Wolf on Board (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 14) (7 page)

“Thank you,” he said, the whisper so soft she barely heard it. Then the skies opened up and the rain hammered down on them.

Lifting her head, she glanced upward at the pouring rain as it began to soak her through and laughed. A moment later, Jake’s masculine rumble joined her before he lifted her off the ground and spun her in a circle. Gripping his shoulders, she trusted his hold and let her head tilt so she could keep her face to the sky.

The rain was cool, but not cold and the man holding her was far warmer so it wasn’t like she would get a chill. He danced in a circle and carried her along. Their laughter rose and fell as the lightning flashed. The absurd and the insane entwined together to lift the darkness from his soul and the rain washed it away.

If she were totally honest, it buoyed her as well. The confusion in his scent gave way to healthy, vibrant—if damp—male. Pushing aside the doubt and the apprehension her enjoyment of him aroused, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself to the dance in the rain.

Tomorrow would simply have to take care of itself.

T
hat first night
of rain led to two more and, despite his usual proclivities for finding the best waves during a storm, Jake stuck close to Mimi. Mitch called them twice a day, but otherwise kept his distance. He’d as yet to locate Mimi’s mystery wolf. In and around the rain, Jake took time to clean out his van and wash his clothes. The latter more because Mimi threatened to make him stay outside in the hammock instead of in the bed in her guest room if he walked his smelly ass clothes through her little bungalow again.

He presumed she meant his clothes, since he had showered at least twice since he’d come home with her. While he cleaned out his van and laundered his clothes, Mimi tortured him with food experiment after food experiment. Most were hits. He particularly liked the beef Bolognese. But when she missed, good gravy on bad toast, did she miss. Digging deep for a kind word on her mozzarella and zucchini focaccia bread pizza thing had left him floundering. Fortunately, she only made him choke down two pieces before letting him off the hook.

When day three dawned without rain, he’d pulled his surfboard out to wax it, then got to work on reorganizing the back of the van entirely. He’d created a lot more space and wiped it all down, then decided to pull out the air mattress to clean. Finally, he cleaned out his linens and carried them into the house through the open french doors. The scent of sugar, vanilla, chocolate and strawberries enveloped him one step into the door.

From the kitchen, he heard an “ugh” followed by Mimi pushing open the swinging door. At the same time, they both chorused, “What’s that smell?”

She eyed his linens with a curl of disgust. “I thought you cleaned your clothes.”

“I did…these are sheets.”

“Those are not sheets.”

He glanced at the fabric. Sure, it had some worn spots and frayed edges and they were gray. Once upon a time, they’d been white, but he didn’t typically invest in bleach for his laundry and, really, what color went with van? “They’re fine, as sheets go,” he shrugged. “They cover the air mattress and they cover me. That’s all that matters.”

“They stink.” She glanced towards the side room where she kept the washer and dryer. “I also have a load in, so those need to go back outside.”

Jake gave them a sniff then shrugged. They smelled a little bit like sweat, salt and the back of his van. “I’ll stow them on the deck for now, if you don’t mind. What are you doing in there?”

“Nothing.” She vanished behind the swinging door. Curious about the panicked look on her face, he dumped the linens outside then prowled through the house to the bar separating her kitchen from the living room. The counter had several bowls with various types of batter. He spotted a whipped topping thingie lying on its side. Following his nose, he glanced at a handful of frosted cupcakes sitting on the counter just below the bar. Candied strawberries decorated the red and white swirled frosting.

The invitation of the decadence had him reaching over to sneak one while she filled another cupcake pan. He’d barely closed his fingers on the edge of the cupcake when a wooden spoon slapped his hand. “Ow.”

“No one said you could do that.” Mimi scowled at him.

“I didn’t know I needed permission to steal a cupcake.” He went for charming. It had a fifty-fifty shot of working.

“Who said you could steal it in the first place?” The adorable little wolf actually put her hands on her hips.

“No one tells you that you can steal something, sweetheart. That’s why it’s called stealing.” Elbows propped on the bar, he tilted his head and stared at her. “Making these for a special occasion?”

“No.” Her mouth twisted then she nudged the plate a little farther out of reach, but he was patient. “I’m just baking.”

