Wren and the Werebear (13 page)

Shawn blushed, but Madison didn't even bat an eye. Walking off down the short stretch of beach, Wren cast a glance back at the teenagers. Madison already had a hand wrapped around Shawn's arm.

"You think they'll behave themselves?" she asked.

"They'd better not. If he doesn't get his first kiss soon, it won't be my fault." Dawson's eyes twinkled. "I've been trying to get that kid a girlfriend for a year now."

"What about you?" Wren regretted the question as soon as she'd said it. But she was curious about the ranger's situation, and how he'd come to live in such a small coastal town. And more than that, she was curious about him.

"What about me?"

She took her shoes off and rolled up her pant legs. Her feet sank into the damp sand and she fumbled around for the right words.

"It must be a bit lonely out here in such a small town. I don't know how you would date."

"I don't," he said. "Not really. All the local girls are taken, and all the pretty women passing through seem to have boyfriends."

"Not anymore." The response came too fast.

Dawson's jaw clenched, then relaxed.

"It's over then? With your boyfriend?"

Wren had a million witty rejoinders on her tongue, but they all faded at the sight of Dawson asking her this question in all sincerity. He seemed to have opened his heart up to her, completely, and she wanted to tell him not to. Stop opening up to me. It can't work the other way.

Instead she turned to the ocean and nodded, pressing her lips together.

In the small cove, the waves crashed against the sides of the cliffs and came rushing up on the sand. Even the bubbling noise of the tide was refreshing after such a hot day, and Wren longed to slip into the water. But she didn't have a bathing suit, and she damned well wasn't going to skinny dip. She was still trying to figure out how to respond to Dawson when he pointed down at the sand by her feet.

"Hey, look."

He bent down and picked up something white and gleaming. As he held it up into the sunlight, Wren realized what it was.

"A shark tooth."

"Little one." The tooth lay small and white in his palm, making his hand look even more massive. Wren wanted to reach out and touch it, but she didn't want to risk touching Dawson's hand. Even simply walking next to him on the beach was making her stomach do somersaults. She didn't know if she was ready for...well, whatever this was.

"How did you even find it?" she asked, marveling.

"I have an eye for it. I spot them everywhere."

"Like the tooth fairy."

"Yes. Exactly like the tooth fairy." Dawson grinned at her, his hair falling slightly across one cheek. God, he was adorable. Wren tamped down the feeling. It was too soon to be falling for any guy, let alone a guy she'd only known for a couple of days. Still, Dawson seemed so open with his emotions, so honest, that she couldn't help but open up herself, if only in part.

"Tell me you don't leave money for the baby sharks to find."

"I'd go broke if I did. Can't tell you how many teeth I've found out here."

"I don't see how you'd tell it apart from a pebble. Or a broken shell." The entire beach was made up of small white shells and sand. It was incredible that he had found such a little tooth. Dawson cupped the tooth and slipped it into his pocket.

"You just have to know what you're looking for."

Wren looked at him skeptically.

"Really. They're everywhere around here. I bet there's one right at your feet right now."

Wren looked down at her feet. There were lots of bits of white around, but she couldn't see any shark's teeth anywhere.

"No there isn't."

"I see another one."

"No way." Wren furrowed her brow, searching for the tooth. She glanced up at him and saw him looking at her with an expression of pure desire. A shiver ran down her nerves, and she instantly looked back down at her feet. "No you don't."

"I sure do. I bet you can find it, too."

Wren looked all around her. She couldn't see anything.

"Crouch down," Dawson said. "Get closer. You'll find it."

Wren squatted down. It was hard to balance on the wet sand, and she held one hand out onto the beach for support. All around her were white shells. No teeth. He must be lying.

"I don't see—aah!"

A rush of seawater crashed into Wren's side. The shock of cold water made her gasp and she jumped up, losing her balance on the shifting sands underneath her. Dawson caught her before she could fall backwards completely into the water. She only had an instant to catch herself and pull away before he burst out laughing.

