A Werewolf's Valentine: BBW Wolf Shifter Paranormal Romance (9 page)

The big surprise came at the end of the meal. When they rose, Nate said, “Can I help with the dishes?”

“Thanks, Nate,” West said. “I was going to wash. How about you dry?”

Rolf, who never did chores until he was nagged, stopped in his tracks while making for the door, then whirled around. “
I
can do that,” he said with a scowl in Nate’s direction, making McKenzi wonder who had stolen her nephew and left this alien in his place. “I know where things go. Mostly,” he added under his breath.

“I can show you where everything goes,” McKenzi said with a smile, handing him a dishcloth. And to Nate, “Thanks! You can take a turn later.”

Rolf sent a triumphant look Nate’s way that McKenzi didn’t understand. Once the kitchen was tamed to spotlessness, Nate pounced, saying, “Will you show me the tools?”

As McKenzi walked him up to the ancient garage next to the ranch house, she noticed he still limped, but he made no complaint, so she wondered if it was an old injury. His interest was entirely on the garage, which was full of junk as well as ancient tools and a lot of dairy product delivery-related equipment.

She left him there to root around, then came out to discover Rolf and West out on the flat area in front of the ranch house, warming up for some sort of martial arts practice.

Rolf was dressed in his usual hoodie and saggy pants, but West wore only his jeans and deck shoes, apparently impervious to the cold. McKenzi stopped in her tracks, smiling at the sight of his beautiful body, all whipcord and steel on a long, slender frame. She found herself mesmerized by the controlled dance of danger and grace that was West demonstrating, then patiently teaching Rolf, who bounded about exactly like the gangling cub he was.

Before too long, Uncle Lee appeared, and after standing around, tentatively came forward, saying something too low for McKenzi to hear. West smiled as he opened his hand in an inviting gesture. And there was her uncle, who she thought would be the last person in the world to take an interest in self-defense, getting into the action.

When they finally called it quits, Rolf had shed the hoodie. West, his contours glistening with a sheen of sweat, listened to the two, then all three guys headed toward McKenzi’s cottage—where Nate was waiting for them. Smiling shyly, he indicated an entirely new door frame, made of bits of wood he’d excavated from the depths of the garage. Her door swung silently closed, so beautifully hung you could push it with a finger. “It jess needed a new frame, and rebalance,” he said softly.

McKenzi said with heartfelt gratitude, “Thank you, Nate.”

West clapped him on the shoulder. Nate beamed as West said to him, “Rolf and Lee wanted to take a run.”

Nate stiffened, quivering with tension. “I want to go. Let me come. I’m better—I’m fast—my bad leg hardly hurts.”

“Sure, come on,” West said, as Rolf scowled, and Uncle Lee looked from one to the other, his expression lugubrious as always, but with an intensity that McKenzi had trouble understanding.

West said to the three guys, “Let me just get a drink of water, because I hate shifting back with the taste of mud in my mouth when I can avoid it. Everybody, leave your clothes inside. From the looks of the sky, we may be coming back in the rain. We’ll meet out front.”

As Rolf and his dad walked away, Rolf was bragging, “I’m getting
really fast
at shifting, I almost don’t have to hold my breath . . .”

Nate headed back to Kesley’s, leaving West and McKenzi alone for the first time all day. They walked into the kitchen, where he said, “There’s some competition going on with Rolf and Nate. I don’t know where this is going, but I can deal with civilizing Rolf better as wolves. I was kind of surprised that Lee seems to want to be there.”

“He might be anxious about Rolf.”

“Maybe,” West said reflectively, then shook his head. “This seems to be something they need. And God knows Nate’s had a shitty enough life. If there’s anything I can give him before he moves on, I feel like I should do it.”

What if he doesn’t move on?
she was thinking, and was surprised at how little that bothered her. “We could say the same about us.”

And watched him go alert. If he were his wolf self, his ears would be up, his body poised. “McKenzi,” he said. “If any of this isn’t what you want, say the word.”

“I didn’t mean that in any bad way, West. It just came out.”

He gave his characteristic slow nod. “I like it when things just come out. It’s good to talk to you.”

“It feels good to talk to you, too. West, I don’t know what I want, things have gone so fast. But in a good way,” she added quickly. “So here’s one thing I want. You. Tonight.”

His smile flashed. “And tomorrow?” he said softly, taking her hands.

“And tomorrow.”

“And after that?” His eyes searched hers, back and forth, the fading light still gleaming in his pupils, the gray darkening.

“What do
you
want?”

