The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2) (5 page)

The houses in the secluded development were good sized, all stone and wood with neat front yards. She was the daughter of a wealthy alpha and, judging by the Harley she rode, probably lived in a pretty nice place. What would she think of his house? He’d never cared much what anyone had thought of his home before now, but this was a different situation.

He parked in the driveway and got out of his duty car, leaving it outside although he’d opened one of the three garage doors.

She pulled in beside his car, shut the bike down, took off her helmet and flicked her long hair free, still straddling the bike. Her hotness in that moment was not lost on Hank. She squinted at the house. Her smile grew incredulous as she looked at the forest behind it, then to his neighbors on either side. “Really? You live
here
.”

“Problem?” He liked it. If she was used to something grander…tough.

“First of all, don’t you think
Wolf Creek
is a little on the nose as your chosen place of residence?”

They’d passed the sign on their way in. He’d never given it much thought. Wolf Creek was one of the main tributaries that fed the falls. It was also a gated community especially for shifters, designed to keep human tourists out. For their own safety. Full moons tended to make things a little hairy.

Literally.

He grunted, having no real response.

She waved a finger at him. “That noise you make? That’s not an answer, you know.”

“Wolf Creek is where I live. If you don’t like it—”

“No, I think it’s beautiful.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s probably a little forward of me to ask this, but seeing as how we’re about to be married and all, how in the hell do you afford a house like this in a gated community? How much does the sheriff of this burg make?”

He glanced at the house behind him. It was a good house. Craftsman. Solid timbers. Stonework. Well worth the money from his pack dividends. Although, part of it was gifted to him when he’d accepted the position of Nocturne Falls sheriff. The Ellinghams liked to offer deals that were hard to turn down.

Before he could answer, she walked past him into the garage and let out a soft whoop of surprise.

“Is this what I think it is?” She now stood beside his pride and joy. Touching it. Her fingers trailed over the only non-related female he’d ever let spend the night. His 1968 Pontiac GTO. “Sweet ride.
Sweet
. But again, how can you afford this incredible piece of machinery?”

“I—”

“Are you kidding?” She opened the car door and stuck her head inside. “Is this the Ram Air package?”

“Yes.” His hands flexed, the urge to pull her out of the vehicle warring with what he knew was proper behavior. Which would be the exact opposite of what would happen if he touched her. And those curves.

Truth was, he’d lied to her in his office. Taking her to bed had definitely been in his thoughts.

She straightened and looked at him, but didn’t shut the door. “Black on black.”

He nodded, impressed. He’d never known a woman who knew much about cars, but it followed since the Kincaids ran auto shops.

Her brows lifted. “There were only ten of these produced.”

“Five actually.”

She laughed. “Very good. I already knew that, I just wanted to see if you did, too.” She whistled and went back to admiring the car. “I’d have said yes based on this gorgeous hunk of metal alone. When do I get to drive it?”

“You don’t. Bring your bike into the empty bay.”

To her credit, there was no pouting in response. “So the neighbors don’t see?”

“Something like that.” He started toward the house, then paused. “Where are your things?”

“In the saddlebags.”

He looked back at the bike. There was no way those saddlebags held more than a weekend’s worth of clothes. That was good. Meant she didn’t intend to stay long. Maybe they could get married and go their separate ways. A marriage in name only sort of thing.

Or maybe she was planning on refusing. Would Clem allow that? Hank thought not. But she might be working on a way around that.

Something inside him deflated a little at the thought. Why her refusing should bother him, he had no idea.

Either way, they had a lot to talk about. He waited at the entrance to the house until she’d wheeled her bike in, then he closed the garage door and opened the one to the house. She unhitched her saddlebags and carried them, one in each hand. He let her go in first.

She brushed past him. Slowly. It was the closest they’d been since being alone in his office. Even after a night in lockup, she smelled faintly floral with the pleasant earthy undertone of all shifters. She stopped, forcing him to share the doorway with her. “Thanks, by the way.”

Up close, her eyes were the color of good, aged whiskey. The kind of burnt, liquid brown a man could drown in. Her lips had the color and ripe fullness of fresh berries. It wouldn’t take much to taste them. Just lean across a few inches, put his mouth on hers. But he couldn’t. Not after their conversation in his office. He forced his gaze to meet her eyes. “For what?”

“You could have sent me packing the minute you figured out who I was and what I was here for.”

“I’m the son of the alpha. You’re the daughter of one. You know as well as I do the obligations that come with those roles.”

She nodded, her gaze skimming over his chest and shoulders like she was taking his measurements. Then the sad, fearful expression he’d seen in her once before returned for a moment. “I do.”

She went inside, giving him a chance to breathe. There was something about her, something powerful that drew him to her like a dog to a bone. Or a red-blooded man to a hot biker chick. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door. The full moon was three days away.

That’s all it was. Moon fever.

That rush of hormones and endorphins that charged every shifter’s system until they had a chance to run it off. Or find another way to put it to use.

Which they would not be doing.

He closed the door behind him.

She stood in the kitchen, looking very feminine in his very masculine home. She swept a length of hair behind her shoulder. “Your house is amazing. Like something out of a magazine. A men’s magazine, but still.”

“Thank you.” Had that actually been a compliment? He wasn’t sure. “You…need anything?”

She laughed, a light, sweet sound that reminded him of clear water and sunshine. “I need everything. A room, a shower, a meal. Preferably in that order.” She held her hands out. “Sorry, but that’s my current status.”

