Promising Peter (Bad Boy Alphas) (Shrew & Company Book 6) (16 page)

“I seem the same to you?”

He shrugged again. Grunted. “Do you hit my senses the same way? No. Your scent is more or less the same because you were born a Bear, but you take up a little less space energy-wise now.”

“I think the psychic stuff is gone.”

He cut her a sideways look before fixing his gaze on the road again. “Do you care?”

“I—” She clamped her lips shut on the answer. Reflexively, she was going to say
no
, but the truth was that she hadn’t given the changes in her abilities any thought. She’d been too busy thinking about drug company schemes and petty tyrants and Shrew schedules.

“I…I don’t really know. Do
you
care? I can’t believe that you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you’re an alpha Bear. You’re supposed to have a mate who has all the bells and whistles. I can’t
do
anything for you that you can’t do for yourself.”

“Stop trying to compare yourself to Tamara or any other Bear who has an unusual skill set. I’m certain Tamara wishes she were more like you in some ways.”

“Don’t blow smoke up my rear end, Peter.”

“I mean it. The way I see things, I’m coming out ahead in this match. I get a Ridge, and a lady who happens to be smarter than the average Bear.”

Groaning, she covered her face with her hands, and then let the laugh out. “Oh, yeah. Yogi Bear’s got nothing on me. That’s what a girl likes to hear.”

“Maybe the phrasing wasn’t all that romantic, but the words are still true.”

“I’ll take what I can get, I guess.”

Her eyelids were heavy again, and the rocking of the SUV made sleep tug at her brain, her eyelids.

She wedged the bag beside her on the seat and put her head against the window.

For her to not be panicking that she’d say some wrong thing or that she needed to continuously be making conversation lest he get bored was
weird
.

She didn’t feel panicky with him. She felt comfortable enough to just
be
, and she was surprised at how thrilling that simple pleasure was.

There were some obvious perks to having a fated mate.

“You need more things,” Peter stated as he stepped into Andrea’s sparsely furnished living room, and realized immediately how rude he’d sounded. “Sorry. No offense.”

She smiled as she closed and locked the apartment door. “No worries. You’re right. I moved most of my stuff back to my parents’ house after I abandoned the lease on my place in Asheville. Most of the furniture was so junky, I figured I’d just leave it there for my parents to do with as they saw fit.”

She stepped into the kitchen just off from the front door and opened the refrigerator. “Want some water?”

“Sure.”

She pulled the pitcher out and set it on the counter. As she opened cabinets, likely in search of glasses, he started scanning the apartment. He walked through the living room to the bank of windows and, by habit, checked to see they were secure.

Her apartment was on the third floor of the apartment block and, unlike every other apartment of the same age in Durham, lacked a balcony. That pleased him. The community was gated, and Andrea had two good locks on her door. Peter didn’t know whether they’d come standard or if she’d had them installed, but they assuaged his worry about her personal safety somewhat.

She must have caught on to him scoping her place, because she laughed, and said, “Quit it,” as she handed him his water glass. “Dana picked this place out for me.”

“Ah. That explains the features.”

“She used to have an apartment here before she and Patrick got married. I think there are lots of cops in the development. Some of them she likes, and some she doesn’t because of how they treated her when she was forced out of the police department after the SHREW study. Either way, they’re all good-enough cops, I guess.”

Peter grunted. He really needed to check and be sure he didn’t have any outstanding warrants. He imagined that if he did, Dana probably could make them disappear. The things that woman could accomplish when she set her mind to work were frightening. He was pleased to be able to call her a peer.

No, not a peer. A friend.

He wasn’t used to being able to think of people that way. His nomadic existence hadn’t allowed for meaningful connections, but being attached to Andrea meant he had no choice but to make them. Years ago, he might have been anxious at having so many people be privy to his secrets, but he was tired of being that man. Having Soren as his closest associate simply wasn’t enough anymore.

Peter craved more, and the woman in front of him was meant to give him what he needed. He still worried, though, that Andrea didn’t fully understand what she was getting with him. She claimed to, but he found that difficult to swallow. There was no way that she could know what kind of man he was and what sorts of things he’d done, and still be able to forgive him enough to like him. Or at least, do a little better than tolerate him.

His sipped water and, satisfied that the apartment was suitable, moved away from the window.

She followed him down the hall, turning on lights as she went. “There’s supposed to be a two-bedroom opening up across the breezeway in a couple of months. I’m on the waitlist for it. I figured I might as well be.” She sidled around him and opened the bedroom door. Turning on the light, she said, “I don’t know if I can justify the cost, though. I live alone, and no one ever comes to visit. Whenever Tamara and Bryan are in the area, they stay at Tamara’s place, and my parents don’t drive out here much.”

