Rescued by the Wolf Page 9

  “Considering the idea of sex buddies. Not a particular one.”

  “Isn’t Loretta your steady moon-fuck partner? She might be up for experimenting.”

  “I’m not bedding Loretta.” Other than meeting for their monthly encounter, he wasn’t interested in her. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Rafe simply didn’t feel a connection.

  “She’s got kids. It would get complicated. I want simple. I’m lonely, but I can’t do forever again.”

  There was a pregnant pause.

  “In your head, you have to believe bedding the woman is only about the sex. No emotion can be involved.” Tristan’s tone sounded flat, resigned. It bore none of the lightheartedness that usually filled his voice. “Whatever you say, whatever you do, do it with one goal in mind. Fucking her. Once you’re done, leave. Don’t see her, talk to her, message her. Stay zipped on the communication. Treat this exactly like your moon-fucks.”

  Didn’t sound like much fun to Rafe. Moon-fucks were a biological necessity. He wanted sex with a soft, warm-bodied female because he was so damn tired of being lonely.

  Maybe he could figure a way to combine the two without overcomplicating things.

  “Be sure of the road you take. There might not be any exits when you need to change direction.” Tristan stood. “And the final destination could be a tundra you can’t escape.”

  Rafe nodded his thanks.

  “Do me a favor,” Tristan said. “Stay under the speed limit and don’t run any traffic signs. You’re on Sheriff Locke’s shit list. He thinks the former sheriff was too lenient on you after the DUI accident last year.”

  “I pleaded no contest.” Rafe rubbed the tight muscles behind his neck. “Served the judge’s sentence of twenty-eight days in rehab. No one else was involved and I haven’t taken another drink.”

  “Locke came into office with a grudge and an agenda. From his perspective, you’re Co-op. Grace is a friend of the Co-op. I worked the scene and I’m Co-op. He sees a Co-op cover-up.” Tristan grinned. “Which was something you should’ve done. I didn’t need to see your junk.”

  “Impressive jewels, according to Grace.”

  “She has strange taste in accessories.” Tristan laughed. “Seriously, though, the sheriff is fishing for something. He’s asked for a meeting with Gavin.”

  “About me or my wolf?”

  “Both.”

  Chapter 13

  Grace closed her eyes and tilted her head back to catch the warm sunshine on her face. Breathing the crisp spring air, she exhaled the nervous energy welling inside her body. No matter how many times she met with potential customers, the jitters always knotted her stomach.

  Today she’d added four businesses to her client list. One requested a standard start-up website design, the other three chose customized annual service packages.

  She was more than grateful. Her contract with a microbrewery in Knoxville was about to expire. The owner was a difficult client with whom she’d rather not work again. Without new clients to bridge the income gap, she wouldn’t have the financial option of not renewing his contract.

  An enormous weight lifted from her shoulders. She stepped out of her heels and tucked them into her shoulder bag, then took out her sandals and slipped them onto her feet. “Aahh. Much better.”

  She practically skipped down the contemporary concrete steps of the old Colonial-style building.

  “Miss Olsen?” An older man dressed in a blue, short-sleeved uniform shirt with a silver badge pinned over his heart stopped her. “Grace Olsen?”

  The weathered crags in his face, the cold gleam in his eyes, the flat pinch of his lips—he looked to be a man on a mission.

  “Yes.” Grace adjusted her bag, which was beginning to slip off her shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you, Officer?”

  “Sheriff. Sheriff Carl Locke.” He smiled, but it wasn’t very friendly. “How are you faring since your accident?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “No problems with the Co-op? They aren’t harassing you in any way?”

  “Why would they?” An uneasy feeling knocked at her recently unknotted stomach.

  “Let’s say the Co-op’s wolves have been involved in several incidences over the last several years. Several fatal incidences. You were fortunate, this time.”

  “I don’t expect a next time. Once Rafe completes my car repairs I’ll be more cognizant of wolves crossing the roads at night.”