"You jerk!" Her jeans were soaked through, and one side of her blouse was dripping wet. Dawson was doubled over with laughter, and she kicked a spray of water at him before the wave went rushing back out to sea, leaving her wet and bedraggled on the beach. "You did that on purpose!"

"Never."

Wren put her hands on her hips and stared at him with her best don't-even-try-it glare.

"Okay, okay, maybe just this one time. You were so focused on looking for the tooth. I wanted to see what would happen."

"What would happen is that I'm soaked!"

"Guess you'll just have to take off all your clothes. Shame, really."

"I don't have another pair of jeans to wear on this trip." Wren looked down ruefully at her soaked pants. She always packed light, and this trip was more extended than she'd expected it would be.

"Oh, darn. No more pants. That's just awful."

Wren's glare couldn't withstand the brilliant twinkle in his light brown eyes. He was so happy to have tricked her, she couldn't be mad. She blew her wet hair out of her face and struggled to keep an angry expression on her face.

"I think I know why you don't get many dates."

"Oh?"

"If this is your idea of seduction—"

"Look!"

Dawson came forward and Wren thought for a brief moment that he meant to take her and throw her bodily into the ocean. Surprisingly enough, a part of her was hoping he would.

Instead, though, he knelt down at her feet and picked up another shark tooth.

"I don't know if this is the same one, but see," he said, holding it out to her. "I wasn't lying. Not entirely, anyway. I did see that wave coming."

"I know you did."

"It's beautiful." Wren held it up. This tooth was a bit larger than the other one, with a dark edge. The white ridge of the tooth was serrated like a knife, and she shuddered to think about the shark tearing into flesh with it. She held it back out to Dawson to take, but he shook his head.

"Keep it. So you can remember me when you go back to Washington D.C.."

Wren winced at the words. She didn't want to think about going back home. It wasn't home to her, not really. It was the place she worked, close enough to CSE headquarters. But now that she'd broken up with Olivier, Washington was the last place on earth she wanted to be.

"Sun's going down."

Wren broke away from her thoughts. The bottom of the sun was indeed touching the horizon. This low, it looked bigger than normal, a yellow-gold coin burning at the edge of the world. The bottom of the sun looked like it was melting into the sea, and the reflection down across the ocean only enhanced the illusion.

"It's sinking so fast," Wren murmured.

"Have you ever seen the green flash?" Dawson asked.

"What's that?"

"When you're watching the sunset, it's right at the end, just as the sun slips below the horizon. If you pay really close attention, you can see a flash of green."

"I think you're trying to get me hit by another wave while I'm not paying attention."

"No, really. Just watch it."

They stood side by side, their shoulders almost touching. The closeness made Wren want to lean against Dawson. Her clothes felt cold against her skin now that the sun was setting.

"I don't see it," she said. The sun was disappearing quickly behind the line of the horizon. It was more than halfway gone, now. Wren marveled at the speed at which it traveled - during the day, it was impossible to see how fast the sun actually moved.

"It's at the end. Watch."

"Where?"

"At the top rim, just before it disappears."

Wren squinted as the sun puddled down into the ocean. The clouds swirled in pastels, changing from orange to pink until the lavender of the clouds was almost the same hue as the darkening sky.

Dawson's hand reached for hers just as the golden disk slipped under the horizon.

"Now," he whispered. Wren's lips parted. It wasn't the brilliant flash of green that surprised her, no, although the flash lasted for at least a few seconds on the ocean, the green strangely eerie under the peach and melon tinted clouds.

No, it was his hand, holding hers as though they'd been together for years, that sent a strange thrill of fear and pleasure through her body. She felt his fingers twine themselves through hers, his palm warm against her cold skin.

Olivier had never held her hand without being asked, not ever. And though she knew that she couldn't ascribe anything deeper to such a simple action, she felt a rush of emotion swell up from a secret place inside of her, a place she hadn't known existed. The sudden relief of having Dawson hold her hand possessively in hers was a feeling that blindsided her as much as the wave that had soaked her through.

