, and what is he doing to me?
I’m not this girl. My IQ doesn’t instantly drop in the presence of a good-looking guy. Not normally. But this one . . .
This one is causing all sorts of unfamiliar bodily reactions. Not necessarily unpleasant reactions—at least not all of them—but unexpected. I’m in unchartered territory.
Maybe it’s not him, but the memory of what he witnessed the night we met, that is affecting me. Sure, I thought he was cute when we talked at the party, and sure, I have only been reminded of how attractive he is since, but that is all. It’s the fact that he hasn’t mentioned that night that is flustering me—not his eyes, or his grin, or how everything he wears hugs his upper body, or the tufts of dark hair that stick out from under his ball cap like they’re demanding fingers to be run through them.
Nope. I don’t care about any of that.
I sneak a peek at him as he browses the medical aisle, and mentally scold my stomach for its uncontrollable flip-flopping.
Okay, so maybe his looks have something to do with it.
I’m attracted to the guy. So what? That’s not a crime.
I rest my elbows against the counter with a sigh. Luca glances up, makes eye contact. I glimpse the start of a smile on his lips before I quickly look away.
I try my hardest to not notice him as he wanders the aisles, casually picking up items along the way, but it’s impossible not to. He is the type of guy that gets noticed. No matter how hard I try to resist, I’m not immune to his appeal.
After a few moments, he finds everything he is looking for and turns toward the counter. I make myself look busy when he approaches. He stops halfway to snatch a handful of candy bars, and I drop my chin to hide my smile.
So he has a sweet tooth. I would never know it to look at him. He looks smooth enough to eat off of—like one of those guys who put a lot of effort into sculpting their bodies. Not the type to indulge in chocolate.
I realize I’m staring at the planes and ridges of his stomach visible through his thin T-shirt, and quickly look up to welcome him back with my standard Hilderness smile. Too late. The glint in his eyes is proof that I’ve been busted.
“Find everything you need?” I ask, and immediately roll my eyes at the breathy sound of my voice.
Luca sets his items on the counter with a chuckle. He pushes the anti-itch cream forward first. “I sure hope so. I don’t know if I can put up with any more whining.”
I ring up the tube of cream. “Tell your friend to avoid the plants with three leaves from now on.”
“Oh, I will.” Luca picks up a Water Wars sheet and glances over it. “Is this what’s going on out there today?”
“With the water guns and flags? Yeah. Hilderness likes to have week-long themes and contests to get the campers involved,” I explain. “Winner of Water Wars gets a free game of paintball.”
Luca’s eyes crinkle at the edges as he reads over some of the rules of the event. “This must really suck for the employees, getting sprayed by water guns all day long. Who willingly signs up for that?”
“We don’t.” I shrug as I continue scanning items. “But the pay is good, so we tolerate the boss’s crappy ideas with a Hilderness-approved smile.” I show him my work smile as I reach for the pile of candy bars.
He smiles back, but says nothing more on the subject. He merely watches me as I work and try my damnedest to not buckle at the knees under the power of his gaze.
This is my chance. I can play this game with him, and continue to avoid the questions I need answered, or I can suck it up and find out what he knows. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage I need.
“So did you stick around long? At the party the other night?” I ask conversationally as I finish scanning and pull a paper bag out from underneath the counter. When I look up, his smile is gone.
“No. I left early,” he answers.
“Were your friends there with you?” I ask lightly so as not to sound like an interrogator.
He meets my gaze and nods.
I look down and focus on bagging his items. “It’s funny . . . I barely remember getting home. It’s like the second half of that night was a dream.”
His chuckle sounds forced. “Too much to drink?”
“No.” I look up, hold his gaze. “That wasn’t it.”
My breaths come hard and fast as I wait for his response. He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. He knows what happened at the party. He knows I know what happened. We stare at each other silently, each wordlessly daring the other to be the first to say it aloud.
The bell on the door rings, but neither of us looks away. Not yet.
Not until someone calls his name from the entrance. “Luca? You find it?”
Luca breaks first. He blinks, severing the connection between us, before he turns. His answer is clipped, his voice deep and gravelly. “I got it.”
His friend glances at me, then back to Luca. I recognize him as the one who drove my car that night.
Something passes between them in the look they share. As if speaking only for my benefit, Luca’s friend says, “It’s time to go.”
Luca nods stiffly, then hands me a debit card. I glance at the name before swiping it.
Luca Caspan.
I recognize the name. Everyone with a Castien Valley zip code knows the Caspan name.
The Caspans are a bit of an urban legend around here since no one has ever claimed to have met one. Some swear the family, and their lake bordered by miles of forest, does not exist. Others swear they have seen the lake and the mansion that sits on its glistening shore. We all know there is a locked gate in front of a dirt road ten minutes outside of Castien Valley, but no one knows exactly where it leads. It is rumored to belong to the Caspans.
