Alpha's Last Fight: A Paranormal Shapeshifter BBW Romance (11 page)

Hutch placed a reassuring hand on her arm to cut short the elaborate back story.

“I get it. Thank you. I really appreciate it. We both do.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Cobb. Enjoy your meal.”

It was only after she’d left that I noticed the woman hadn’t once spoken to or even looked at me. She only had eyes for Hutch. The man seemed to have an uncanny ability to get what he wanted, however he went about doing it. I raised my eyebrows, impressed.

“I’ve never been on a date with a rock star before,” I said.

“Well, I hope you’re enjoying it.”

“The verdict is still out on that one, Mr. Cobb. And what the hell is a dog anyway?”

I saw a twitch of emotion fly across his face.

“It’s just slang. A dog is a domesticated shifter. Someone who leaves the pack and goes to live with civilized folk.” He tilted his head to indicate the people around us, the sort of people he was talking about.

“So Mr. Cobb is a shifter.”

“Uh-huh, smelled him a mile away.”

“And he gave up his spot in line because you’re a big bad alpha?”

Hutch snorted.

“Nah, he gave up his place in line because I threatened to tell his lady friend what he was.”

I was aghast.

“You can’t
do
that. You can’t just go around threatening people to get what you want!”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

We studied our menus in silence as I tried to figure out what I made of it all.
It worked, didn’t it?
I wasn’t sure I liked Hutch’s philosophy and had concerns about possible implications later on in the evening. Would he threaten me? Or would he charm me like he did the hostess? And what would he do if I said no?

And yet, I had to admit that some part of me liked it. I liked the fact that I was sitting in a restaurant that even Tommy would struggle to get a reservation in, with a man who could pass for a famous rock star. I liked the fact that he’d just gone right ahead and made it happen without making a big deal about it.
It worked, didn’t it?
Maybe the ends did justify the means, at least in this case.

After I ordered, I sat back and watched my date lay on the charm again as he engaged the waiter in conversation. Apparently whatever alpha-wolf-animal-magnetism thing he had going on worked on men as well as women. Or perhaps the younger man was just excited about serving a famous rock star.

Sure, Hutch was attractive, but nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn’t what you’d call handsome, too rough around the edges for that, but there was just this wild power to him that I couldn’t help being attracted to. I wondered how he would scrub up if he really put a bit of effort into it. A shave and a decent haircut. A suit instead of the jeans and t-shirt. It wouldn’t suit him, but I was sure he’d still look good.

The bigger question was,
why me?
What had Hutch seen in me after he’d come to my rescue that had made him agree to this date in the first place? I’d been called pretty before, even beautiful, but men say a lot of things when they want to get their hands on your goodies. And I certainly had goodies to spare, curves and then some.

Men seemed to like my body way more than I did. All my life advertising and magazines and TV shows had been telling me otherwise. So whenever someone did take an interest, or I saw a hot guy on the arm of the sort of girl that looked like she belonged in a magazine or on a TV show, get caught giving me a lingering sideward glance, I still struggled to believe it.

But even if it wasn’t true, if my conditioning was wrong and TV had been lying to me all these years, even if I was genuinely pretty, I knew I was nothing special. There were plenty of pretty girls out there of all shapes and sizes and Hutch was the sort of man who could take his pick.

Why me?

I was a shifter, but there were plenty of women in his pack. And if not there, then he could apparently sniff them out a mile away. Dogs. Was that it? Was he slumming it by being with me?

“Hutch?”

He had been waiting patiently while I was lost in thought.

“You’re back! What’s up?”

“Am I a dog?”

“I wouldn’t call you a dog, no.”

He’d chosen his words carefully, a little too carefully for my liking.

“You wouldn’t say it. But, would you think it?”

“I... we probably throw it around a bit too carelessly around the fights. You have to understand it’s a pretty rough place. It’s not a nice word. It’s like calling someone… no, I wouldn’t think anyway. Dogs are those who turn their back on their pack and their heritage. You weren’t raised in a pack. You were raised by…”

“My dad. If I’m a dog, what does that make him?”