“I . . . for the first time, I don’t know, except when I think of moving on, it’s like a mirage, each morning pushed a little farther into the future. Until now, three or four days has pretty much been my limit. Less, if things got complicated.”

McKenzi’s emotions whirled like a roller coaster. Up. Down. All around. “And things aren’t complicated right now?”

“They are. But nothing I want to run from. If anything, it feels the opposite. It all . . . centers around you.”

She stepped closer, so she could feel his breath on her forehead, and the warmth radiating off him. “That’s the same way I feel. Everything is kind of crazy, but I don’t mind a bit. Because I keep coming back to the fact that you’re here, the one thing I’m sure about.”

He let go with that big, tension-releasing sigh, and brought his chin down. “Good. Then . . . I’ll run with them, and sing about it tonight at the bar. Maybe make enough to hit a thrift store, if you have one local.” His grin flickered, deepening the curve at the corners of his mouth. “Invest in a second pair of jeans.”

For the first time in all her dating life, she found herself saying, “If you do, I’ve an empty drawer you can keep them in.” And her insides heated up as his eyes flared.

“Damn,” he breathed. “I wish I hadn’t told them I’d do this run.”

“You go ahead. Take them out, and do wolf things. Or wolf, dog, and coyote things. I’ll fix some burritos for a late lunch. I want to get ready for work, so we can leave a bit early and drive you over to the Surf.” She leaned up for a lingering promissory kiss. “As long as you are here, there will always be a later, for us.”

Ten

West

She’d said it
, he thought as he carefully folded his clothes.

It wasn’t the first time a woman had offered him closet or drawer space. At the end of his three days with her, Anessa offered him a car, a cell phone, stuff he’d never had and had never felt the need for—each one with invisible ropes attached to it, to tie him down. Until now, when women said something like that, it was always the sign to move on.

But McKenzi’s offer lit off fireworks inside him. She stood there in the doorway to the bedroom, her luscious curves silhouetted by the light, a strand of hair straying over the vulnerable curve of her neck, and his heart hollowed out. Tonight, he promised himself, she was going to come like the Hallelujah Chorus, because her happiness ignited his own happiness, a mirror image thing that he still couldn’t find the words for, or the music, but he was going to try, oh yes. McKenzi’s song was going to be the best he’d ever made.

He kissed her back, shifted, and bolted out the door before it got too hard to leave—before
he
got too hard to leave.

The wolf steadied him down. He found his three waiting outside, each so typical: the one-eyed coyote with the bad hind leg, a big, loose-skinned bloodhound, and the wolf pup prancing about, sniffing everything.

As soon as they saw him, all ears went up. He trotted toward the top of the hill to sniff the wind for human smells to avoid, and then set out at a run. Lee kept pace surprisingly well. Nate was fast—and Rolf just had to challenge him. As their animals selves, their motivations and emotions were more straightforward. Nate and Rolf jockeyed for position, which West settled easily with a swat here, a nip there. Lee looked on with an anxious approval, but West could not define his place in the group. Maybe Lee couldn’t either. Maybe he was simply a worried father?

They returned to the houses under pouring rain. Rolf ran straight inside the ranch house to warm up. Nate sidled a questioning look from West to Lee and back, then drifted toward Kesley’s, where he disappeared inside.

Lee stood on the porch with West as rain sheeted down beyond them. He obviously had something to say, so West waited.

Finally, Lee said to the ground, “I guess I needed to see. How you were with the boy. He . . . something happened between the two of you, I can see that.”

“It might be a wolf thing,” West said. “This is all new for me.”

Lee nodded. “It is for me, too.” He let his breath out sharply. “I thought when I was a kid not much older than he that I’d found a pack, with Sam Olsen, Tom’s older brother. He was a dog shifter, like me. A great guy. But he was older, a senior when I came in, and he went straight into the service. Tom took over. He’s a boar. It’s not that I think boars are bad, as boars,” he said quickly. “But Tom, it was like he had to act up to Sam, or something. Kept saying we had to prove ourselves. To
him
. Prove our loyalty, or we’d get kicked out of his pack. So he’d have us go after people who’d given him shit . . . it was okay, at first, I mean, a couple of those guys really were bastards, but then it was like, he wanted us to go after anyone who didn’t get out of his way. And when a couple of the guys tried to complain, he . . .”

Lee looked away, and shook his head. “So I quit. And Tom had them go after me. I left as soon as I graduated—that very day.”

