Two

  The colorful shimmer of neon beer-signs reflect on the wet pavement, and my cowboy boots clomp as I make my way toward the bar. I haven’t been inside Pete’s in over seven years, but it feels like it was just yesterday. A group of motorcycles are parked off to the left of the entrance, and I glance over as I hope to glimpse a custom Ducati. I don’t see it, but then I’m not looking too hard, because if I find it, I’m not sure I’ll go inside.

  The door swings open before I get to it, and a man steps out. He’s got broad shoulders and a tall build like many of the guys in this town that belonged to the high school group nicknamed the Truck Club. Werewolf. He nods at me as he holds the door, and I say thank you as I walk through. I enter into dim lighting and rowdy conversation. The aroma of seared beef and fried food wafts toward me, and I salivate thinking about the burgers Pete’s is known for. It’s Saturday night, and the happy-hour crowd is drunk, while those who are here for the band have just begun to take the edge off.

  I find a seat at the bar and take it without looking around. I’ll allow myself that luxury when it’s too late to leave. Have I given up before I’ve even tried? The scratchy voice of an ex-smoker asks, “What’ll it be?” I gaze at a woman whose face is etched by time like the worn wooden bar she stands behind. She’s still attractive, and her tight top that reveals significant cleavage tells me she knows it.

  I say, “A pilsner, whatever you’ve got on tap, and a menu please.”

  The voices around me don’t sound familiar, so I allow myself to glance in the mirror to check out the patrons seated at the bar. I don’t recognize anyone, and while my first reaction is relief, it’s followed by disappointment. You didn’t expect it to be easy, did you?

  A plastic-coated menu slaps down before me, and my beer thumps beside it. I say, “Can I have a cheeseburger, medium-rare, please?”

  The bartender glares at me as she snatches the menu back, and the guy beside me chuckles under his breath. I ask him, “Think she’ll spit on it?”

  “Naw, but you better leave her a good tip, or you’ll be blacklisted for life.”

  I already am.

  “Andi Thompson. You crawled out from under your rock!”

  I turn to the voice of my childhood friend, Julie. Her hair is a little too blond, and her makeup is overdone, but she is one of the kindest people I know. I say, “It happens. You look fantastic. How are you?”

  “Pretty good.” She nods toward the pool tables beyond the bar. “Still married to Greg, but no kids yet.”

  I glance over at her husband, who’s standing with his hand on a pool cue as he waits his turn to play. He’s looking better than I remember, and I say, “You guys are still the cutest couple ever.”

  The bartender appears, and Julie orders two beers. She asks me, “You still work over at the university?”

  “Yes. I work in the research lab.”

  “Married? Kids?”

  “No,” I say, “just a cat.”

  “Still so serious, aren’t you?” asks Julie.

  “I guess. But I’m out for a little fun tonight.”

  “Well, I’m your girl.” She turns to the guy next to me. “Would you mind sliding down a seat so I can sit next to my friend?”

  “Sure,” he says. “No problem.”

  Two brown bottles thump on the bar, and Julie says to the bartender, “Start me a tab, please. I’ll be right back.”

  While Julie takes a beer to Greg, I sip my draft. The slight metallic aftertaste reminds me of coming here with Esher, and now that Julie has given me a valid reason for my presence, I peruse the restaurant to look for him. I discover a group of men that I think might be his friends, and when I study them I recognize one or two. Maybe he’ll show up later.

  Julie returns and says, “I’m all yours. So what kind of fun are you looking for? A guy?”

  I frown. How does she know? “What makes you say that?”

  She chuckles. “Because what else does a single girl do in a bar on Saturday night?”

  “Oh.” I grin back at her. Julie was the sort of girl that loved to play matchmaker. I think because she and Greg have been together forever, she lives vicariously through her girlfriends. I say, “There is one guy I was hoping to see. Remember Esher Wakefield?”

  “Of course.” She places a hand on her chest. “He was so dreamy. Still is.”

  “Yeah? Does he still come here regularly?”