“One bedroom’s fine for you,” he said noncommittally, his gaze locked on her substantial four-poster bed with its fluffy down white cover and piles of plush pillows. She likely disappeared when she climbed into that heap of softness. Became the tiniest lump beneath the linens.

“Probably.” She set her glass on the bedside table—the left side, nearest the windows—and then walked to the closet. “I can’t think of any good reason to spend the money when I haven’t even had a chance to furnish this place yet.”

He could help with that. He had plenty of money because ghosts didn’t need possessions. Since he was giving up that lifestyle, he figured he should have some things. Maybe a fine leather chair in the living room. He could sit in it and clean his guns at the end of long, hard days while listening to Andrea puttering around in the kitchen.

Being presumptuous there, huh?

Sipping his water, he turned and watched her kick off her shoes and put her cardigan on a hanger.

“Do you cook?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to hashing my words. I don’t mean to be offensive.”
To you, anyway.
“I don’t cook at all, unless you count things like coffee. Faster and easier for me to buy ready-made.”

“I see.” She furrowed her brow and disappeared farther into the closet. “I do okay, but up until recently, I didn’t have enough of an appetite to want to cook much. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do more, soon. My mother has some really great family recipes I’d like to master. She used to do these huge Sunday spreads after church. Big roasts and a bunch of sides and desserts.”

“Church?”

“Yeah, most of the Ridge Bears are Protestant, believe it or not.”

“How can you be Protestant and pantheistic at the same time?”

She stepped out of the closet, smiling, and wearing plaid pink-and-white pajama bottoms and a gray Shrew & Company T-shirt. “We just are. You interested in philosophy?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh.” She turned off the closet light and moved to the dresser that held what looked like a jewelry box, a couple of hats, and a flat-screen television. She grabbed the remote control and then climbed onto the bed.

He watched her crawl to the head, wondering if he’d be issued an invitation to join her—wondering if he should bother even waiting for an invitation.

He let out a ragged exhalation and closed his eyes. He hated feeling so out of sorts. Normally, he knew precisely what to do with a woman. The mating season had muddled his brain, perhaps, or the hormones had made him a little more stupid. “My family doesn’t have those sorts of traditions,” he said, opening his eyes.

She nodded encouragingly.

Keep talking, then.
“We…moved around too much, never bothered rooting in that way.”

“You should have some traditions of your own.”

“I agree.” He wanted to make some with
her
.

She settled under the covers and turned on the television. “We can order pizza or something. I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while.”

“If that’s what you want.” Pizza wasn’t his favorite thing, but he didn’t want her to second-guess what she was hungry for.

“I don’t know what I want. There are limited delivery options. The only folks servicing this neighborhood are pizza places, one sub shop, and a Chinese food place Maria doesn’t trust, and she won’t tell me why.”

“I could go out and get you something if you’d prefer something else.”

“Trying to get away from me already?”

“No!” he said a little too sharply and a little too loudly.

Her eyes widened momentarily.

He dragged a hand through his messy hair and let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to think that leaving you is ever my intention.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I made a joke, and it fell flat, I guess. My fault.”

“Not your fault. And pizza is fine if you’re going to eat some.”

She gave a half smile and shrugged. “I’m feeling a pull toward pepperoni and bacon.”

“Then that’s what you’ll have.”

“But what do
you
want?”

“Don’t worry about what I want. Be selfish for a change. Have things your way.”

“That’s not easy for me. I wasn’t raised that way. That just isn’t the way Ridge Bears are.”

And that was probably why he was so thrilled she was his. If both of them were impossibly bossy, they would never accomplish anything in or out of the bedroom.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and tossed it idly from hand to hand. “What’s the name of the place?”

“Mama Esther’s. Tell them they’re delivering to Eastern Run and they’ll add breadsticks to the order. You can never have too many carbs, right?”

“Carbs are the goddess’s way of showing us she loves us.”

“My brother says the same thing about steak.”

Peter grunted. “Yeah, that sounds like Bryan.”

He stepped out the room to make the call. Leaving wasn’t necessary. He could have phoned the pizzeria right there in front of her and not have disturbed her television watching much, but he also needed a moment to get a hold of himself in private. The ride back from the mountains had very nearly broken him, and she hadn’t done much beyond sleeping. Perhaps her energy no longer took up the space it once had, but her scent remained intoxicating, and the part of him that was beast was becoming impatient again. He wanted to claim his mate, but once he did, there’d be no letting go. He’d never be able to rein himself back in or walk away from her. She needed to be sure.

