Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run (3 page)

“Well, if you thought I was so backwards and everything, what the hell did you ask me out for?”

That grin again. “Because you were so hot. And I was lonely.” His strong, supple fingers were massaging the balls and arches of her feet, and she decided that this was, in fact, better than sex. “And then I find out you’re taking college classes and you
don’t
want to birth a bunch of babies and grow old in Luxor. And that was cool, that was interesting. Then, tonight, I find out you don’t like your family—” now his grin turned evil “—
and
you have a thing for werewolves!”

“Hey!” Embarrassed, she slapped feebly at his arm, but she was too blissed out and enervated by the foot rub to sit up and really hit him. “I do not have
a thing
for werewolves.”

He reached under her to pinch her butt. “Maybe you do and you just don’t know it.”

“I
don’t!
” God, it was like he read her mind sometimes. Was he hacking her Internet account? How could he know about her fascination with shifters, or her desperate dream to meet someone, anyone, with fae blood? “I think they’re interesting, all right? I don’t think they’re evil. Just because they’re not human doesn’t mean they’re not, like, you know
…
”

“People,” he said quietly.

“Yeah! People.”

“You see? You’re amazing. How many people like you are there in Luxor?”

“How would I know? We’d never talk to each other about it.”

“Exactly! Jesus, you’re adorable. Come here.”

He grabbed both legs to pull her back onto his lap. And before she could say anything, he finally—
finally
—kissed her.

It wasn’t their first kiss, but it was the hottest, the longest, the deepest they’d ever shared. His tongue was cold and sweet from the beer, and she shivered as he slipped a hand back inside her shirt—the front, this time, where it rested hot against her stomach. His other hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her head still as he plundered her mouth. He was warm—oh, he was so warm—a big, hard-muscled blanket she wanted to wrap around herself and never take off.

He ran a knuckle under the wire of her bra. She moaned at the friction of the calloused skin against the tender underside of her breast.

He started to withdraw his tongue, so she put both hands to his face, reveling in the scratch of his stubble against her palms, hoping to stop him from breaking the kiss. But his mouth slid down the front of her neck, his tongue delving into the hollow of her throat. She threw her head back as every stroke sent shivers of fire coursing through her limbs. The hand beneath her shirt slid down to her waist, his big fingers deftly unzipping her jeans before slipping inside, over her panties. Her legs parted completely of their own volition, and then he was cupping her mound, his skin rough and hot through the thin, damp cotton.

His mouth moved lower as she arched against him. Her hand shook as she tore at the buttons of her shirt. All she could think about was his hot mouth on her taut and aching breasts. The second she pushed the lacy cotton aside, Nash groaned and took one hard nipple in his mouth. She cried out at the tremors racking her to the core. Her body was on fire, burning from the inside out, and she exulted in it.

She buried her hands in that tangle of blond curls and pressed his head against her breasts, writhing against him. He wanted her to wriggle? She’d wriggle. She couldn’t stop.

But apparently he could.

He broke the kiss with a gasp. “Sara—wait.”

A loud cry of disappointment escaped her.

Resting his forehead against hers, he wrapped his arms around her while he struggled to calm down. He had a raging erection—she felt it digging into the underside of her thigh—so why the hell had he stopped?

“Nash?” she said weakly. “What’s going on?”

“We can’t—we can’t do this.” He sounded as if he couldn’t catch his breath, as if he were in pain. “We just…not tonight. Not like this. Not…not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“You—” He stopped, swallowed, took a deep breath. “You have to get up early and work a double, and if I keep you up all night—which I would—you’ll be exh—”

“That’s crap.” She grabbed his face again, forcing his head up. She wanted him to look her in the eye, but for some reason, she couldn’t meet his gaze. That only pissed her off. “I’m a big girl—I’ve worked plenty of doubles on too little sleep. Now why did you come in here and get me all worked up and then stop?”

He hugged her harder. “There’s something we need to talk about,” he mumbled into her neck.

“Fine. Let’s talk.”

“Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because— Because it will take a long time, and it’s complicated, and—we should do it tomorrow night.”

“I’ll be tired tomorrow night.”

