Come Moonrise (5 page)

"I’d get hard with any woman rubbing up
against me like that."

"I don’t believe you."

He opened his mouth, but a frightened whinny
cut off the rest of their conversation.

They returned to the mare and by tacit
agreement, both of them kept their conversation to Circe’s
condition and practicing veterinary medicine.

Mr. Delacroix arrived with Mrs. Delacroix a
couple of hours later. She insisted on feeding Ty and Frankie.
Sometime after that, a hand came into the barn to inform Ty he’d be
there to watch over the mare after the birth. Ty said nothing about
having one of them take Frankie home, so she stayed, wanting this
last chance to be with him.

Circe foaled at six-forty-two in the
evening.

By the time the mare had been tended to and
Ty and Frankie had cleaned up, it was almost eight and the storm
front had moved in. Frankie felt no fear at the prospect of Ty
driving her home through the heavy snow mixed with sleet. He’d been
driving in weather like this since before he was old enough to get
a permit.

However, the car that almost hit them head
on and sent Ty’s truck swerving toward the side of the road
apparently hadn’t. Frankie didn’t scream, keeping her lips clamped
tightly together as the big truck, slid, bumped over what felt like
some very big rocks and landed nosed down in a deep ditch with the
back wheels off the ground.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, his voice
grim.

"Yes."

"Idiot."

"They left," she said,
looking out the back window. She could barely make out the red
taillights retreating slowly in the swirling white, but they
were
retreating.

Ty grabbed his cell phone and flipped it
open only to utter a pithy imprecation. "It’s dead. Let me have
yours."

"I don’t have a cell phone."

"What? Everyone has a cell phone."

"I don’t."

"Why not?"

"It’s a luxury I can’t afford on my salary
as a junior vet."

He said something truly foul and she glared
at him.

"Why don’t you have a CB? Every ranch truck
has one."

"My truck’s new and I haven’t had it
installed yet." If his voice got any lower, he’d be growling.

"Do you think we can get the truck back on
the road?"

"Maybe."

She went to get out when he did, but he
snapped, "Stay inside where it’s warm."

"I can help."

"If I can’t get it, you’re strength isn’t
going to make any difference."

"You’re so darn arrogant sometimes, I want
to spit. I’m not a light weight."

He smiled. "I know, little bit, but let me
try first, all right?"

He was back sooner than she expected with
more bad news.

"The drive line’s broken. We’re not going
anywhere."

"We can stay inside the cab, turning the
engine on to keep it warm every so often."

Ty shook his head decisively. "We cannot
stay in the truck."

"It makes sense. Rescue will come along
eventually."

"It could be hours." He said it like they’d
die together in the cab if it took that long.

"But—"

"There’s a cabin not too far from here. It
belongs to a friend of my dad’s, but he moved on."

"How far is it?"

He shrugged. "Close enough."

"I still think it would make more sense to
wait for rescue."

"We’re in a ditch off a secondary road in a
snow storm that is going to cover the truck before long. We can’t
depend on rescue."

***

Ty watched the emotions chase across
Frankie’s face as she thought about what he’d said. She might be
right, they might get rescued if they waited in the truck, but he
also might give into the feelings clamoring inside him to mate with
her.

He couldn’t take that chance.

The cabin was maybe a half an hour walk. It
was cold, but he had natural resistance and she had bundled up to
ride her horse earlier. Her layers should protect her.

She sighed, her mouth turning down in
defeat. "Okay. We’ll go to the cabin."

She started putting the layers back on she’d
taken off in the warmth of the truck cab. Soon she was as bundled
up as he’d first seen her that morning. He pulled the horse blanket
he kept behind the driver’s seat and wrapped it over her head and
around her like a shawl, as additional protection from the
elements.

"Shouldn’t you use it? You’ve only got your
sheepskin. You don’t even have a hat."

