Prickly Business (14 page)

The choked sound Avery made was worth it. His mate probably believed that for the past two years Dylan hadn’t thought anything about him, but he’d be wrong. Even back when Dylan was trying to avoid all things Avery, he still watched and did his research. He knew more about hedgehogs than he ever thought one wolf should know. And he’d unintentionally made a mental catalog of the few times he’d observed Avery out in public—the things he ate and drank and the places Dylan had seen him or had heard he’d been.

“Thanks.” Avery’s soft appreciation spread warmth through him.

Dylan nodded and focused on the menu.

“So music… that’s your thing?” Christ, could Dylan sound more awkward?

Avery lifted a shoulder. “I guess. It’s just something that happened, really. I like music, all types.”

“I noticed.” Dylan grinned, and they turned to the pretty, young redhead who stepped up to their table to take their order.

He welcomed the distraction. How was it that being with Avery felt so natural with every encounter they had? Hell, even when they had been avoiding each other, the stilted barbs and disagreements with what little connection they’d formed were easy.

Avery cleared his throat. “So, you… ah…. What do you do? For fun, I mean?”

He quirked a brow at his mate. “Mostly I work on my bikes. Sometimes I mess around with the Firebird, but she’s fairly perfect, so I don’t really touch as much as admire her.” His lips twitched at the glazed-over look in Avery’s eyes. Dylan could talk about his vehicles all day—they were his first love—but it was obvious Avery had very little interest there. So he changed the subject. “I read when I can.”

“Oh yeah?” Avery blinked hard. “What do you read?”

“Little of this, little of that. I like mysteries mostly—Harlan Coben, David Baldacci kind of stuff. I like a good psychological thriller or legal drama too. The best ones make me think. You read?”

His mate didn’t strike him as the type, but Avery had surprised him in more ways than one.

The cute way his face scrunched up melted Dylan a little. “Some. Not a lot, though.” The blush that darkened his cheeks made Dylan curious.

“Yeah? What do you read?”

Avery mumbled so softly not even Dylan’s exceptional hearing could pick it up, and he dropped his gaze to the tabletop.

“What’s that?”

Avery sighed and pulled his eyes back to Dylan’s. “Romance, okay. When I read—which is not a lot—I like romance.”

Dylan could see that about his mate. A closet romantic. Avery might try to erect walls around himself so people wouldn’t see the real him, but Dylan got it. He saw his mate. And what he saw, he liked.

He grinned and nodded, and instead of taking advantage of Avery’s embarrassment, Dylan said, “Cool. So reading. Music. Anything else I should know about you?”

Another hitch of the shoulder from Avery. “I like to dance.”

Dylan knew his mate liked clubbing. It was something Dylan tried to avoid talking about. He didn’t want to think about why Avery went or what he did when he was there.

“Whatever’s going through your mind, stop.” Avery cut through his thoughts.

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were, and it’s fine, really. It’s… it’s what I expected. Hell, it’s what I put out there. It is what it is.” He grinned, volleying Dylan’s words back to him.

“But I—”

Avery held up a hand, shutting him down again. “It’s okay. Look, we both said and did things we’re not proud of. I’m not saying I’m not proud of who I am, and I don’t regret the things I’ve done.”

Dylan exhaled a thin breath. Avery was damned sexy. He probably had a harem following him around when he went to clubs. A rumble vibrated his chest at the thought.

“Are you saying all this time you haven’t been getting laid? It’s been two years, Dylan. I don’t expect you to be a monk, and really, if you’re a virgin, then I’m King Kong.” Avery winked, the jerk.

Dylan snorted. “I get it, but no more, okay?”

“You can’t just go around demanding—”

Holding a hand up, Dylan sighed. “Look if you want to fuck other people, fine, tell me now.” Christ, maybe this was a bad idea all around. “I’m not promising forever, and I’m not asking for it. But I’m not the man you want if you think I’m gonna sit back and watch you prance around and make me look like an idiot.”

“I don’t prance,” Avery mumbled. Huffing, he leaned back, crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes, and clenched his teeth. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No more clubs or no more… you know?”

Dylan knew. Clubs weren’t his deal, but if Avery needed to let loose every once in a while—to dance—he thought he could be okay with it. Maybe.

