Curse of the Alpha: Episodes 1 & 2: A Tarker’s Hollow Serial (4 page)

A
insley took
another sip of her coffee. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared.

“So how’s the estate going?” Julian asked.

“It’s going fine. Slowly. I’m hitting a wall about my dad’s books.”

“What kind of a wall?” He leaned forward with interest.

“He collected rare books. But he kept them with the rest of his books. Some of the books I know are valuable. But I’m having a hard time with the rest. I hate to ship them out and trust it to a book dealer, but I guess I’ll have to.”

“Rare books are a hobby of mine. I would be glad to lend a hand.”

“Really?”

“It would be my pleasure. When can I stop by?”

“Today?”

Julian laughed at her eagerness.

“I’m giving a talk at the college tonight which I’m supposed to be preparing for now.” He smiled at her conspiratorially.

“Oh, I see.”

“Say, why don’t you come to the talk this evening? It’s open to the public but I’m told that very few people ever attend.”

“I’ll see how the day goes, I have so much to do,” she said lightly, knowing she needed to spend her time getting the house ready but wishing she could spend more time with this man who seemed to share her interests.

His hand shot across the table to grasp her wrist.

“You’ll come. Give me your phone.”

Ainsley was surprised to find herself slipping her phone out of her bag and handing it over.

She immediately experienced the usual dread that overcame her whenever she let the phone out of her possession. But she played it as cool as she could, and studied his smooth expression instead of craning her neck to see what he was doing.

“The talk is in your calendar and my number is in your contacts,” he said, handing it back.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight,” Ainsley said, gathering her latte and clutch.

“It’s a date.”

Ainsley stifled a grin and fled the coffee shop.

Outside, the afternoon sun shone overhead and it took a minute to adjust to the glare and the hot, thick air.

Did that just happen? Had she really met someone interesting in Tarker’s Hollow?

As the sun warmed her hair and shoulders, she allowed herself to picture him without the beautiful white shirt. How did a college professor have the money to dress like that anyway? Maybe he had family money.

It had been a long time, maybe forever, since she had thought about a guy in such an appraising way. He seemed too good to be true. And he was even from New York. Maybe they could see each other after this whole nasty Tarker’s Hollow business was behind her.

There was something dreadful about taking a risk with someone she might let herself care about.

But she certainly didn’t want anything to do with the slobbering wolf guys in town. She shivered at the thought of dating a dog of a man who would let himself be changed into a big matted thing every month. Half of them probably had fleas.

Julian Magie was certainly not a wolf.

He was different from the one-note New York business types too – a reader of Russian lit. He was smart, and passionate about something she loved.

And somehow, although she found him attractive, it wasn’t a helpless crazy attraction like she’d felt for Erik Jensen earlier. Maybe that would help her keep her wolf in check.

Plus, he could help her sort through her dad’s books. She felt a weight lift from her chest at the mere thought of it. Getting through the books meant getting out of Tarker’s Hollow before the full moon.

Ainsley considered her options thoughtfully and made the decision to surrender an evening working on the house in order to explore the option of a mutually beneficial relationship with Julian Magie.

A
insley was
about to pull on her sunglasses when she noticed she had already reached the awning for the local real estate firm, C.M. Coslaw.

This whole town seemed so much smaller than when she was a kid.

Coslaw was small but very good. They knew the local market inside and out and the owner, Charley (who inherited the business from his dad, Charley), was a kind, honest guy. Their sophisticated black sale signs were synonymous with Tarker’s Hollow and the college town sales angle.

As usual, they had pictures of a few homes up in the window. She stopped to glance at them. She recognized most of them. The Mangelsdorfs were selling their Victorian, that made sense, they were older and probably getting ready to move to the condos.

She did a double-take at the price. The Mangelsdorfs’ house was very similar to the Connors’. Was the market here really that low? She shook her head and pushed open the door.

“Hi, I’m Susan. How can we help you?”

The desk agent was not someone she recognized. Blonde hair, petite, big smile.

“Is Charley here?” Ainsley asked.

“Sure, he’s in the back!” Susan enthused and trotted down the hall to find him.

“Is that Ainsley Connor?” Charley boomed from down the hall.