He growled and spread his hands wide in supplication. This seemed to be the sort of trap he didn’t know how to fight his way out of. Unfortunately, his silence only made things worse.

“If my dad was standing in line tonight—”

“Your dad isn’t one of us.”

“But if he was. If he was a dog. Would you have pulled him out and humiliated him in front of his date like you did Mr. Cobb or whatever his name was? Why? What gives you the right to judge him just because he wanted electricity and clean running water for his daughter, for her to actually have an education rather than fighting in the dirt or… or… whoring herself out to strangers because...” I stopped, aware that I was making a scene and insulting him to boot.

“Go on.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hutch shrugged.

“No offense taken. Look, you look at us and you see whatever it is you see. I don’t care. I’m still here, with you, in a fancy restaurant, about to eat a steak which costs more than enough to feed a family for a week. So whatever I see, and whatever you see, can’t be all that bad. We’re just—”

“Different.”

“Like Romeo and Juliet,” he said.

“They both killed themselves.”

“Seriously? Well I guess I don’t have to read it now.”

I grinned as his joke broke the tension. The waiter came back with our meals.

“A salad?” Hutch looked at my plate with disdain as he began to demolish his steak. “Why would you do that to yourself? You’re a carnivore.”

“Omnivore. And I’m on a diet, that’s why.”

“Why? You look fine.”

“Because maybe I don’t want to look fine, Mr. Hardbody. Maybe I want to look better than fine. Which brings me all the way back to… Why me? Why not, I don’t know, Gina?”

He thought about that for a minute as he picked at bits of steak that were stuck between his teeth. Not exactly etiquette for this kind of establishment, but I decided to let it slide. He was a rock star, after all. People could get over it.

“Gina’s alright. I prefer my women a little more… well this place isn’t really her scene for a start. She’s a great fuck, don’t get me wrong, but yeah, outside of that, there’s not a lot going on between us.”

I almost choked on my wine. I guess it wasn’t exactly earth shattering news that the two of them had slept together, but I had to admit I still felt a twinge of jealousy.

“So when did you two… you know?”

“When? Oh, most recently? Last night after you kicked me out. She’d already hooked up with some guy from—”

I took some small comfort from the look of genuine shock on Hutch’s face when I threw the remains of my wine at him.

“What the hell?” he growled.

“Are you
serious
?”

“What? It’s not like we’re mates or anything. You turned me down. I didn’t push it. I went back home. Gina was available. We fucked.”

“I’d just asked you out on a date!”

“Yeah, for the day after. It’s not like I was planning to bring her along.”

The fact that Hutch didn’t seem to have the slightest inkling about what I was upset about made me even angrier. The man was just… ARGH! I couldn’t think of a word for how infuriating he was. This in turn made me angrier still.

“What about tonight?” I asked.

“What about tonight?”

“Would we be here now if you didn’t think we were going to fuck later?”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Of course I want to fuck you!” I hissed, leaning forward. “Every woman here wants to fuck you! I’m pretty sure our waiter wants to fuck you!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Because we don’t just do what we want. When we want. To whoever we want. We’re not…”

“Animals?” Hutch grinned and popped the last piece of steak in his mouth.

It was only then that I noticed how quiet the restaurant had become. I risked a look around and every single diner, and most of the staff, was staring at us. A couple even had their cell phones out to film the scene. I wanted to crawl away and die.

“I want to go home. I’m going home.”

“Sure.”

Hutch pulled a crumpled wad of banknotes out of his pocket and dropped them on the table.

“That was a good steak. Maybe not eighty bucks good, but the best I’ve had in a while. We should come here again.”

“This was obviously a mistake,” I said outside of the restaurant. “I’m just going to go home.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad. I’ve been on worse dates.”

I stopped and stared at him, then let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah,” I admitted, “me too.”

“And you sure you don’t want to? You know...”