Suddenly the thought of Avery going to a club alone pulled at the possessive side of Dylan for two very different reasons. Imagining Avery dancing, moving that graceful body. For him. Well, that alone was worth dealing with overcrowding, watered-down drinks, and too-loud music. Then again, the thought of other men—and women, for that matter—all over his mate….

“No, just not… not….” Dylan sighed. “If we’re going to do this….”

“You and me?”

“Yeah, if you and I are doing this, then….”

“I’m not fucking anyone else, Dylan.” He shrugged. “Don’t want to.”

“Fine,” Dylan huffed.

Avery didn’t look convinced. “If I want to go, I’ll take someone—Jaden or you.”

Dylan grimaced. If he had to. He didn’t want to sound like he didn’t trust Avery, because he did. He just wanted…. Well, he just wanted to be the only man who touched his mate, and those assholes at the clubs were sure to think Avery was available.

Reading Dylan’s thoughts, Avery said, “I promise to only go dancing. How’s that?”

“I didn’t….” He paused, because he wasn’t going to lie to his mate. “It’s not you that I don’t trust, Avery.”

His smile was warm and gentle. “I get it, but I’m not an idiot. I know what I have in front of me. I can handle myself. And I fully believe in the buddy system. I don’t go unless I have Jaden with me anyway. And if he can’t go, at least now I know I can call you.”

“Yeah, you can call me any time.”

“You’re gonna growl at everyone who comes near me, aren’t you?”

Dylan tilted his shoulders in a shrug.

“You’re an ass.” Avery pointed a finger in his face.

Dylan snapped at the finger with his teeth, and Avery jerked it back, laughing. “And you love it.”

Something passed through Avery’s eyes, but before Dylan could figure out what it was, it was gone.

Their food arrived—Dylan’s steak and eggs and Avery’s tofu garden scramble—and the conversation slowed. When they did talk, Avery told him more about his family in Louisiana. He enjoyed Avery’s stories from the plantation. He and his siblings, left to get into trouble in the middle of nowhere. Dylan especially liked Avery’s recounting of his time with his grandmother and her love for jazz classics. A faraway look glazed Avery’s eyes when he spoke of that time, like it was something good in his life he wanted to hold on to. A part of Dylan wanted to hold on to it for him, because it was apparent Avery hadn’t had too many of those good memories in his past.

Before Dylan knew it, they were both hovering over their empty plates, still talking low.

Avery glanced around. “I think they’re ready to close up.”

Dylan hadn’t noticed the rest of the patrons leave. When he turned to the counter, he saw Jenny pretending to wipe down the already sparkling surface with a clean rag.

Dinner had passed much too quickly for Dylan’s liking. “I think you’re right.”

Leaving was not what he had in mind when he turned back to Avery. The expression on Avery’s face was half heat and half… something else. Something sweet and real. God, he looked like some sort of innocent vixen, temptingly adorable.

The drive, much like the entire night, flew by, with Avery’s arms hugged warmly around his chest, his body leaned flush against Dylan’s back.

When he parked across the street from Avery’s building, neither of them moved to get off the Harley. Dylan pressed a hand to where Avery’s were joined at the base of his sternum. He wasn’t ready for the night to end, but the only next step in that direction involved going upstairs with Avery. Dylan had some thinking to do before that happened. A lot of thinking.

With a heavy sigh, Dylan pulled off his helmet and hung it over the handlebar, then got off the bike. When he turned, Avery stared up at him, his eyes so full of want and heat, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. The look scared Dylan as much as it called to him.

Shaking off the desire to drag Avery upstairs, Dylan removed Avery’s helmet and waited for him to dismount. “We’ll… um…. We’ll do it again, yeah?” Out of form, Dylan fumbled for the right words.

Avery didn’t move. His gaze, bright and unwavering, locked Dylan in place. Then Avery stepped forward, and Dylan felt himself drawing Avery into his arms. Avery lifted up on his toes, his fingers curling in the leather of Dylan’s coat, and brushed his lips across Dylan’s—a simple connection—and he was lost. He moaned into the almost chaste kiss.
Almost
because Avery ended it with a lick and nip to Dylan’s bottom lip that sent a jolt of fire rushing down his spine. It was full of promises—of what was to come, of what could be, of what they had to look forward to. Dylan blinked hard when Avery stepped back and out of his arms.