  “Ah, Rafe Wyatt.”

  Grace didn’t like the sinister way he said Rafe’s name.

  The sheriff’s sharp, dark, beady eyes narrowed on her. “Some friendly advice. Stay away from Wyatt before you end up dead.”

  “Why would Rafe hurt me?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Rafe said, bounding up the steps. His voice was hard and icy, but still the sound warmed her skin.

  The sheriff’s glare lifted from Grace to Rafe and then to the pockets of people exiting the building on their lunch breaks. Some gathered at the food trucks stationed around the town square. Others strolled into the fresh foods market and other businesses framing the park.

  None seemed to pay attention to the awkward situation on the steps.

  “What are you doing here?” Grace asked Rafe.

  “I was getting lunch in the park. Saw you come out and thought you might want to join me.”

  Grace grinned. For a man who said he didn’t want to be her friend, he seemed to like her being around.

  The sheriff grunted. “We’ll talk again, Miss Olsen.”

  “Contact her lawyer first.” Rafe climbed one step higher, to the one below where Grace stood, putting them at the same height. Although they didn’t physically touch, she liked the comfort of his nearness.

  “Who might that be?” The sheriff’s gaze targeted Rafe.

  “Brice Walker,” Grace answered. Brice was the only local lawyer she knew and she didn’t think he would mind if she asked him for legal advice.

  “Of course he is.” The sheriff’s reptilian smile made Grace shiver. He restarted his journey up the steps into the building.

  “Weirdos shouldn’t wear badges.” Grace shook off the creepy vibe. “He thinks something’s up with the Co-op’s wolves.”

  Rafe didn’t speak as his gaze moved over their surroundings.

  “Everything is on the level, right? Nothing illegal or immoral?”

  “The Co-op’s focus is to provide for and protect our wolf pack and community. The wolves are a part of who and what we are. So far, there aren’t laws prohibiting our lifestyle.”

  Rafe’s assurance eased her mind.

  He looked at her, studying her face with a slow, sweeping intensity that left her a little breathy.

  “Let’s eat.” Rafe laced his fingers through hers.

  The nerve endings in her hand took notice of the spark the contact generated. Her body shook off the ickiness from the encounter with the sheriff as the crisp tingle of awareness invaded.

  He led her across the street to a food truck.

  “Hey, Rafe. Your order is ready.” The wiry vendor wearing a red Wieners-and-Chicks T-shirt waved his tongs at the blue plastic tray loaded with four hot dogs smothered with chili and cheese. “He didn’t know what you wanted, Grace.”

  “Have we met?” Grace’s mouth watered at the sweet smell of teriyaki sauce coating the chicken skewers on the grill.

  “Nope.” He wiped his hand on a towel and offered her a handshake. “I’m Frank. Heard Rafe’s been seen with a pretty blonde named Grace.”

  “Wow. Word travels fast around here.” She smiled. “I’ll take the chicken, please.”

  He slathered more sauce on the meat and turned the skewers. “You might make it into the Maico Monitor again. Your ruckus with the sheriff on the steps is the most excitement we’ve had since your accident, whi
ch make you and him—” he pointed at Rafe “—the darlings of page two.”

  “What’s on page two?”

  “The gossip column,” Rafe said, tight-lipped.

  “Oh.” The heat fanned across Grace’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

  “Now, now. Opal insists it’s the society and special interest page.” Frank flashed a toothy grin. “A wolf, a damsel in distress and—I quote Opal here—‘a handsome rescuer’ is hot news.”

  “I’m not a damsel in distress and I didn’t need to be rescued.”

  “Opal is a busybody,” Rafe said. “She should mind her own business and stop making up shit.”

  “There’s a betting pool on how long it takes you and Grace to get together.” Frank wrapped two chicken skewers in a small sheet of wax paper, laid them on the tray alongside the chili dogs and took two bottles of water out of the cooler. “Can I get any insider tips before I join in?”