"I do." He pulled the Australian oilskin
wide brimmed hat from behind his seat and a pair of wool lined
leather gloves as well. Even werewolves knew better than to brave
the Montana winters in their skin without basic precautions. He put
them on and cinched the string on the hat so it couldn’t fly off.
He even buttoned his coat.

When he was done, he said, "Come out my
door. It’ll be safer to exit the truck together."

She followed him without comment. As he
lifted her from the truck, her scent reached out and enveloped him
with such strength his knees almost buckled.

That half hour walk to the cabin was looking
almost pleasurable right now. Maybe it would cool his libido to
manageable proportions. He’d never found it so hard to control his
beast and something else really bothered him.

He’d been right...Olivia was in heat. He’d
smelled it on her before she’d even come out of the barn, but he
hadn’t felt the urge to mate her. Not even a twinge. His senses had
been full of Frankie’s scent and no matter how hard he tried, he
couldn’t direct his wolf’s interest to the other woman. Was it
because he’d scented Frankie first?

He didn’t know, but he wasn’t mating with a
human.

Not today, not ever.

His father was respected and feared as pack
leader because he enforced pack law with no exceptions. His best
friend had mated a human when they were both young. It had not been
a sacred bond and the human female had never conceived. She'd
wanted children more than she wanted her mate and she'd left
him.

Five years later, Ty's father's friend had
been caught mating a femwolf. His first wife was still living and
according to pack law, that made both him and the femwolf guilty of
adultery. Although they were divorced by human laws, they were
found guilty by the pack and pack justice was carried out.

By Ty's father.

Both wolves had their throats ripped out by
the pack leader and both Duke and Ty had been forced to watch, to
see pack justice as well as the consequences of disobeying pack
law.

Ty wasn't sure he agreed with the law, but
he damn well wasn't going to risk ever becoming a casualty to
it.

With a femwolf for his first and only mate,
he wouldn't have to worry about that. Only werewolves foolish
enough to marry humans did.

CHAPTER
FOUR

Frankie stumbled into the small cabin ahead
of Ty, too numb from the cold to even appreciate being out of
it.

The door slammed behind her, leaving them in
darkness. From the sound of Ty’s movements, that didn’t seem to
slow him down. The scratch of a match on a tinder box came just
before a small flame illuminated his hand on a kerosene lamp. Once
lit, it bathed the main room in a soft yellow glow as Ty hung it
from a hook in the ceiling.

Her first impression of the cabin surprised
her. "I thought you said your dad’s friend moved on."

She’d been expecting a bare floor and no
furniture, but while the furnishings were simple, they were
definitely adequate and the woodstove partially recessed in the
middle of the wall opposite the kitchen looked like it had been
tended recently.

"He may come back. The pac—people take care
of it for him."

"Oh. Lucky for us," she said through lips
stiff from cold.

He winced as if he could feel the prickles
of pain across the surface of her skin that speaking had caused
her. "I’ll get a fire going in the stove."

"Is there wood?"

"Yes." He found it and kindling in a wood
box to the right of the stove and built the fire with an agility
she envied.

"What are you, some kind of freak of nature?
Doesn’t the cold affect you at all?"

He shrugged. "I’ve always been this
way."

"I know, but even you should be a Popsicle
after that walk."

He wasn't human. If she didn't know better,
she'd think he was some kind of supernatural being...and while she
was at it, his brother and father as well. They all seemed
superhuman sometimes.

"Maybe we should have stayed in the truck."
He sounded like he was feeling guilty for her discomfort.

"The storm’s only getting worse. You were
right. The chances of rescue would have been slim. Besides, we made
it and hopefully, we’ll be warm again soon."

He took the hint and got the fire going.
Then they both peeled off their wet outer layers and hung them on
the indoor clothesline near the stove. The sexy little red sweater
she’d bought to entice Ty made a poor barrier against the cold
still permeating the cabin.

Shivering, she kicked off her boots and
peeled her wet socks from her feet. "I don’t suppose your dad’s
friend left any blankets behind."

