Redemption: Reckless Desires (Blue Moon Saloon Book 3) (5 page)

She heaved a frustrated sigh and glowered a little longer before opening her mouth — again.

“Just think how much she can help. Her parents used to run the trading post in Black River. Didn’t she do the books for them?”

Soren kept his mouth shut. Yes, Sarah had helped her parents run the trading post. A modest, middle-of-nowhere place that scraped by on doing a little bit of everything because there weren’t too many stores in their two-bit town. Yes, Sarah knew all about running a business. And yes, Sarah was supersmart. The only reason she hadn’t gone off to some fancy college was money and her loyalty to her ailing parents.

Sure, Sarah could help the saloon and café. A lot, because they were expanding before they really had the man or woman power to do so. He looked at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, though his mind was already running away.

To the past. To Montana. To the trading post. He and Sarah had known each other as kids, when they’d snuck off to climb trees and play knights in the woods. Sometime in their teens, they made the transition to sneaking off to make out in the woods, and he’d known the whole time it was destiny. She was his destiny.

His first time had been with Sarah. His last time, too, because he’d never, ever been remotely interested in anyone else. By the time they hit twenty-five, they’d all but claimed the abandoned cabin halfway up Cooper’s Hill as their own, spending every spare day and night there whenever work allowed. They’d make a fire in the stone hearth, make love for hours on a mattress he’d hauled in, and talk about fixing the place up some day. They’d carried water from the creek, cooked over open flames, and headed out on long hikes she loved as much as he did. She loved all of it — his outdoorsy, capable Sarah.

She’d make a great bear,
his inner beast murmured for probably the thousandth time in his life.

“Earth to Soren, hello.”

He pulled his focus back to the present. Jesus, he could really kill Janna sometimes.

“Good-bye, Janna,” he said, pushing the door shut with his foot.

“Fine,” she called from behind the door. “Be a grouchy bear. I’m going to check if Sarah is all set up in her room.”

He nearly groaned out loud. They had a couple of spare rooms in the sprawling maze of an apartment upstairs, but only one made sense to offer a guest. Janna and Cole had the suite of rooms around the back. Jess and Simon had set up a cozy nest for themselves in the section of the apartment that stretched over the café. Opposite the bathroom — the only working bathroom, a problem they really, really had to fix soon — was a big, pleasant room, but it was completely unfurnished. No curtains, no bed. Which left…

He winced. That left Simon’s old room, right next to his. He’d die living that close to Sarah without being able to touch her. She’d be torturously near, yet so far. He would be able to sniff her heavenly scent, hear the siren call of her voice, see her every morning and every night — but he’d never, ever be able to touch his true love, his destined mate.

Why not?
his bear protested.
We love her, and she loves us.

He stared at the desk, seriously considering thumping his head there a few times. Maybe that would bring the stupid beast to its senses.

She loves someone else, idiot. She slept with someone else.

And Christ, he’d pretty much encouraged her to, hadn’t he? When he left Montana, he told her he was breaking up with her because there was no way it would ever work, not with his clan dead set against it. So he’d said good-bye and even encouraged her to find another guy.

And judging by the baby belly, she’d done just that.

Maybe you shouldn’t judge,
the bear tried.
Maybe there’s a good reason.

He clenched his jaw so hard it clicked as he mulled that over. It was his own fucking fault. Clearly, Sarah was over him. So why couldn’t he get over her?

His bear snorted.
She loves us. Wants us. Didn’t you see the look in her eyes?

Yes, damn it, he’d noticed the way she lit up when he’d stopped her on the sidewalk.

So why don’t you let her explain?

He shook his head vehemently. No way did he need to hear how she’d screwed some other guy.

She loves us. We love her,
his bear insisted.
True love—

He cut the beast off right there.
What the hell do you understand about true love?

His bear just snorted.
More than you.

Did he have to spell it out for the beast?
She’s pregnant — by some other guy!

His bear just shrugged.
Doesn’t make her less mine. Just let her explain—

He banged a fist on the desk, making the phone rattle and a pen jump. What the hell could there be to explain?

Anger took over for a second, and his bear claws popped out, raking four parallel lines into the oak desk. The desk he’d spent hours restoring, right after he’d finished work on the carved bar, back when they’d first taken over the saloon.

Stupid bear.

Stupid man.

Stupid bear,
he roared.
Let me think!

The silence in his mind was bliss, though he suspected the bear was only giving him the headspace to find a way to get back together with Sarah, which he could never, ever do. She was a human, and besides, an alpha wasn’t supposed to beg for a woman to take him back. An alpha had to keep his pride, no matter what misery that might entail.

He schooled his spinning mind into a colder, more calculating state. Fine. Sarah could take Simon’s old room. He wouldn’t let it bother him. She could work as easy a job as they could create for her and rest her ragged feet. If she worked in the café — and God knew Jessica needed the help — they’d keep opposite hours, with her busy in the mornings and him working late nights. Every spare minute he had, he’d spend ferreting out the Blue Bloods and finding some place for Sarah to go where he knew she would be safe.

Safe,
his bear nodded solemnly.
Keep our mate and the baby safe.

Just the thought of someone threatening the baby made his blood boil. He would never stop thinking of Sarah as his, no matter what. And by extension, that meant…

He stopped short, because whoa, it hit him for the first time.

The baby could be ours, too,
his bear breathed, and damn if his gritty voice didn’t rise in hope.

For a split second, Soren’s soul galloped away with the idea. He loved Sarah, so he couldn’t help but love her baby, too. And hell, wasn’t that just what he’d been hoping they’d get around to before he’d been forced to leave Montana? Every time he and Sarah had come across a hiker with a baby backpack, he’d wondered what that would be like — a pair of tiny feet bouncing over his shoulders and a cooing voice narrating all the wonders of nature as they walked.

