Читать книгу Rescued By The Wolf - Kristal Hollis - Страница 13
ОглавлениеRafe sped toward the Walker’s Run Resort. He’d gladly pay any fine as long as he delivered Grace before he did something stupid.
The conglomeration of smells in the diner had masked her true scent, giving him a chance to breathe and relax.
Closed inside the tow truck, though, her soft, feminine musk engulfed his senses. His skin prickled with awareness and his thoughts turned to long, luscious kisses and dangerously indulgent caresses.
He lowered the windows, hoping the rush of cool air would clear his head. A slight shiver shook Grace’s shoulders but she didn’t complain. Humming softly to herself, she continued staring out the window.
Hands clamped on the steering wheel, he steeled himself against the urge to pull off the road, haul her against him and warm her with his heat while his hands roamed her curves, preferably while they were both naked.
She’d slept in his bed, worn his clothes and shared his food. To a Wahyan male, she was practically his.
Only she wasn’t. She couldn’t be.
He was merely horny.
Ever since his mate died, he’d been celibate.
Moon-fucks didn’t count. Wahyas needed sex during the full moon to keep their hormones in balance.
Out of necessity, he and Loretta Presley, a widow with three kids, had become exclusive moon-fuck partners. Their encounters were always in wolf form and they avoided each other socially, as agreed, to ensure no emotional entanglements.
Almost two weeks past the last full moon, Rafe shouldn’t feel the urge for sex. Yet Grace’s scent bombarded him with such tantalizing force he could think of little else.
Different from the animalistic drive the full moon unleashed, the pull toward Grace was tangled in pure, unadulterated desire.
He punched the buttons on the console to turn on the heater and sliced the vents to blow in her direction. A blast of heat blew back the loose strands of her hair, revealing the discolored Ping-Pong-ball-sized lump at her temple.
She gave him a side glance, then adjusted the vent so that the warm air hit her arms.
His stiffly curled fingers made it difficult to turn the wheel. The sooner he and Grace parted company, the better off he’d be. The last thing he wanted was her scent mucking up his life.
He parked in front of the Walker’s Run Resort and hopped out of the vehicle. A pack sentinel, working as a valet, reached for the passenger door. An instinctual warning growl rolled from Rafe’s throat. The barely twenty-something wolfan backed away.
Grace’s warm fingers clutched Rafe’s outstretched hand as she stepped down from the vehicle. The energy sparked from the touch buzzed up his arm, down his spine and spread into every nerve.
It wasn’t the kind of electrical surge that could drop a man to the ground in convulsions. This was a gentle quiver of warmth, the kind that slowly saturated the skin, seeped into every cell, thawed the deepest, darkest, most frozen places within and, therefore, was the most dangerous vibration of all.
Fidgeting with the bag slung across her body, Grace strolled past the valet. “Hi, Jimmy. No more drive-through runs for me. The Beetle is out of commission for a while.”
“Anytime you want something, give me a holler. Twenty-four seven. I’ll be at your beck and call.” Jimmy grinned with far too much interest.
Rafe Gibbs-smacked him as he passed. “Not necessary or recommended.”
As his and Grace’s steps synchronized, Rafe’s hand gravitated to her lower back as if touching her was as natural as breathing.
The scent of cinnamon and cloves greeted them inside the resort. A few people with luggage in tow stood at the guest services counter. An older man lounged in a seating area reading the paper. The amicable chatter from the dining room didn’t mask the subtle hum of the descending elevator.
The doors parted with a swish.
“Grace!” Cassie Walker, a petite, abundantly pregnant woman with curly red hair, stepped out. “I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”
Her gaze traveled up and down Grace and cut to him. “Rafe? Why is she wearing pajama pants and your shirt?”
“Long story,” Grace said. “Before I begin, trust me when I say I’m okay.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Cassie’s brow creased.
“Doc said Grace needs to rest. Would you make sure she gets it?”
“Doc?” Cassie’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
“A small fender bender, nothing serious.” Grace’s gaze lingered on Rafe and he suddenly didn’t want to leave.