His words earlier make more sense to me now. If the rumors are true, and Luca is one of those Caspans, then he isn’t an out-of-towner here on vacation. He’s sort of a local, only not by usual Castien Valley standards. He is one rich son of a bitch, with a mansion, his own private lake, and a thousand acres of wilderness at his disposal. What in the world is he doing here, camping at Hilderness, if he has all of that only a few minutes away?
My eyes widen slightly when I hand the card back to him and find him already watching me. He’s waiting for me to ask about his name, but I’m not going to do that. I look down at the machine as it chirps and groans over the transaction, and bite my tongue just enough to keep my mouth shut. After what feels like an eternity, it spits out a receipt.
I place it with his purchase before sliding the bag across the counter. “There you go.”
He hesitates only a few seconds, but it feels much longer. When he reaches down and curls his arm around the bag, I notice the thin silver chain around his neck—the same he wore at the party. Whatever pendant dangles from it is still hidden under his shirt. Of cours
e, I can’t help but admire again how nicely that fits him.
By nice, I mean tight.
By tight, I mean molded to every inch of smooth muscle.
My eyes dart up when I realize I’m blatantly checking him out. Again. “Water wars,” I blurt.
He stops, looks at me, and tips his head to one side. I hold up a finger as I fumble under the counter with my other hand. I find what I’m looking for, and lay them on the counter for him.
“Your complimentary water guns,” I explain.
“Right.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “Free game of paintball. I nearly forgot.”
I drop the three small weapons in the bag. “Have fun.”
He nods, starts to turn. His friend sighs from the doorway when he stops again. He leans halfway across the counter, and I gasp at his sudden nearness.
“What time do you get off work?” he asks.
The bell dings. Someone must enter the store, but I don’t notice anything except the swirls of different shades of blue in Luca’s eyes. There’s blue and then there’s really blue. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to remember how to form a sentence. Even then, it’s not much.
“I’m off at three.”
His gaze travels down, settles on my lips. “Have plans?”
I’m tempted to tell him no if only to find out what he would ask me next. Instead, I tell him the truth. “Pizza night with my dad. It’s sort of a thing we do.”
His smile is faint, but it still reaches his eyes. “Sounds like fun.”
“It can be.” I glance uneasily toward his scowling friend.
“Don’t worry about him,” Luca says quietly before asking, “Will you be here tomorrow?”
I nod a little too eagerly. “Yeah, I’ll be here. I mean, not here in the store, but somewhere here. Or I hope not in the store. I hate the store.”
He must find my rambling amusing because his smile grows as I attempt to answer him. He waits for me to finish before he pushes off the counter. Then he winks and says, “I kind of like this store.”
His forearm tightens around the bag and he finally turns to walk away. I keep my face neutral despite the surge of heat engulfing my body at the hidden meaning behind his words.
It’s not the potato chips, marshmallows, and candy bars that he likes. It’s me.
I may not be up to Vienna’s expectations when it comes to handling boys, but I know flirting when I see it. So what if he probably only did it so I would forget about his last name and the unanswered questions I still have about the other night? That’s what players do, after all, and this is clearly a game to him.
I glance from Luca to his friend and find his eyes narrowed on me from the doorway. He murmurs something to Luca when he nears, and they both glance at a couple browsing the canned goods aisle.
When did they come in?
The couple looks toward the door as if they sense an audience. All four of them exchange glances, and I get the impression that they recognize each other. Not in a friendly way, but in an old high school rivalry sort of way. The tense moment passes quickly, and Luca spares one last glance at me before he follows his friend outside.
The bell dings behind him.
Chapter 6
Dad sends me a text when I get home to let me know he will be late for pizza night thanks to a moose-vs-minivan incident. I enjoy the peacefulness of an empty house for an hour, submerging myself in the familiar prose of my favorite book, before I’m run off by the sound of Jill and Steve racing up the stairs to her bedroom.
I spend the next few hours at dad’s shop, checking oil and ordering parts so he can finish up work on the minivan. Twenty minutes ‘til eight, he hands me twenty bucks for my help and sends me out the door to pick up the pizza.
It’s rainy and nearly dark by the time I get there. With no parking spots left on the street, I’m forced to turn into the alley between the restaurant and the flower boutique. Nestled behind the two buildings is a small lot reserved for employees, and used by desperate locals during tourist season. There are plenty of spots available, and I take one close to the door.
I still have to dash ten yards to the side entrance, and absorb a cool mist of rain into my hair along the way. Dominic Bianchi has my extra-large meat-lover’s pizza boxed and waiting on the counter by the time I step up to claim my order. He’s the owner’s son and a recent graduate of Castien Valley High—one of the few who didn’t grate my nerves. Like me, he’s destined to stay behind while the others leave for greener pastures.