  “Yup.” She points a red manicured fingernail over to the group of guys I’d seen earlier. “He may be a fancy schmancy doctor now, but he still hangs out with the same crew.” I glance over as she says, “Funny how guys are like that. They seem to make friends for life.”

  I think about how I don’t have many friends. But talking to Julie is easy, as if we just picked up where we left off, so I say, “Girls don’t need to see each other every week to be close though, do they?”

  “No.” She lifts her beer, and I meet the bottle with my glass as it clinks, and she says, “To friendship.”

  I say, “To friends forever. Now tell me how work is going for you.”

  When my dinner arrives, Julie talks on about her job as a dispatcher for the police department, and her recent book club. She invites me to join them, and I say yes because I should spend more time reconnecting with friends instead of watching my subscription TV reruns with my cat.

  I’m on my second beer when the band starts to play, and it doesn’t take much convincing for Julie to get me to pay up and join her on the dance floor. While I continue to steal an occasional glance over at Esher’s friends to look for him, I’m enjoying myself. A few guys try to join in on our fun, but Julie waves them off, saying she’s married and I’m waiting for someone special.

  A slow song begins to play, and we take a break to go stand with Greg’s crew. Somehow another draft ends up in my hand, and I welcome the cold liquid as it slides down my throat. I should be exhausted and in bed like I am most nights lately, but the alcohol seems to be giving me my old energy back. I’m chatting with Greg when Julie grips my arm and whispers, “Esher’s here.”

  I turn quickly to see, and a flush of heat rises in my body when I meet his gaze. He frowns and begins to walk toward me. Julie says, “Oh, yeah. He’s a man on a mission.”

  I nudge her with my knee but don’t break my stare. When Esher gets to me he asks, “Andi, what are you doing here?”

  Looking for you. But clearly that wasn’t such a good idea, because he doesn’t look happy to see me. “Just out having fun with Julie.”

  His eyes darken as he says, “Funny, I’ve never seen you here with her before.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m not very social.” My stomach flips, because he really isn’t pleased I’m here, and I should have expected this.

  Julie saves me. “You know how women are. We don’t need to see each other every week to stay friends. Now be a dear and dance with Andi so I can give my husband some attention. He gets jealous, you know.” Greg’s laughter rings out, and we all glance over to see he’s joking with his friends.

  Fortunately Esher doesn’t call her on the lie and says, “We can’t have that.”

  He holds out his hand, and I take it. An overwhelming warmth seeps into my fingers and sends a signal of desire straight up my arm to my heart. After all this time, I’m still in love with Esher Wakefield. God help me.

  Three

  Esher leads me to the dance floor, and when he turns to face me he doesn’t let go of my hand. I gaze at his mouth and remember the softness of his lips when he kissed me. My insides tremble as other memories come to me. He gazes at me for a moment, and something not quite human flashes in his eyes before he says, “I don’t want to dance with you, Andi. Want to step outside for a minute?”

  I’m relieved, because my burst of energy is gone, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep up the act when every muscle in my body is fighting to keep me upright. I’ve overdone it, and tomorrow I’ll be lucky to get out of bed. But part of me is anxious. I need to tell Esher about Dr. Sand. The red glow of a cigarette illuminates a smoker as he inhales, and we walk by him toward the parking lot. The cool night air shakes me from my exhaustion, but it’s not enough to help the swimming of my head from one too many beers. I grip Esher’s hand a little tighter and imagine he does the same.

  He says, “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again, Andi. It’s been too long.”

  I stumble over a pothole and wince when he grabs my arm to keep me from falling. The force from his grip is bound to leave another bruise to add to my collection. I say, “Thanks. I probably shouldn’t have had that last beer.”

  Esher’s voice lowers into a growl as he says, “Your hand is like ice.” He frowns at me. “Let’s go sit in my car, and I’ll turn on the heat.”

  The beep of a car alarm sounds, and I glance over at the lights that flash on what must be his black BMW. “Sure.”

