Racing Home (Dirt Track Dogs Book 3) (Paranormal Wolf-Shifter Romance) (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Annie flipped through the channels on the TV one more time. Dinner had come and gone, and the crew had left for the night with the promise to return bright and early in the morning.

And Blister still hadn’t shown.

Maybe he’d changed his mind.

She checked her phone in case he’d tried to call, but there was nothing.

Clicking the TV off, she went to the kitchen to clean up. She put away the cold bowl of chili she’d left out for him, and loaded the dishwasher, all the while trying not to be disappointed. He was always in the wind. Drake had said it was normal, and she was beginning to see the truth in that.

Sighing, she flipped off the lights and headed upstairs.

A voice stopped her. It came through the laundry room and it was muffled by her brand new back door, but there was no mistaking whose it was. Creeping closer to the door, Annie held her breath as she listened. Blister sang a melody, his deep voice smooth. She didn’t recognize the song, but the notes slid along her skin like cool satin. It wasn’t a beautiful sound. It was more than that. Soulful, resonating within her to hit some unknown chord around her heart.

Her hand flew to her chest, hoping to still the thunderous beat.

She couldn’t move from her spot. She didn’t want to do anything to make it stop. His voice was like a soothing blanket on a cold night. Closing her eyes, she imagined it wrapping around her, cocooning her in his world. A world where she wasn’t alone and never would be again.

She smiled in spite of herself.

Blister was beautiful. And it had nothing to do with what he was on the outside. It was all about who he was. Who he
really
was. He was devoted to his friends, but it was more than that. He even cared for people who weren’t his friends. Like her. Though she hoped that status had changed by now. He cared enough to see that she had help fixing her house.

It meant more to her than he’d ever know.

The song ended and Annie let her gaze slide open. She waited, but he didn’t knock. Faint humming sounded from behind the door, and she knew he must be just sitting on the porch.

Carefully, she eased the backdoor open. He heard of course, but he didn’t make a move to go. He was perched on the bottom step, his elbows resting on the top one, his head tipped to the sky.

Annie followed his gaze up. It was a full moon and the clear sky left it acting as a spotlight for the world below.

“What are you doing?” She whispered, not wanting to completely break the trance he was in.

“Talking to the moon,” he mumbled.

“How long have you been out here?”

“A while.”

Annie sat on the step next to him, still watching the orb in the sky. She had to admit it was hypnotic. Especially with the sounds of night. Crickets sang. Tree frogs croaked. The wind whistled. But none of them had a prettier song than Blister’s.

“What did he say, the moon?”

“Nothing. He never talks back.”

“Bummer. I was hoping I could take up this practice of talking to the moon. You know, for the lonely nights.”

Silence stretched between them, but the sounds around them made it less awkward.

“I was just sitting here thinking, and then I realized how late it was and I figured you’d be going to bed.” His voice was soft again, like it was when they were cooking. She loved that voice. She liked to imagine he only used it with her. And it was a valid assumption because until today, she’d never heard it.

“I assumed you’d changed your mind.”

He shook his head, rising to stand. “I’d better get to bed. Morning comes early for Renner and his crew. And there’s no sleeping through their racket.”

The idea of him running off to the shelter so soon made her sad.

“Do you um, want to eat first? I can warm up the chili real quick.”

“I’m good. I’ll have it tomorrow.”

Her shoulders slumped, but she managed a grin.

He gave a nod, and turned to go.

“Wait. Blister?”

“Yeah?”

He stared at her over his shoulder and she wanted to say so many things. In the dark of night she was less inhibited. Less embarrassed of her feelings for him and the fact that he showed nearly zero interest in her other than to help someone who was down on her luck. She wanted to come right out and tell him that she was stupid into him. At thirty four did she really have time to waste?

But insecurity stopped her. What if he completely rejected her? Could she deal with that kind of embarrassment right now, when everything else in her life was so shaky?

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, looking resigned. “I wondered when you would ask about them.”

Annie frowned. “About what?”

“These.” He gestured vaguely to his face.

She stood, stepping closer to him. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask at all. But… I can see you don’t like talking about your scars.”

His gaze was steady on her. “That time of my life isn’t something I like to think about.”

“Maybe someday you’ll tell me about it. If it’s something you want to share. And I could tell you about my scars.”

He frowned, his eyes doing a quick scan of her body.

“Not physical,” she murmured.

His eyes found hers, searching. He stared at her for so long, she felt herself getting lost in him, forgetting where they were. Her breath came in short pants as she waited for him to say something. Anything.

“What…” He swallowed. “What were you going to ask me?”

She blinked, breaking the hold his gaze had on her. “I was just wondering, um, what your real name is.”

He shook his head. “That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

Of course not. He wasn’t called Blister for the fun of it. “But he still had a name.”

He stared at the ground, contemplating. “Maybe I’ll tell you that one day too. Goodnight, Annie.”

“Night.” She watched him climb into the shelter and close the door before she went inside herself.

***

Annie had set her alarm to go off pre-dawn, but it wasn’t the smooth, slowly increasing in volume, strains of
Bottoms Up
that she awoke to. It was the smell of fresh brewed coffee. She hadn’t wakened to that particular smell since her parents were still around.

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

She should be alarmed that someone was in her kitchen, helping themselves to her Keurig. But it had to be Blister. Or one of the workers. After meeting them yesterday, she knew they were harmless.

