The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) (12 page)

Damn her father and his cruel, manipulative ways.

Now, when Hank found out, he’d think she’d slept with him in an attempt to snare him deeper in her web. And that might make him feel used. Might make him hate her.

He’d probably be right to.

She swallowed down a hard knot of pain and dropped her gaze to stare into her coffee. Hank was a good man. An amazing man. So much better than she could have ever hoped for. Better than she’d dreamed of. Funny how her father’s scheming had brought her Hank and would inevitability take him away.

She was going to get her heart broken, and this time, it wasn’t going to heal. Her life was so freaking unfair. She closed her eyes and took a breath. Enough wallowing.

Self-pity was pointless. It wasn’t going to change anything. Better to focus on finding a way to fix things.

She could tell Hank the truth right now. Hank seemed like a trustworthy guy. But she’d trusted a man before, a man she’d had no reason to doubt, and been betrayed. What if she’d misjudged Hank? What if he used the information to get the Merrows out of their debt? Then there’d be no marriage at all. It would save the Merrows. But it would destroy her. Clemens would blame her for the whole thing falling apart.

Her
and
Charlie.

But Charlie would pay the price.

She bit back a sob. She couldn’t risk her son’s life for the sake of her own comfort.

“You okay?”

At the sound of Hank’s voice, she turned. He was more gorgeous than ever with the look of sleepy satisfaction on his handsome mug. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

He padded up to her, wearing nothing but pajama pants, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I wish you had woken me up. But then you’d still be in bed.”

She smiled, unable to help herself. Gruff, serious Hank was anything
but
in bed. The man was an artist with his hands. Generous, giving, and wicked in the best possible ways. She hadn’t been so thoroughly shagged in…ever. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” She lifted her cup. “I made coffee.”

“Something wrong?”

Everything. “Nothing. Just restless with the full moon so close, I guess.”

He lifted one hand to her chin and tipped her face toward him, then planted a soft, closed-mouth kiss on her lips. “Please don’t regret last night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I promise. Last night was amazing.”

He grinned. The smile lit his face so brightly it was like staring into the sun. “Damn straight it was. You hungry? I’m starving.”

“Sure, what do you want for breakfast?”

He made a face at her. “For you to sit down and enjoy your coffee while I fix it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

She went along with him, balancing her cup to keep from spilling coffee on the hardwood floors. “You cook?”

He snorted. “No, but I can make breakfast.”

“Uh-huh.”

He looked at her. “Do you doubt me, woman?”

“I’m just saying it’s pretty hard to believe judging by the state of your refrigerator yesterday.” She liked this new playful side of him. It seemed he’d let his guard down. Like she was catching a glimpse of the man without the weight of sheriff and firstborn riding his shoulders.

No doubt that would change when he learned what her father had put her up to. She pushed that thought away and tried to focus on the present.

“You sit here.” He pointed at one of the bar stools at the raised breakfast bar.

She climbed into the chair. She’d been a child the last time someone had made breakfast for her.

He opened the fridge. “What’ll it be?”

She decided to go big, knowing she’d probably end up doing the cooking, but then she’d planned on that anyway. She thought about what she’d bought yesterday and based her choice on that. “Blueberry pancakes.”

“Good choice.”

“Really?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, his brows angled down in a victorious expression. “Thought you were going to trip me up with that, didn’t you?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I kinda did. Good thing I bought blueberries. Are they better than Mummy’s?”

He hesitated. “You won’t have to eat them in a holding cell.”

“Sold.”

He pulled the ingredients together and got to work, refusing to let her help. Once the ingredients were mixed, he pulled out the griddle, greased it and set it to heat up. Then he refilled her coffee, fixed himself a cup, and leaned against the counter facing her. “Tell me about your son.”

The lightness of the moment disappeared with those words. A wave of desperation went through her. She missed Charlie so much it hurt. She tried to cover by taking a sip of her coffee. She swallowed and chose her words carefully so she could stay truthful. “He’s a good kid. Quiet. A little on the shy side. Kinda small for his age.”

“So was I.”

She raised her brows. “You were small for your age.”

“Almost dead last in the percentages.” He turned, ran his fingers under the tap then flicked the water onto the griddle. It sizzled, so he poured thick circles of batter onto it. More sizzling followed, sending up the most delicious aroma. He dropped big handfuls of berries into each one. “Until I hit puberty. Put on seventeen inches and forty-three pounds in a year and a half.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Hurt like a mother, too.”

“I’ll bet.” For the first time, hope for Charlie bloomed within her. “Kincaid men get their size early.”

Pancakes cooking and coffee in hand, he went back to leaning. He swallowed another sip of coffee. “Charlie’s dad still in the picture?”

All the inevitable questions. “No. He was for a little bit, but then he just up and left. Haven’t heard another word from him. Which I’m fine with. I don’t need the reminder.” Still, she’d thought Eric had been a different kind of man. But she’d been wrong. And might be again. She twisted her cup, turning it slowly until the handle was perpendicular to the edge of the granite.