West said, “And his kid is hassling Rolf?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if Tom set him at it, or Jeff is just a home grown bully, but . . .” He shook his head. “So anyway, I never had a real pack. I don’t think Tom’s was a pack. Just a punk-ass gang pretending to be a pack. But anyway, you, with them. That’s a real pack. It was a good run. Thanks.” He stirred, his hands rubbing up his mottled arms, his shoulders tight, And as if he felt he’d said too much, he left abruptly, his footsteps splashing in the rain as he followed his son’s footsteps to the ranch house, his skin starting to goosebump.

West retreated to McKenzi’s. And McKenzi, amazing as always, had hot coffee waiting, and had West’s clothes laid out and a fresh towel waiting. He looked at it all, and smiled, and turned to her—

And she said, “What is it? Did your wolf run turn out bad?”

“No. All good. But . . . I had a talk with Lee. And he seems to think that I’ve got a pack. I mean with Nate, too. If we were all wolves, I guess maybe we’d be a pack, but we aren’t. What do you see?”

“A . . . a pack,” she said slowly. “I saw it happen with Rolf. You were there for his first shift, and he imprinted on you. That was real clear, even to a cat! Did Nate imprint on you, too? How could he? He’s not only a coyote, he’s been a shifter for a long time, right?”

“The thing is, I don’t really know what a pack is supposed to be like. Everything I’m doing is instinct,” he said. “Maybe I’m putting definitions onto something that won’t outlast tomorrow. Nate might take off. There’s nothing keeping him here. So I guess maybe now is not the time to worry about it. I need to tune that guitar.”

A short time later, they reached the Surf. Bud, a burly, bristle-haired porcupine shifter, greeted West with an easy manner that West really liked. McKenzi left for work, promising to pick him up at midnight.

The bar smelled like bars everywhere, with a few regulars hunching at the stools. It was early. West didn’t know what to expect, but with music he was always sure of himself. Either people heard him or they didn’t. His music would be the same either way, the gift was there for the taking.

He sat on the stool, took out the borrowed guitar and retuned it, as the humidity in the air was hell on strings. As he worked, he considered what he had learned that day.

The connection between him and McKenzi was the most vital, and it was gaining definition, word by word, action by action. It wasn’t traditional, or what he’d been taught to expect. Not that he’d believed much of what he’d been taught. Too often what people in authority had said and did had too wide a gulf between. But so far in his life, his only sure connection had been to his music.

Yet here he was with a cat shifter mate. Though like the cat she was, she’d take her time deciding.

And meanwhile, he seemed to have landed himself with a pack. And it had a language of its own, based on an emerging sense of belonging, and of trust. Two bases connecting at the top of a triangle to . . . what felt very much like love.

He’d never been sure before what love was. But now he knew. And as always, he could explore it best through song.

And so he began to sing.

Eleven

McKenzi

McKenzi drove to the Crockery and parked.

When she shook out her pink apron to tie on, she felt her face lighten in a big smile.

Mrs. Nixon, seeing that smile, said cheerfully, “That’s what I like to see, McKenzi! Getting into the spirit of Valentine’s Day! Listen, those aprons are so popular I’ve decided that you girls will wear them all month. Heaven knows, February needs all the cheerful color it can get.”

McKenzi could only laugh as she moved to the coffee station to get busy with the dinner napkins before the Sunday night rush. With Valentine’s a few days off, they expected a lot of people—and so it proved.

She was on her feet running around from six until nearly eleven, after which it took a while to clean the tables, set everything up for the breakfast shift, and cash out. Upson Downs was not exactly a hopping place late at night, especially in winter, so she expected the bar to be pretty much empty except for Bud’s version of the coffee crowd.

So she was surprised to get to the bottom of the street only to find nowhere to park. Cars were everywhere, including double parked, blocking the fire hydrants (as if anyone was worried about fire), and one enterprising SUV sort of half wedged up on the sidewalk in front of the cleaners’.

When she walked into the bar, the hot, humid air smelled thick in the way you get with too many people packed into too small a space. She stared. The place was absolutely wall to wall people.

Up on the tiny stage, which was nothing more than some two-by-fours nailed together and set up on crates, West sat under a single lamp, his hair lightened to silver, the contours of his face emphasized by sharp shadow as he sang about the truck driver who loved taking passengers up and down the Colorado River.

People sat beating time on knees, and here and there phones glowed with bluish white light as their owners recorded him.

When he finished the song, everyone burst into applause, then Bud came up on the stage next to him and held up his hands. “All right, like I said, that’s the last one. You know I close down Sundays at midnight. If I don’t lock up soon, my wife will be down here and you do not want to get between her and a good night’s sleep if you’re smart.”

Half the audience laughed at that, then Bud said, “At break time, I asked West here if he’d stay the week. How about I pass the hat, and you show him whether it’s worth his staying on. Okay?”