Ainsley smiled and smoothed down her dress. He was headed right for her with that Andy Griffith smile and she just knew he was going to hug her.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, little lady!” he thundered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Somehow he had instinctively known better than to give her the full bear hug she would have gotten as a girl.

“Thanks, Charley,” she said, re-smoothing her dress.

“So, you’re done with the big city and you’re home to beg me for a desk, right?” He winked at her.

“Nope, just wondering what you think the place is worth,” she replied, and gestured to the window. “I see that the Mangelsdorfs’ place is up, but the price…”

“The recession was hard on us, and the Philadelphia area has always been modestly priced anyway,” he explained. “I guess the prices look low to you in general compared to Manhattan, huh?”

Ainsley pressed her lips and smiled. She couldn’t buy a 400 square-foot studio on the lower east side for what her parents’ beloved six bedroom Victorian was worth. She sighed as she thought about the chestnut built-in bookshelves and the wraparound porch overlooking the rhododendrons. Would it be crazy to hold onto it for a summer home?

She shook the daydreams out of her head.

“It’s fine, Charley. I just want to clean up and move on. Can you swing by in a day or two to take a look and give me some advice about paint and floors?”

“Sure! Anything else we can do?”

“Is Franklin still around? I’d love to have him come get rid of some of the clothes and books.”

Franklin Rime drove a pick-up truck around town picking up junk. He donated what was useful to charities in the city and took the rest to the junkyard.

Charley shook his head sadly, “Frankie just retired again. This time it’s for real. His wife made him sell the truck.”

“You should go on Neighborly dot com,” Susan chimed in from behind him. “There’s a site for Tarker’s Hollow. You can sell stuff and give it away. And it’s not creepy like Craig’s List because it’s only for our town.”

A troubled look crossed Charley’s face, but it passed quickly and he clapped Ainsley on the shoulder. “If you do that, keep in mind that real estate listings on the site are only local also. And once you put a house on there you take the wind out of our sales for marketing purposes.”

Oh. He was afraid she would try to sell the house by-owner. She’d been around the block enough to know she’d be leaving a ton of money on the table by doing that – and wasting precious time.

“Don’t worry, Charley. I’m one of your kind,” she said. “And I’m not a fool. Bring your paperwork. I’ll sign when you come.”

“Thank you, Ainsley. I appreciate it. You’re a straight shooter, just like your dad.”

Ainsley walked home, figuring she had time to post a few things online before heading out to Julian’s talk.

A
insley set
her designer sandals in their travel case, slipped out of the linen shift and hung it on a padded hanger. The yoga pants and Tarker’s Hollow Timberwolves t-shirt she’d worn during the morning’s work were folded neatly on the bed. She regarded them with a sigh. If she could get another two hours of work in she would reward herself with a steamy bath.

She decided to start at the top of the house and work her way down. She knew Charley would find more value in the house if it looked nice. Professional or not, everyone was affected by tidiness.

Her parents weren’t slobs, but the house wasn’t show ready and of course things always got worse before they got better when you tried to empty thirty years of personal effects. She grabbed the radio from the kitchen counter and headed up the stairs.

Two hours later, covered in dust and sweat, Ainsley was ready to surrender. One of the closets had held boxes full of old photos, which she added to the stack on the dining room table. She’d already brought down four bags of clothes for GoodWill and a couple of chairs. The bedrooms now had just the right amount of furniture for staging and were free of personal items. Except that somehow, there was a gigantic dresser, roughly the size of an elephant, which she could not budge to save her life.

It looked like the kind of thing her parents would have picked up at the Jumble Sale, but of course she couldn’t envision anyone actually picking it up. And the idea of getting it down the stairs was terrifying. The plaster lathe in these houses was pretty sturdy but once you cracked it the mess was terrific and you needed someone who knew what they were doing to patch it.

After a cold drink of water, Ainsley stood with her laptop at the counter and pulled up
Neighborly.com
. She chose a username and password and then posted that she needed help moving and disposing of a gigantic dresser. Hopefully someone would write back by tomorrow.

