ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (132 page)

              "Ow," the girl exclaimed suddenly, snapping Will out of his reverie. She was holding her left hand, where the jack had slipped against her palm while she was folding it away. Blood welled quickly to the surface, and the young woman's eyes widened slowly as she watched the blood wash away under the rain. "Oh."

              Will threw open his door and rummaged through his clover compartment, pulling out a small black bag. He found butterfly bandages, antiseptic, and gauze, and seized her hands before she could say anything.

              He ignored the prickles of electricity that shot through his arm as he cradled her warm hand. She didn't flinch as he wiped away blood with the rag dipped in antiseptic, drying her hand before bandaging it tightly.

              "Keep it above your heart for a few minutes," he said soothingly. She was watching him closely as he bent over her hand, watching it for excessive bleeding. "You might want to get this looked at, especially if this need changing soon. I'm going to give you some extra bandages, and ibuprofen should be enough to stop the pain." He was sheltering her hand against the rain with his body, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He could feel her gaze, and he wanted badly to avoid it, lest he do or say something supremely idiotic. He looked up as her hand floated toward his forehead to brush away a lock of black hair from his lashes, and suddenly her brown eyes were rushing toward his face.

              Her mouth pressed against his, hard and fast, and after a moment he pressed back. A soft moan escaped him as her tongue ran across his lower lip and her teeth nipped him gently. She pressed her body against him, and he wrapped his arms around her soft waist as her heart pounded against his chest. Too soon, it was over, and he was gasping for air and watching her sprint toward her truck.

              "Thank you!" she was calling with her left hand held over her head. She ducked into her truck, and it roared to life. She waved at him and he waved back, the taste of cinnamon on his lips. The sight of her tail lights burned into his brain, and it wasn't until he slid behind the wheel of his own car that he remembered he hadn't thanked her, or even gotten her name.

              He pulled into the long driveway of his new house, a two bedroom ranch style home nestled on an acre of land he was paying $100 a month to maintain for no real reason. It was a soft butter yellow, and it reminded him of his childhood home in Texas. That was partially why he bought it. After Janie left, he wanted anything that reminded him of his time before her, and not after.

              He was already moved in and mostly unpacked. His car was full of medical equipment he'd take with him to his new office the next Monday morning, a few things that the moving company wasn't insured to transport. He had a portable MRI machine among them, and he'd used it to look at his plumbing once or twice. Now he set it and the other boxes back in the trunk of his car. Everything had been moved when the beautiful young woman had changed his tire. He felt himself blush, remembering her curvy body pressed against him eagerly. It was just a thank-you kiss, he kept reminding himself. He knew he was handsome, with his cleft chin and broad shoulders, Hollywood-style stubble and deep blue eyes like the sea, but he was also thirty-five, and that young woman didn't look a day over 21. He could technically be her father.

              He looked at the pile of mail on his kitchen table. A letter from the electric company, a change of address confirmation, and an invitation to the local church. A man smiled grimly at him from the front of the flyer, a floating head with salt and pepper hair and empty brown eyes. Will had met the man at the diner, and he'd spoken curtly to him once Will let on he was not religious and had no intention of attending service regularly. He hadn't realized he was the only minister in town until much later, when a waitress laughed at the uneasy exchange between the two. That waitress had been pretty cute, and much closer to his age than the young woman who changed his tire. He sighed, trying to push her from his thoughts.

              All that night and the next morning, however, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, her face was there, or the graceful curve of her thighs as she bent over the car; he almost gave his new receptionist a case file instead of a welcome packet. Sheila, a plump woman with dark green eyes and curly red hair piled on top of her round head, was understanding.

              "I think the quiet kinda unsettles you city people, sometimes," She said kindly. "By now you'd have seen three patients already. Relax! You're so ahead, you could catch a nap and no one would notice."
              It was true. Will had pulled up at 7:15 AM to open at eight. It was now eleven, and only a couple of curious seniors out for a walk had poked their head in. They had a single call, and it had been a wrong number. Will polished the shiny plaque reading WILLIAM STILLMAN on his desk twenty times before he forced himself to sit still. Trying to quiet his mind just brought the blonde woman back to the front of his mind, though, and then he was in a different kind of hell. He probably needed a hobby, he realized.

              The phone on his desk buzzed then, and he jumped. "Hello!" He said eagerly as he punched the intercom button.

              Sheila's amusement was plain. "We have a walk-in, doctor. I've got her in the system, insurance checks out and she's ready to go. She's in exam room one." There were only three exam rooms. Later in the month, another nurse would join the staff.

              "Thank you," Will said quickly. He pulled on his glasses and headed out the door, walking down the short hall to the first exam room, where the patient's chart was sitting on the bare white door. He knocked briefly; a voice called "Come in!" and he pushed open the door.

              "Cassidy Fole? I'm Dr. William Stillman," he said, glancing at the chart as he entered the room. The woman was sitting on the examination table, a broad grin slowly taking over her heart shaped face.

              "Nice to make your acquaintance, Dr. William Stillman," The woman from the day before chirped. She held up her bandaged hand, showing that it was almost entirely darkened by blood. "Hope you don't mind if I ask for a touch up." She smiled, then blinked uncertainly as he stood there in silence. He had the distinct feeling of having been placed into a film. This just didn't happen in real life.

              Will realized his heart was racing and he hadn't said anything after her last statement. He closed the door behind him, trying to gather his thoughts.

              "I'm so sorry for that," he said hurriedly, pulling up a stool and. He started changing her bandage, feeling her eyes burn into him again as he spoke. "And I never got to thank you, Miss Fole. It's pretty embarrassed that some old doctor can't even change his own tire. You might have saved my life."

