Rock The Wolfe (2 page)

Awareness thrummed through her dormant body, awakening something primitive inside, something she thought had disappeared long ago.

Desire.

Turning on her heel, she hightailed it back into the house and slammed the door.

***

The smile still rounded about his mouth half a kilometer later. Surprising, that. Two days ago, he had noticed the woman standing in the doorway of the small house fussing with some kind of flowery plant. Her admiring gaze could not be missed and he’d reveled in it, a jolt his ego needed and appreciated. Today, she’d leaned against the railing, drinking from a mug. He had a closer look. Very cute, and she had a glorious head of golden hair, long, thick, and wavy. A little chubby by typical standards, but he had always loved curves on a woman. He resolved to speak to her next time he took a walk.

What the fuck else did he have to do? Besides relive everything that had gone wrong. The sad truth was he had no clue how to fix it, or even where to start.

Kerri moved the white wicker chairs from the shed and placed them on the large veranda. She sat with one leg curled under her and waited. Jax, he of the dark hair and the awesome biceps, had not walked by the house yesterday, much to her disappointment.

The fact that this was the only thing she had to look forward to, a fleeting glimpse at a rough-around-the-edges hunk, spoke volumes on the state of her life. Well, she was staying here in this country setting to take in the scenery, right?

Wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, he sauntered into her line of vision, as a walking erotic dream. His hair hung loose and flowed in the breeze. The man halted and looked right at her. She waved without thinking, then immediately lowered her hand and flushed. What in hell had she just done? He strolled up the driveway, moving like a sleek, predatory cat with a helpless mouse in its sights.

Before she could blink or think, he stood before her. He was even more beautiful than she had thought, but up close, she could also see he appeared drawn, pale, and a little on the thin side.

He pointed to the empty chair. “Mind if I sit? Name’s Jake Phelan.”

His voice
. Like melted butter over hot coals. She swallowed.

“Hi. I’m Kerri Coleson. Sure, take a seat.”

He sat with his long legs spread, his arms resting on his thighs. She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They had a golden-brown shade that seemed to shimmer and sparkle in the sunlight. They were very large, almost Elijah Wood huge. Stunning, and she could not turn away as he had her trapped in his tractor-beam gaze.

“You live around here?” she asked, pasting a shaky smile on her face.

“Staying with my parents. They live in the gray-and-brick ranch at the end of the road.”

She had seen it, a good-sized, well-kept property.

“On vacation?” she ventured.

“In between jobs, actually.” His smile was brief and a little unsteady.

Her heart dropped to the wood planks in disappointment. One of those slacker types who slept in their parents’ basement. His appearance spoke against everything she found attractive or appealing in a man, but for some reason her body sparked to life in his presence. Even more so with him sitting a few feet away. He was probably younger than her. By how many years, she could not tell. His beautiful eyes reflected a haunted look, but maybe she imagined it.

He crossed his arms. “What about you?”

“This house has been in the family for years. We all take turns staying here. I teach fifth grade in the city. I’m on summer break right now and…. You’re not interested in this.”

He shrugged. “Sure I am. I have a healthy respect for teachers. Not everyone can do it. I had a few great ones, a few that sucked, and the rest fell in between. I can still remember the names of the ones that shone.”

“And the ones who sucked too, I’ll bet.”

His laugh, though brief, rippled over her spine with its sexy cadence.

“Yeah, those too. I had a real doozy. He had a breakdown in class. They literally carried him out strapped to a stretcher. We all thought it was funny, but looking back, I can relate. Poor bastard.”

Kerri nodded. She could relate as well.

“Did you go to school around here?” she asked.

“Nah, I grew up in Barrie. My parents moved here when dad was promoted about ten years ago. He works for London Life. Insurance. Real glamorous.” He gave her a playful wink and her bones turned to liquid.

“I take it you didn’t follow your father down the insurance road, Jake?”

“Nope. I went the complete opposite. I should tell you I don’t go by Jake. Never did. It’s dad’s name, so I always went by my middle one. Wolfe.”

