Loaded: A Bad Boy Romance (28 page)

L
eah kept
her hands carefully folded in her lap as she watched Nathan try to make conversation with poor Emily. Years and years of training from her parents kept her still and quiet, even as inside, she was screaming and shaking.

She couldn’t believe the way she felt around him. Not that she had very much experience at all with men outside her family, but this was insane. Whenever he made eye contact, her insides went gooey, and it felt like a ball of hot magma was sliding down the inside of her body, from her stomach all the way down to the spot between her legs.

Not that he was looking at her very much. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, actually, and that made it even worse — he made her feel like this, shaky and nervous and sweaty, and he barely seemed to notice that she was in the same room.

If I’d known it was going to be him
, Leah thought to herself
,
I’d have argued more with mother
.

As it was, she wanted to let her hair down, cross the room, and throw herself on him, and he didn’t seem to notice that she existed.

That’s well enough
, she told herself.
You’re betrothed, remember? To Ian, your soulmate?

Even the thought felt sour and stale.

“Um, I really like embroidery,” Emily was saying in her quietest, meekest voice. “Sometimes I do custom pieces for the women in town, but there isn’t very much demand.”

“Embroidery is sewing, right?” asked Nathan, his eyes practically boring into Leah’s little sister.

Emily just nodded, her eyes nervously flicking from Nathan to the floor and back.

“What kind of things do you embroider?” he asked her.

“Pillows, sometimes? Wall hangings.”

There was a long silence as both of them seemed to try and think of something to say. Nathan had been trying valiantly to make conversation, but he looked like he was plumb out of leads, and poor, chronically shy Emily was clearly terrified that this enormous, handsome man in a leather jacket was interested in her.

“She did all the edging in my trousseau,” Leah offered.

Nathan barely glanced at her before looking back at Emily, like he was deliberately trying to pretend she wasn’t there.

“What’s a trousseau?” he asked, refusing to make eye contact with Leah.

He won’t even look at me
, she thought. Her heart sank.

“The marital bed linens,” Leah said. She’d forgotten for a moment how different their clans were. “In our clan, women usually make all the sheets and pillowcases and covers for their marital bed.” She shrugged. “It’s sort of a preparation for marriage, I guess.”

“Leah has a really big trousseau,” Emily offered in her soft little voice, seemingly relieved that the conversation was no longer about her.

Thanks, kid
, Leah thought, though she couldn’t be mad at her little sister.
Make me sound like the batty old spinster I am
.

Maybe thirty-two wasn’t that old to be unmarried in some places, but among the Yukon clan, it was practically ancient. If you weren’t married by twenty-four, people started looking at you funny.

“I’ve been working on it for a while,” she said, trying not to sound bitter. She didn’t want to sound that way in front of this perfectly gorgeous man, the one who made her feel so
funny
, even if he was there for her kid sister and refused to make eye contact.

Leah’s other sister, Abigail, appeared in the doorway.

“It’s dinner time,” she said.

Leah thought she might pass out from relief.

E
ven though the
house where they were staying had come furnished, its dining room table wasn’t nearly big enough for all eleven of them. When you had seven siblings, it was rare that anything was big enough: houses, cars or bank accounts.

They’d found two folding tables somewhere in the house and set them up next to the main table, making it all one long, if slightly shaky, eating surface.

Then, her father spent most of the meal grilling Nathan about himself, no one else really saying anything. Leah sat far on the other end of the table from Nathan so she wouldn’t have to notice him avoid her eyes.

“Tell me what kind of carpentry you do,” boomed Jonah, his voice commanding even as he, in theory, made polite conversation.

“A little bit of everything, actually,” said Nathan. He’d finally taken off his jacket at her mother’s insistence, and underneath he was wearing a blue-and-white plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal heavily muscled forearms, a tattoo of a bear outline with a constellation in on one.

Leah was discovering that she liked a man with nice forearms. Even though she had to lean pretty far forward to see Nathan’s face with four of her siblings in the way, she could see the way his hands moved a little as he talked, the way he gripped his fork as he ate her mother’s pot roast.

Even that made the heat rise to her face, and she hoped no one noticed.

“Your alpha said that right now you’re working on a kitchen remodel.”

Nathan’s hand twitched a little, the muscles in his forearm flexing.

“I’m finishing up the cabinets this week,” he answered. “They should be done before too long. I also do a lot of custom furniture.”

“You make a good living?”

There was that twitch, again. Leah knew that he probably wasn’t used to quite this level of nosiness on a first date, if this was even a date. Emily hadn’t said a word since the meal had started, but her father had already inquired after the purity of Nathan’s bloodline, Nathan’s place in his clan, and his older brother’s abandonment of the North Star pack.

