“Dance with me, Ted.” He slipped a hand around her waist to pull her back from the table she’d been clearing. “Just a… friendly dance.”
She scoffed. “Right.”
“Friends dance.” He leaned closer, his heat pressing against her side. She could smell more than a hint of bourbon on his breath and wished it didn’t draw her in. By the ease of his voice, he was buzzed and close to being drunk. At that sweet, goofy place that made him even harder to resist.
She patted the hand at her waist. “Make sure you get Jim or Ollie to drive you home.”
“One dance.”
“Alex—”
“You told me we were friends, remember?”
She had. In a moment of weakness, after Ted had loaded her oldest friend into her Jeep so Caleb could drive her to the hospital in Indio. In those moments when the prospect of losing Jena had terrified them both, she’d turned to Alex. Held on. She needed a friend, and he’d been there.
“Yeah, so? We can be friends.”
“Friends dance with each other, Ted.”
“Fine. One dance.” Just to prove that she could. She dropped the rag and turned to him, letting Alex guide her between the tables and toward the small open floor by the juke box.
He held her loosely, and Ted set her hands on his shoulders.
One dance. Between friends.
She ignored the happy purr of her lion and tried to lean away from his body, but Alex still managed to surround her. With his arms, his scent, and that indescribable hum that always seemed to follow him. Like a live wire, her body reacted. She could feel the spark of awareness as he scented her.
Damn wolf.
He leaned in, his rough voice licking along her nerves.
“You smell good.”
“That’s surprising, considering how hot the bar is.”
His grin was lazy. “You always smell good.”
“You lived with me long enough to know that is not true. Are you getting senile in your old age?”
“Why are you so mean to me?”
So I don’t fall for you again.
“Habit?”
“Why do I like it so much?”
“Definitely habit.”
He laughed, his chest rumbling against hers, and Ted felt her skin light up, ready for his touch. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising and her arousal spike. She started to push away, but Alex took a deep breath and pulled her tighter. He leaned down, his eyes narrowed on her face and his lips coming dangerously close. He blinked, and she knew he was feeling the bourbon he’d been sipping all night behind the bar.
“Tea—”
“Don’t—”
“When we get back together, would you be okay with adding on to your house or should I look for a bigger place before we have kids?”
She dropped her arms. “Right. No more dancing.”
“What?”
“This is your idea of a friendly conversation?’”
Even drunk, he still had a comeback. “Friends get married, have lots… and lots of mind-blowing sex, and procreate. Are you saying I shouldn’t look for a bigger house?”
“Friends don’t have sex.”
“Mind-blowing sex.”
She didn’t even respond, just turned and walked back to the table.
“Ted!” He tried to follow her, laughing a little, only to trip over the leg of a chair that Tracey had propped up while she cleaned. Ted ignored him and darted into Ollie’s office, intent on escaping before Alex could catch up with her.
She almost ran smack into the bear. Ollie held up his hands in defense. “What’s chasing you, kitty cat?”
Only Ollie was allowed to call her “kitty cat” and survive. Mostly, because he could smush her, even when she was a hundred pound mountain lion.
“An annoying mutt you asked to help at the bar tonight.”
“Ah.” Nodding, Ollie stepped aside. “You know he misses you, right?”
“Yeah, it must be hard to lose your fall back plan.” She gathered her purse and grabbed for the light sweater she carried to ward off the night chill. She started pulling it on as Ollie stood in the hall.
“Is that what you think? Really?”
She didn’t say anything. Put on sweater. Grab keys. Ignore rational bear.
“Come on, Ted. Things are different now. Have you considered talking to him about it? You know he’s not moving back to LA.”
“No.” She gripped her purse in both hands and clenched her eyes shut. “I don’t know that.”
“He says he’s back for good. You don’t believe him?”
“No.” Even though a part of her heart wanted it to be true, she didn’t trust that part. Her heart had let her down too many times.
“Ted—”
“I can take a lot of shit, Ollie.” Her voice was hoarse; she cleared her throat. “But I’ve been down that road before. More than once. I’m not setting myself up just to get knocked down again.”
Damn Alex. She’d come out tonight looking for a little peace among the crowd, not an emotional slap in the face. Ted shook her head and walked to the office door, only to see Ollie pressing a hand to Alex’s chest, holding his friend back. His friend who had obviously been listening to their whole conversation.
Ted ignored the bare pain on her former lover’s face.
Not again.
She looked up at Ollie and whispered, “Thanks a lot. Don’t call me for a favor anytime soon.”
Neither one said anything when she walked out the door.
If the crowds didn’t work, then maybe wine would.
Ted took a long sip of red wine and leaned back in the recliner she’d stolen from her mom’s house. It had been her dad’s. On days she missed him, sitting in it felt like the big warm hugs that had filled her childhood. She’d closed her eyes for approximately thirty seconds when the knock came at the door.
“Oh, for the love of…” She swung her legs down and stood, marching toward the door.
If it was Alex, she was going to kill him. She’d done grunt work at the medical examiner’s office in LA. She read Patricia Cornwell. She could figure out how to kill someone and make it look like an accident. Probably.
