ROMANCE: SHAPESHIFTER ROMANCE: Dragon Baller's Bride (Dragon Shifter Alpha Male Romance) (Paranormal Romantic Suspense) (48 page)

J
asmine fumbled in her purse
, counting the cash out carefully. She clasped it back carefully and buttoned her coat over her scrubs. It had been a particularly exhausting shift, the sort that reminded her just why she did this work—but left her so tired that she could not imagine going home to finish homework. And of course, Michael and Emma were going to need food, and lunches for school tomorrow. And their mother would need to be talked into taking her medicine.

If she thought about it all at once, she was going to cry. Jasmine walked quickly down the hallways. Right now, all she needed to do was get the medicine. That was manageable. In the hospital pharmacy, she smiled tiredly at her boss.

“Any plans for tonight?”

“Way too much paperwork to go through,” the woman confided. Her gaze, always uncomfortably shrewd, took in Jasmine’s shadowed eyes and the money clutched in one trembling hand. “You’re off to have dinner now, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good. And you were on the team helping that little girl who came in today, right?” The head nurse was one of the most well-informed people Jasmine had ever met. She tended to know just what was going on in every ward, and she always knew the projects her nurses were doing.

“Yes. She’s stable now, I checked before I left.” The little girl, who had come in with seizures and a high fever, was now sleeping angelically, and Jasmine had been heartened to see one of her favorite colleagues watching over her.

“You’ve been doing really well,” her boss said, as Jasmine stepped up to the counter. “I know you’ll be graduating soon. I’d love to have you stay on my team.”

“Thanks.” Tears pricked at Jasmine’s eyes. On good days, she told herself that she did this job because it was so stable for income in addition to really helping people out. On bad days, she told herself that anyone could get fired these days. She handed over her mother’s prescription slip and waited.

“That’ll be $55.84,” the pharmacist said cheerfully.

“No, that prescription is $40,” Jasmine protested. There was an edge of panic in her voice, and she tried to push it away. She didn’t have $55.84, not even if she walked home.

“It says here $55.84.” He lifted a shoulder helplessly. “Your insurance company may have changed coverage.”

“Hey, I’ve got this.” Jasmine’s boss pushed past her.

“You don’t have to do this.” Shame was burning in Jasmine’s cheeks.

“Jasmine—my nurses are some of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and this hospital pays them next to nothing.”

“It’s in line with what other hospitals pay.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Her boss drew her aside. “Look. You’ve been picking up extra shifts, you’re exhausted, and you’re more than pulling your weight on this team. You get paid less than you’re worth, and I get paid more than I’m worth—and I’m single, I’ve got no one to spend money on. Let me do this, okay?”

Jasmine hesitated, her pride screaming at her. But at last her shoulders slumped. If she didn’t take this offer, she wouldn’t have the pills to bring back to her mother tonight. She nodded.

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay,” her boss said awkwardly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I just feel like good things are going to happen for you.” The woman flushed. “Look. Go on, now. Get home, get some rest.”

Jasmine blinked, at a loss for what to say, and headed for the bus stop. It was cold, and she folded her arms and hunched her shoulders as she waited, eyes fixed on the bright red of her coat. She knew from experience that for about an hour after her shift, she had no energy to read textbooks or look over her homework, so she didn’t even try, expecting her mind to go entirely blank.

Instead, she saw
him
: blue eyes, chiseled jaw, perfectly muscled body. He was a jerk, she told herself. He was a pretty-boy who’d come here to teach boys to fight, because no matter what he said, he didn’t understand that none of the boys he taught had any leeway to mess up. There was one shot at success for the kids in Jasmine’s neighborhood. If they missed it because their teachers thought they were troublemakers, or because they got into a fight in school, there was no more chance for them to succeed. But this guy—Tyler, Michael had said, while he was pleading to be allowed to go back—just smiled with that full mouth and knew people would give him whatever he wanted.

Which was what made her so furious about the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Jasmine climbed onto the bus and paid her fare, choosing a seat near the door. She didn’t
want
to like this guy. She didn’t want to keep thinking about the gleam of humor in his eyes, about what she might say to make it appear again, or about how she wanted him to share his private joke with her.

It had been months since Jasmine had even been out with her friends, and that had been because they dragged her out with them after her boyfriend stopped calling her. Jasmine had been vaguely embarrassed about that—women weren’t supposed to be left, after all, and anyone looking at her chubby frame would surely know why he’d gone—but she hadn’t been brave enough to tell her friends that she didn’t really
care.
She hadn’t cared about any guy in about a year and a half.