“Yes,” Avery answered, cheeks flushed. “We definitely have to do it again.” And with a bashful smile, he turned and trotted across the road to his building. At the door he turned around and waved, the grin on his face full of joy.

Dylan watched as Avery disappeared into the building, then mounted his bike and headed home. Even the booming clap of thunder and the accompanying, unseasonal downpour couldn’t wash away Dylan’s good mood.

He wasn’t sure where this thing between them was going. Despite all that he and Avery talked about over dinner, their first meeting hadn’t come up, but Dylan was positive now that one or both of them had gotten the wrong impression. And maybe it wasn’t too late to fix that.

Still, the seed of doubt niggled at the back of his mind. What if attraction wasn’t enough? What if mating wasn’t in the cards for Dylan?

Dylan ignored the worry for a little while, lingering on his night with Avery. And that kiss. It would be a while before he slept.

He was beginning to realize that with Avery in his life, he might never get a good night’s rest again.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
Friday morning, Avery sat in the van waiting for Mrs. Caudwell, one of the wolves on his route, outside of Dr. Scully’s office. Along with his partner, the doctor mainly treated shifters, but since they tended to be a healthy bunch overall, the doctors also saw human patients. There were no illnesses that could be transferred from humans to shifters or vice versa. Despite their many similarities, they were entirely different species—but there were pregnancies, injuries, and as shifters aged, they were susceptible to certain types of cancers and the infirmities that came with growing older. As time passed, their healing abilities lessened as well. Most of Dr. Scully’s patients were the elderly pack members.

Avery wasn’t thinking about Dr. Scully as he waited, though. For the umpteenth time this week, he found himself daydreaming. His thoughts lingered on his date with Dylan, on his immediate impression when he walked into that diner—cheap, greasy, tacky. At first it had put him off that Dylan would take him there, but as they talked and ate the admittedly fantastic food, it had struck him how friendly and down-to-earth the place seemed. How welcoming. How very… well, Dylan.

By the end of the meal, he’d relaxed and enjoyed himself. He really needed to work on his inclination to make snap judgments. Why hadn’t he learned by now?

Then came the ride and the kiss. He’d wanted to invite Dylan upstairs. He’d wanted more kisses. He’d wanted… so much.

Probably better that Dylan hadn’t come inside. With their history, if they rushed in, Avery could see their relationship imploding. Right now they were heading toward something good. They were at least beginning to understand each other and maybe becoming friends. If they could get beyond what had happened in the past. If Avery could ignore the huge amount of money he owed Dylan and the fact Dylan knew how much of a screw-up he’d been.

So, baby steps. That was how it had to be.

Still, Avery was happier than he could remember being in a long time—which was funny considering he’d traded his carefree life of clubbing and shopping for a job and nights at home. Maybe he felt better for being useful, and for contributing to the pack that could’ve felt like family if he’d only put in the effort before now. Or maybe it was Dylan.

Being close to his mate felt wonderful. Even if they weren’t together yet. For the first time ever, there was possibility, and that tiny little hint of a chance changed
everything
.

Avery pulled his phone from his pocket and rubbed his thumb across the screen, considering. He wanted to call Dylan and invite him out again. His fingers itched to dial that number and hear Dylan’s deep, familiar rumble. The one that never failed to rouse his cock.

No. Rushing is bad. Rushing will lead to disaster.

Besides, there was Mrs. Caudwell on her way to the van. He had to drop her off at home and finish his deliveries.

Avery put his phone away.
Later.

He hopped out of the van to open the back door for Mrs. Caudwell.

W
HEN
HE
arrived at the Acker house a few hours after taking Mrs. Caudwell home, Avery let himself in with the spare key Mr. Otis had given him earlier in the week. Mr. Otis had handed it to him with a shamed mumble about it being difficult to get to the door some days. Avery took the key, surprised at the level of trust Mr. Otis showed to a veritable stranger. Not that Avery would abuse it. He hadn’t missed Mr. Otis’s grimaces and stiff, pained movements. Avery had seen him wearing the prosthetic leg on occasion, but it seemed to bother him more than it helped. Usually he answered Avery’s knock in the wheelchair. If Avery could spare him the trouble, he saw no reason not to use the key.