A smile spread across her face as she anticipated how the hot bath was going to feel. She padded into her childhood bedroom and began removing her jewelry. Impulsively, she pulled out her iPhone and looked again at the calendar entry –
Scott Hall 7:15pm
.

Laughing at herself a little, she peeled off the t-shirt and yoga pants and placed them in her old pink hamper. Then she pulled out the band of elastic that held her ponytail in check and let her hair cascade down her back.

In high school she had wanted curls, but nowadays her long straight hair was in fashion. She kept it up for work. There was no place for being a girly-girl in the real estate world, not if you wanted to be taken seriously. A chignon and a Victoria’s Secret Body minimizing bra helped camouflage her assets enough to let her clients and colleagues focus on her brains.

Her parents ran a frugal household. The hardware store made modest profits and, as with most college faculty, her father’s job paid more in prestige than in dollars. But one place her parents splurged was on their bathroom renovation. Her dad had won a Slavic literature studies award that came with a cash prize, a rarity. They ripped out the old sticky tiles and rotten sub-floor and installed a heated marble floor. The restored clawfoot tub beckoned her.

Once the steam started rising from it, she added a dollop of crème brulee honey bath oil. It smelled heavenly. She dipped in a toe and sighed in delight, then eased her whole body in. The tension drained away from her in warm waves.

Soon, the dust and sweat of the day was washed away and she emptied and refilled the tub for a good soak. Her dad was surely rolling over in his grave at the wasted water, but Ainsley figured she had earned it. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back on a towel and let her mind wander.

She though of Erik, and the way he had almost torn through the chain link fence to get to her.

What would it be like to be with someone without having to worry about losing control?

The thought terrified and exhilarated her. Her wolf perked up and a small sigh escaped her lips.

But that wasn’t her world. It would never work. She needed something more refined.

Julian.

She imagined his cool blue gaze and raised eyebrow and her nipples hardened. The water was suddenly too warm. She let her hand slip below the surface of the water to explore her body. Her skin tingled, and her pulse began to race.

What was going on with her? Ever since she came back to Tarker’s Hollow, it was like her senses had turned up to eleven. She usually didn’t feel like this until the moon was full.

She certainly couldn’t show up to Julian’s talk in this frame of mind. There was no telling what she would do. She slipped her hand lower, deciding to take the edge off a little.

Just then the doorbell rang.

A
insley’s eyes snapped open
. No one had been living in the house for months. Who would stop by?

She dried off quickly as the bell rang again, and wrapped her Victoria’s Secret white kimono around herself as she ran for the door. Maybe it was Charley with the name of a junk man?

She opened the door to see two young men leaning on the porch columns. Both were dark-haired, suntanned jock types. One wore a red Tarker’s College Tennis t-shirt. The other was shirtless. Ainsley’s eyes followed the trail of his lean, muscular abs to where they disappeared into the waistband of his shorts.

“Can I help you?” she asked, holding her robe together at her collarbone.

“We read your post on Neighborly and thought we would help you out with your dresser,” said T-shirt.

“Oh, um, thank you. That was fast. I thought I would get an email or something.”

“You have to make your email public for that. Your post just showed your user address,” No Shirt chimed in.

“We can come back at another time if you want,” T-shirt offered.

Ainsley thought about how little time she had. She also thought about how much she was enjoying the view of these two strapping young men.

“No, no, by all means, now is great.” She showed them inside. “I’m really sorry it’s such a mess in here, my parents passed away in January and I’m here to clean out the house. But it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” T-shirt said solemnly.

“It’s okay,” Ainsley murmured.

T-shirt had put his hand on her shoulder in sympathy, but now he was looking at the trail of her wet hair leading down to her cleavage, easily visible in the silky robe. Her nipples were stiff in the cool air conditioning and made little peaks in the fabric as it clung to her hastily dried curves. She knew she smelled like honey.

His heartbeat sped up and she could smell him – fearless arousal. Behind them, No Shirt stirred restlessly and she caught a whiff of jealousy.

“I’m Justin,” said No Shirt, trying to win back her gaze.

“Will,” said T-Shirt.

“We’re seniors,” Justin said.

Ainsley smiled at their awkwardness. Had the boys looked like this when she was in college?

