PacksBrokenHeart (10 page)

He felt her eyes on him as he walked. His skin prickled with awareness but it felt sexual, not angry. Great. The one woman he shared a mutual hate with thought his wolf was the hottest thing since the invention of the howitzer. And dammit all if the feeling didn’t go both ways. Cursing his luck, Owen snagged his clothes from where he’d left them the night before and headed for his pickup.

Back at his place, after he’d showered and dressed, Owen grabbed his cell and called Cutler. He didn’t even give the Alpha time to greet him before Owen started ragging on him.

“You didn’t tell me Suzanne was in Pinebridge.” There was a snarl in Owen’s voice, one he didn’t bother toning down.

“Yes. On purpose,” Cutler snarled right back. “You’re supposed to stay out of the official loop, remember?”

“Well, the entire state’s not big enough for the two of us. That woman delights in rubbing my fur the wrong way.” Unfortunately his cock chose that moment to twitch and it wasn’t a happy feeling. Just thinking about the blonde from hell made his inner wolf horny and the thing was determined to drag Owen along for the ride. The sex in wolf form had been great. There was no denying that. The run too.

Cutler’s voice was calmer when he spoke again. “She can be tenacious. But she’s a good cop. Sounds like you’re rubbing her wrong too. Just try to stay out of her way so you can both do your jobs.”

Owen snarled once more but this time there was less venom in it. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

After he ended the call Owen scrubbed his hands over his face. Cutler was right. The best thing for him to do was stay away from her. He checked his watch. It was too early to drop by the Amoses’ and pick Piper up for work. He also wasn’t in the mood to wait around where he was and tighten the knots he’d already wound himself up into by dwelling on Suzanne.

Remembering David Hold’s offer, Owen grabbed his coat, jumped in his pickup and headed out for breakfast.

Except for two vehicles parked in front of the diner, the main street was deserted. When he stepped inside the scents of fresh coffee and baking made his nose perk with interest.

“Hey, there you are.” David Hold, wearing his chef’s jacket and tall hat, called out a greeting. “Glad you could drop by. Sit down and meet Garnett and Jackson.”

As he shrugged out of his coat Owen nodded to the jukebox repair guy. “Jackson,” he said and smiled. “Good to see you again. How’s business?”

“Can’t complain.” The older were returned Owen’s smile and turned to the male sitting beside him. “Garnett, I don’t think you’ve met Owen. Owen’s new to these parts and we’re doing our best to convince him to stick around.”

“Garnett Ross,” the man said. He stood and took Owen’s hand with tempered but unmistakable strength. Garnett was a bull of a man. Maybe a couple inches shy of six feet, he had tough palms, arms that looked like they could crush a tree and short-buzzed gray hair. His blue eyes were warm though and they crinkled when he smiled. “Pleased to meet you, son.”

“Likewise,” Owen replied. He watched David snag a coffeepot and a fresh mug and bring them over to the table.

“Owen here,” David said as he poured Owen a cup and topped up the others, “is looking for a new line of work. Garnett’s a blacksmith and he was saying just a few weeks ago he was thinking of taking on an apprentice.”

“A blacksmith?” Owen said with rising interest. “Didn’t know there were any blacksmiths left.”

“A few of us.” Garnett sipped his coffee then smacked his lips in appreciation. “Farm work’s my bread and butter. Shoeing horses, repairing equipment. I also do decorative work.”

David put his hand on Owen’s shoulder, squeezed then headed for the kitchen. “Sit tight, you three. I’ll be back out with breakfast in a minute.”

After he left Owen realized he hadn’t ordered anything. Curious now, he wondered what David would bring back.

Garnett continued, “I like the work. I get to make my own schedule, which is great. I’ve got a portable forge and travel an informal route through this county and the ones around it. Lots of big ranches in the area. Nice folks too.” He took another sip of his coffee. “During the summer I follow the rodeo circuit on weekends. That’s interesting in itself but I also get a lot of orders for custom decorative things. Trivets, fireplace pokers, fence gates and such.”

