Legacy Found: Legacy, Book 3 (2 page)

The woman was continually in motion, pouring coffee and serving food. Even though she worked without stopping, there was almost a fragile air about her, as if she’d been ill recently.

He wasn’t sure she’d even seen him, but as soon as her tray was empty, she tucked it under her arm and hurried over to his table. “What can I get you?” She pulled an order pad and pen out of her pocket.

James froze in place. All his senses went on full alert. Her scent was ever so faint, almost as if she were masking it somehow. But it was there. “You’re a werewolf,” he whispered. He was so shocked he spoke before he could check his words.

The woman paled and swayed. His hand shot out to steady her, but she quickly pulled away, taking a step backward. “What? What did you say?” Her voice grew steadier with each word she spoke.

The soft tones of her voice skimmed over James like a caress. He was struck with the urge to draw her close to him, lay his head against her stomach and just listen to her talk. But fright still lingered in her dark chocolate-brown eyes in spite of her bravado. Her fingers clenched around the pen she was holding and she took another half-step backward.

“Nothing.” He kept his voice low and as unthreatening as possible. “I didn’t say anything important.”

She relaxed immediately, offering him a tiny smile that brightened her entire face. Up close, he could see that beneath her weariness, there was a beautiful woman. The skin on her heart-shaped face was as fine as a baby’s and appeared to be incredibly smooth. Her chin was slightly pointed, her cheekbones high. And her small nose turned up at the tip. Her eyebrows curved slightly and were the same light brown color as her hair.

He sat up straighter, every muscle in his body pulling tight. Deep within him, he could feel his wolf pacing restlessly.

“If you’re not ready to order, I can come back.” She glanced around the room, keeping an eye on her other customers.

James grabbed the small menu and scanned it quickly. “I’ll have the number three special. I like my bacon crispy and my hash browns not greasy.”

“Scrambled or fried eggs?” She scribbled away on her small order pad.

“Scrambled.”

“Okay.” Several of the men at another table got up and headed toward the cash register. “Coffee?”

James nodded. “Please.”

“I’ll be back with your coffee in a sec.” He watched as she hurried behind the counter and rang up their bills. The men talked and laughed, one of them a bit too loudly as he leaned toward the woman. She moved out of his reach and the man tensed.

James didn’t realize he was half out of his seat when one of the man’s companions slapped the trucker on the shoulder. Whatever the man said had them all laughing as they left the diner. James settled back down on the bench seat. What the hell was wrong with him?

She passed his order into the kitchen through an opening behind the counter, grabbed the coffee pot and hurried back to his table. On her way, she paused long enough to top off the cups of several other men. She turned over one of the clean mugs that rested on the table and began to fill it.

“What’s your name?”

The coffee pot jerked in her hand and some of the hot liquid sloshed over the rim. Just in time, James jerked his hand out of the way.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” She’d grabbed some napkins from the dispenser and began to wipe up the spilled coffee.

James didn’t like the fear that edged her voice or the way she kept apologizing. “No harm done. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She stared at him, her huge eyes blinking slowly as if she couldn’t quite figure out what to make of him. “It was my fault,” she began tentatively.

“No,” he corrected. “It was my fault for startling you.” He shifted in his seat, surprised by just how tight his jeans were becoming. He hadn’t had a spontaneous erection in too many years to count. He prided himself on having total control of his body and this was more than a little disconcerting. “I shouldn’t have asked you your name. After all, I’m a stranger to you. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Shelley,” she blurted out. “You can call me Shelley.”

He nodded, instantly intrigued by the way she’d phrased it. She hadn’t said, “my name is Shelley”, but rather, “you can call me Shelley”. Maybe it meant something, maybe not.

He held out his hand. “James. James Riley.”

She glanced at his hand and wiped her own on the front of her uniform before shaking his. James noted the way the material pulled tight against her chest, briefly outlining her full breasts.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze, but was careful not to hold it for more than a second. She was as skittish as any wild creature around an unfamiliar beast.

“Order’s up!” a deep male voice bellowed from the bowels of the kitchen.

Shelley jumped and laughed, a deep red creeping up over her cheeks. “I’ve got to get back to work.” She all but ran from his table to the kitchen.

James sat back, picked up his mug and sipped his coffee. His nose hadn’t lied at all. The lady was definitely one of his kind—a werewolf. And he was certainly attracted to her.

She obviously didn’t want anyone to know what she was. He could understand her trying to hide her true identity from humans, but why was she afraid of other werewolves finding her? And why was she working in such a public place if that was a problem? Where was her pack?

And furthermore, why didn’t she recognize him as a werewolf?

Because she hadn’t. There had been absolutely no recognition on her face or in her demeanor to signal that she had any idea he was a werewolf.

He continued to watch the room, and Shelley, as he sipped his coffee and pondered the mystery surrounding her. She was continually in motion, her movements fluid and graceful.

James was surprised that she seemed to be the only waitress on staff this morning. It was a fairly busy spot and she hurried from the front counter to the kitchen and back into the dining room. In between, she cleared tables and pocketed the few measly tips that had been left. More than once, he’d seen the disappointment on her face as she’d cleaned off a table where the occupants had left nothing but crumbs and spilled coffee behind.

Not too much time had passed when she bolted from the kitchen, tray in hand and hurried to his table. She deposited a huge platter of food in front of him. It was filled with a decent mound of scrambled eggs, golden-brown hash browns, crispy bacon and four slices of toast. If it tasted as good as it looked, he wasn’t surprised that this place was busy. Truckers always knew the best, and cheapest, places to eat.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“More coffee, please.”

“Be right back.”

