Dutchy went completely red, her face crumpling. “I’m sorry!”
“No, no.” Temperance sat down next to her. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.” Gabriel put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him. Something passed silently between them, and it was as if they were the only people in the room. “It was a house fire, when I was a teenager,” she continued when she turned back to Dutchy. “A long time ago, and I’m fine now.”
He had no idea that Gabriel’s mate was a burn survivor. It seemed an odd pairing, seeing as he’d always been dubbed “pretty boy,” but it was obvious he was head over heels for his mate.
Dutchy straightened her shoulders. “I wanted to apologize to you, personally, for not getting back to you about your gown.”
Temperance peered at her cast. “It’s all right. J.D. and Anna Victoria told me … told me that you’ve been working through some stuff.”
“I really am sorry,” she said. “I know timelines and things can be tight. When’s the wedding?”
“In the spring,” Temperance said. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together. “Is there enough time? Do you think you could still work on a gown? All these options from the wedding coordinator are terrible. I swear, sometimes it’s like she works for Gabriel’s sister and not us.”
This time, Dutchy’s face drained of blood. “I … I …”
Krieger discreetly cleared his throat and caught Gabriel’s gaze. The lion shifter seemed to understand and squeezed his mate’s shoulder. “Temperance, we can talk about it later, okay?”
“Of course.” She stood up. “It was nice to meet you both. Enjoy your meal, and I’ll see you around.”
“I’ll grab your orders, guys,” Gabriel said and then led his mate away.
“Thank you,” Dutchy said when they were far away enough. “For doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“It’s like … like you know what I need. And you say and do the right things.” Her lashes lowered. “So … thanks.”
He stared at her, stunned. She was easy to read, yes, but also, he was in tune to her every word and action so he could anticipate anything she needed. It was his job as her mate to take care of her. “You’re welcome.”
“This is making me think that maybe I need to start making amends.” She fiddled with the coffee cup. “To go to my friends and apologize for ignoring them these past few months. I know they’ve all been worried about me. I mean, I’ve seen them at least once, because they’ve been helping me in the mornings, but I don’t think I’ve ever told them I’m sorry. Maybe—”
“Here you go.” Gabriel returned and placed three plates on their table. “Two beef pie specials. And a slice of rose lychee, compliments of the baker herself. Let me know when you want your dessert.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And please say thank you to Temperance too.”
“Will do.” Gabriel gave them a two-fingered salute as he dashed off to take another order.
The rest of the meal was spent eating in comfortable silence. Gabriel or Rosie stopped by to chat, refill their coffees, and serve them dessert. Krieger ate slowly, and whether consciously or not, soaked in every word and every movement she made. His mate really was gorgeous, even more than he remembered. Sure, she was looking a little thinner now, but that didn’t detract from her beautiful face, smooth rosy skin, and all that vibrant red hair. His cock twitched just thinking about the times he had those red locks wrapped around his fist, her under him, being inside her.
He cleared his throat. “Scuse me.” Before Dutchy could say anything, he stood up and strode to the men’s room. Calm down, he told himself.
His bear, however, roared at him impatiently. It wanted now, more than ever, to claim her and make her theirs.
“Not yet,” he said aloud as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dutchy wasn’t ready. Her animal wasn’t ready. Despite her congenial appearance, he could tell that her fox was still angry at him. But he didn’t care; he was going to win her over. He’d wait forever if he had to.
After washing his hands, he went back to the booth. “Did you want anything else?”
“No, I’m pretty full.” She winced and scratched at her cast. “Sorry. I’m just … my shoulder gets tired easily. And I get tired easily.”
“I’ll take you home,” he said.
After grabbing their check and paying, he led her to the truck, then drove her back to Angela’s place.
“Wait,” he began as she reached for the door handle.
“You don’t have to walk me in,” she said. “I can make it.”
“It’s not that.” His mouth felt dry as a desert. “Dutchy … will you have dinner with me? Tomorrow?” He already had it planned in his mind. Giorgio’s, the Italian place on Main Street. She would have her dinner cooked by a professional chef and served by a waiter.
Her shoulders sank. “Krieger … this was nice. It was good of you to take me out of the house and bring me to see Rosie. But, I’m not ready for a … date.”
The hope that had built up in him during the last two days suddenly deflated. “I see.” His gut twisted, and he wanted to lash out. But his bear beat him—it clawed at him, urging him to not give up. Not on their mate. “I understand.”
She gave him a curt nod. “Thank you.”
He watched her hop out of the truck and scamper to the front door, frozen in place, chest aching like a giant fist wrapped around his torso. Why did it seem like instead of taking a step forward, he was actually jumping two back? Was all this work the last three weeks, giving her space and time, all for nothing?
Setting his jaw, he gripped the wheel tighter. No, he wasn’t going to give up now. He would never give up on her. She was his mate; they were fated to be together.
His training in the Special Forces taught him to follow a plan through. But in the field, you had to be flexible to survive. So that’s what he was going to do. Change tactics, but keep his eye on the prize.