  “Don’t waste your money.” Rafe and Grace said in unison.

  “Sooner rather than later.” Frank laughed. “Got it, thanks!”

  Chapter 14

  Rafe rapped his knuckles against the ornately decorated front door of the Reinhardt residence.

  Today had been a good day.

  Most days were just days. But on the ones he encountered Grace, her lively energy stayed with him, even in her absence.

  When he’d dropped her off at the resort, he’d almost kissed her. Again.

  Gavin expected him to be Grace’s friend, confidant, protector, and all Rafe could think about in her presence was touching her, kissing her, bedding her.

  He heard the light footsteps coming to answer his knock.

  “Rafe?” Cynthia Reinhardt’s soft voice sounded so much like her daughter, Lexi, that Rafe’s heart paused.

  “It’s good to see you, Cynthia.” Her dark brunette hair glittered with a few silver threads. Her delicate features and golden skin showed minimal signs of age.

  Cynthia’s daughter had been her mirror image in appearance and temperament. Looking at Cynthia, he didn’t have to imagine what Lexi would’ve looked like had they grown old together.

  “What a surprise.” Cynthia grabbed him in a motherly hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  He missed her, too. In the beginning, his emotions had been too raw and painful to reach out to her. After a while, it became habit to keep his distance. Especially since her mate, Clayton Reinhardt, blamed him for his daughter’s death.

  “I visited Lexi’s grave on her birthday last week. The spot where you watch over her was still warm.” Concern shimmered in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t me.” Rafe would’ve expected Cynthia to have detected a residual scent and identified to whom it belonged. However, if she was crying at the time, her scenting ability could’ve been compromised. “Did you ask Clay?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I assumed it was you.”

  “I made my peace with Lexi when I stopped drinking. I haven’t been back to her grave since. She’s gone, and I had to let her go. I hope you understand.”

  “I do.”

  “I, um...” He paused. “I gave the house to my cousins.”

  “I heard.” She patted his cheek. “It’s okay, Rafe. Lexi wouldn’t mind your kin living there.”

  “Ronni’s been packing stuff away for me. I gave the clothes and housewares to the thrift store. The conservatory got the gnomes, books went to the library.” He tipped his head at the dolly loaded with boxes. “Thought you might like to have the personal stuff.”

  “Bring them inside. I’ll go through everything later.”

  Rafe followed her to the den and stacked eight boxes, two by two. Hard to believe that was all he had left of his former life.

  “Anything you want to keep?” Cynthia asked.

  “It’s best if I don’t.”

  Rafe left, feeling a little sad but otherwise okay, which was a hell of an improvement from feeling like a shitty failure.

  A male was supposed to provide for his mate and protect her from all threats.

  If he had said no to the impromptu picnic...

  If he had scented the poacher’s presence...

  If he’d been a half step slower, maybe the bullet would’ve killed him instead of her.

  If, if, if—

  As he reached the tow truck parked on the side of the road, a car turned into the driveway. Purposely taking his time, Rafe secured the dolly in the backseat, closed the door, leaned against the vehicle, his arms crossed high on his chest and greeted his former father-in-law. “Evenin’, Clay.”

  Chest puffed and shoulders broadened, Clayton Reinhardt stalked toward him. He had a permanent look of smelling something bad chiseled into his craggy face and his cropped, spiky hair reminded Rafe of a hedgehog.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  A dozen or so inflammatory responses danced on Rafe’s tongue. Although Lexi had loved her father dearly, he was a pretentious, egotistical ass.

  Out of respect, Rafe kept his tone civil. “I’ve given the house to my cousin. She packed away Lexi’s stuff and I gave the boxes to Cynthia.”

  Clay’s nostrils flared and stuck. He had really big nostrils. The kind a bloodhound would envy.

  “The house belongs to my daughter!”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You have no right to give away her home.” Clay’s ears turned a shade darker than the red in his face.

  “Get a handle on your grief, Clay. Or your beast will get the best of you.”