The crowd in the diner was beginning to thin out and only a couple other tables were filled. Shelley checked on them, pouring more coffee as she worked her way back to him. He waited until she’d topped up his mug again. “Thanks, Shelley.”

Her shoulders tensed and her lips tightened. Once again, he’d startled her by using her name. Wasn’t she used to anyone using it? Was it her real name?

James thought about just finishing his meal and leaving, but something inside him persisted in making him ask questions. “How long you worked here?”

“Not long.” She started to back away again. From him or the questions or both?

“A year, a week?” he prompted.

“A few months.” Another group of men got up from their table and Shelley hurried away before he could question her further.

Frustration gnawed at James as he finished the last few bites of his meal. He really should just pay his bill and leave. He’d already spent too much time away from Wolf Creek on business. With his leadership still so new, and rumblings of unrest from certain clans in the pack, it didn’t pay for him to be away for too long.

He had his plate full with pack politics and finances at the moment. Why then was he so worried about a woman he’d just met?

Shelley took the men’s money as they stepped up, one at a time, to pay at the register. All the while she made change her attention was drawn back to the man sitting in the corner. Although he hadn’t done anything to draw attention to himself, he seemed to dominate the entire room simply by being there.

He was incredibly handsome. No, that wasn’t quite right. His features were too rough, too blunt to be considered handsome. There was just something about him that she found attractive and scary at the same time. He was tall and lean, and his shoulders were so wide he took up almost the entire bench seat on his own.

Butterflies had fluttered wildly in her stomach when he’d asked her what her name was. The way he’d looked at her, studied her, had made her very uncomfortable. She knew she wasn’t pretty. Knew she was flawed. Then why was he so interested in her?

Her heart had stopped when he’d called her a werewolf and had started pounding frantically when he’d denied saying anything important. Somehow, someway, he knew.

Was he a bounty hunter? He smelled like they did sometimes after they’d been hunting—a wild, musky scent that sometimes permeated from her own skin. Fear and shame filled her. She knew she was different and different wasn’t good. If she’d learned anything in her life, it was that.

Memories started to crowd into her brain, threatening what little peace of mind she’d achieved these past few months. She shoved them ruthlessly aside. That part of her life was over.

She shivered, her entire body trembling as two more men stepped up to the counter to pay. She gave them a wan smile and hurriedly checked them out.

Only the man in the corner remained. James was leaning back against his seat, mug in hand, sipping his coffee. All she needed to do was act normal until he left. She could do nothing that might arouse any further suspicion.

Shelley glanced at the clock on the wall. That was the last of the late breakfast crowd. It would be quiet for about an hour or so, until the early lunch group began to trickle in. This was the time of day when she managed to mop the floors and clean the restrooms.

First, she needed to finish clearing all the tables and reset them for the next group. Grabbing her tray, she worked her way from front to back, clearing and cleaning tables. When it was full, she carried the load into the kitchen, always aware that the stranger’s eyes were on her.

She piled folded napkins, paper placemats, clean cutlery and mugs on her tray and returned to the dining room. Conscious of James watching her, she managed to drop several knives and spoons as she finished setting the places at each booth and table.

She’d just finished the last one, which was close to the booth where James was still seated, when he said her name. It was spoken so quietly she almost didn’t hear it. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to face him. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Sit with me.” He motioned to the bench seat across from him. “Just for a minute.”

Glancing toward the door to the kitchen, she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. Gus, the cook and owner of the diner, didn’t like slackers. In fact, the girl whose job she’d gotten had been fired for taking one too many breaks. But Shelley had been on her feet for almost five hours now and deserved a few minutes.

Plus, refusing would only make the guy more suspicious. And that was the last thing she wanted. Laying her empty tray down on the table, she lowered herself to the end of the bench seat, perching on the edge.

James shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t quite know what to make of that statement. She waited. He’d get to the point in his own time when he was good and ready. Men always did.

Once again, memories surged forward. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her forehead. The last thing she needed was a headache.

“Hey.” She felt hard, warm fingers wrapping around her wrist and flinched away. Her eyes popped open in time to see him withdraw his hand. She expected to see anger on his face, but found concern instead.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, knowing she was lying. She hadn’t been okay for as far back as her memory went, and she didn’t expect that to change anytime soon.

But it would
, she thought fiercely. She would have a life of her own making, one in which she felt normal and not like some crazy freak. One where she was safe and could sleep at night without fear. She’d already taken the first steps toward it. She had a job, such as it was, and a small one-room apartment that belonged only to her.

James sat back and stared at her for so long, she began to fidget beneath his intense regard. She couldn’t waste any more time. She started to push herself away from the table.

“I know you’re a werewolf, Shelley.”

She promptly fell back into her seat, fear holding her prisoner. She’d been afraid this would happen. Was there something about her that gave her away? He had to be a hunter. Who else would care?

For months, she’d been afraid of this. Had known it was a possibility that somehow, some way, someone would find out her secret. The only thing for her to do was to brazen it out. She would not allow them to take her again. She’d rather die.

Taking a deep breath, she began the performance of a lifetime. She straightened and put what she hoped was an indignant look on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re crazy.”

He shook his head and sadness tinged his golden-brown eyes. She hated the idea of making him sad.

What was wrong with her?
She didn’t even know this man. She had to protect herself. God only knew that no one else would.

“Shelley.” His voice was soft and unthreatening. “I know what you are. I can smell the wolf in you.”

She was horrified. “You cannot!” Jumping up from the table, her fists clenched tight by her sides, she glared at him. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s the truth.”

She expected him to get angry, to yell or make a grab for her. Instead, his gaze was filled with pity and sadness. He was confusing her. “How could you know such a thing? If such a thing as werewolves even existed. Which they don’t.” God, now she was babbling. She needed to shut up before she gave anything more away.