The conversation gradually drifted to aftermarket truck accessories. Owen had a chromed bush-bumper on his rig, visible through the diner window.

They all turned and, with visible anticipation, eyed the trolley David wheeled out of the kitchen. The scent coming from beneath the covered serving dishes made Owen’s mouth water. David set warmed plates in front of each of them, including a place setting for himself. He started setting the dishes on the table.

“Now this egg dish has shaved portobello mushrooms in it. I like it best with truffles but that would make the price point too high for a simple place like this. Dig in, fellas, and don’t spare the compliments.”

They passed around dishes of french toast made from banana bread, home-fried potatoes, meaty sausages that, if Owen wasn’t mistaken, held a hint of rosemary and sun-dried tomato, whole-wheat toast, watermelon cubes and a sort of egg pie that was so delicious he took three helpings. Even the orange juice was fresh-squeezed.

“Won’t your other customers get jealous?” Owen asked, even though there were only the four of them in the diner.

“Chef’s table is open only to early risers, like us.” David checked his watch. “First customers of the day, other than you fellas, won’t be by for another half-hour or so.”

After the other men pressed the last slice of french toast on Owen, all four of them sat back with an air of pleasantly stuffed contentment and sipped at their coffee.

“Anyway,” Jackson said, picking up on an earlier conversation, “there’s enough honky-tonks and such in the general area to keep me busy. The modern jukes and arcade games always need tinkering. The electronics are more delicate than the models from the fifties. I’ve serviced this route going on twelve years now. I keep an apartment in town with a garage out back. I keep that set up as a little workshop.”

“What about your family?” Owen asked. The guy scented like a mated were but the mating was old. “Traveling around for a single fella like me isn’t an issue but…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

Jackson grinned ruefully. “Pinebridge has evolved into the middle of my territory, and, really, there’s no pull to stay around my own pack much. Me and my mate, well, in human form we’re kind of like oil and water. She’s given me three fantastic pups though. Them we
do
see eye to eye on. But unless we’re in our fur we get along as long as we’re not together.”

Owen could relate.

The other two weres chuckled. They obviously knew this story.

David stood and began clearing the table. He looked directly at Owen. “Anytime you’re in the mood for a good breakfast and some conversation with a couple of old farts, you come by.”

“You do this every day?” Owen asked. He’d have to teach an extra PT class to work off the food he’d just eaten. Maybe two.

“Nah. Maybe three times a week. It’s kind of a hit and miss because some of the guys have jobs that keep them on the road. Now that you know what time we’re here, you drop by any day. It’s a nice change having a young guy join us.”

After Owen picked up Piper and drove her to work he went to the community center. He’d paid to take two more aptitude tests, both of them long and detailed. The results on those would be back from the State Board of Vocational Education tomorrow. Piper had promised to go over the results with him and discuss his options.

He was looking forward to it. New friendships aside, unemployment was getting to be a bore.

At the community center he was wheeling big racks of stacking chairs into a classroom for that afternoon’s gardening group. A tall female with a commanding presence stepped into the room, crossed her arms over her chest and watched. She looked fifty but something about her told Owen she was older, more experienced than that. He guessed sixty. The straight no-nonsense skirt she was wearing was flattering and looked expensive. Despite her age, or perhaps because of it, he liked the way her high heels showed off her long legs.

When he focused on her face, he blinked. She could pass for Cory Amos’ twin. “Can I help you?” he asked, and smiled.

“That remains to be seen,” she answered. There was no animosity in her. There was also no perfunctory courtesy. She scented like a strong were who’d worn her confidence for so long it was as comfortable and familiar as her own skin. “I’m Katherine Clark. I’m top bitch around these parts.”

She unfolded her arms and adopted an aggressive posture—hands on hips, silk blouse-clad chest stuck out, back straight, chin high. Katherine Clark had that kind of haughty, righteous strength Owen had always found incredibly hot. If she were thirty years younger and unmated he’d be all over her in a heartbeat.

