Curves for the Werewolf Cowboy (Paranormal BBW Erotic Romance, Alpha Wolf Mate) (3 page)

Traffic was heavier than I expected. I applied my mascara as I stopped at a red light. I was speeding like crazy, not because I was late, but because I was so worked up. I liked driving fast; there was something about it that eased the tension.

Luckily enough, I found a parking garage right near the restaurant. It would only be about a two block walk from my car to the front door, which was a blessing given that I had on four inch heels. Was I perhaps overdoing it? I didn’t know. I had no idea what Clay liked. But I thought I looked good, that was all that mattered.

I walked into the steakhouse and past the maître d’s podium.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” asked the maître d’.

“I’m here to meet someone at eight-thirty, but I think I’ll have a drink while I wait.”

“As you wish,” said the man, pointing me toward the bar.

My heels clicked on the marble floors as I walked to the bar. I saw a tall man in a dark grey suit seated at the near side of the bar. I couldn’t see the man’s face, but I immediately knew who it was. How could I mistake him? That dark hair, and his tall and imposing figure. He had this aura about him, a sort of presence that was hard to state the meaning of. My heart beat double-time. Just then Clay turned and looked toward me, flashing a grin more playful than anything I’d seen from him so far.

That smile, wow. He needed to show it more. I didn’t know why I’d been so intimidated by him. He seemed like a nice guy. Maybe I was reading too much into things before. I knew I had a tendency to drama sometimes. I needed to just take it easy and tonight would probably go just fine. I still needed that drink, though. I was still nervous as all get out.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re even more gorgeous than I anticipated.”

I blushed. “Thank you,” I said.

“You want to go be seated?”

“Sure, but could we maybe have a drink here at the bar first? I’ll be honest, I feel pretty nervous right now.”

“Of course, order whatever you want. There’s no rush. We’ve got the whole night.”

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” I said to the bartender.

“What kind of gin?”

“I’ll take Tanqueray,” I said, shooting a sideways glance at Clay.

“You’ve got great taste,” he said with a wink. “That’s my gin of choice, too.”

“Oh yeah? I thought you only drank bourbon, Woodford Reserve if my mind serves me well.”

“Indeed,” said Clay, tapping his fingers on the tumbler in front of him.

The bartender brought out my gin and tonic and I took a nice, deep drink of the cool clear liquid in front of me. Almost immediately, I felt myself loosen up. There were times like this where one needed to be grateful. Here I was with a handsome man on a nice date. What was there really to be worried about? If worse comes to worst, I’ll at least get a nice meal out of it, something far ritzier than I could normally afford with my tips from the bar. I decided to relax and just take it easy.

After I’d finished my drink, Clay asked the bartender if he could have someone seat us. They had a table prepared near the front of the restaurant, next to the window that gave a view out to the city street, all sorts of lights and colors blazing in the night as traffic streamed by. It was crazy to me how even on a Sunday, Houston was still bustling and busier than ever. Then a strange idea came to my mind.

“You said you had a meeting today? You really work on Sundays?”

“Not usually. But this was important and pretty time-sensitive.”

“What’s that all about?”

“We’ve got a big deal going. A merger between two companies.”

“Yeah? And what’s your role in all this?”

“I own one of the companies.”

My jaw dropped. I was so shocked I almost spilled the new drink the waiter had just placed in front of me. I thought I’d calmed down, but my nerves roared right back. I knew there was something different about Clay, but I didn’t know he was this much of a big shot. Suddenly, I was feeling insignificant and insecure, self-conscious and shy. I caught myself and tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe if I acted like I was unimpressed I would seem more nonchalant.

“How do you like it? You know, running a company and all?” I asked, stirring my drink before taking a small sip.

“Well, it’s alright. Truthfully, I didn’t really have a choice. It was my father’s business and after he passed away, my brothers and I inherited it. I’m the oldest of the group, the leader in a sense. So the responsibilities fell to me.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“I’ve got five.”

I nearly spit out the sip I’d just taken. This piece of news was just as surprising about the details of his occupation.

“Wow, that’s crazy. I can’t even imagine that, being part of a family that big. I grew up an only child.”

“It was great, a lot of happiness, a lot of security. I trust my brothers with my life. And I know they feel the same about me.”

“That sounds nice,” I said.

