Hidden Moon (Hot Moon Rising #4) (6 page)

His brow lowered, and he leaned toward her, making him look every bit the

protective wolf he was. “Alan?”

“Yes, but not to worry. He plans to leave as soon as he can.”

“Good. I don’t trust him.”

But, for some reason, she did. He was part of the pack and belonged here. Although it

might be easier to let him leave again, she couldn’t. Aside from her selfish feelings, his

father needed him. Her sixth sense, warning of some unseen danger, told her the pack

needed him, too.

Whatever it took, she had to convince him to stay, even if her heart broke in the

process.

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Alan groaned as he stared at the diner kitchen at the end of the day. It looked as if a

hurricane had blown straight through it. Batter spills crusting on the counter. Vegetable

peelings on the floor. Where to begin? He resigned himself to clean the grill first since it

served as the heart of the kitchen.

Shelley had driven Dad home an hour ago to rest. The man had been more of a

hindrance than a help, criticizing everything Alan did.

“I’m a computer programmer, not a restauranteur,” he’d muttered more than once.

But Don had sassed him back each time, until he weakened and almost fell face first

into the fryer basket. Alan needed some rest himself. Every muscle in his body ached

with fatigue. The only good thing about exhaustion was it tamed the beast in him.

It also kept his mind off Shelley. The vulnerable expression on her face this morning

had punched him in the chest. He’d hurt her. Despite what she’d done to him on prom

night, he had no desire for revenge.

The lines of his stupid poem danced before his eyes all day. Her feelings for him were

as real as that frayed piece of paper. He hoped she understood why they couldn’t act on

them. She’d been in and out of the diner today, cleaning and ordering supplies. Every

time he looked at her, a knife twisted in his heart, reminding him what they could have.

He slid the spatula across the grill, the scrape of metal on metal matching his mood.

Yeah, he could have everything if he was normal—great sex, love, family. In between

orders for omelets and burgers, he’d kept picturing her soft white tank top and her

shorter-than-sin shorts. Peeling them off, tossing them to the floor, and pulling her into

bed while their children slept down the hall. Hazel eyes gazing up at him with love. The

spatula dropped with a clatter.

My woman
, the wolf in him screamed.

Well, he wasn’t normal. Although he’d had the mutation his whole life, it had never

been more unbearable.

I have to get out of Moonlight.

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Okay, he’d run the place a whole day, and it sucked. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he

liked the customers. The tourists were okay, but he could do without the pack. They

stared suspicious holes into him every time he set foot in the dining room. Luckily,

Curtis hadn’t been among them. The man had a score to settle with him. He could have

Shelley, but if she didn’t want him, that was their problem.

Besides, Alan already had a job—a much easier one that paid better—to return to.

Living beast free gave him a great bonus. Dad clearly couldn’t handle the diner anymore.

As he scraped a river of black grease into the grease trough, the answer became clear.

Moonlight Diner needed to be sold.

How long would it take? Moonlight was a pretty rural town, but it received a healthy

flow of tourists. Time on the market would probably depend on the price. Hopefully, a

pack member would grab it up. He closed his eyes and grimaced as he anticipated laying

his decision on Dad. The man would curse him from one end of Florida to another.

When the kitchen door swung open, he caught his breath at the sight of Curtis. The

guy had lousy timing for settling scores. Alan felt tired enough to collapse into the grease

bucket.

“Rough day?” Curtis asked.

The man’s casual tone didn’t fool him. He reeked of aggression, and his arm muscles

looked tenser than iron as he rocked on his heels. The prom fight loomed between them

like a third person in the room. Alan’s beast couldn’t forget the coppery tang of the

man’s blood scent or the shape of his bones.

Maybe if he played nice, his old rival would go away and leave him alone.

“Yeah.” Alan emptied the grease container into a bucket and grabbed the grill’s

cleaning brick. “Running a diner isn’t easy. I don’t know how Dad did it for so many

years.”