Yes. No. I don’t know
. I just shook my head. He stroked the side of my arm, and the terrible pangs of desire that ran through me made me recoil. I didn’t want the animal coming out of me again.

“Natalie,” he said. “Being a dog isn’t just about leaving the pack. It’s about pretending you’re someone else. It’s about turning your back on a part of you. It’s about locking a piece of yourself away. You can have me. Tonight. In an alley or in your bed. No strings attached. It’d be good. I’m good. But you’re what? Saving yourself for someone you might never meet? You’re the only one telling yourself you can’t have any fun while you wait for that guy to come along.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. I could tell that whatever point he was trying to make wasn’t coming across.

“Look. Last night. When those men were all over you? You could have turned into something else. You could have made them regret their decision to get out of bed that morning. You could have been proud and strong and fierce and there’s no one telling you not to be. Instead you choose to be—”

“A dog?”

Hutch spread his hands, standing over me like a hulking wall of muscle.
You said it. Not me.

I was sure I’d been angrier at some point in my life, but at that moment I couldn’t remember when. How
dare
he blame me for being the victim? I balled my fists and brought them down on his chest as hard as I could, knowing he wouldn’t even feel it. At least it was satisfying to me.

“You.”

Again I brought both hands down against him.

“Don’t.”

And again.

“Know.”

“Anything.”

“About.”

“Me.”

And then I was spent. My hands hurt and I thought I might have pulled something in my shoulder. It was hard work staying mad at the ridiculously gorgeous man in front of me. We were so different that he might as well be an alien. But I had to admit that, no matter how ill-judged his words were, they had created some doubts that were beginning to gnaw at me.

He pulled me into his arms and held me, held me tight. Tears pushed up at the backs of my eyes and I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was time for
me
to stop blaming myself for being the victim. I didn’t know what was right anymore. I pulled away and he let me go, and the crazy mix of desire and anger inside of me quieted down.

“Hutch.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked confused, as though he wasn’t certain what he was apologizing for. I breathed in deeply, and then exhaled.

“Hutch, don’t sleep with her tonight. Don’t sleep with anyone else, okay?”

He looked at me and didn’t say anything. That was good enough... for now.

“And you can come and pick up your bike tomorrow, but not early. I like to sleep in on Sundays. Come and pick up your bike and take me somewhere else, okay? Somewhere you want to go.”

“Sure,” Hutch said, and a wave of relief came over me. He wasn’t mad. He looked as relieved as I felt. I flagged down a cab.

“Hey, Nat?”

I turned to see Hutch waiting on the curb, expectantly.

“Does this mean I don’t get a kiss goodnight?”

I smiled and closed the cab door.

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

If he wanted a kiss, he’d have to come back to get it.

Chapter Ten

Hutch

“Are you bringing me to another fight?”

We pulled up to the front of the warehouse on my motorcycle, and Natalie’s hands gripped me a bit more tightly as the warehouse came into view. I chuckled.

“Not quite,” I said. Although there might be a couple of fights after the sun went down, on normal days this was just Pack City. I drove around the warehouse to the lot where all of the trailers were laid out in rows and pulled up near my own little spot.

“Home sweet home,” I said. Natalie hopped off the back. She wore jeans this time – the girl’s learning. And I’m learning I might have to get a car if I ever want to see her in a dress again. When I think about the first night I saw her, her dress clinging to her sweaty thighs… damn. Maybe it would be worth it...

“This is where you live?”

Natalie’s jaw was hanging so far off her face it looked like I had knocked it off myself in the middle of the fighting ring. I turned to the place where our pack made its home and looked at it through her eyes.

Crowded was the first word that came to mind. Some of the pack lived in tents, still, some in trailers. Some in tents next to trailers. The homes all butted up against each other in a circular pattern, the rows curving around the parking lot. There were a few kids racing each other down the street between the trailers. A couple of guys sparring on a makeshift fight mat, lots more watching them, beers in hand. Outside the trailer right next to mine, a lady was taking down the wash from the laundry line strung up on a hanger I’d made of scrap two by four’s.