If not, the jail time might be worth it.
“Alex, for the last time—” She realized it wasn’t Alex before the door swung all the way open. “Allie?”
The petite blonde’s face was swollen and red. She sniffed but said nothing. Her eyes shone with tears in the lamplight.
“Allie, what on earth?”
Ted started pulling her into the house, every protective instinct on alert. A car door slammed in the dark, then Jena was walking up the path.
“Hey.”
“What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”
“Not exactly. Do you have wine? Please tell me you have wine.” She put a hand on her five months’ pregnant belly. “I’m out, and Caleb only drinks beer.”
Jena looked exhausted too, though not as wrecked as Allie. Both walked into the house in silence.
Ted said, “Will someone just tell me—”
“Joe left me.”
Allie’s voice was so soft, Ted barely caught it.
Her mind wanted to scream, Oh thank you, Lord. Finally!
Luckily, she held back.
“What happened? I mean, I knew you guys were having problems, but—”
“He just took off. Left me and the kids. Walked out while we were sitting down for dinner.”
“Um…”
“It was meatloaf.”
“You make excellent meatloaf.”
“He said he didn’t want to be married anymore. Like it was no big deal.”
Ted was going to kill him. But not before she neutered the scrawny coyote.
Jena said, “That’s why I left the Cave. Kevin called my cell.”
Allie started to cry. “What kind of man leaves his fourteen year old son to clean up his messes?!”
“A shit one.”
&n
bsp; “Ted!” Jena said, making hugging motions with her arms and pointing toward Allie.
“What?” she hissed. “You know I’m not good at the comforting thing. Joe is an asshole, and Kevin is an awesome kid who shouldn’t have to deal with his father’s shit. He’s a douchebag.” She huffed out a breath. “Man, that feels good. I’ve wanted to say it for years.”
Jena said, “Glad to know it’s all about you, Ted.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“My babies…” Allie didn’t even hear her, but Jena glared. “Oh, God. He was a jerk to me, but they loved their daddy. What am I gonna do?”
It was true. Joe had gotten Allie pregnant her senior year and planted three boys and a girl in her before Allie finally said “enough” after the birth of Loralie four years before. Joe seemed to love being a dad, and Allie had four kids under the age of fourteen. Before the base had closed and he lost his job, they’d struggled, but they’d all still laughed a lot.
But laughter over the past three years had been scarce, and Ted had suspected more than once that Joe was stepping out on her friend. They’d been friends once. All of them. Close friends. But Ted hadn’t thought of Joe as anything but Allie’s asshole husband in a long, long time.
“Friends get married, have lots of mind-blowing sex, and procreate.”
Alex’s words—meant to tease—now taunted her.
Talk about a lesson learned the hard way.
No Alex. Never again. Even if he really did stay in town and they could manage to be friends, it could never be anything more. It wasn’t just about them, and the consequences of screwing that up were too severe for everyone.
She hugged a crying Allie to her chest as Jena grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass from the kitchen. But in the back of her mind, she heard Alex whisper.
“Dance with me.”
Chapter Two
The car door slamming shut sounded louder than normal in the still desert night. Ollie rolled down the window.
“You got it, or you need help in?”
“I’m good.”
His best friend didn’t say anything, just lifted an eyebrow. “No more bourbon, Alex.”
“Go home. I’m fine.”
“Don’t wake up your mom. She’ll yell at me.”
“Good night, Ollie.” He started to turn.
“Hey, Alex.”
“What?”
Ollie seemed to hesitate, but finally said, “She’ll forgive you. She has to eventually. Just shake it off.”
Right…
Alex waved at Ollie’s retreating truck and walked with heavy steps up his parents’ front porch.
“I’m not setting myself up just to get knocked down again.”
She was never going to forgive him. Ever. Never, ever.
Shit, he was drunk.
He sighed, hearing the steps come down from upstairs as he turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Only an idiot with a death wish was going to break into the McCann house. They were the wolf alphas of Cambio Springs, and no one—not even the most foolhardy Quinn—wanted to test their protective instincts.
“Alex?”
Oh yay. His father was in the kitchen.
“Hey, Dad.”
Robert McCann was in his sixties but didn’t look a day over a very healthy fifty. His steel grey hair was cropped close to his skull, and he still carried the military bearing of the former Army Sergeant he was. Alex’s father hadn’t been pleased his son didn’t follow him into the service. There had been McCanns serving in the US Army since the Civil War, and Robert didn’t let his son forget it. The fact that Alex had made millions in real estate didn’t provoke more than a slightly satisfied grunt.
Robert eyed him with suspicion. “Are you drunk?”
Alex leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. His father was making coffee. He didn’t need much more sleep than Alex did. Never had. It was a benefit if you were the alpha or the disappointing son of one.
“According to the mostly-empty bottle of bourbon Ollie forced me to abandon… yes.”
Robert curled his lip but pulled out another mug for coffee.
“That cat giving you problems again?”
“Not talking to you about her.”