“Ready to throw in the towel already, eh?” Curtis shot him one of his killer smiles.

Not a single snaggly tooth in his whole mouth. “Have you made plans for the place?”

Alan hesitated, but his decision would be common knowledge soon enough. Maybe

Curtis himself would buy it. Why did an image of him and Shelley working here side by

side twist his gut so hard?

“If Dad agrees, I want to sell it now.” Alan scoured the grill with the brick, channeling

his tension into the sweeping motions of his hands. “Spread the word to the rest of the

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pack.”

He’d start there out of courtesy, but he’d make it public, if necessary.

Curtis’s blue eyes lit up. “Will do. I gather you’ll be leaving again?”

Alan nodded. “Once everything is settled here. I’ll be back for the….” Salty heat flared

behind his eyes because he couldn’t say the word. Funeral. As irritating as Dad had

acted today, Alan couldn’t deny the rightness of being close to kin. And his mate.

“Of course,” Curtis replied. So, why didn’t he leave?

“Anything else on your mind?” Alan rinsed the brick. “I’m kind of busy here and tired

as hell.”

“Yeah, one more thing.” Aggression poured off his rival in waves as he stalked closer

to the grill. “While you’re here, stay away from Shelley.”

The beast in Alan stirred, wanting to punch the insolent expression off his face. It

didn’t much like being ordered around. Instead, he squeezed the cleaning brick,

pretending the man’s neck lay in its place. Although tempted to fling the rejected

marriage proposal at him, too, he wasn’t looking for a fight tonight.

“I intend to.”

If Curtis felt so determined to mark his territory, why didn’t he urinate in a circle

around her? The image made Alan grin and forget his anger.

“Have a good night,” the guy told him before he left the kitchen.

Have a good night?
Maybe they’d both grown up. Being on the same side this time

helped. If Alan decided to stay here and claim his mate, though, he’d definitely have a

fight on his hands.

***

Shelley pulled into Moonlight Diner’s parking lot the next morning. Dread and

excitement filled her belly when she noticed Alan’s rental car was the only other one

here. At least Curtis didn’t attack him after she’d rejected his proposal. Everyone had

matured.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she walked inside and discovered Alan

really was alone. The ripe aroma of peppers filled the air as he cut them. When she set

down a crate of oranges on the counter, he dropped the knife.

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The clothes he wore must have been his own because they fit perfectly. The light-blue

tank top hugged his chest the way she longed to. And his jeans. She couldn’t even look at

them without wanting to brush against his narrow hips and muscular thighs. They fit in

here better than the dumb business getup he’d worn the day he’d arrived. He even had a

black bandana tied around his head.

He stood so close to her his scent—hot and dangerous—weakened her knees. Why

had she stayed with Curtis so long when she’d never wanted him half this much?

“More oranges?” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t understand how people here go

through so many of them.”

“Don’t you like them?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“Use these up first. They’re riper. I have tomatoes and cucumbers in the truck, too.”

He carried the crate into the storeroom, and she followed him to the refrigerator.

When his hand accidentally brushed hers, she died inside because the touch reminded

her of everything she’d never have—with him or anyone else.

“You look beat,” she said. “Yesterday was rough, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve never been so tired in my life.” He rolled his eyes. “I hadn’t realized running a

restaurant was so hard.”

“You did a good job. The food tasted good and the waiting times weren’t too long.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” he said.

“We make a good team,” she couldn’t help saying. “Is Don home resting?”

Alan nodded. “I nearly had to tie him down. He didn’t like my decision.”

Her fingers froze around an orange. “What decision?”

“To sell the diner.”

“Oh, Alan, no.”

His dark gaze hardened. “I told you I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “Do you have wild parties every night up there? A million

friends?”

“No. I live alone and do my job, which is all I need.”

It sounded like a lonely, unhappy existence to her. “The pack needs you.”
I need you.