Deciding to keep his wolf’s lecherous thoughts to himself, Owen walked up to her and held out his hand. “I’m Owen Wells. Cory and Piper mentioned you. She says you play a helluva game of tennis.”

“That I do, Owen,” she replied without modesty. Her grip was sure but her hand felt soft, feminine. She glanced back at the chairs. “You know we have a caretaker whose job it is to set up and clear away after activities.”

“Gerry. His arthritis is acting up so I offered to pitch in.” Gerry was seventy-something years old. He’d taken on the job after he retired to keep busy but it was obvious the physical requirements were getting to be too much. Old age caught up to weres too.

“Hmm.” Katherine shifted her weight to her other leg and that critical look on her face became one of assessment. She shut the door behind her and when she spoke her voice was quieter. “He needs to be shuffled into a less demanding role. I like your diplomacy though.”

Owen nodded curtly. Katherine’s stance relaxed a little.

“I mentioned it to Ed, rest his soul,” she added and walked around the room, looking at the artwork, posters and announcements tacked to the walls. “Cory and Piper speak highly of you. They say you’re looking for a place to settle down.”

Accepting the olive branch for what it was, he took her to the center’s kitchen where he made coffee for them. Gradually Owen steered the conversation back around to Sheriff Ed Timberman. He asked if Ed being out on South Fork Road at that hour of the morning was usual, what Katherine thought the motive was, if anybody disliked him that much. He got what he got from everybody else—that Ed was a well-loved Beta, a great cop and that his death had left a void in the pack nobody was conveniently looking to step into.

Owen was clearing away their coffee things when the kitchen door flew open so hard it slammed into the wall.

He sighed and it sounded more like a growl. Deputy Sheriff Suzanne Young, pretty blue eyes blazing with anger, stormed into the room. That gun on her hip still looked hot as hell and speaking of hips… Owen dragged his gaze back up to her face before she slapped him for ogling that fine, curved body of hers.

“I want some answers, Wells, and I want them now.” She walked right up to him, so close he felt her breath on his throat.

It felt real nice, dammit.

“You turning up here days after the pack Beta is murdered?” She glanced at Katherine, nodded in acknowledgement then focused back on Owen. “You’re the only new were in town and here you are getting all cozy with the Alpha and the top bitch. Why do you suppose that is?”

“Like I told you this morning when we woke up naked.
Together
,” he reminded her and didn’t hide his grin when a blush colored those downy cheeks of hers. “Although I’m related to Ryan and therefore have cause to petition to join your pack Cutler was polite about letting me know he wouldn’t be extending an invitation for me to stay. Instead Cutler offered to introduce me to Cory.”

“So when I leave,” Suzanne said coldly, “you’ll be moving on?”

“Or staying, maybe.”

She growled and it sounded so hot coming from her Owen’s cock started to lengthen. He really hated that.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said and this time her voice was cool, accusing. “I can smell it on you. I’m keeping my eye on you, Owen Wells.”

“I’ll just bet you are.” Deliberately, he sneered. Being so disrespectful to a woman went against every ingrained instinct but he had to derail her cop instincts about him. Instincts that were, unfortunately, correct. He licked his lips and took his sweet time looking her up and down. He knew it would irritate the hell out of her. The anger in her eyes confirmed her outrage but he got no satisfaction from it. Just the opposite actually although he made sure he didn’t let on.

To her credit, this time she didn’t grab him or attempt to assault him. She turned and left, her back ramrod straight and her boot heels hitting the linoleum with sharp, echoing authority.

When he turned back to Katherine Clark she was again wearing that critical look.

“Do you often have deputy sheriffs make veiled accusations about you being a suspect in a murder investigation, Mr. Wells?” Her voice could freeze water. Without another word, she turned and left.

Owen stood where he was for a moment then swore, threw a cleaning cloth across the room and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. If the top bitch turned against him there was no way he could stay. No way he could nose around on Cutler’s behalf.