He refused to talk about Ted with his father. Alex had learned his lesson when he’d been twenty-seven and heartbroken. His father had waited on the porch for Alex to get out of his car, took one look at his haggard face, then told him he knew their relationship would never have worked out anyway, so it was better that it ended before kids had become involved.
Alex had spent that weekend at Ollie’s cleaning out the attic and ignoring calls from his mother. He never mentioned Ted’s name in his father’s presence again.
“You know—”
He glared. “Not. Talking. About. Her.”
Robert lifted the corner of his mouth in what might have been a smile. “Fine. I expect you’ll figure it out. You have a plan for everything else.”
Though he’d never, ever say it publicly, Robert McCann had plenty of doubts about the resort his son planned for his hometown. That was fine. Alex was used to his father doubting him. He’d just work ten times harder to prove him wrong, like he always did.
His father splashed a little milk in Alex’s mug. A concession, since the Sergeant took his coffee black.
“Your mother got a call tonight from Kathy Crowe.”
Alex frowned and tried to focus through the bourbon haze. The coffee helped. “Jena’s mom?”
“Joe Russell took off.”
“What?” he asked again. “What are you talking about?”
“Took off. Left his family.”
“Are you talking about Allie’s Joe? Joe Smith?”
Robert nodded. “Never understood why that boy took his woman’s name after they married. Russell is a perfectly fine name.”
“Joe wanted to fit in. He always did. He left her?”
“Yep.”
“That fuc—!”
“Language.”
It brought him up short. He was still in his parents’ home, and if he had to guess, his mother was listening with her eagle ears. Not actual eagle ears. Julia McCann was full human, like many spouses in Cambio Springs, but preternatural hearing must have rubbed off over the years of living in a town full of shapeshifters.
“That ass!” Alex set down his mug, anger and surprise cutting through the bourbon. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. Walked out the door right when Allie and the kids were sitting down to dinner.”
Alex was going to kill him.
“Allie’s going to need some help.” Robert motioned to the kitchen table and Alex followed him. “She’s not technically part of the pack, but—”
“She’s one of my best friends, Dad. It doesn’t matter that she’s a fox.”
The other canine shifters tended to be more solitary or roam in family packs. They didn’t share the strict hierarchy of the wolves, but since they all shared a common ancestor, they still held a certain level of loyalty.
“I agree. Plus, her mother was a McCann, even if it was distant. She’s family.”
Alex rubbed his face. “Is Kathy with her?” Allie’s mom had died when she was young, leaving her dad to raise his small family of shifters among his wife’s people. Jena’s mom had been a second mother to the Smith girls.
“I think so. Your mom just found out a few hours ago. They’ll get her covered. But if there’s a need—”
“It’s covered. She’s covered. I’ll take care of it, Dad.”
His father nodded approvingly, but didn’t say anything while they finished their coffee. It was moments like that, quiet moments, that Alex knew his dad did appreciate some of what he’d done. What he was trying to do. They may have had different personalities, but their hearts were in the same place. His father would go without before any of his family or pack.
On lonely nights, the knowledge that Alex had the resources to help the people he cared about w
as sometimes the only thing that kept him warm. The sacrifices were worth it at times like that. He had to remind himself it wasn’t all about him. It was about his father and mother. His sister. The wolves who depended on him. His friend with four kids who needed someone to step up when their father stepped out.
“I’m not setting myself up just to get knocked down again.”
If he’d really lost Ted forever, it had to mean something.
The next morning, Alex roused himself from his childhood bed, downed as many aspirin as he could get away with, and slipped out the door after a quick conversation with his mom, who was already putting food together for Allie. Then, like every Saturday for the past few months, he headed to his sister’s house. The fact that she happened to be home that weekend was only a bonus.
Willow McCann lived at the edge of town, halfway out into the desert and away from as many distractions as she could. The fact that his baby sister was a famous painter with work shown across the Southwest surprised him some days. But then, when he thought about it more, it didn’t seem strange at all. In her own quiet way, Willow was the mirror image of their father. She was stubborn as hell. Alex figured that, one day, his little sister had simply decided she wanted everyone to buy her paintings for ridiculous sums of money. Then she quietly set about taking over her tiny corner of the art world until her mission was accomplished. She was like a special ops soldier with a paintbrush.
She had recently taken up ceramics. In a few months, she’d conquer that, too. People who didn’t know her thought she was shy. She wasn’t. Willow just didn’t like very many people and found it easier to adopt the mantle of a reclusive artist in their tiny community. It worked for her because it kept most people away.
She was sitting in the shaded lean-to outside her house when Alex pulled up. Some thick vine covered the arbor, lush, green, and dripping with yellow flowers. The road up to her house was covered in a new coat of gravel, and the old place gleamed. It was a small house his grandparents had built, but Willow had improved it.
The desert landscaping was blooming with sparse beauty; colorful murals and tiled mosaics decorated the low garden walls, lending a lush look to the area, despite the arid plantings. She’s recovered an old wooden table with a blue and green glass mosaic and added red chairs she’d painted herself. A pot of coffee was sitting on the table, along with some sweet rolls he knew she probably only bought for him.