Bud circulated rapidly among the customers as they reached into pockets and purses, then got up, stretched, and looked about for coats, hats, scarves, and mittens as they talked excitedly. It was like watching the breaking of a spell of enchantment. McKenzi watched in amazement as bills fluttered into the big, worn Stetson that Bud carried around. Upson Downs was far from being a wealthy town, and people tended to be conservative tippers. But a lot of those bills were fives and even tens, and she saw at least three twenties drop into the hat.

West spotted McKenzi then, and the way his face lit up made her light up, tired as she was.

Bud gave him his tips, which West thrust into the pocket of his leather coat uncounted. He was far more careful packing up the guitar into its case.

A short time later they pulled up at the cottage, and dashed inside. West shrugged off his coat and laid it over the arm of the chair.

“Wait, aren’t you going to count your haul?” she asked.

He glanced down as if he’d forgotten about the money. “It’ll wait. My throat’s parched.”

“How about I make us some sleepy-time tea, with a dash of whisky.”

“Sounds great.”

“Tell me how it went,” she said as she put water on to boil, and pulled out cups and teabags.

“How was your evening?”

“Mine was full of hungry people,” she said. “Which is pretty much what I see every day. But what I’ve not seen was Bud’s place that packed.”

“It was pretty much empty when I started, but then they started coming in in twos and three. A lot of young ones at first.”

“I bet that was Rolf texting his friends, and them telling brothers, sisters, cousins, working up to bar age.”

He shook his head. “Maybe it was curiosity. I don’t know them, but it felt good. The vibe was good.”

The tea kettle whistled, and she poured, then set the mugs down. Her body was tight with exhaustion, but her mind exhilarated: it was just the two of them, as rain poured all around them.

Just the two of them . . . and the entire town out there, having discovered him. She considered that, sorting through her feelings. Foremost was her usual worry: would that drive him away?

She was too tired for that conversation now. Instead, she relished every little movement as they got ready for bed, and reached for each other. For the first time, making love was slow and languorous, after which she slept, safely held in his arms.

The next few days passed by in a blur.

McKenzi loved the rhythm they had fallen into. She rose early, getting a big breakfast together. Rolf had gone back to school, so it was Nate and West for breakfast. The two went off after the kitchen was cleaned up.

At the end of the third day, when West returned with a new pair of jeans, a pullover top, and  new shoes and socks for himself and Nate, she felt that as a private victory. The promised drawer had been cleaned out, and she loved watching him tuck his neatly folded things into it. He’d also bought a razor, and she was a little sorry to see his stubble go, until she saw the clean line of his jaw emerge. If anything, he was even hotter than before.

In the afternoons, despite weather so cold that the rain was nearly sleet, West, Nate, and Rolf shifted and went on a run.

Uncle Lee showed up at the cottage on the fourth day, as soon as the three were gone. “McKenzi, can I talk to you?” he said. “It’s about West.”

She said, “Sure. Um, is something wrong?” She held her breath.

“No. No! It’s just . . . West is really good. And now that I’ve heard a lot of his songs, I’ve done some digging on iTunes. That song by Anessa Noel is not the only one that someone else has claimed, but that he wrote.”

“I don’t think that matters to him.”

“I get that,” Uncle Lee said, looking down at his hands. “I failed as a pro musician, at least as Beverly defined success. She got her dad to toss me out of the band, and, well, all that’s ancient history. My point is, I wrote an email to Brian, my ex-brother-in-law. He wrote me back, so I told him about West, and asked if he still had contact with our old agent. He sent me the info. So now I’m asking you to tell West about this. He could make some real money, selling his music, if he had someone savvy handling things.”

McKenzi said, “I don’t get the sense that money means much to West.”

Uncle Lee said, “Yeah, I got that. It’s just, I thought I could do this one thing for him.”

McKenzi saw then that this was important to Uncle Lee, and she leaned up to kiss her uncle on the cheek. “It’s an awesome idea. But you’re the one to tell him. Not me.”

Uncle Lee nodded. “Okay. If you don’t think he’d mind my sticking my nose into his business.”

McKenzi considered West, then said slowly, feeling her way, “I bet, even if he doesn’t go for it, he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

At five the guys were still gone when McKenzi had to get ready for work. But she figured that Uncle Lee would probably take West to Bud’s for his gig, Nate going along as a one-eyed, hitch-gaited shadow.

The restaurant was packed, her shift flying by.

At midnight she drove down to the Surf, and found almost as big a crowd as before.

As soon as they got into the car, West said, “Lee told me about his agent friend. What do you think about that?”