She was pretty sure this wasn’t how most people dated.

It was more or less how I dated, though
, she thought, and then remembered Ian’s face with a guilty rush.

He’s my fiancé
, she reminded herself.
Stop looking at this other man already
.

Although she hadn’t heard or read any of her father’s and Ian’s communication, she was certain the exact same questions had been asked. Of course, she hadn’t been invited to take part until the very end, so at least Emily was getting to know her suitor a little better than Leah had.

Ian’s your soulmate and you love him
, she reminded herself automatically.

God, she wanted that to be true.

Her sister Abigail nudged her elbow, and the two of them rose, collecting the dirty plates from the rest of the table, something that had been women’s work since Leah had been tall enough to reach. She did it automatically, not realizing until it was too late that she’d be the one taking Nathan’s plate away.

As she reached over him, her arm grazed his.

There was that feeling again, the electricity that sent shivers down her spine.

Then Nathan jerked away without even looking at her, responding to something else her father had said.

Leah rushed to the kitchen, fighting back tears.

What is wrong with me?
She thought, dumping the dishes in the sink.

“Will you slice the pie? I always ruin it,” said Abigail, coming in behind her, her arms full as well.

Leah turned her back and walked for the door.

“One minute, I gotta pee,” she said, and vanished before Abigail could tell that anything was wrong.

In the bathroom, she flushed the toilet for realism’s sake and then soaked a wash cloth in cold water, holding it to her reddened eyes.

You seriously cannot freak out over this
, she told herself.
It’s nothing. It’s nerves. You’re about to marry your soulmate and this is all just normal stress-stuff.

Leah thought that maybe if she said it enough times, she’d start thinking it was true, even though deep down she knew it wasn’t,

She remembered something her mom had told her, once, when her father had just started discussing the match with Ian:
You’ll learn to love him
.

The advice had come as a shock, after being raised on the fairy tales of shifters who were soulmates, after being told that every couple she knew had experienced love at first sight, that special
knowledge
that they were right for each other.

Apparently, that wasn’t always true.

Leah exhaled, hard, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were almost back to normal, and if anyone noticed something wrong, she could blame it on chopping onions earlier.

“There you are,” said Abigail when Leah came back into the kitchen, setting out dessert plates on the counter for Leah to scoop pie onto. “You just ran outta here like your tail was on fire.”

“Sorry,” Leah said, making the first, perfect cut in her signature strawberry-rhubarb pie.

N
athan wouldn’t look
at her during dessert, either, though Leah managed to make sure that Abigail, not her, gave him his pie.

As soon as he bit into it, she could tell he didn’t like it.

Good
, she thought, just a little bit angry.
At least I won’t marry someone who doesn’t like my baking
.

She did pride herself on her baking.

“What kind of father do you think you’ll be?” asked Jonah.

Leah sneaked a glance down at Nathan, who looked very much like he was trying not to look nervous. Quizzing someone about his future children when he’d only said a handful of words to his possible mate was probably outside the norm, too, though Leah had watched it happen to both her sisters’ husbands.

“My parents were pretty strict, and I turned out okay,” he said. It didn’t exactly answer the question, but it was close enough.

“Didn’t your brother run off with a girl?” asked Jonah, and even watching nothing more than Nathan’s hand, she could see him stiffen.

“It’s been a few years,” he said, and Leah did feel bad for him now. She tried to get her father to meet her eyes, hoping she could somehow convey
just let the man eat his pie
, but he wouldn’t look at her, his gaze locked onto Nathan, his prey.

“Didn’t he fight to take Alpha first?” said Jonah. He was holding his fork almost like it was a weapon, not even looking at his pie.

“Yep,” said Nathan, his tone sounding the littlest bit angry, like he was keeping himself in check but barely. “He was alpha for about twelve hours, and then he drove off with his girlfriend.”

Jonah Whitehorse seemed to consider this for a moment and he carefully cut the corner from his pie, scooped it onto his fork, before he finally spoke, lifting it to his mouth.

“Interesting,” he said.

Nathan didn’t respond, but his gaze swept over the rest of the Whitehorses — everyone but Leah. He skipped right from her father to her sister, passing her by like she didn’t even exist.

Leah clenched her jaw and cut through the buttery pie crust until her fork clinked loudly against her plate. She didn’t even understand why she was so upset — just because she found him so attractive, he was supposed to want her back?

It’s more than that
, a voice in her head whispered.

She took another bite of pie, trying to quiet that voice.

The questioning continued through the rest of dessert and then coffee, also served by the Whitehorse women, though again Leah managed to get out of having to be near Nathan.

Nathan seemed to be getting increasingly frustrated and agitated as it ground on, which Leah could tell through the funny little tics he had. The way the skin tightened around his eyes or how he held his fork.