“Call me if you need anything. My number is in your phone.” An impulsive act last night that might bite him in the ass sooner rather than later.
Walking away, he consciously forced his muscles to relax instead of conspiring against him to make him look over his shoulder.
“Rafe, wait!”
Not the voice he would’ve expected.
He turned and waited for Cassie to catch up.
“What’s up, Red?”
“I won’t ask about what happened between you and Grace last night. She’ll tell me all about it.”
Rafe hoped she wouldn’t mention his state of undress. The fewer who knew that tidbit, the better. It was bad enough Tristan Durrance, the responding sheriff deputy, and a pack sentinel, had arrived before Doc got there with an old pair of sweats for Rafe to wear. He expected it would be a long time before Tristan would let him forget getting caught bare-ass by a human female.
“I hope you used the opportunity to get to know her a little better,” Cassie continued. “Grace is like a sister to me and she’s become an important part of mine and Brice’s lives. Just as you are.”
“What are you getting at, Red?”
Laughter rose above the soft chatter of guests in the lobby. Rafe’s gaze slid to Grace, directing a family into silly poses as she took their picture next to an indoor totem pole with several wolf heads carved into the wood.
“It’s okay to let people into your life again,” Cassie said. “People like Grace. She’s fun, and kind, and never meets a stranger.”
“I’m managing fine with the way things are.”
“Managing isn’t the same as living.” She touched his arm. “Trust me, I know.”
* * *
“Here you go, little mama.” Grinning, Grace held out a cup of hot tea she’d made in the microwave. Her posh suite at the Walker’s Run Resort was nothing short of a small apartment equipped with a kitchenette, a cozy living room, and a luxury bedroom with a balcony view of the forested mountainside. All compliments of Cassie’s in-laws, Gavin and Abigail Walker, the resort’s owners.
“Thank you.” Cassie, her best childhood friend, accepted the drink. They’d reconnected through social media after Cassie had married.
The internet was Grace’s lifeline. Not only was the internet vital to her web design business, it helped her stay connected with friends all over the world. She needed it as much as she needed coffee.
But, moving to Knoxville last year to help her brother had put Grace within driving distance of Cassie. She and Brice had visited while Matt was at the rehabilitation center. After Matt’s discharge, and once he was comfortable staying a few days by himself, Grace had accepted Cassie’s father-in-law’s open invitation to stay at the resort.
Since Cassie had no family after her mom’s passing, Gavin said Cassie needed a “sister.”
How could Grace say no?
Now she had her own room—dubbed the Grace Olsen Suite, available anytime she visited.
“Want anything else?”
“I’m good.” Cassie tucked a loose red ringlet behind her ear. “I hate that you’re doting on me. You have a concussion.”
“It’s only a bump and I have a hard head.” Grace sat on the couch, drawing her bare feet beneath her.
“I can’t believe you saw Rafe naked.” Cassie stretched her legs and propped her tiny, swollen feet on the coffee table. “Funny, Brice was naked when we met, too.”
Cassie rubbed her pregnant belly. “See where that led me?”
“Don’t jinx me. I will adore the little girl right there,” she pointed at Cassie’s belly, “but I don’t do serious relationships and I don’t want to be a single mom.” Grace had seen how hard it was on her mother, single parenting every time her father was deployed.
“I never planned on this, either. Yet here I am and I couldn’t be happier.”
“It’s different for you. You’re planted here.” Grace fluffed her pillow. “I’ve never lived in a place longer than a few years.”
Cassie sipped her tea. “Maico was no different from any other of the half-dozen towns my mom dragged me to. I expected we’d be here for eighteen months tops before we moved on. Then, she died, I had nowhere to go and Maico became home.”
“Because you got stuck here. Once Matt gets on his feet again—figuratively speaking, I’ll be free to live anywhere.”
“What about here? Maico is a great place.” A hopeful smile lit Cassie’s face, just like the one she’d given Grace when they were seven and Cassie had asked her to be friends. “Give it a chance to become your home, too.”