  He opens the door for me, and I slide over the buttery-soft leather of the passenger seat. Once Esher is inside, he turns on the car and flips a seat-heater button for me. I say, “Impressive car. Medicine is treating you well.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  “Really?” My heart flips, and I hope it’s because he wanted to see me again, but I think the reason has to do with his younger brother, Ekton, who was almost identified by the government as a werewolf. Even though I did all I could to keep Ekton off the radar, when my lab assistant, Mia, suddenly quit last semester, it raised red flags that sent the men in black.

  “I wanted to thank you for saving Ekton’s butt. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Shame heats my face. “I know you wish you’d never met me, and I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.” When I gaze at him, he blurs. I shake my head a bit to clear my vision.

  “Andi. That’s not it.” He takes my hand, but I pull it away as I fight a wave of nausea.

  “We do need to talk.” Stars float before my eyes, and my voice fades as I say, “You’re still in dan—” A veil of blackness drops.

  I wake with my head in Esher’s lap, and I lean into his warm hand as he strokes my cheek. “You fainted.”

  I try to sit up, but he presses on my shoulder as he says, “Don’t. Not so fast. Let’s lift you up slowly.”

  “Okay.” He helps me to an upright position and flips on the overhead light. I squint in the brightness.

  The cotton of my sleeve scrapes on my skin as Esher pushes it up and reveals the purple splotches on my forearm. He inhales sharply before he lifts my chin to gaze into my eyes. “Why the hell didn’t you find me sooner?”

  I drop my gaze to my lap as I whisper, “Because I don’t deserve your help.”

  “Yes. You do.” Esher lifts my chin again with his finger. “Whatever happened between us is not a good reason to die, Andi.”

  “I’ve failed you—the werewolves—in so many ways. Because of me, you’re in constant danger.”

  “That’s not true. We’ve been in danger for over a century.”

  I close my eyes as tears of guilt burn in them. “But not like this. Dr. Sand came last week, and she’s here to uncover the truth. That’s what I came to tell you.”

  He says, “We know she’s here. But that’s not what I’m worried about right now. You need to get my blood in you as soon as possible.”

  I pull back. “No. It’s too risky. We don’t know what can happen. What if this time it does more than heal me?”

  “You should get out of that lab, Andi.”

  If I leave, who will protect the wolves? I shake my head. “You need me there.”

  “We need you alive. I need you alive.” Esher takes my hand again and threads his fingers through mine as if he’s trying to keep me from slipping away.

  The overhead lamp clicks as he pushes the button to turn it off, and my eyes adjust to the darkened atmosphere of the car. I can still see his face though, and I take in his strong features that make me wish I knew how to draw. He cares? He sure doesn’t act like it. I sigh. “I’ll think about it. I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday, so let me see what they say.”

  Esher scowls and says, “I know what they’re going to say.”

  I change the subject. “So you’re a pediatrician now, right?”

  He nods, and I say, “I’m sure your pack is happy to have you.” The Silver Lake wolves have their own medical care, and while Esher studied with humans, he always knew he’d be working with werewolves. I have so many questions about werewolf children and how the shifting works, but I’m not in the position to ask.

  “Yeah.” He tilts his head at me and stares for a moment before he says, “I know what you’re doing, and I’ll let it go. But I better get a call Monday, or I’ll hunt you down.” His tone is stern.

  I ask, “What are you going to do if I don’t call? Bite me?”

  Esher raises his eyebrows and lets out a growl. “Maybe.”

  I wonder if becoming a werewolf would cure me completely. But I know how that works. We’d be mated for life, and I don’t think Esher is willing to go that far to save me. For all I know, he already has a mate. I ask, “What would your girlfriend think?”

  “Subtle, you’re not. I don’t have a girlfriend.” Esher glances down at our entwined fingers and asks, “What about you? Are you involved with anyone?”

  I shake my head and become aware of the sexy guy holding my hand. Desire that has been smoldering bursts into flames again as I recall our steamy connection, and I release my grip. While I’ve dated since I was with Esher, my relationships never last long. No man has ever measured up to the love I had for the one across from me.