"You see it?" Dawson asked. His hand squeezed hers and she squeezed back, unable to speak for the emotion choking her throat.

Maybe there was a green flash, and maybe there wasn't. She trusted him that it was there, but at that very moment, Wren couldn't see anything for the tears that filled her eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

The next morning, Wren woke in her hotel room and lay in bed for a moment, thinking about the night before.

Nothing had happened, of course, nothing except Dawson holding her hand. It was certainly not as forward as the kiss he'd planted on her days ago. And he hadn't pressured her into anything else, hadn't even so much as mentioned it. They'd walked back up with Shawn and Madison, who had been doing more than just holding hands, based on their mussed up hair and embarrassed smiles. But he'd left her at the hotel with nothing more than a friendly wave.

It made her want to scream.

She'd wasted the whole day after Dawson had caught her up on the ridgeline. She hadn't found the shifter. She hadn't even tracked it to its den. Useless.

Today, though, would be different. She swung herself out of bed and got dressed, thinking about the mission. She hoped that Marty would get back to her soon with the results from the second sample. The first bear, sure—that might have been a bear. But the second one was surely a shifter. After all, it had run away from her instead of attacking.

Or was she overthinking things? She tied her hair up in a tight braid and zipped up her jeans. They were still a bit damp from the ocean, and smelled of seaweed.

A knock on the door made her jump. She glanced at the clock: 7:15 in the morning.

There wasn't a peephole, so she opened the door a crack and peered out. Dawson stood just outside, rocking on his feet.

"Um, good morning?" she said.

"Wren, you're awake! Good, Matt said you'd wake up around this time."

Wren sighed. She'd hoped to sneak out to the trailhead before anyone could notice she was gone. Apparently, though her plan was not to be.

"I'm half-awake, anyway," she said, feigning a yawn. "What's up?"

"Come up to the lookout with me. I have to show you something."

Wren's ears perked up. She tucked her gun into her waistbelt behind the door, then slipped out and closed the door behind her.

"What is it?" she asked. Dawson was already striding across the hotel lobby to the back door.

"Come on," he said. "We need to be quick."

Wren hurried after him, her heart beginning to beat faster. It must be the shifter. Another bear attack, maybe?

Dawson nearly jogged up the trail to his cabin, but when they reached the fork he headed up, toward the fire lookout tower.

"What's...so...important...up here?" Wren said, puffing breaths between words as she stepped up the trail behind the ranger. God, he was in shape. She needed to go back to basic training at CSE. She needed—

As soon as they rounded the last curve of the trail, Wren stopped in her tracks. Partially because she was out of breath, but mostly because of what lay in front of her.

A red checked picnic blanket lay out in front of the fire lookout on the grass, with two place settings laid out. Dawson darted forward and pulled the top off of a platter to reveal a stack of chocolate chip pancakes steaming in the morning cool.

"Oh my gosh," Wren said. She caught her breath and stepped forward. There was a plate of strawberries on the side, and pots of syrup and whipped cream. Two glasses brimmed with what looked to be fresh-squeezed orange juice. In the middle of everything Dawson stood expectantly.

"I know you said you wouldn't go to dinner with me, but I thought maybe breakfast would be okay."

Wren burst out laughing. She'd been ready to find a dead body half-chewed to death at the top of the trail. To have this instead was... was...

"It's perfect," Wren said. "I would love to have breakfast."

"Good. Because we have to finish all this food to keep the bears away, and I don't think I can eat all of these pancakes by myself."

"I bet you could," Wren said, but she sat down cross-legged on the picnic blanket anyway. Dawson beamed and sat down beside her.

For the next hour, they chatted about her work and his. He told her about growing up in southern California and moving north to become a ranger in the state park. She told him about growing up in Chicago and then afterward, when she'd moved all over the country for her work. She was vague on the details of her consultancy, but freely talked about the places she'd lived—New York, Boston, Atlanta, Phoenix. Then, finally, Washington.

"All big cities, huh? You're a city girl?"

"That's where the work is," she said with a sigh.

"Not if you're a squirrel wrangler."