“Added an extra scoop of sausage for you,” he tells me with a wink. “Just the way you like it.”
“Thanks, Dom.” I hand him the twenty. “How sad is it that you know that about me?”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I just know what you like.” His cheeks redden as he rings up the order and counts out my change. He places it into my palm and covers it with the receipt, and his fingers linger a little longer than necessary. “Have a good night, Sav.”
“You too, Dom.” I back away slowly, unsure of what is happening. “Same time next week?”
He gives me a big smile full of perfect, white teeth emphasized by a smooth, dark complexion. “I look forward to it.”
I stuff the change into my pocket as I navigate the maze of tables and chairs on my way to the door. As I step outside, I glimpse some writing on the top corner of the pizza box and I nearly drop it.
Why wait a week? Let’s hang out.
I read Dom’s message and the phone number scribbled underneath as I walk to my car. It’s raining harder now, and the ink starts to run—not that I’m concerned about preserving the digits. I know where to find Dom if I decide to take him up on his offer.
But I don’t want to. Sure, he’s a nice kid, but I don’t feel a spark.
Shouldn’t there be some magic, or fireworks, or something?
I don’t know, because I’ve never felt anything like that with anyone. Steve certainly didn’t induce any visceral reactions—other than nausea toward the end of our relationship.
The closest I have ever come was earlier today . . . with Luca. I still don’t know what happened to me, but it was definitely something. Something I wouldn’t be opposed to experiencing again, with less sweating.
The back of my neck warms at the mere thought of another encounter with Luca—perhaps sharing a meat-lover’s pizza with him next time.
“Get a grip, Sav,” I grumble under my breath when I realize I’m thinking about him again.
My foot lands on something lying on the ground a few steps from my car, and I shift the pizza box to the side so I can see what I stepped on.
It looks like a baseball cap. I bend down to pick it up. It’s wet and has my shoe-sized imprint on it, but it’s definitely a ball cap. It’s dark blue and familiar.
My traitorous stomach flops over, and I look up quickly, half expecting to see Luca smirking somewhere nearby.
No one is there, but I’m positive this is the same cap he wore earlier today. Why is it here, lying on the rain-soaked ground five steps from my car? And assuming he dropped it here, where is he now?
I toss the sopping wet hat on top of the pizza box and stand to fish the car keys out of my pocket. A shrill noise cuts through the patter of rain, causing me to fumble and drop them.
I have lived in the Cascades for most of my life. I know the animals that inhabit these mountains, and I am familiar with the sounds they make. I recognize this one instantly, and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I’ve seen a mountain lion once before, while bike riding with Dad when I was thirteen. That is to be expected when you encroach on their territory. You do not expect one to venture into a populated area.
When I turn, that is exactly what I see trotting across the parking lot—a big mountain lion with its gaze locked on me. I stumble backward, closer to my car door, as the animal slows and drops into a crouch. Its ears lie back and its back arches.
I’m in trouble.
I keep my eyes on the lion as I slowly drop to my knees and blindly search the ground for my keys. The instant I find them, I punch the unlock button. I keep hitting it over and over again as I stand. If I’m about to turn my back to a mountain lion, I’m going to make damned sure the door is unlocked first.
I’m milliseconds from making my move when another growl cuts through the tense silence. This one comes from behind me.
Two mountain lions. It can’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible.
Considering this is my second terrifying encounter with wildlife this week, I decide Mother Nature hates me. The one advantage I have this time is that I am closer to my car.
I curl my fingers around the door handle and give a tug to unlatch it without breaking eye contact with the big cat approaching me from the alley. I release a breath as the weight of dread lifts from my shoulders. I’m almost there, inches from safety.
The light inside the car comes on, and the lion’s eyes narrow like it knows what I’m about to do. I freeze, too terrified to move. Then it charges. I swing the door open, and the animal slams into the side of my car with a crunchy thud.
I have one whole leg inside the vehicle when there is a streak of movement in my periphery. The other mountain lion closes in from behind. I’ll never get the door shut in time.
My entire short life flashes before my eyes and wraps up with the sad realization that I will be remembered as the girl that got maimed to death in her own car in the rear parking lot of the pizza restaurant while her extra-sausage pizza lie out in the rain.
My certain death plays out in my head for a moment before I realize it probably should have been over by now. I don’t know how long I have been staring at the pizza box on the ground, wondering when I dropped it and how it managed to land bottom side down, when I finally look up to see what is taking death so long. Sure, it’s raining and dark and I’m clearly not good in high-pressure situations, but I don’t think I imagine what I see now.
The mountain lions have been joined by a wolf. Not just any wolf, but the same exceptionally large silver I saw the other night. It stands between me and the two mountain lions as if to protect me.
Shifter Crown: Valley of Truth and Denial (The Shifter Crown Series Book 1) Page 5