“Right. I’ll show you your room.”

It was upstairs, next to the room he used as a gym. On the other side of that was his bedroom. The only reason he even had a guest room was because Bridget and his mother had insisted he needed one.

He pushed the door open. “I need to wash the sheets. My parents just stayed and I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon.”

“I can do that.” Ivy smiled as she looked around. “There’s no way you decorated this yourself.”

“My sister did it. Too much?” It was to him. All those extra pillows on the bed seemed pointless. They basically existed to be taken off and put back on the bed. No other purpose.

“No, it’s perfect.”

He watched her walk in. Took note of how nicely shaped her backside was and how long her legs were. Reminded himself again to keep his gaze at eye level. “As for food, I don’t cook much.” Or at all, really.

She put her saddlebags on the bed. “Whatever you’ve got. I’m not picky.” She was still looking around at the room. “And I’m so hungry even a PB&J would be manna right now. Those pancakes were good, but you know how it is when the full moon is near. Hungry all the time.”

He nodded. “I can do better than that.”

Or could he? He scratched his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten groceries that weren’t six-packs of beer or PowerBars. He usually ate lunch and dinner at Howler’s if he wasn’t tied up with work, which in Nocturne Falls was rare. Eating there was his way of spending time with Bridget. Didn’t hurt that the food was above and beyond anything he could make for himself. And free, despite the many times he’d tried to pay. “I better check the fridge first. Come down when you’re ready.”

“Okay, thanks.” She nodded, eyes bright, but looking a little bit overwhelmed.

Was that because of him? He left her in the room and went downstairs. When he hit the kitchen, he paused to splay his hands on the granite counter. He leaned in, taking a deep breath of air that didn’t hold her intoxicating perfume. Was he really about to marry this woman? He’d never thought of himself as husband material, even though he’d been born into a position that ensured marriage was in his future.

Problem was, the future he’d done his best to prepare for was not being a husband. It was all about becoming alpha. He’d gone into the Army Rangers, something he knew had made his father proud. After two tours, Hank had had enough and taken on the job of sheriff in this crazy town.

The things he knew about were strategy, leadership, discipline, rules, and teamwork. What he didn’t know about were relationships with women.

Or marriage.

He knew what a loving relationship looked like from his parents, but their arranged match was nothing like this one.

There was no question whether he’d agree to it. He would. It was his duty as the firstborn of the alpha, and he wouldn’t have a pack war on his hands.

He’d seen enough bloodshed in his days. No way was he going to be responsible for bringing even a piece of that to his family, his pack or the town that had become a sanctuary for him, his brother, and his sister.

Enough thinking. He’d made his decision. He’d do his duty. Ivy wasn’t the worst the Kincaids could have offered him, that was for sure.

He went to the fridge. Bare. Unless ketchup, a jar of olives, or two-day-old pizza qualified as lunch. Or beer. He never drank when he was on duty. Never. And rarely before five, but today…today might be an exception.

No. There were no exceptions to hard and fast rules. That’s how things went south.

He grabbed a bottle of Coke, twisted the top off and drank it while he checked the freezer. Bridget had stocked it with a few things—a lasagna and two tubs of chili, but both of those would take some defrosting.

That gave him only a few options. Run to the store for food, which meant leaving Ivy alone in his house. He wasn’t comfortable with that. Not yet. That left him with calling in an order to Howler’s. Technically, they didn’t deliver, but Bridget would send one of the bus boys for him.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Howler’s. Bridget speaking.”

“Hey, Bridge. What’s the special today?”

“Hey, bro! Bacon cheeseburgers with Cajun fries. You coming in for lunch?”

“Not today. Can you send two with the works to my house?”

“Working on a case from home?”

“Something like that.” He’d break the news about Ivy to her and Titus later.

“You got it, brosef.”

“Thanks.” He hung up.

Footsteps padded down the steps. “I take it the fridge was bare?”

“Yes, I…” He turned around and immediately understood why Ivy’s clothes had fit in her saddlebags. There wasn’t much to them. The denim cutoffs and purple tank top she wore would have fit in the glove box of his duty car. Or maybe his back pocket.

She was fresh from the shower, and her hair hung in long, damp strands around her face. She’d washed her makeup off and now wore none. Or very little. Hank didn’t know enough about it to tell which. Either way, she was still gorgeous. Maybe a little less intimidating fresh-faced.

Lacy black bra straps peeked from under the skinny tank top, making him wonder what the rest of her underthings looked like. A delicate vine tattoo trailed from her shoulder to her elbow on her right arm.

And her legs…her legs were endless and tan and endless. Her toes were painted bright, glittery blue.

In need of a diversion, he straightened the towel hanging over the sink cabinet door. “No, nothing in the fridge. I ordered bacon burgers and fries.”

“Sounds good to me. Can I get one of those?”

He looked up. “What?”

She pointed to the Coke in his hand. “A soda.”

“Sure. You can have anything. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

She opened the fridge and laughed. “I see why you ordered out.”

“I need to get to the grocery store.”

She grabbed a Coke, twisted off the top and leaned against the counter. She held the bottle out to him. “Cheers. Here’s to…getting to know each other.”

He could drink to that. Especially if it meant finding out the truth behind her reason for being here and not running. Intuition told him it was more than just obligation but he wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of her motivation was fear of her father. He tapped his bottle against hers and they both drank.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she was done. “I could do that for you, you know.”