And he needed to be sure she was sure. He didn’t want to wake up every morning looking into the face of a woman who had regret in her eyes.

He called in the pizza order. Twenty minutes, they said. No orders ahead of his, and the delivery guy was standing around swishing his rag along the counter.

So, for twenty minutes, he stood in front of the living room window looking out at the parking lot—at his SUV backed into the assigned space next to Andrea’s coupe, a little too close to it, maybe. She was parked nearly on top of the line, and if cars had been people, his would have been breaching the personal space of hers.

“Just like real life,” he muttered.

But even the vehicles looked right. Settled and comfortable as if that configuration was typical. Normal, in spite of the fact the parts shouldn’t have been complementary.

He gave the delivery guy some cash and a nice tip for hurrying over, and set the boxes atop the kitchen counter.

He walked to the bedroom to fetch Andrea in case she hadn’t heard the knock, and saw immediately why she hadn’t come out.

She was asleep, still clutching the remote control, and with her phone nearly sliding off her lap.

He hated to wake her. She probably needed the rest badly after spending a decade being at odds with her inner beast. But he also hated to see her lying there with her eyes closed. The sight reminded him of that paralysis she’d endured due to her stubborn inner bear—the one who hadn’t cared if her host lived or died and who hadn’t even left the woman with enough strength to fight back.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and her dark eyes immediately sprang wide open.

Frightened
.
Shit.

“It’s just me,” he said quietly.

“Damn.” She let out a long breath. Rubbed her eyes. “Sorry. I keep nodding off. You probably think I’m narcoleptic or something. That’d be a first for a Bear, huh?”

“You’re not a typical Bear. Stop trying to be one.”

Her smile was weak. “Old habits die hard. The pizza’s here?”

He grunted. “Where do you want to eat?”

“I’m getting up. I do occasionally eat in bed, but I see no reason to show you what a slob I am yet.” Giggling, she pushed the covers back and turned her body to dangle her legs over the edge of the bed. Then she stretched, raising her arms over her bed and arching her back as she yawned. More like a cat than a bear. Lean and lithe. Graceful.

Reflexively, he moved his hand to the slope of her long neck and trailed his fingers down it.

She looked up at him, uncertainty in her gaze, and he certainly understood why she’d be unsure. He felt that, too. He’d never been tentative with a woman. In the past, he’d only associated with the sorts of women who knew exactly what kind of man he was and who were fine with having his particular brand of company for an hour or two. They hadn’t wanted to be kept, and he hadn’t wanted to keep them.

But Andrea was whom the Bear the goddess dropped onto his lap. A gift he didn’t know what to do with. One he didn’t want to return, but one he wasn’t quite sure how to put together or utilize. She didn’t come with instructions, and his instincts regarding her weren’t reliable.

She pressed her cheek to his hand and looked away from his face—down to his chest.

“I’m in your way,” he said. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to. Wouldn’t unless she told him to.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

“Back from where?”

“You went to call in the order, but you didn’t come back. Why?”

He raised her chin, made her look at him.

She was blinking rapidly, and her cheeks were dark as plums. “You needed some space,” he said.

“
I
did?”

He grunted. “I’ve been in your face all afternoon.”

“I didn’t ask for space.”

“I imagine you’re not used to people giving it to you even when you do ask.”

She flinched and pulled his hands own to her lap. “You’re standing there in your boots like you’re about to leave. Are you leaving already? You have a call to go out on? Someplace you need to be?”

“There’s no other place I need to be right now.”

“Are you afraid the floor’s not clean enough to walk on? I promise it is.”

He chuckled. “No. If I take off my boots, I’ll get comfortable.”

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

He let out another ragged breath and squeezed her hand. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. I’ll find some spot in this place to claim as my own, and that spot will grow by the hour until the whole space and everything inside it is mine.”

Contrary to what she’d accused, he
did
understand alpha Bears, and knew enough about himself to guess what would happen if she gave him an inch. He’d want everything, and she wouldn’t say no. He never wanted her to feel like she had no choice in what she gave.

She swallowed. Her cheek twitched and anxious fingers stilled over his. “You don’t…want that?”

“I want that very much. Maybe too much.”

“So take it.”

“I don’t think you understand what you’re telling me.”

“I know exactly what I’m telling you. I’ve got a clear head, and I’ve never been able to make decisions so easily before. I can say without a sliver of doubt that I know what I want, and I want you.”