Somehow, that fit. A dangerous, predatory animal. He seemed to be vibrating in his seat; his leg would not stay still. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Despite his smile and playful wink, the restless motion of his body told her far more about the man than he probably wanted to reveal. A dark cloud moved through his eyes. She didn’t feel alarmed at his agitation but curious as to its cause.

“Would you like a drink…Wolfe? I’ve lemonade. Or I think there is a bottle of scotch in the cupboard.”

He stood. “Thanks, Kerri, but maybe next time I’m out for a walk.”

He jogged off at a quick pace, disappearing through the brush along the side of the road.

So much for that. An abrupt departure. Maybe offering the drink had been too forward. Regardless, she’d never see him again. He’d no doubt change his walking route just to avoid her. Despite his outward appearance—the long hair, the sparse, scraggly, barely there goatee, and tats—her first impression had been a good one. Had a brain in his head, at least. Anyway, whatever his occupation, biker, trucker, or basement dweller, he would be too much to take on. Why she’d felt that, she had no idea. Maybe it was the leg that would not stay still and the stark weariness she had seen in his mesmerizing eyes. Besides, she never dated a guy whose ass was skinner than hers, no matter how fine it looked.

With a slight chuckle, she headed inside.

***

He had to escape. He couldn’t sit there a moment longer. The conversation had grown too personal and had brought on the beginnings of a panic attack. His leg spasmed, his breathing grew heavy, and his cheeks flushed. Sweat had popped out on his forehead and that familiar, dizzy feeling overcame him. The last thing he wanted was to faint at her feet. He had done that in front of enough people.

He liked talking to her, and it brought on the beginnings of an attack?
What the fuck?
Would he never be able to have a normal conversation with anyone, especially a woman? The sad fact remained that he had not been alone with a female in any way in months.

He walked faster. He’d take a circuitous way back to his parents’. He needed to calm down. He inhaled, savoring the fresh air, and then blew out a cleansing and calming breath.

Why had he introduced himself as Jake? He never went by his first name. Since he’d been a kid, he always went by Wolfe. Was he trying to be someone else? Didn’t want her to recognize him?

Maybe he should’ve stayed in Toronto. The physiatrist seemed to know his stuff, so when the doctor had suggested visiting his parents for a few weeks would help in his recovery, Wolfe went along with the recommendation.

He wasn’t manic depressive. What a relief. Nor was he schizoid. It had taken his overdose of Ativan for the doctors and specialists to agree on a diagnosis. He had post-traumatic stress syndrome. He had been skeptical at first. What fucking traumatic event did he have in his life to trigger this? Another doctor said he had acute stress disorder. Whatever. Stress seemed to be the common denominator. The thought of recording music and going on stage and performing reduced him to a quivering mass of exposed nerves.

He couldn’t function. Everything broke apart. His life froze, and so did he. He felt nothing. A numbness that only recently started to recede had gripped him tight. He had not meant to overdose on Ativan, not that he would have died, anyway. The drug had ceased to be effective. He’d kept taking more and more, until one night he’d shoved around nine of the tiny pink tablets down his throat because he wanted to sleep so goddamned bad.

That had been the straw that broke his marriage’s back. Janice had had enough. Good riddance. They hadn’t been getting along anyway. The divorce had been granted two months ago. The lawyers had used his breakdown as the cause to get it pushed through quickly. Thankfully, Janice wasn’t able to take him to the cleaners as she’d signed a prenuptial agreement. Smartest thing he’d ever done. When he’d married her, something told him it wouldn’t last. She had been arm candy. All rock stars should have an ex-model wife had been his thought. All part of the package. Proved how shallow he had become.

After his late-night Ativan meltdown, he had refused to go on any more drugs. Fuck serotonin reuptake inhibitors and the doctors who prescribed them. Instead, he’d chosen intense counseling. For the last five months he had seen counselors and physiatrists two or three times a week. It helped. Dr. Sampson agreed he needed to visit family. Besides, Toronto was no more than an hour-and-a-half’s drive should he need to see the doc.