Growing up in military housing, Grace had always craved a real home. A place where she could put nails in walls to hang her pictures and posters. But, every time she started getting comfortable, her family would move again. Eventually, Grace stopped unpacking her suitcases and boxes. Why bother if she was going to repack them anyway?
Cassie tucked an errant red curl behind her ear. “I want you around for Brenna’s sake, when she finally gets here.”
“No matter where I am, I’ll only be a text away.”
“You can’t hold her over the internet.”
Grace clenched her jaw. Many of her childhood milestones had had to be video relayed to her father overseas or emailed. She thought it sucked then. It would suck if she did the same to Cassie’s baby.
“I’m only a few hours away.”
“For now. How long until you move away?” Cassie’s red brows angled over her eyes and Grace hoped it wasn’t bad luck to make a pregnant woman frown. “I remember you used to complain about moving so often. When you grew up, you wanted a big two-story house, a husband and six kids.”
“I got used to moving. Now it’s in my blood and I get antsy if I stay too long in one place.” Grace shook her head. “I must’ve been crazy to want six kids. I have a hard enough time keeping up with myself. As for a husband, I’ll stick to friends with benefits for now.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“I’m in a slump.” More of a Sahara dry spell, actually. She’d left her sex buddy in Seattle and hadn’t had much opportunity to meet anyone in Knoxville.
“Any sparks with Rafe last night?”
“If we were beakers in a chemistry lab we would’ve blown up the building.”
“He’s a great guy. Good-looking. Dependable.” An impish grin broke on Cassie’s face and she rubbed her palms.
“Sometimes the packaging doesn’t match what’s inside.”
“Rafe’s does.” Cassie’s face pinked. “Not that I’ve actually seen his package.”
“He has a mighty fine ass.” Grace laughed.
“You should explore that.” Cassie’s flush deepened. “I mean, your attraction to him. He really is one of the good ones.”
“So was Derek, or so I thought.”
“Rafe isn’t Derek.” Cassie set her cup aside. “Trust me. You’ve never dated someone like Rafe.”
“Uh, no.” Grace shook her head and a heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach. “I prefer sex with men who actually like me.”
“Why do you think he doesn’t like you?”
“‘I don’t want to be your friend, Grace.’” She mimicked Rafe’s deadpan delivery.
“I told Brice the same thing.” Cassie giggled, pointing her index fingers at her belly.
“Not funny.”
“Don’t analyze Rafe. He says exactly what he means and only what he means. Simple, concise, no hidden context. So, he doesn’t want to be friends. He left the door wide open to be something else.”
“Not interested.” A smidgen of a fib she’d stand by.
“I wish you would put Derek behind you and move forward with your life.”
“I have, and I’m a pro at moving.”
“You sound like my mother.” The corners of Cassie’s mouth sagged. “Imogene died never finding her happiness. She ran from life instead of making it her own.”
“My life is my own. I have a comfortable, portable web design business and I’ve traveled the world. What more could I want?”
“Someone meaningful to join you on those travels.” Cassie rubbed slow circles across her abdomen. “Someone you love to the moon, someone who loves you beyond it.”
“I’m happy you’ve found that with Brice.” Grace swallowed to soothe the burn in her throat. “Be happy that I’m happy with the life I live.”
Most days. Sometimes the loneliness ate at her.
“Still have your old dream book?”
“Yes.” A school project from their days in Mrs. Haverty’s art class. “I’m surprised you remember it.”
Grace had carted the old scrapbook with her on every move. The opening pages displayed pictures of the perfect house, a two-story stone and log-plank house with floor to ceiling windows. Clippings of an antique apothecary, a Queen Anne couch, Tiffany lamps, and everything else she thought would make a perfect home filled the rest.
“It’s filled with the dreams of a seven-year old,” Cassie said.
It was much more. Grace had added to it over the years, up until she’d lost the baby and Derek asked for a divorce.
“Burn it.” Cassie’s pointed look meant business.
“I’m not burning it.”
The tattered scrapbook served as a reminder. Broken hearts, broken dreams and broken trust were all she got from the men in her past. No way would she trust one with her future.