  Unreasonable, uncontrollable and without conscience, the primitive monster lurked inside every Wahya. A hormone unique to their species kept the beast at bay with sex. Most critically during the full-moon phase.

  Extreme distress could also produce a flood of wolfan hormones, triggering the monstrous transformation. Rafe used to wonder if his beast would’ve emerged if Lexi hadn’t died instantly. If he’d watched her suffer as her life bled out in a dark red flow, knowing the child they’d struggled to conceive would also die.

  Deep within, the darkness rippled.

  Rafe held back a shudder.

  He shouldn’t dwell too long on “ifs” anymore.

  “My daughter is dead because of you.” Clay slammed his fingers into the center of Rafe’s chest.

  When Grace poked him, Rafe found her amusing and adorable. He dominated her in size, yet she wasn’t afraid to command his attention and show him her grit.

  There was nothing amusing or adorable about Clay. Malice gleamed in his black eyes and Rafe knew the man wished his fingers were claws, able to slice through Rafe’s chest to rip out his heart.

  “Lexi died because a hunter shot her.” Rafe bore his thumb into Clay’s palm, bending the wrist backward, almost to the point of fracture. “Not because I loved her.”

  Rafe shoved his former father-in-law aside and climbed into the tow truck.

  “Her name is Alexis!” The muscles in Clay’s neck strained and the veins on either side of his throat bulged. “Alexis Maria Reinhardt.”

  All the other times he and Clay argued, Rafe had always added Wyatt with a resounding growl.

  “My little girl died because you failed to protect her.” Clay grabbed the door before Rafe closed it. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

  During his drinking days, Rafe dutifully bore the piles of guilt Clay shoveled onto his back and shoulders without complaint.

  Not anymore.

  As Rafe told Cynthia, he’d made his peace with the one who mattered.

  “Goodbye, Clay.” Rafe pulled the door closed with a little more force than necessary, cranked the engine and drove off.

  Chapter 15

  Damn it, Rafe! Answer the text.

  Five minutes without a response and the wait was gnawing at Grace’s insides.


  Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have messaged him at midnight, but it really was an emergency. Although the hotel had a wonderful dessert menu, not one item contained chocolate. And she really needed chocolate.

  Matt had called. He and his partner had decided to move in together. She was happy her brother had found such a wonderful guy, but it kinda left her out in the cold.

  Matt hadn’t asked her to move out, and she didn’t think he would, but being a third wheel in her own apartment was not how she wanted to live. Yeah, she had expected to move out at some point. This sped up the timetable during the worst possible time.

  Laying the phone next to her laptop, she scooted off the bed. Did a few stretches. Padded to the bathroom for a potty break.

  Checked her phone.

  Zero new messages.

  “Ugh!” She tossed the phone on the bed and walked onto the small balcony that faced the dark forest.

  Her ears adjusted to the blended sounds of insects and the flowing river she couldn’t quite see beyond the rise.

  A zillion diamond points winked in the black velvet sky. The flowery scent of the fresh night air held onto a tiny bite of winter. Hugging herself, she rubbed her hands up and down the exposed expanse of her arms.

  She missed the howls from the wolf sanctuary several miles downriver. The last few times she’d visited, the woods had been strangely quiet.

  She wondered if Rafe was out there, somewhere, prowling with his wolf. Naked.

  Now she’d done it.

  Made her current dilemma worse.

  Not only was she chocolate-less, now she was horny.

  She sat cross-legged on the balcony floor. Closing her eyes, Grace sucked in a deep, cleansing breath. Held it a few seconds, then released it, little by little, until her lungs ached for more air. She repeated the process, immersing into a meditative calm to conquer her cravings.

  Or, at least, to abate them. And her worries.

  Matt and Aaron had been together for almost six months. A firefighter, Aaron had met Matt at a veteran’s breakfast hosted by the city. As far as she could tell, Aaron was a kind, considerate, generous man.