McKenzi said, “What do you think?”

West shook his head slowly, the streetlamps painting his face with light, then shadow, light then shadow before he said finally, “I guess I’ve never been in one place long enough for anything like that to ever catch up with me. I told him I’d consider it. But that was a generous thing for him to do.”

McKenzi nodded. “I think my uncle really felt good about it.”

West seemed to be thinking that over that night. The next morning, he said suddenly, “I think I’ve figured it out. Tell me if this sounds right, because it’s all new. See, if we were all wolves, I’d say we are a pack.”

“All?” She laughed. “You mean the guys.”

“I mean you, too.” West brushed his rough thumbs softly over her lips. “You are part of this pack, and they know it. Or what feels like a pack. Nate feels it. Lee feels it. And each of them is doing his best to contribute, the way a good pack is run. Just like you’re taking care of them all in your way.”

Caretaker
, Kesley whispered in memory.

“Whoa,” McKenzi said.

“Is this a bad thing?” West peered into her eyes. “Or wrong?”

“No. It’s . . . it feels like a good thing. But new. And . . . also, could be my sister was right. Luckily for her, she’s not one for gloating.”

“Right about what?”

At that moment they heard knocking on the door. “Oops! Sounds like our maybe-pack is looking for Mr. Alpha? What would that make me? I refuse to be a beta wolf—I’m afraid my cat ancestors will take away my claws and tail!”

They laughed, and kissed, and kissed again, then got up to start the day. The glorious day, she thought—her first of two days off.

She had to laugh at herself. She’d planned it carefully so that she would not have to work Valentine’s Day. Her original plan had been to hole up with her favorite DVDs and a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream both days.

But by that time, she no longer cared what day it was. She was just happy that she would get to go to Bud’s that night to see West sing.

To her surprise, Uncle Lee showed up with his banjo, and halfway through the evening, Tori Prendergast came in with her violin and jammed with them. Then old Mr. Lopez brought in his hand drum, and the crowded little stage became a bluegrass jam session.

Midnight arrived so fast that McKenzi felt as if they’d only played an hour, except for the sheen of sweat on everyone, and the shared grins of exhilaration.

She, West, and Nate returned to the hill, West and she to her cottage, where they fell into bed, and each other’s arms. And before she finally slipped into sleep, she gloatingly looked forward to another day—Valentine’s Day—of exactly the same.

And woke to her phone buzzing.

She left West sleeping and slipped with the phone out to the kitchen, where she saw her mother’s text:
We’re short two parents. Sick kids. Need U to help decorate for H. S. dance
.

Oh,
hell
no, was McKenzi’s first response. She knew that her mom had rejoined the PTA when Rolf moved in with them, after having done her time while Kesley and McKenzi were in school. McKenzi stood in her kitchen dealing with the initial surge of resentment, until it drained away. She remembered the conversation between Rolf and West. This was important to the teens. Even if none of them knew what true love was, maybe this kind of thing was practice for the real thing?

Because I know what the real thing is
. He lay in the other room sleeping—her silver wolf mate.
You were right, Kesley. It just took me a little time to find it out.

She smiled at the phone. Yeah, she could deal with hanging decorations at the high school.

She texted back,
Okay
.

She fixed a breakfast for West to find when he woke, then shrouded herself in her coat and walked up to the ranch house, where her mother had the van running. To her surprise, she found Nate there, with her dad’s old tool box.

As McKenzi climbed in, her mom said, “Nate here came to our rescue. He said he could build the photo booth, which the kids were going to lose. And the photos are one of our biggest money makers.”

McKenzi remembered that the hardware store owner’s wife was due to have twins. Looked like they would be sharing their birthday with Valentine’s Day, she thought as she clicked on her seatbelt.

Nate sat hunched in the seat, his hands restlessly running back and forth along the handle of the tool box, and McKenzi had a sudden insight. Even though Nate didn’t know anybody, and couldn’t be expected to care about some high school dance for a bunch of strangers, this decorating expedition meant something to him. It meant something in the same way that fixing her door had meant something to him.

And it was kind of related to Uncle Lee braving his ex-inlaws in order to find that agent.

She mulled that as they pulled up at the high school and made their way with boxes of decorations to the multi-purpose room, where a bunch of parents and miscellaneous relatives were already at work.

McKenzi came in for her share of greetings and questions. “Your West is amazing!”

“Yup,” she said.

“Is he moving here?”

“Where did he come from?”

And old Mrs. Prendergast shook her finger coyly. “Do I smell romance in the air?”

McKenzi turned her biggest smile on them all. “We’ll see!”