“We don’t have to—”

“You have a right to know.” She blew out a small breath, feeling the old regrets tugging at her happiness as images of Eric filled her mind. “I met him the summer before my last year of college.”

“You went to college?” He held a hand up. “Sorry, didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

“No, I get it. Kincaids aren’t known for their academic prowess.” She smiled grimly. “I was determined not to be a typical Kincaid. Anyway, I thought I was in love and, long story short, he wasn’t. He disappeared before Charlie was born.”

“You ever try to track him down? Get support out of him?”

She shook her head. “And risk having to fight him for custody? Or see him happily married with kids and have him reject Charlie all over again? No, thanks. Really, I’d be fine never seeing him again.”

Hank nodded. “What about college?”

“I managed another semester, but it was a hard pregnancy.” She stared into her cup. “I always figured I’d go back and finish that one last semester, but it never happened.”

“Doesn’t mean it still couldn’t.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What did you major in?”

“Business. I thought it would be a ticket out of Kincaid country. Instead, I ended up going to the local beauty school after Charlie was born and staying right where I was.” The weight of her broken dreams weighed heavy on her.

“Maybe I can be that ticket.”

He said it so quietly, she almost wasn’t sure she’d heard it. She looked up. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I know.” He took a long, thoughtful pause. “I like you, Ivy. And you’re going to be my wife. I want you to be happy. I want…us to be happy.”

She stared at him, not quite able to process that idea.

He turned back to the griddle and flipped the pancakes. “Why didn’t Charlie come with you?”

Because Clemens knew she would have run. “My father thought it would be easier for us to get to know each other without a kid underfoot.”

“And Charlie’s staying with his grandparents?”

“Mm-hmm.” Staying and being held hostage were two sides of the same coin when you were a Kincaid.

“You want to go get him?”

She froze at the thought of that confrontation. Hank and her father, her son caught in between and the truth being used like a weapon to beat her precious boy down even further. “
No
.”

Hank slanted his eyes at her. “It was just a suggestion.”

She made herself smile. And breathe normally. “It’s a great one, but I want to make sure this whole thing is going to work out before I introduce him to you.”

That sounded like a weak excuse even to her but she wasn’t sure what else to say. School was out for the summer so she couldn’t use that.

Hank shrugged and went back to plating breakfast. “Whatever you think is best.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief. She slid out of her seat, done with the conversation. “I’ll set the table.”

“Good, because we’re ready to eat.”

She collected silverware, napkins and the syrup. “What time do you have to be at the station?”

“Half an hour.” He brought the plates over. “What are you going to do today?”

She set two places, then grabbed her coffee and sat at one of them. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“You know how to get back into town.” He put a short stack of pancakes in front of her, then took his spot. “Why don’t you go explore? See the town you’re about to become a resident of. Nocturne Falls is anything but boring.”

“So I’ve heard.” The town was well known amongst supernaturals as the place to live if you wanted the most freedom to be yourself. Celebrating Halloween three hundred and sixty-five days a year made that possible.

“And if you stop by the station at noon, I might be able to break away for lunch.”

She grinned. “Are you making a date with me?”

“You’re the one who agreed to the wooing.” He winked at her as he carved up a forkful of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth.

That she had. “I’m glad you don’t think you’re off the hook for that after last night.”

He swallowed, his seriousness returning along with a hint of gold in his eyes. “If anything, last night showed me that making you happy is a very worthwhile endeavor. One I will be pursuing many, many more times.”

She did her best not to show how light-headed and swoony those words made her, but a little sound of pleasure escaped anyway. She covered with a bite of pancakes. More sounds of pleasure ensued. “These are really good.”

He preened. “I’m not without some skills.”

“Yes, you proved that last night. I just didn’t think you could manage breakfast, too.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her syrup-sticky mouth.

They finally came up for air, finished breakfast and a few minutes later, she sent him off to work with a promise to see him at lunch and another long kiss that almost ended up with them back in bed.

Life was remarkably good.

She hoped it stayed that way, but so far, that wasn’t her track record.

For once in her less than illustrious career as the receptionist for the Nocturne Fall’s sheriff’s department, Birdie was at her desk before Hank arrived. He checked his watch. That explained it. He was six minutes late.

He grinned. The kiss had been worth it.

“Something’s wrong,” Birdie chirped.

He stopped in front of her desk to pick up his messages. “What’s that?”

“I have no idea, but you’re late and you’re smiling. Are you feeling all right? Bend down so I can feel your forehead.”

He frowned at her. “I’m fine.” He turned one of the message slips so she could see it. “What does this say?”

She squinted at it. “Beats me.”

“It’s your handwriting.”

Her brows lifted. “Can you always read
your
handwriting?”

“Yes. Because it’s my handwriting.” But he was in too good of a mood to let Birdie’s nonsense get to him.

“You’re just trying to change the subject. What’s going on with you?”