              "It's Cassidy. Someone else would have come along," came her melodic reply. "I'm sure someone would've wanted to help. You're so...nice looking."

              He looked up at her, and her gaze shone with warmth. Was she just trying to make him feel better?

              "This is gonna need a few stitches," he said. "I'm sorry. I should probably give you some anesthetic, and I'll stitch you up in no time. I was top in my class at suturing."

              "Don't worry, I trust you," Cassidy said. She cocked her head, studying him. "I didn't think it would need stitches. Would've bothered you for them earlier."

              Her voice was almost a drawl. It poured over him like molasses, and he was calmer now. "I should have known, but I was so flustered after the accident." He found the anesthetizing spray and she winced slightly as he coated her palm in it. "Let that sit a minute," he said.

              "Accident?" Cassidy repeated.

              "Oh! Yes." Will realized he hadn't told her. "I swerved to avoid a tractor, and I hit some trees. It's how my tire blew out."

              Cassidy looked angry then, and Will stepped back in surprise. She was smaller than he first thought---she was 5'4, though the sweater dress she wore made her legs look longer. He stopped himself before he started staring.

              "Why didn't he stop and help?" Cassidy asked. "He didn't even offer you a ride?"

              He shook his head, wondering why he hadn't reacted in anger yesterday, and why this stranger seemed so affronted. "I guess I didn't think about it then, but he just kept going. He was driving a John Deere, it had some stickers about dogs on it in the back. I assumed he wanted to get home before it started raining."

              "If he lives here the rain doesn't bother him none," Cassidy said angrily. Her cheeks were flushed, and she caught his eye. "Some folks around here are going to try to freeze you out. Don't pay them any attention, you hear? They're snobs, and they don't even realize how hypocritical they're being."
              Will watched her beautiful face as she ranted, then realized her blood pressure was rising. He took her hand. "I need you to calm down, your blood flow is increasing. I have to get this stitched up."

              She fell quiet but the glare stayed fixed on his face as he gave her three quick stitches. She rubbed his hand with her thumb absentmindedly as he swabbed her palm with a puff of cotton, making his heart beat in double time for a few moments.

              "Sorry," she grumbled. "I get really worked up sometimes.
Some
people in this town are still trying to hold on to this notion that they're better for being backwards, and that includes ignoring anyone who seems to be embracing change. Your car is a little, uh, eccentric," she said apologetically. He thought of the robin's egg blue coup. The fiat was even sort of egg shaped. A big man driving that car did look sort of odd among the station wagon and pick-up truck heavy town. His heavy black wayfarer prescription glasses didn't help. Damn California, he thought.

              "I'm sorry," she said again anxiously. He smiled to see her so worried about his feelings, when she didn't know anything about him.

              "It's fine, I definitely get what you mean." He tossed his gloves and the used items, turning to find his prescription pad. "I'll try to keep that in mind. I definitely want to avoid making even a ripple."

              Cassidy giggled.

"Do you need anything for pain?" he asked, reaching for his prescription pad.

"I'm a big girl," she said, crossing her legs. He looked at her legs, shapely and tucked into chocolate colored boots. She smiled slowly. "I know what you can do to thank me, though."

His heart pounded. Was she seriously flirting with him?

"What's that?" he asked, fiddling with his glasses.

"Invite me over to dinner," she said promptly. Her honey blonde hair floated around her face in waves. She looked impossibly beautiful.

She is flirting with me,
he realized, and his mind descended into a stew of complicated emotions. "Cassidy," he began. "I'm really flattered by your attention, but I'm a lot older than you."

Cassidy laughed and shook her head. "Eleven years isn't that much."

Will looked at her. "You're 24? I thought you were a few years younger." His brow furrowed, and he watched her face light up with laughter.

"What's your next excuse?"

"It's still a lot," he said. Cassidy hopped off the table, grasping the side to steady herself. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm old enough to figure out what makes me uncomfortable," she answered, stepping close to him. "I also like wine. You got any of that?"

"There's just...a significant gap in years and experience between us, Cassidy," he said, stepping back. "And baggage," he admitted, lowering his eyes. "You want to focus on someone with a clean slate. I'm...broken."

He looked her straight in the eye, trying to communicate the pain and misery that lay beneath the surface. Cassidy met his gaze, letting him see the determination and heat in her own. He wanted desperately to kiss her again, but he couldn't. If she kissed him back, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop.

Finally, she spoke. "Who said I was trying you on for marriage?" Her voice was light, but lurking beneath was a razor edge that he hadn't meant to bring forward. She probably wasn't used to such blunt resistance, and he hated to seem rude, but it was the only choice he had. "I'm just talking about feeding a gal a nice meal in exchange for saving your ass. Maybe breaking out a good merlot. Nothing untoward."

The anger in her tone made him regret his words. "Of course, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think---"
              "You did," she cut in. He was unsettled by the quick change in her demeanor, and sought a way to put it right.

"Listen, I'm just getting settled here. My mind is everywhere, and I just moved across the country. I promise I'm not usually this inconsiderate, but I'm also not used to beautiful women saving me from peril." He took out his business card and wrote down his cell phone number and address. "I'd love to have you over, and you can tell me about Davinia. I only know my receptionist, Sheila. She's coming over to make me dinner to welcome me to the neighborhood in a week or two, and I'd really appreciate a new friend." His voice was earnest and urgent. He smiled, hoping she would avoid the deliberate attempt to make sure they wouldn't be alone, and she studied his face coolly as he offered her his business card. "Text me later, we'll set it up."