Of course, those visions always involved a baby he’d helped make, but hell, Sarah could make a batch of burned cupcakes and he’d love them, too.

If the baby is Sarah’s, how could we not love it?
his bear demanded.

And damn, did it take a hard swallow to fight those thoughts away.

It’ll be perfect,
his bear rambled on.
Sarah will be safe here. The baby will be safe. We’ll keep them safe.

For a moment, he nearly nodded along. But then it hit him. Sarah and her baby would never be truly safe here, even with him ready to defend them to the death. The Blue Bloods had their eye on the saloon, and inviting Sarah to stay could provoke the enemy into another attack.

God, the irony. There was no one better to keep her safe than him, but simply being near him would make Sarah a target.

The baby, a target?
his bear growled, and the hair bristled on the back of his neck.
So we kill the Blue Bloods. Get rid of them all.

He wanted that — God, how he dreamed of that — but how? Where? When? The Blue Bloods were nowhere, even if they seemed to be everywhere. Eliminating them was a game of patience — and caution, because the Blue Bloods fought dirty and mean. They could strike any time, any place. A week from now. A year. The only sure thing was that the enemy would strike as soon as they found out Sarah was here.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to face facts. Sarah could stay with his shifter clan for a short time, but then he’d have to let her go. She was human; he wasn’t. It would never work. Not with her, not with the baby. Not with enemies that would hurt them for mixing with his kind.

For their own sakes, he had to let them go.

Sarah woke slowly and did a double take at the bedside clock. Had she really slept fourteen hours straight?

Wow. It sure felt like it. Fourteen glorious hours, blissfully free of the usual nightmares. She’d slept clear through the previous day and the entire night and woke feeling better than she had in months. She stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the sounds of a household quietly waking up. A shower tap rattled from somewhere down the hall. The scent of coffee wafted from downstairs, and footsteps padded outside the closed door.

She stretched under the sheets. God, when was the last time she’d grabbed more than a short nap? When was the last time she woke slowly instead of jolting to her senses, terrified at what she might find?

Someone had set fresh, neatly folded clothes on the chair by the bed along with a towel and a Post-it note signed with a smiley face and a big letter J.

Sarah reached for the note with trembling fingers and held it close. As a kid, she’d kept an old shoe box and filled it with precious finds like white feathers and pretty rocks and a robin’s egg.

Your treasure chest, huh?
her dad had said.

She bit her lip and slid a hand over her belly. The treasure chest was gone, along with her parents, her home, and whatever innocence she’d managed to hang on to as an adult. But damn, if she still had the box, that note would have fit right in.

She took a deep breath and forced herself up. She was thirty-five now, hardly a kid. And she had a job to do. After listening nervously at the door for a second, she stepped out into the hall.

“Morning!” Janna, the younger sister, called so casually, you’d have thought they had been sharing an apartment for years. Janna had one towel wrapped around her hair and another around her torso as she bounced down the hall. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Sarah stepped into the still-steamy bathroom as Jessica called up the stairs. “Are you coming, Janna? Today’s the big day!”

It took Sarah a second to register what that meant. Of course — opening day for the café. Her chance to pay back a little of the kindness Jess had shown her. So instead of soaking in the old claw-foot tub, she sped through a shower, combed the tangles out of her long hair, and hurried downstairs.

Well, she tried to hurry, but she ran into something big and solid as she turned the corner to the stairs and stood blinking for a second in surprise.

“Sorry,” Soren rumbled. He’d been coming the other way, and now he was holding her by both arms while she recovered her balance.

Fiery tingles ran up her arms, divided into little lightning bolts, and short-circuited every nerve in her body.

His eyes sparkled as she leaned in out of habit — or instinct or sheer stupidity. A good thing she hit the brakes before she got up on the balls of her feet and planted a good-morning kiss on his lips.

Not the good old days any more, Sarah,
she reminded herself, rocking back.

Soren’s jaw hardened. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and she could swear he was reminding himself of the same thing.

She closed her eyes for a minute, fighting a losing battle to sweet memories of mornings not too different than this. Summer mornings when she woke slowly in his arms, feeling warm and secure. Memories of Soren nuzzling her, all along one side of her neck and face, then all the way down the other. Of weaving her fingers in and out of his huge, callused hands. Of Soren looking at her with the kind of wonder usually reserved for the most stunning sunrises and sunsets.

She gulped away the lump in her throat and forced her chin up. “Sorry.”

He smelled of pine and fresh air, like he’d been out all night. And if she felt refreshed after a solid night’s sleep, he had dark circles under his eyes and a haggard expression on his face. An expression that asked,
Why did I ever let you go?

She stared at him. His face held a trace of anger and bitterness, too, but neither was aimed at her. For a split second, she wondered if something had forced him to let her go.

Soren nodded slowly and relaxed his firm grip, though his thumbs stroked her skin one more time before releasing her.

“No problem,” he said, all low and husky now.

His eyes were as mournful as a basset hound’s, and she was sure they followed her all the way down the steps. Three strides later, she made it out the back door and stood panting for a minute. Which was crazy — it wasn’t as if she’d nearly been hit by a truck. All she’d done was touch Soren.

But for a brief instant within that touch, he’d been hers, and when they slipped apart, it was like losing him all over again. Just like that day almost a year ago when he’d told her it was over, right before he left Montana. Just like when he lit up all over upon seeing her the day before, only to storm out the second he’d noticed the baby bump.