Chapter Twelve
What the heck did I do to pass time these last months? Dutchy sighed for the hundredth time as she put her book down on her lap. She’d been reading the same paragraph for twenty minutes now. Not even the latest title from her favorite Regency romance author was enough to keep her attention.
I guess I’ll have to wait and see if Nicola ends up with her duke. Tossing the book aside, she got up from the couch, stretched out her right arm, and walked into the kitchen to make herself some tea. Thank goodness she’d healed enough to take off the sling, but she still had to keep the cast on for another week or two.
After putting the kettle on, she sat at the table, staring at her empty mug. Her brain—and her fox—was telling her that turning Krieger down was the right decision. Did he really think he could just make everything better by sending her gifts and taking her on dates? It didn’t work that way. How could she be sure he wouldn’t just leave her again?
But her damn heart—and other sensitive parts of her, if she were honest—wanted to believe that he would stay. That this was it—the forever she’d been hoping for since her friends started pairing off.
“Dutchy!”
“What?” The sound of her aunt’s voice and the piercing whistle of the kettle shook her out of her thoughts. “Oh. Sorry.”
Angela had already turned the stove off. “Darling, are you okay? I walked in here, and you were just staring off into space.”
“I … I’m fine.” Getting to her feet, she grabbed the kettle and poured hot water into her mug. “I was just woolgathering. You know. Do you want some tea? How was your day?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Had two fittings and a new client.” Angela blew at a lock of hair resting on her forehead. “Thanks, dear, but I think I’ll need something stronger than tea after dealing with a total bridezilla.”
“I’ve had my share of those,” she said. “What happened?”
“She wanted this particular style that was on our social media page, but I already sold it out last wee
k. When she found out, she blew her top and threatened to sue for false advertising. Then, she actually demanded I call the other bride and take the dress back and sell it to her—at a discount no less because now it was ‘used.’” Shaking her head, she plopped down on the chair across from Dutchy. “Some people.”
“Ugh, that sounds awful. I’m sorry.”
“Like I said, I need something stronger tonight.” Angela’s eyes twinkled. “Say, how about you and I go out? Let’s have dinner out and then maybe drinks? Where’s that place all you young kids go to? That bar just outside town? The Pen?”
“You mean, The Den?”
“Yeah, that one. I’ll probably be twenty years older than everyone there, but I’m sure they won’t mind serving an oldie like me,” she joked.
“Aunt Angela, you are not old,” she admonished. Angela was over fifty, if she recalled correctly, but her hair was still vibrant and her skin smooth as someone ten years her junior. Like Dutchy, she was petite and curvy, and always dressed nicely, albeit more conservatively, preferring skirts that went below her knees and blouses that buttoned all the way up to her neck.
“I definitely feel old today.” Angela eased her foot out of her heels and leaned back in her chair. “So, how about it, darling? Giorgio’s and then The Den?”
She hesitated, but then gave it a second thought. Well, why not? She couldn’t stay cooped up in here all the time. And when was the last time she spent time with her aunt? Growing up, she always admired and looked up to the sweet but pragmatic and sensible woman, who had an independent streak a mile wide. Of course, she never asked why Angela never married; her aunt was a private person when it came to personal matters.
“All right, Aunt Angela,” she said. “Let’s leave around six?”
Angela’s face lit up. “Sounds fab!”
Later that evening as they split a bottle of wine and had some fabulous Italian food, Dutchy found herself having a good time. They had invited Rosie, too, but she asked for a rain check as she was busy closing up at the pie shop. After dessert and coffee, she and Angela drove out to The Den.
“Oh my.” Angela glanced around as they entered the boisterous and noisy atmosphere of Blackstone’s most popular hangout. Being a Saturday night, it was packed. “It certainly is … something.”
“I can go to the bar and get us more wine,” Dutchy said. “And we don’t have to stay long. If this isn’t your scene, then we can always go back and open up that bottle of merlot in your cupboard.”
“Dutchy! You’re here!”
She turned her head toward the sound of the familiar voice. “Kate?”
Kate Caldwell-Thalassa enveloped her in a hug. “You made it.”
Puzzled, she pulled away. “Made it?”
“She didn’t put up a fight, did she?” Kate asked Angela.
Her aunt laughed. “Had to ply her with food and wine, but it wasn’t hard.”
“What are you guys talking about?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Did you plan this?”
“Nope.” Kate shook her head, her jeweled nose piercing twinkling. “Not us.”
“But who—”
“Come on.” The she-wolf grabbed her hand and dragged her across the crowded room to a doorway leading to the back. “Hey, look who’s here!” she shouted.
There were over a dozen people in the room, and they all turned toward them. Dutchy had to blink a few times because she realized she knew all these people. They were her friends.
“Dutch!” Amelia Grimes greeted as she dashed over. The tall bear shifter hugged her and then handed her a glass of white wine. “Glad to see you made it!”
“Me too,” Penny Walker added. “Sorry I haven’t come to see you or help out.”
“It’s fine, Penny.” Penny had been her first client when she arrived in Blackstone. “I’m sure you’ve been busy running around after a toddler.”
More people came up to her wishing her well, including her friends’ respective mates, and to her surprise, the Blackstone Dragons themselves, Matthew and Jason Lennox, and their mates.