She couldn’t tell if anyone else noticed.

Finally, with the meal over, it was time for Nathan to leave. Leah couldn’t tell if she was relieved or upset.

“The pie was very good, Abigail,” he said as they all stood around the table, formally saying their goodbyes.

“It was Leah’s, actually,” she said.

“Oh. Thank you,” he said, without even bothering to look at Leah.

Inside her, something snapped.

He didn’t have to like her pie. He didn’t even have to know her name, but if he going to compliment
her
pie, he had to give her credit.

After all, it was
her pie
.

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said, her voice ice-cold.

“Emily, why don’t you walk Nathaniel to the door,” said her father, in a tone of voice that said it wasn’t a suggestion.

Quietly, she stepped forward, put her hand on his arm —
Why does she get to touch him and not me,
thought Leah — and they walked into the hall, out of sight of the rest of the family.

Cleaning up in the kitchen, Leah could hear them talking. Or, at least, Nathan was talking, not much more than the usual goodbye pleasantries.
I had a lovely time, I’m so glad that you could come
, that sort of thing.

Nothing that conveyed the sort of pure light and heat she felt when she so much as looked at him, even if he couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge her presence.

Finally, the front door opened and shut.

Alone for a moment in the dining room, Leah made a split-second decision and bolted for the door as well.

N
athan stepped back
into the cool night air and felt relief wash over him in a wave.

That was, by far, the worst first date he’d ever had in his whole life.

Not only had it been with someone fifteen years younger than him — someone who was, for all intents and purposes, still a child — but the entire time, he’d barely been able to stop thinking about her older sister. It was like she radiated something, some
drug
, and with her around it was almost impossible for him to think about anything but her scent, her beautiful eyes, the possibility of taking her in his arms and carrying her to the sofa in the next room and then taking her frumpy dress off—

“Hey!” shouted a voice, and Nathan turned, surprised.

There she was, stomping through the slightly overgrown front yard, her hair a wild mess.

She was
alone
, and if he’d learned anything from his ordeal that night, it was that unmarried Whitehorse women were
not
supposed to be alone with adult men.

“Leah,” he said, standing still in shock, almost afraid that if he moved he wouldn’t be able to control himself anymore.

“Oh, so you
do
know my name,” she said, stomping up to stand right in front of him.

Her cheeks were flushed again. Her eyes were bright, but most distractingly, her chest was heaving, pressing up against her dress with every breath.

“Of course I know your name,” he said. “You took a tart straight from my mouth at your—” he couldn’t make himself say
betrothal
— “at your party.”

Something in her softened, her lips parting just the tiniest bit.

“Why do you hate me?” she asked, her voice suddenly no longer angry. She just sounded sad, and a little wistful, and Nathan felt like a giant hand was crushing his heart, just to hear her that way.

“I don’t hate you,” he said.

“You wouldn’t even look at me,” she said, her tone bewildered and confused.

“That’s not true.”

She snorted and looked away, her jaw working.

“Why would you think that?” he said.

His stomach worked itself into a knot at the thought.

Hate was the polar opposite of how he felt.

“You can’t even make eye contact with me when I’m talking,” she said. “It’s like you’re pretending I don’t even exist, and I want to know
why
.”

Nathan felt awful. It was completely true. He’d been doing his best not to look at Leah over dinner, because he was afraid of what his bear might do. Every time he saw her, even from the corner of his eye, he wanted to grab her and take her far away, somewhere that her family wouldn’t be around, where she wouldn’t be engaged to someone else, and where he could sink himself into her sweet, soft flesh...

“You’re doing it now,” she said, her arms crossed in front of her generous bosom. “You’re staring at the woods behind me.”

Nathan redirected his gaze back into her eyes, two perfect pools of blue. He felt like he was falling into them, drowning, the rest of the world utterly inconsequential.

Her lips parted, just a few millimeters, and it was all he could do not to press his own against them.

“Nathan, what is this?” Leah whispered softly, still staring up at him.

She can feel it too,
Nathan realized.

“I was afraid of what I might do,” Nathan murmured.

Her forehead wrinkled, just a little, and she finally broke their gaze.

“It’s because I can’t think about anything else when you’re around,” Nathan said, the words coming out fast and hard, like she’d broken their gaze and unstoppered a spout. “I can barely hear or see anything but you. It’s like you fill the air and you distract me from everything else.”

Now she wouldn’t look at him at all.

“When we met it knocked the wind out of me,” he went on, feeling like a balloon with the air rushing out, but it felt
good
to admit it to her, to at least clear the air. “I didn’t know what had happened, but when that asshole shot a hole in the ceiling, I was ready to take on every single shifter in that room before I let one of them hurt you. I’m sorry, Leah, I know it’s not supposed to be like this. I know I’m ruining everything. You’re supposed to be getting married to Ian and here I am making a total ass of myself.”