“Yeah, right.” He tossed an orange so hard it bounced inside the fridge. “They need

me like a hole in the head.”

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“Careful. The ripe ones bruise more easily.” Like her heart. She grabbed his wrist,

overwhelmed by the electric tingles shooting up her arm. “They don’t know it yet, but I

sense danger to the pack.”

“I live alone because I like it,” he said. “It also gives me some peace and dignity. Most

of all, I’m less likely to accidentally kill somebody.”

“How sad for you,” she said in a small voice.

He stood abruptly, letting her hand fall. “I’ll grab the other crates of vegetables. Are

they in the back of your truck?”

A ball of fire bloomed in her abdomen. If she couldn’t talk him into staying, there was

only one other way, and it happened to be something she really wanted. She stood, too,

and closed the refrigerator door.

“The vegetables can wait.” She brushed the orange across her breasts, raising the

nipples through the fabric of her pink shirt. “I can’t.”

“Jesus, Shelley. What are you trying to do?” His gaze rested on her chest, heavy as a

hand, and his aroused scent charged the air.

“Leave if you have to.” She dropped her hand, feeling silly for acting like a seductress.

“I just ask one thing before you go. Make love with me.”

“That would be a very bad idea.” But his voice had a big crack in it.

“Just once,” she amended. “I’ll never be with another man.”

“You should marry Curtis. You know him a lot better than you do me.”

“You’ve got that right. I don’t know you at all.” She turned her back on him. “Get the

damn crates.”

As soon as he left, she tore a hunk of skin off the orange she held and took a messy

bite of it. Tears spattered her cheeks, but the scents of citrus and salt couldn’t cleanse

away Alan’s. Need, male and raw, hung in the air, tormenting her. If she wasn’t his cup

of tea, she could accept that, but they were mates. Why did he have to be so logical?

When he came back, he dropped the crates on the counter. His muscular arms

glistened with sweat from carrying two at a time.

“Don’t cry, Shelley.” He hugged her close to his chest and looked down at her orange,

which he’d crushed in the process. “Shit. I can’t do anything right.” After grabbing a

nearby dish towel, he dabbed the fruity juice that had spilled on her shirt.

She batted his hand away. “I’ll clean it later. I need to go. I’m not wanted here.”

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“Oh, I want you.” The deep growl of his voice vibrated the air around them.

Her breath caught when he gripped her shoulders—hard—and bent to lick a drop of

orange juice from her shirt. His breath and tongue, hot and damp, penetrated the thin

fabric. Fire rippled through the nipple below.

She clutched the bandana on his head with sticky fingers. “Oh, Alan…. Don’t stop.”

By the look in his eyes, he couldn’t if he wanted to. She’d seen that fiery expression on

prom night, before he tried to knock Curtis’s head off. It felt as if a beast lived inside

him. Knowing she’d unleashed it made her clitoris throb.

His strong hands circled behind her, squeezed her butt, and lifted her to the counter

behind her.

“Yes.” She gasped when he yanked up her shirt and tugged down her bra cups. His

mouth closed around her nipple. Then his teeth. The sudden pain arched her back. She

barely caught herself from falling backward.

He ripped a section out of the orange and squeezed it, raining the sweet juice across

over her belly. The warm nectar trickled over her sensitized flesh, sending her muscles

into spasms.

“That’s it, honey. Twitch for me because I’m going to make you come so hard.”

She moaned, gripping his bandana for dear life when he swirled his tongue across her

belly and burrowed the tip into her navel. His beard swept across her sensitive skin,

hard where his tongue had been soft. She squirmed her hips, begging him to lick her

swollen flesh farther south.

Instead of pulling off her shorts, he worked from underneath, squeezing the orange

over the area where her bare thigh met her hip. Then he eased his finger under the

denim hem, tunneling into her heat. Sweet sensations gripped her, sending her into

more contractions while his tongue followed the path his digit had made.

“You know, I’m starting to like oranges,” he said.