He laughed hollowly. “Good. Then maybe you won’t freak out as much.”

“Why would I freak out at all? What the hell’s going on?” She put a hand to his chin and tilted his head back so he’d have to look at her. “Did you lie about the wife or girlfriend?”

“No. Sara, I swear, I don’t have anyone else. I didn’t kill anyone, I’m not a fugitive or anything. I just have some things I need to tell you, something I need to ask you, and I’d rather do it tomorrow night. Can you wait? Please?”

He looked so sincere, so concerned. She’d never seen him so serious, and while it scared her, she still wanted to hear what it was.

After a long pause, she sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow. You want to come over here?”

“Yes. I’ll be here at seven.”

“Okay. I’ll cook dinner.”

Finally, he smiled again. “That sounds great.”

He stood up with her still in his arms and walked to the door.

She slapped his back. “Put me down!”

“Okay, okay.” He stood her on her feet, then put his hand under her chin and lifted her face up. “Tomorrow night. I’ll tell you everything.” And with a whisper-soft brush of his lips against hers, he was gone.

She ended up having a sleepless night anyway.

Chapter Two

“I’ll have the bacon double cheeseburger with onion rings and a chocolate shake.”

Sara smiled and nodded at the gangly teenage boy. “Okay. What about you, sweetie?”

The second boy, another teenager, wanted a T-bone with a baked potato all the way and squash casserole. The younger boy next to him ordered cheese enchiladas with rice, no beans and a Sprite.

The family wasn’t local. They were from Texarkana, passing through on their way to Longview.

“Excuse me, miss,” interrupted the man whom Sara took to be the father of the large, unruly group. “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

“Oh no, sir. I’ve got a real good memory for taking orders. My regulars like to test me.”

The ancient woman at the other end of the table sniffed and frowned. “If you get our order all mixed up, we ain’t leavin’ you a tip.”

She was way too tired for this. “That’s all right, ma’am. I wouldn’t expect one.”

The father smiled and shrugged in an
“old people, what are you gonna do, huh?”
gesture.

She kept her own smile pasted on ’til she got to the order window.

When the food came up in the expo window twenty minutes later, she hoisted it all onto one tray and carried it out to the table.

Sara rattled off the order as she set the plates in front of each person.

“Chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and broccoli casserole, meatloaf with green beans and a salad—no croutons, no cucumbers, ranch on the side—bacon double cheeseburger with onion rings, T-bone with a baked potato all the way and…”

Once all eleven orders were in front of the people who’d placed them, she stepped back with her best service smile, barely suppressing a yawn.

“There we go. Everything look okay? Did I miss anything? Please tell me I didn’t miss anything.”

She knew she hadn’t, so she waited, enjoying the wide-eyed wonder on everyone’s faces, including the old lady’s.

This was the best part of her job. Waiting tables didn’t offer a lot of intellectual stimulation, but she loved impressing people with the way she could remember every order, no matter how long or complex. It made her feel special. She took care not to demonstrate her extraordinary memory in any other situation, so she never attracted undue attention.

After the family had praised her memory, her service and the food, and she had refilled the drinks and checked the condiments, she left the check and returned to the terminal to run her sales for the day. Then she collapsed in a booth from which she could keep an eye on the table as she did her checkout.

She’d been on the floor since the breakfast shift, and even though her feet were throbbing and her shoulders hurt, work had helped her not to obsess over Nash and whatever it was he wanted to talk about tonight.

Wendy slid in across the table from her and started her own checkout. The lull was ending, the old folks and early dinner crowd pouring in, and the next shift of wait staff were already on the floor. Susan walked right by them, greeting Wendy but pointedly ignoring Sara.

Bitch.

“How’d you do?” asked Wendy.

“Not enough for the way my feet hurt, but I made the car payment. And I’m doing another double tomorrow.”

“You going out with Nash again tonight?”

“Yes, but…I dunno. Last night we…” She stopped and shrugged, feeling oddly reluctant to talk about it. It would sound so pathetic—the way he’d shut her down after getting her so hot and ready—and she didn’t want to hear Wendy warn her that he was going to tell her something awful.