Quickly, she slipped on a sweatshirt to help cover up her braless state, swished some mouthwash, and fingered her curls back into place. Creeping down the stairs, she made her way to the kitchen, still a bit bleary eyed.

Blister’s back was to her, his head bent over the counter, skillfully preparing a mug of morning fuel.

“Mornin’,” she said, and his head snapped up.

“Shit. Did I wake you?”

Annie grinned. “My alarm was about to go off anyway.”

His eyes roamed from her head, moving downward and back up. She fidgeted, waking up enough to realize she should’ve taken a few minutes to dress and fix her hair. The just-rolled-out-of-bed look wasn’t going to convince anyone she was girlfriend material.

Shoot.

Blister ripped his gaze away. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind. I’m only good after a cup or two, so I thought I’d start before the crew got here,” he said, gesturing to the coffee maker.

“I don’t mind at all. What’s mine is yours.”

His gaze cut back to her, his eyes narrowing. With a shake of his head, he went back to stirring his coffee. “Would you like some?”

Annie settled on a stool. “Sure. Thanks.”

She watched as he pulled another mug off the rack on the counter and set the K-cup to brew.

“How do you take it?” He used that quiet voice again and it made her chest flutter.

“Just sugar. One spoonful.”

He measured it out and stirred the steaming mug before bringing it over to the bar. She went to take it from him, but when she did, their hands brushed and Blister jerked back causing the coffee to spill over the top.

Annie gasped as scalding hot liquid touched her skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his eyes going wide. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

His fingers encircled her wrists as he dragged her around the bar and to the sink. He turned the faucet to cold and shoved her hand underneath the stream. The cold water felt good on the bright pink skin, but she wasn’t hurt really. She’d burnt herself worse than that cooking at Red Cap before.

Blister stared at her hand under the running water with such remorse in his expression it made her stomach hurt. Without turning off the faucet, he pulled her hand back and used a nearby hand towel to gently dry it off. Cradling her tender hand in his rough one, he bent his head low to examine it.

“Damn it.” He shook his head, running the tip of one finger over the slight burn. “I’m… so sorry. I…
shit
.”

Annie closed her eyes just before they rolled back in her head. Dear baby Jesus, he was
touching her
. And so sweetly. His hands were amazing. Work roughened but oh so gentle. They were perfect. Could any other hands be as perfect as Blister’s. She wouldn’t know but she thought not.

“Does it hurt very much?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern. “I… I can make it better but…”

Annie forced her eyes open. She needed to tell him it wasn’t that bad. But when she looked at him, she was taken aback. The expression on his face was full of self-loathing. She could practically see him berating himself and there was no reason for it. The spill was an accident and she was fine.

“Hey,” she said softly, but his attention stayed on her hand. Annie curled her fingers around his and that seemed to break the spell. He looked at her. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse burns than this. It doesn’t even hurt. Really.”

His gaze fell to their hands where they were loosely interlocked. He shook his head. “I don’t think it will blister, but I can’t be sure. Shit, I don’t want to mess up your hands.” The last part was said under his breath like maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“You won’t,” she assured him. “Look, it’s fine. Trust me, it won’t blister. It’s good. Promise.” She couldn’t resist running her thumb back and forth against his, but then he went utterly still, and she instantly regretted the action.

Time seemed to freeze as they stood there. She was afraid to move in case it would send him running. And she knew the small contact would end soon, but maybe if she was still enough she could make it last just a bit longer.

A car door slammed outside, making her jump. Blister dropped her hand and stepped back.

“I’d better go help them unload,” he muttered, and slipped past her to the back door.

Annie had to laugh. It was
almost
funny how anytime she gave him signals that she was into him, he found a reason to leave. She shook her head, pulling eggs out of the fridge and firing up the burner on the stove.

Time to dial it back, Annie
.

It was clear she was making him uncomfortable. And he was Ella’s family. She couldn’t afford to let her awkwardness interfere in their budding relationship. Ella needed her family now more than ever.

And besides all that,
this
was that pathetic stage she’d been trying to avoid. She had to draw the line somewhere.

“Friends it is, Mr. Blister,” she muttered, cracking an egg with one hand.

She went about making breakfast for the crew and forgot about the tinge of embarrassment she’d felt.

When she was almost finished, he returned.

Annie didn’t try to make conversation. She pulled the last of the bacon from the pan and let it drain on a couple paper towels.

Blister moved to the sink to wash his hands while she set breakfast on the bar. Turning, she was surprised to find him standing so close to her. Her eyes were level with his chest and she didn’t bother to look up into his face. He reached out, taking her hand in his and turning it over and over, running his fingers along her skin.

“How is it?”

“Fine,” she breathed. Cleared her throat, and tried again. “It’s fine. I told you.”

“I wanted to make sure.” But he didn’t let go of her hand. He pressed their palms together, his fingers falling in between hers.

Annie let her gaze slowly drift to his face. He stared at their linked hands with a mixture of wonder and confusion. Like they were a miracle he couldn’t hope to explain.

But that made no sense.

“You have beautiful hands,” he whispered so faintly if they hadn’t been the only ones in the room she might not have heard him.

But she did. She heard him, and even though he was just talking about her hands, his compliment threaded through her, lighting her up with joy. Her smile grew so wide it hurt her cheeks. He didn’t see it though, because he squeezed his eyes shut.