This new stab of desire, sweet and seductive, set off a storm inside her. She was more aware of her body than she could remember being, feeling the slide of cloth over her skin. She’d spent a few minutes the other night studying her face in the mirror, admiring her eyes and her mouth before she remembered that there was no way in hell Tyler would be interested in her. And she didn’t want him to be, she told herself fiercely. That way, there was nothing good at all. She knew what it meant to get tangled up with guys who thought they were better than you, and she knew, too, that she had no time even for a really nice guy.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down to see a text from her boss:
Also, you should use that money for something for YOU.

Jasmine felt her lips curve in genuine amusement. What would she use it for? A new dress she’d never wear? Nail polish she couldn’t use because she was always washing her hands? Hairdos she’d only have to tie back while she was at work?

I will.
Better that her boss thought she’d taken the advice.

When her phone buzzed again, she was staring out the window, and she smiled as she checked it. Her smile died on her face, however, as she read the text from Emma:

Michael just got home and I think he was at the boxing place again.

Jasmine looked around herself, noting the streets, and then yanked the stop cord. She raced off the bus when it screeched to a stop, offering a hasty apology to the bus driver, and set off. She was close to the gym here. She wasn’t going to confront Michael yet. She was going to confront that pretty-boy bastard and tell him to stay away from her brother.

When she yanked open the door of the gym, she found it blessedly empty…almost. In one corner, a single bare bulb was on, and Tyler was unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks at a hanging bag. Jasmine felt her mouth drop open. He was shirtless, and she could see the interplay of muscles over his gorgeous back. A few tattoos stood out against his pale skin, and she found herself wondering what those symbols meant to him.

There was a tinge of exhaustion to his movements, as though he had been at this for some time. Jasmine hesitated. She knew, all too well, what someone looked like when they were furiously trying to forget something. A stab of pity twisted in her chest, telling her to leave Tyler alone with his pain. But then he danced sideways around the bag, and his eyes caught sight of her standing by the door. He froze.

And he smiled. It was a brilliant smile, eyes crinkling at the corners with pleasure.

It made her
furious.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jasmine demanded. She knew her voice carried across the room, but she started over to him anyway. She stabbed her finger in the air. “I told you I didn’t want Michael fighting.”

The smile died from his face.

“Has he been getting in fights at school?”

“Not that I know of, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“No,” the man snapped. “It
isn’t
. You seem to think I’m giving him all this aggression and anger, but the fact is, it’s just there. You’ve never been a teenage boy, you don’t understand. He’s angry—and he’s here because he’s found a place where he can get that out
without
sabotaging his whole life. Do you not see that?”

“Do
you
not see that I’m trying to keep him safe?”

“I see that!” His voice exploded to a yell. He made a conscious effort to pull himself together, closing his eyes for a second. “Look.” He said it through gritted teeth. “Your brother’s sixteen. That’s too young to be out on his own, but you can’t hope to send him away to college without even letting him test the waters. He wants to be a man, Jasmine. Not a boy. You have to let him make some choices for himself. You have to let go.”

“I can’t
let go
.” To her horror, she felt all the words she had pent up for years spill out of her. “If I let go, do you know what happens? Things fall apart! Michael drops out of school, Emma drops out of school, and our mother
dies.
I am trying to keep this family together and get at least two of us out of here!”

“And it’s killing you!” He was close now, much too close.

“What?”

“Its
killing you.
” He stared down at her. “Do you see that? You’re taking everyone else’s problems on your shoulders and it’s killing you, Jasmine. And call me crazy, but…” He shook his head, a disbelieving laugh on his lips. “But I don’t want that,” he finished.

“What?” That didn’t make any sense.

He leaned forward hesitantly, and she saw what was happening but could not believe it. She was frozen, staring up at him, smelling the sweat and the smell of the soap he used, and she couldn’t even move when he pressed his lips against hers.

H
er lips were soft
. That was his first, surprised thought. She fit perfectly against him, and he was just wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer when he realized that he wasn’t imagining this. He’d actually done it. He jerked away, and she kept standing there, frozen, as if she had no idea what to do. She blinked those grey eyes at him, and couldn’t seem to think of anything to say.

But now that he’d kissed her once, it was going to torture him not to do it again. Tyler reached for her, scanning her eyes worriedly for rejection or anger. Once, women had thrown themselves at him—but he wasn’t that man anymore, and Jasmine would never have wanted that man, anyway. And now, Tyler didn’t know what kind of man he was anymore—or what he was supposed to do when he liked someone.

To his surprise, she stepped into the kiss and stood on tip-toe for his lips to come down on hers once more. Her fingers slid up around his neck, slick against the sweat, and although he had a passing moment of shame about her seeing him like this, she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. She pressed herself willingly against him…

…for a moment. Then she apparently remembered who he was.

“You kissed me.”

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“You think you can just—wait, you’re sorry?” She frowned at him.

“I didn’t mean to…” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. And I’m all sweaty.”