Leah didn’t say anything, and she wouldn’t look at him directly, but she bit her lip and he saw her eyes brighten.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “Please don’t cry. I’m leaving, I promise.”

“Wait,” she said.

Nathan thought his heart might stop.

“I thought it was just me,” she whispered. “I thought you wouldn’t look at me because you couldn’t stand me.”

“Not at all. Not even close.”

They paused for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Nathan felt like he was falling endlessly, head over foot, into her, and he never wanted to come back up.

“I was so jealous I thought I might explode,” she said. “Of Emily, for getting you.”

“Not a chance,” Nathan said. “Not a single chance.”

Gently, his fingers almost trembling, he put one hand on her chin, his fingertips just barely brushing her soft, pale skin.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” He’d never asked permission before, but he’d never even been
near
someone like Leah before.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes sliding closed.

Just as Nathan bent down, his lips nearing hers, there was a shout from inside the farmhouse.

“Leah!” Jonah Whitehorse’s voice boomed.

Leah’s eyes flew open, only inches from Nathan’s, and now they bordered on terror.

“I have to go,” she said.

Then she gave his hand a quick squeeze in her own and ran back across the unkempt lawn, barefoot, to her front door, giving him one last glance before rushing inside.

Nathan was left standing in the driveway, open-mouthed and utterly unsure of what to do next.

I
nstead of going home
, Nathan rode his bike around for a while. Though Fjords was in a fairly flat little area, the mountains were only about thirty minutes outside town and before he knew it, he was on a two-lane mountain road, climbing higher and higher, the air getting chilly even in the summertime.

Muscle memory and sheer habit wanted him to turn toward Seward and head back to its seedy bars, but he didn’t go. He’d already proven to himself that there was nothing there for him anymore. Cruise ship women were a thing of his past.

All he could think about was Leah. He’d finally touched her, really
touched
her, and her skin had felt like rose petals and lava under his hands, soft and liquid and hot all at once. Nathan hadn’t known that just
touching
someone could feel like that, not to mention the rest of her.

The logical part of his brain knew it was probably a good thing that Jonah had called her back inside, because he didn’t know if he’d have been able to control himself. In another few minutes he’d have had her skirt up around her waist, her back in the grass.

He tried to imagine what it sounded like when Leah moaned in pleasure and a chill went down his spine.

I have to see her again
, was all he could think.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that she was going to marry someone else in, what, five more days? He also knew that her father was an absolute tyrant, and that she’d grown up obeying his every command.

But somehow, none of that mattered.

He
had
to see her again, and that was the one thing that he knew for certain. Everything else he’d figure out one way or another, but there was that one simple, soul-deep desire.

He had
to see her again.

I
t was late
, nearly midnight, when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Caller ID told him it was Brock, and so he pulled over to the side of the road, cut his engine, and answered it.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“I took a ride around the mountains,” Nathan said.

Brock was quiet for a moment. They had known each other for a long time, and Brock understood what that meant.

“So you didn’t hear the pandemonium,” Brock finally said.

Nathan began to get a bad feeling about this call.

“No. What happened?”

“One of the bride’s redneck cousins caused another ruckus,” Brock said. “Again.”

Nathan flinched when he heard Brock called Leah
the bride
.

“Oh.”

“He got drunk, picked a fight in a bar, shifted near humans, and then knocked over a traffic light on his way out of town.”

“Damn.”

“I need you to do something about him,” Brock said. “I talked to him and to Jonah about this after the engagement party, but it seems that we need something a little stronger.”

Nathan had that awful, crawling feeling in his gut, the feeling he got when Brock was asking him to do something really bad.

“How much stronger?”

“Rough him up and leave him in the woods. Couple of broken bones. They usually learn after that.”

Unbidden, Nathan thought again of Kaitlyn, of that horrible
snap
sound.

He was quiet for a long time, staring at the yellow lines on the road.

“Nathan?”

“I don’t think I can, Brock,” he said, slowly.

He thought of Leah, of her perfect, beautiful face staring up at him. How could she love someone who put her cousin in the hospital?

“Why not?” asked Brock.

Nathan was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

“I’d like to start being a better person,” he said.

He didn’t say,
I want to be someone that Leah could love
.

To his surprise, Brock chuckled.

“For Emily,” Brock asked. It wasn’t a question.

“Well, you know,” answered Nathan. He didn’t want to lie to his alpha, but he didn’t want to give himself away.

“Understood,” said Brock. “I’ll find someone else.”

Then he hung up the phone, leaving Nathan straddling his bike, on a road in the dark.

His refusal had gone surprisingly well.