His parents’ house came into view. Back to the basement? No. Back to Toronto? No. He would do this. Tomorrow he would go for a walk and talk to Kerri again. She seemed to be a nice, normal woman. He found her attractive. Lush curves, great rack, and an ass he would kill to fondle and caress.

He would fight this panic disorder—and win. He felt better already; he recognized the subtle differences for the better even in the last couple of weeks. He had lived with this condition for a few years, thinking he could handle it. The situation had worsened, eventually bringing him to his knees.

Accepting help had been the first step. Now he needed to learn to live again.

Kerri stood in front of the full-length mirror. She could afford to lose close to forty pounds, but would settle for twenty. All her vows of exercising had fallen through the cracks of her busy, stressful life. By the time she arrived home from school, exhaustion prevented her from starting any kind of fitness program. Even her diet had been erratic. She would go weeks of eating properly, then fall off the wagon and have popcorn for supper with a sour cream and onion chips chaser all washed down with Pepsi Max.

Summer would be the perfect time to lose weight. An abundance of fresh fruit and vegetables was available. She should be going for walks, like Wolfe. No wonder he looked whippet-thin. Back to thinking about him again. How could she not? Damn, the man could be a model. Well, a grunge model, but his masculine beauty had been breathtaking to observe. His flat stomach, trim waist, slim hips, and long legs—all part and parcel of a male model. Handsome as hell, and anxious, too. She’d seen it in his exquisite eyes.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Walking into the hall, she could see a man’s head through the pane of glass near the top of the entrance.

Holy hell, it was
him
. No mistaking that shade of hair.

She opened the door.

“Hey, Kerri. I’ve come for that drink.” He gave her a sexy, crooked grin.

She had honestly thought she’d seen the last of him. What a shock. She stepped back.

“Sure, come on in.”

He stepped into the hall. Standing next to him for a moment, she reveled in his spicy scent and his height. Her throat closed over. He looked relaxed today. The white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest, showed a thatch of black hair dusted across impressive pecs. He wore leather pants. Tight ones. Very tight. She snapped her head upward and met his gaze.

“Hi.” He winked.

Her insides turned to Jell-O. His husky voice reverberated across her spine and settled between her legs.
Wow
.

“Ah, sit in here. The living room isn’t very big, but it’s comfy.”

Wolfe followed her in and took a seat on the sofa. The room had a mishmash of different furniture styles and colors, as family members usually sent their castoffs here. The large picture window had brown curtains that had seen better days, but the wood floor was new. A small brick fireplace completed the well-worn cozy look.

Should she sit next to him on the couch? She glanced at the recliner. The temptation to inhale his scent and enjoy the scenery of his well-dressed self could not be denied. She sat next to him as close as she dared. The fact she’d invited a stranger into her place should give her palpitations, but for reasons she could not explain, Wolfe didn’t frighten her.

“Sorry I left abruptly yesterday. It’s complicated and had nothing to do with you.”

His voice had an emotional verve that clutched her heart. As much as she would love to have him elaborate, it would be wise to let him talk about himself at his own pace.

“That’s all right. I can get you that drink. Lemonade? Something stronger? I have Pepsi Max.” She flashed him her best smile.

“Maybe in a bit. Do you like rock music?”

Where had that question come from?

“Sure. Hard rock, classic rock. Not a fan of the sugary stuff. The more drums and guitar riffs, the better.”

“Please don’t say you’re a fan of Nickelback.” He groaned.

She laughed. “I don’t understand the hate out there for these guys. They rock—I mean really rock. And they’re Canadian. What’s not to like?”

“I’ve nothing against Canadian rock. Hell, I was raised on a steady diet of Neil Young, BTO, Rush, Trooper, April Wine….”

“Prism, Harlequin, and The Guess Who….” she interjected.

A wide smile broke out on his face. “A woman after my own heart. Let’s head into the eighties. Loverboy, Red Rider, Honeymoon Suite, Glass Tiger….”

“Frozen Ghost, Bryan Adams, Corey Hart….”

“Oh God, Corey Hart?” He laughed.

“I love ‘Sunglasses at Night.’ His music is lush and well produced. I still listen to it. You forgot Platinum Blonde.”