“You what? Come on, tell me! Did you get you some hot, sweaty Nash lovin’?”

She laughed in spite of her worry and exhaustion. Wendy could always make her relax. They were second cousins through their grandmothers and had been best friends since birth. Sara could tell her anything.

Well, almost anything.

“No, we didn’t do it.” She sighed. “I thought we would. I’d already decided I was going to jump him, or seduce him or whatever, but then—”

Wendy waited a whole five seconds, and when Sara didn’t continue, she reached across the table to grab her arm and shake it. “But then
what
?”

“Then, nothing. We were eating dinner here, and Susan started talking about a bunch of people who got killed up in Wake Village—”

Wendy made a face. “Yeah. That’s horrible.”

“What, she told you about it too?”

“Yeah. She was all
‘I’m not supposed to tell anybody,’
so you know she’s told the whole county by now.”

“I wonder if Dwayne knows Susan is a one woman public address system?”

“Who’s Dwayne?”

“Bobbi’s boyfriend. You know, the Bowie County deputy?”

“Really? I can’t believe you remember stuff like that. We don’t even know Bobbi.”

Sara froze, but only for a moment. “I think Susan mentioned it last night.”

“Oh. Okay, anyway, what did she say?”

“Well, you know everybody’s already convinced it was werewolves, right?”

“Right. But you don’t think so.” Wendy was the only person who knew about Sara’s fascination with shifters.

“No, I don’t. Werewolves don’t use weapons—or at least, it’s real unusual. And I sort of said that out loud, without thinking, and Susan got all holier than thou on me, because you know she’s a good Christian lady. I mean, she may be screwing Connie Robb’s nineteen-year-old son when Connie goes to visit her mother—”

“She’s gonna get her ass shot one day.”

“—but she don’t know nothin’ about no werewolves, ’cause she’s a righteous woman. And
then
the nasty bitch threatened to tell Grandma.”

“
What?”
Wendy slammed her tickets down and leaned across the table. “She did not!”

“Shh!” Sarah hissed. “Keep your voice down. She sure as hell did. And I got pissed off.”

“I guess so!”

“And— I don’t know. The whole thing—the talk about werewolves, and then bringing up my family, and just…” She tossed her hands up to indicate her frustration. “Anyway, I couldn’t stay and finish dinner. We went back to my place and had a couple of beers.”

“And?”

“And we fooled around like a couple of Baptist teenagers, and then he said he knew I had to work a double, and let’s get together tonight because he has something very important to talk to me about. But he wouldn’t tell me what it is, even though he said it could make me mad. I don’t know what the hell it could be—he probably thinks I’m a freak and doesn’t want to see me again.”

Wendy snorted. “He wouldn’t make a date to tell you he doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

“What if he wants to break up with me?”

“A guy doesn’t break up with you after three dates. He quits calling.” Wendy’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey! Maybe he’s ready to go back to Houston and he wants you to go with him!”

“Yeah, right. After three dates. We barely know each other. And why would he think that would make me mad?”

“Well, I can still tell the boy’s crazy about you.”

She’d love to think so. Beneath her polo shirt and khaki pants—Nash was right, it was a godawful uniform—she could feel every spot on her body where he’d touched her last night.

But then again…“Yeah, but what’s the point?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m moving to Marshall in a couple of months.”

“So? It’s only an hour away and he’s got that big-ass Harley.”

“Okay. How long do you think a guy like him’s gonna stick around?”

“Who cares? Sara, you can’t be worrying about the rest of your life every minute. You have to enjoy what you’ve got right now, and what you’ve got right now is six feet plus of hot blond with abs as sharp as his cheekbones.”

Sara narrowed her eyes. “You’ve seen his abs?”

“No, I just have a better imagination than you do. You listen to me. Guys like Nash Keeton don’t come along that often, not even in Marshall or Houston or wherever. You’re not gonna be twenty-two forever, and by the time another one shows up, you’ll be too old to do anything about it! I’ll tell you something else—you need to figure out how to fit in one of his saddlebags, so when he rolls outta here, you go with him.”

She was grinning now, grateful to—and for—her closest friend. “Nope, can’t go with him. I’m going to Marshall.”