To his surprise, he startled a genuine laugh out of her. “I’m a nurse. Sweat is the least bad thing I get on me.” Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d said. “But I’m clean now. I mean, my jacket’s clean. My scrubs aren’t, but that shouldn’t matter unless you…” She trailed off.

“I won’t lick them,” Tyler promised her, and she laughed again. He liked making her laugh, he realized. Hesitantly, he reached out to tuck in a stray curl. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Well, I’m guessing most women don’t yell at you,” she said with tart humor.

“No. They don’t.” He shrugged. “But lately…”

“Lately?” she prompted, when his voice trailed off.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. Look, could I take you for a cup of coffee or something?”

“Coffee sounds nice.” She frowned. “Unless…you really want to? It’s not just so Michael can keep practicing?”

“What part of, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you’ didn’t make sense?” He allowed his own sarcastic humor to come out.

She didn’t smile. “Guys like you…” He waited, at a loss, and she finally gestured impatiently at herself. “Guys like you aren’t interested in someone who looks like me.”

“Why not? The makeup?” He used to say you could tell everything you needed to know about a woman from the way she dressed. He supposed he might still believe it—but he was looking for different things now.

“No, I mean, I’m…” She frowned at him. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“I honestly don’t have the first idea what you mean.” He pulled a shirt on over his head. “And you have the wrong idea about me, but I understand where you got it. I used to be that guy.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Which guy?”

“The jerk who went home with groupies,” he said bluntly. “The shorter the skirt, the better.”

“What changed?” The grey eyes were alert.

“I lost a fight,” he said brutally.

She didn’t say anything to that, only watched him as he got his coat and his bag. As they started out into the city, he was afraid she would ask him more about his past, but instead she sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry, you know.”

“Hmm?” He looked over at her, and resisted the urge to reach over and take her hand.

“For yelling at you.” One shoulder lifted. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. Sixteen seemed so young to me, and in some ways, Michael is still my little kid brother who fell off the counter trying to get cookies. But he has to learn to be a man. He…found a way to deal with anger without letting it affect his school. Or us. I’m proud of him.”

“I’m glad,” Tyler said honestly. “You should be. Your brother’s going to be a remarkable man. But don’t apologize.”

“No?”

“No. I…admire it, really. You came in there all fiery, and it was clear you cared about him so much. For a long time, I haven’t cared about anyone that way. You wanted to protect your brother, and a few months ago that wouldn’t even have made sense to me. But this job has taught me a lot about that. It’s, ah…”

“What?” She was smiling as she looked over at him, and he was embarrassed by the revelation.

“Well, I guess you could say it’s saving my life.”

She considered for most of a block. “Saving you from what?”

“Success. Sounds pretty stupid, but it’s true. I wasn’t ready for it, and it ate me up. After I lost, I had nothing to live for. It showed me that I didn’t have what it took to win. I’d just gotten lucky before, I guess. They don’t get it, either, those boys. They keep getting on my case about tournaments and…”

“You only ever lost once?” Jasmine asked him.

“Yeah.” He held open the door for her and she preceded him into the little diner.

“So why do you think you just got lucky the other times?”

“Well, I was fast, but I didn’t…” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I guess. I feel like I didn’t earn my success. It took losing to show me that.”

“Who beat you?”

“A kid I’d trained with.” He shook his head as the coffee mugs were set down in front of them. “I always thought I was better than he was. But he kept training and I got sloppy, see. Too many drugs. Too many late nights. I was skipping practice. And in the end…it caught up with me.”

“None of that is luck,” Jasmine told him flatly. She raised her eyebrows. “You were born with talent. If you worked like that other kid did, you could have beaten him.”

“So?”

She considered, searching for the words. “So you said when success came for you, you weren’t ready for it. Maybe that’s because you never had anything to work for. When you told me that you knew how my brother needed an outlet, I’m guessing that’s true. Maybe now, seeing what it means to someone else, you can see why it’s important to work for your wins—and your success would feel earned. Then it wouldn’t eat you up.”

He felt his lips twitch in a weak smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She shook her head at him. “I saw you when you said you used to be good. Your face lit up and then just crashed down again. You want to get back in the ring. I’m not going to say you just run away, because it sounds like that life was killing you. But I think you’ve figured yourself out—and now maybe you want to win again.”

“I don’t even know…”

“Maybe start by taking the advice you give the guys,” she said quietly. “Michael told me, you know. He wanted me to know you were a good guy. He told me how you’re always telling them to do their absolute best on the fundamentals, push themselves until they’re tired, always striving to do their best.”

“And then what?” He stared at her bleakly.

“Then you get back in the ring.”

“What if I lose?” The words were harsh.

“You’ve done that already,” she said. Her smile was gentle. “It didn’t kill you. And you can’t win if you don’t fight. Tyler…I can’t even remember a time when I had something I wanted to win like that. But you have something. Fight for it. And—what?”

Tyler couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “I think I need to kiss you again.”