"I’ll look, but I’m sure he did." He opened
a door on the other side of the woodstove and went through to what
must have been the bedroom.

He came out a few seconds later carrying a
quilt. He handed it to her with a jerky movement that said he
didn’t want to touch her.

She was too cold and too tired to worry
about the implied rejection. "We should probably eat something and
put on a pot of water for washing up later."

Thankfully, although there was no
electricity, the cabin did have running water. Someone must have
been taking care of that too.

She filled a big stew pot from the faucet
and he lifted it to the stove before she got a chance.

"You’re always doing that."

"What?" he asked.

"Taking care of me."

He was bent over pulling something out of
the canned goods cupboard. "That’s what friends are for."

She didn’t answer. She’d told him she didn’t
want to be his friend and maybe he just thought it was feminine
pique, but it hadn’t been. It was the desperate act of a woman who
didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in love with a man who
did not love her.

She saw that he’d retrieved a big can of
stew from the cupboard and a couple of cans of vegetables to add to
it, so she got another pot down from where they hung on the wall
above the sink. She set it on the two burner kerosene stove and lit
the one under it.

They ate together at the table, her with the
quilt wrapped around her shoulders like a cape and him peeled down
to a single Henley. Sheesh, the man really wasn’t human.

Afterward, she examined the cabin while he
went to the lean-to off the back door and brought in more wood.

The single bedroom was small, but the bed
was big. The woodstove wasn’t recessed in the wall so much as
exposed on its backside to the bedroom through the shared wall. The
room was warming up, if not with the same speed as the main
room.

The closet was empty, as was the small
dresser, but a picture of a man with his arms around a woman was on
top. He looked about King’s age and the way he held the woman said
everything important about how he felt about her.

Tears stung Frankie’s eyes unexpectedly.
Something so nice should not make her cry, but she turned away from
the photo anyway.

"There’s hot water on for coffee."

She pivoted to face the door at the sound of
Ty’s voice. He was looking at the bed with a pained expression,
then his gaze snapped to hers and the desire burning in his blue
eyes was unmistakable. Even to her less than tutored eye.

She stepped toward him, "Ty..."

He moved back, his face shuttering with the
speed of light. "There’s no cream, but there’s sugar."

The coffee. She sighed. "No, thanks. I’m
tired. I think I’ll just turn in if there’s nothing you need me to
do."

He shook his head and looked at the bed
again.

"It’s big enough for both of us."

"
No
." The vehemence in his voice might
not be warranted in her opinion, but she wasn’t totally shocked by
it.

"Why are you so adamant against having a
relationship with me?" she asked, unable to help herself. "You want
me."

"It’s a bad idea."

"Says who?"

"I say."

"Well, I say you’re wrong."

This time when his eyes met hers, they were
filled with anger. "I don’t give a damn. You’re my friend, Frankie
and that is all you will ever be."

The words hurt, but they didn’t make sense
and so she couldn’t quite make herself accept them. "There’s an old
saying that friends make the best lovers."

"And sex can ruin a beautiful
friendship."

"It wouldn’t just be sex."

"Yes it would."

Now that really did hurt. He was saying he
might want her, but he didn’t love her...not like that. And
seriously, after all these years – what were the chances he ever
would?

"I’ll take the sofa. I’m shorter."

"Forget it. You’ll sleep on the bed."

She didn’t bother to argue. She’d learned
long ago that he could be as stubborn as a mule with a behavior
problem. She waited until he left the room before stripping her
clothes and pulling on his flannel shirt she’d filched from the
outer room. It smelled like Ty and covered her to her knees.

She rummaged in the closet and found another
quilt. She grabbed it, picked up the quilt she’d dropped earlier
and grabbed one of the pillows off the big bed before padding out
to the main room in her bare feet. The sound of chopping came from
the lean-to and she figured Ty would probably be out there long
enough to let her fall asleep.