  “Good.” Esher gives me a wolfish grin, and his straight teeth gleam in the faint light of the parking lot. “I’m going to drive you home now, and tomorrow morning after you’ve had a good night’s sleep I’ll come get you for breakfast and bring you back to your car.”

  “I—” He’s right. If I just passed out, I shouldn’t be driving. “I should go tell Julie so she doesn’t wonder what happened to me.”

  He shakes his head. “She saw us leave. Do my reputation some good and let them think I took you back to my place, okay?”

  I grin at him. “Okay,” I say and mumble to myself, “It will do mine some good too.”

  The engine of Esher’s car purrs when he starts it, and he asks, “Where am I taking you?”

  Back to the memories I’d carefully tucked away. “Twenty-six Walnut Street.”

  Four

  My alarm wakes me from a dead sleep, and it takes me a moment to focus on reality. I reach over and stroke the silky fur of my cat, Snowflake. Her chest vibrates with a purr under my palm. A grin forms on my face when I remember why I’m not sleeping in on a Sunday morning. I roll over to say to Snowflake, “I have a date with Esher. Whatever am I going to wear?”

  My excitement masks my low energy well, and I even sing in the shower. I decide on black leggings, a loose tee, and a long sweater since I get cold easily these days. I’m in the middle of applying mascara when my doorbell rings. I sigh as I finish quickly. I’d forgotten Esher is always early.

  My bare feet thump lightly over the carpet as I make my way to the door, and when I open it I discover Esher in jeans, with a paper grocery bag in his arms. I step out of the way to let him in as he says, “We have things to talk about that shouldn’t be discussed in public, so I decided to cook for you.” The bag rustles as he sets it on my kitchen counter.

  Snowflake lets out a hiss that startles us, and I glance over at my cat, arched up as if she’s about to attack. I say, “Don’t mind—” My cat launches herself onto Esher’s chest, and her claws dig in as she sticks to him like glue. “Snowflake!”

  Esher growls, and Snowflake yowls before running to me and climbing up my body as if I’m a tree.

  “Nice cat.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I hold the squirming cat by its scruff and toss her into the bathroom. The door slams as I shut it quickly. “I swear she’s never done that before.”

  He shrugs. “It’s probably the dog and cat thing.”

  I chuckle at him as I watch Esher unload his bag. Orange juice thuds on the counter, followed by eggs, bacon, pancake mix, maple syrup, and butter. I say, “You brought me a feast.”

  Esher turns to me, and I notice his defined pecs in a T-shirt that is tight. His biceps look huge as cotton strains to surround them, and I long to feel those arms around me. My college boyfriend has filled out nicely. I think he’s showing off for me too, because last night his shirt and pants were loose. I gaze at Esher’s butt in the snug jeans he’s wearing as he crouches down and opens the cabinet where I keep pots and pans.

  I ask, “How do you know where things are?”

  He glances over his shoulder at me as a frying pan clatters on the stovetop. “You’re logical. You put things where they should go.”

  I move closer and ask, “What can I do to help?”

  “You can make the coffee. I’ve got the rest.”

  “On it.” Water rushes as I fill the carafe. I say, “This is a treat. I’ve never had a man cook for me.”

  Bacon begins to sizzle as Esher says, “That probably shouldn’t make me as happy as it does.”

  Coffee trickles into the pot, and the aroma of a dark roast mixes with the cooking pork. His shoulders are wider than I remember, and his shirt is tight across them as they set off his trim waist. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I ask, “Still just a splash of cream?”

  He glances at me and nods as a hint of a smile forms on his face. I think he’s flattered I remembered. He asks, “Are you still a cream-and-sugar girl?”

  “I am.” Hmm, maybe I left a lasting impression too. But my happiness fades, because I need to get something off my chest. “Esher, I don’t think I ever really apologized for what happened.”

  “That’s because I didn’t let you.” Esher turns from the stove to face me.