“Sybil sends her regards,” Catherine Lennox said. She was mated to Matthew, the older of the twin dragons. “She really wanted to come and visit as soon as she heard about your accident, but she couldn’t get away from her royal duties.”
“She’ll be here in a couple months, though,” Christina said, her hand going to her stomach.
Dutchy’s eyes widened as she saw the obvious bump of the other woman’s belly. “Christina?”
Before she could answer, her mate, Jason, placed an arm around her. “Oh yeah. Finally knocked her up.” The pride and joy on his face was brighter than the sun.
Christina rolled her eyes. “We’ve known for a while now and wanted to keep it quiet. But I just popped and couldn’t hide it anymore.”
“Congratulations, guys,” she said. Despite the pang of envy in her chest, she really was happy for them.
“Our guest of honor is here!” J.D. exclaimed as she bounded over to them, Anna Victoria right behind her. “Glad to see you out and about, Dutch.”
“Here, here,” Anna Victoria added.
“Uh, thanks.” She bit her lip. “But I’m still confused. Is this some kind of party? Someone’s birthday?”
J.D. snickered. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? This party is for you.”
“For me?”
“Kinda,” Anna Victoria added. “I mean, Krieger asked us to help track down anyone who might want to come and invite them here for a get together to cheer you up.”
Blood rushed to her ears. “K-Krieger did this?” She glanced around at all the people gathered in the small room, chatting and laughing. Plus, there was a table on the corner piled with drinks and food, including pies from Rosie’s.
“Of course.” J.D. said matter-of-factly. “Who else would do this?”
“But where is he?” And why hasn’t he come up to me, a small, disappointed voice in her added.
J.D. cocked her head toward the back of the room. Sure enough, he was there, in the corner, chatting with Damon quietly.
God, how could one man look so good just standing there? He was wearing his jeans, leather jacket, and shirt combo again, though this time, he left his hair down.
Immediately, he must have sensed her gaze on him, because he looked up. Her heart leapt into her throat as their eyes met. He gave her a slight nod and took a slow sip of his beer.
J.D. nudged her with her shoulder. “So … things going well there?”
“I—”
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted. “You’re Dutchy, right?”
“Yes?”
The blonde woman who approached her was unfamiliar, but Dutchy knew at once she was a shifter.
“I’m Darcey. Darcey Wednesday,” she introduced. “When J.D. told me where she was going tonight, I asked if I could come.”
She held her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Darcey.”
Darcey smiled weakly. “Um, I wanted to see if you’re were okay.” Her lower lip trembled as she peered down at her cast. “I-I was in the car that ran you over. It’s a long story, but a group of bad men were trying to kidnap me.”
“Oh.” She recalled Anna Victoria telling her the story. “I’m glad they didn’t hurt you.”
“Yeah, they weren’t able to get away … but I’m not glad you were hurt in the process.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Darcey, it’s all right. Don’t feel guilty. I’m here. I’m okay. They’re going to take off the cast soon, and to be honest, it’s more itchy than painful right now,” she said, chuckling aloud.
Darcey brushed the tears away with the back of her hands. “I’m so happy to hear that. If it weren’t for you and Krieger, I don’t think I’d b-be h-here.”
“Krieger?” For the second time that night, she was dumbfounded when hearing his name.
“Yeah, he was with Anders—that’s my mate—when they came after me,” Darcey explained. “He shifted and took down one
of the guys who tried to kidnap me.”
Krieger had been there? When she was struck down? Why did no one tell her that? Why didn’t he? Darcey wrung her hands together. “If there’s anything you need at all, please let me know.”
“I—excuse me.” A feeling from deep inside urged her to find him. Her fox hissed and protested, of course, but she ignored it.
She glanced over to where he was, now deep in conversation with Damon and another man who also wore the ranger uniform. Despite her stomach’s churning, she made her way to him. “Um, Krieger?” Even now, she couldn’t calm the pounding of her heart in her chest.
His gaze caught hers. “Dutchy.”
“Can I talk to you? In private?”
The two other men looked at each other. “Why don’t we go say hi to the boss, Anders? We’ll chat more later, Krieg,” Damon said, patting him on the shoulder. With a quick nod to Dutchy, he and the other man left.
“Everything okay?” Krieger asked, his tone concerned. “Are you tired? Does your arm hurt?”
“No, no. It’s just …” Her tongue tied up in knots, trying to find the words. “J.D. said you arranged this? Had all my friends come here to see me?”
“Yeah.”
“But why? It’s not my birthday or anything.”
“I know. But the other night, you said you were a terrible person for ignoring your friends. I told you it’s not true, so … so I thought I’d show you.”
“Show me?”
“That your friends care for you.” The timbre of his voice lowered a notch. “Don’t matter if you ignore them for months or years. Real friends pick things right up where you left them. And you don’t have to ask them for forgiveness for things that weren’t in your control. And if you do, they’ll forgive you.”
She stared at him, slack-jawed, unable to speak or do anything. How does he do it? How does he know the right thing to do or say? And why—despite her rejection yesterday—did he feel the need to do this for her?
Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5 Page 11