I sat there, stirring the straw in my glass, not really knowing what to say after that. A strange calm had descended on the table when Clay spoke. There was a passion in his voice, strong yet subdued, when he talked about his brothers. Maybe this was how most people felt about their siblings, but it just seemed strange to me having been an only child. I never had a connection like that. I never felt like I was really part of anything. My thoughts were moving in a strange direction, I thought. I did my best to move my mind back to Clay and the conversation at hand.

She’s sitting here smiling at me, nodding her head at all the right times. In a certain sense, she’s listening, participating in the conversation. But I can tell her mind’s wandering. She never had siblings, she told me that much. But there’s more: she never had a happy home life in general. She’s never felt safe, always on her guard.

She’s afraid to let someone close. There was someone in her past who hurt her, so she’s reluctant to put herself out there. She knows most men aren’t good enough for her, but she’s also insecure. She thinks she’s not good enough for most men, either.

Right now she’s wondering why I’m here with her, wondering why I asked her out. She thinks she’s not good enough for me. She’s cataloging her flaws as we speak, weighing the pros and cons of her being. She thinks it’s not adding up. She thinks I’m too good for her. She wants me, but she’s afraid to want me. Part of her is afraid of me. She doesn’t know why. But I know why.

I could tell her this minute that I want her. I could tell her why. I could speak of my insatiable urge, how the moment I stepped foot in Houston I began to sense her presence. I could tell her that this strange force led me to her bar, that I was incurably attracted to her, that her scent drove me mad, that the sight of her played games with my sanity.

But if I told her this right now she’d run out of the restaurant screaming. If she’s scared of me now, how crazy would I sound if I told her the truth of my existence? No, it’s better to wait. Hard as it is, I have to bide my time and wait for that one moment. She has to trust me first.

The plates came out hot, the steaks cooked medium rare. A bottle of wine was brought over. I stole a glance at the drink menu. Had Clay really just paid three hundred dollars for a bottle of wine? This better be the best wine I’ve ever had, I thought. The waiter poured us each a glass and we clinked our glasses together.

The wine didn’t disappoint. And neither did Clay. I found myself more enthralled with each word he spoke. He was so down to earth despite everything, and I don’t know if it was the wine or just him, but my nerves started to ease. All the anxiety and apprehension drifted away and I finally felt comfortable being myself. Sure, I still wanted to impress, but Clay was easy to talk to. We shared the same sense of humor. Simply put, I liked being around him.

My mind started to drift to where the night was heading. Our conversation was smooth, but there was still a sort of unspoken tension. I think we both wanted each other, but we were dancing around the question. And truthfully, I’m not the type of girl who takes these situations lightly. I wasn’t about to have some sort of one night stand with a businessman passing through town. How cliché would that be? Yet, I couldn’t help thinking about what it would be like to be with him. Even beneath the suit I could see the strength his body was capable of. And that face, how could I get over it? His personality, his subtle wit and undeniable charm. It all seemed too perfect.

She wants to sleep with me, but she’s doesn’t trust me. It’s more than that, she’s doesn’t trust herself around me. She wants more than a fling, but does she want what I’m thinking? Steadfast loyalty, devotion, trust, security.

She drives me wild. I can’t deny that. I would take her this instant, but I know she’s not ready. How long can I wait? This desire is overwhelming. It takes all my power to hold myself back. Now that she’s here before me, it’s almost impossible to constrain this impulse, this intrinsic desire to have her. Not only to have her, but to make her mine, bring her into my pack. Could she understand my desire? Can she see how it’s not some simple lust, but something more, something entirely different in it’s very nature?

I have to hold myself back. She’s not ready. I have to keep telling myself that: she’s not ready.

Dinner came to a close and I admit I was feeling a bit tipsy from all the wine. I was starting to consider reverting my policy of no one night stands. I deserved a little fun. I was being realistic. What could it hurt?

After Clay paid our bill, we walked a few blocks to a bar I knew in the area. I didn’t want the night to end just yet. And I thought maybe if I got another drink or two in me, I’d give in and make the mistake and go back with him to his hotel. But was it really a mistake? If I were to sleep with Clay, even if only for a night, what would be so bad about that?

Part of me still knew I’d regret it when it was over, if only for the reason that I’d want to keep seeing him and inevitably he’d be heading back to Dallas. But I couldn’t keep thinking like this; thinking of the distant future would only impede me from having a good time tonight. I needed to live in the moment, to take advantage of what life was offering me.