“Let’s run upstairs and you can take a look at the dresser. It’s okay if you can’t help. It looks to me like getting it out of here without smashing it to pieces is impossible but maybe you’ll think of a way.”

Will was right behind her on the stairs and she could feel his admiration.

When they reached the third floor, Ainsley opened the door to the front bedroom. They all looked at the dresser.

“This dresser?” Justin asked.

“Yes. It’s just so big, I don’t know what to do with it,” Ainsley said playfully, letting the double entendre hang in the air.

“I’ve always been good at squeezing big things into tight places,” Justin said, returning her jest like the tennis player his shirt proclaimed him to be.

“I’ve handled bigger,” Will said.

Ainsley suppressed a laugh, but they were already ignoring her as they got down to business.

It was obvious that they were good friends and that they had moved stuff together before. With a lot of nodding and grunting and very little talking they angled the beastly dresser and headed for the door.

“Don’t you want to take the drawers out first?” Ainsley interjected, sounding far more like her mother than she would have liked.

The boys just laughed.

“Nope, this is no problem, miss,” Will said.

Justin actually winked at her.

Down the stairs they went, and it was beginning to look like they were right and it was no trouble at all when they turned the corner onto the second floor landing and slammed Justin’s hand into the plaster wall. He grimaced and Will strained and unpinned him. The plaster was pulverized, which meant Justin must be in a lot of pain.

They eased the dresser down on the landing. Justin held his hand to his chest. Ainsley hurried over to him, racked with guilt that she had let them move something that obviously ought to have been hacked to pieces with an axe and gone out in the trash.

“We need to get ice on that right away,” she said. They followed her downstairs obediently. She pulled a tray of ice out of the freezer. Her parents must have been the only people in the state without a working icemaker. She cracked the tray and shook it into a plastic bowl, grabbed a plastic bag and a towel and made her way back to the living room.

The boys were standing by the sofa looking at the wound.

“I’m so sorry, Justin. Sit down and we’ll get some ice on it.”

He sat on one end of the sofa and she knelt on the floor in front of him. She knew her kimono was barely covering her assets in the back. She sensed Will move a few steps to get a better viewing angle.

“Give me your hand.”

He offered her the hand right away. They were so quick to comply to her every command. She wondered what else she might tell them to do.

“Can you open and close it?” she asked.

Justin flexed his fingers. Ainsley took his big hand delicately in her smaller one. She lifted the bag of ice from the bowl, wrapped it in the towel and ever-so-gently applied it to his hand.

“That feels good.”

“I’m glad. And I’m so sorry you got hurt trying to help me.”

“It’s okay. We will get that thing out of your hallway and come back to fix your wall, I promise.”

“Please don’t worry about the wall. Everything’s fine. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” he said, no longer trying to hide the fact that he was staring straight down her robe.

She stood up slowly, letting her breast graze his leg. She heard him swallow. The scent of arousal poured off them both. It was wrong to tease them like this, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I guess we’d better go, it’s a shame about the dresser,” Will said.

“Really, it’s no big deal, the junk man will have to come for other stuff anyway, I’m sure.”

“No, I mean we need a dresser. It’s a long story but we had a third roommate for our apartment who bailed on us. Most of the furniture was his.”

“Do you want to come back another day for it?” Ainsley asked.

“Yes!” they said in unison.

“I see,” she said. “Well it’s fine with me if you want to come back for it but it needs to be this week. Let me give you my number. Next time maybe text me on your way over?”

She wrote her name and number neatly on a honeysuckle scented note card and thrust it in their direction. Will grabbed it before Justin could challenge him.

“Thank you…Ainsley. We really appreciate it. And we’ll be glad to help you move anything while we’re here. Next time we’ll be more careful.” He grinned and she couldn’t help but grin back.

“That’s fine,” she said lightly, as the two of them stepped onto the porch. “I’m sure two strong, young guys like you could help me with a lot of things. Maybe next time we can just skip the part with the furniture.”

Ainsley closed the door, leaving them both standing on the porch with their mouths hanging open. She leaned back against the door and covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a laugh.

Had she really just said that?

What was this town doing to her?

She pushed it out of her head and went upstairs again to dress. It was almost time to leave for Julian’s talk.