“Just baking as opposed to transforming your kitchen into a bakery?” The same kitchen where she had several different bowls and a few splatter spots where the cake batter had spilled.

“It’s not a bakery,” she said, then pivoted and returned to the stove to retrieve an oven mitt. While she busied herself pulling out a dozen fresh baked—he checked the scent—chocolate cupcakes, he eased a step to the left, closing the distance between himself and the strawberry cupcakes. “It’s just some practice for my class. I take one, remember?”

Oh, he definitely remembered. “You take several.” She’d done yoga each morning, much to his delight. He’d walked out one morning to find her in the most interesting position in her living room. Then later he’d gone with her to her cooking class, and wandered the downtown area while she cooked. She’d left that with some noodle dish with cilantro in it—dirty dishes probably tasted better, but he’d choked it down for her.

“I do…” She set the tray of chocolate cupcakes on a cooling rack then added the next batch to the oven while he eased another inch closer. “These are for my cupcake class. They want us to be able to stripe our flavors at the next class and possibly do cheesecake, but I can’t figure out how to half cook the cupcake layer before I add the cheesecake layer, then finish it totally, so I’m experimenting. These are study cupcakes.”

Study cupcakes? He was so incredibly not going to touch that line. “Cool. So which ones have the cheesecake with them?”

“None of them!” A huff as she examined her chocolate cupcakes, then pulled out another pan. “I am trying to measure the amount of batter versus cook time versus fluffiness. Different flavors, different textures, different timing…these are a little overcooked I think.” She poked at the top of the cupcake. “The strawberry ones are a little undercooked, but I set them up in the freezer part time to speed their setting and that seemed to work, but I don’t think they are right for the cheesecake combo because they need longer to bake…”

In some part of his soul, Jake actually felt his mind glazing over. Who cared that much about cupcakes? “Did you taste them?”

“Taste them? No, just the texture test, but I made two dozen of them, and I broke up the first dozen at different points in time…I actually took the second set and finished coring them so I could add a faux cream filling, so they are like strawberry shortcake—kind of. I will do the taste test when they are all ready, because then I need to modify the recipe.” She glanced at her watch then returned to her center island and eyed her various batters.

Jake made it another inch to the left. One more and he’d be able to reach the cupcakes again. “Why not use the timer?”

“Cause that’s already set for the cupcakes in the oven.” Which told him less than nothing about why she was looking at her watch. She added chocolate chips to one of her batters and began to mix it vigorously.

“Okay…” Before he could continue, a chime sounded from her laundry room.

“I need to swap my clothes to the dryer, so you can wash your stinky sheets.” She set aside the bowl, wiped her hands on a towel, and then dashed out of the kitchen. “Don’t touch the cupcakes,” she called back and he snatched his hand away from them before she noticed he’d reached for them again.

Not muttering, he abandoned his post and went to retrieve said stinky sheets. He waited till he heard the thump of the dryer door before sliding into the room to stuff his load into the washer. She made a face and waved her hand.

“What did you do? Roll in the dirt before you slept in them?”

Sniffing imperiously, Jake lifted his chin. “Sand, if you must know, and sometimes I just crashed after a night surf. The salt and sand sometimes stuck to me and I was too tired to shower.” He didn’t think they smelled all that bad.

Once the load was started, she waved him out of the laundry room, so he trailed her back to the kitchen. She checked her watch again.

“Are you in a hurry, babe?”

“Sort of, I have a painting class this afternoon, and I don’t want to be late. It’s on landscapes, and I’ve never been good at those.”

Art classes. Exercise classes. Cooking classes. “I’m surprised you don’t have music lessons.”

“I do,” she said over her shoulder as she resumed her watch over the batters. He settled into the kitchen next to the strawberry cupcakes, though he kept his back to them and his arms folded. Best to lull his prey into false complacency.

“You do?” Surprise skittered through him.

“Guitar lessons start next week. I found a guy down near your beach, which is why I was there doing yoga the other morning. I wanted to scout the area before I started going there regularly.”

“Fingerless Gary is going to teach you guitar?” The old vet sat there three or four times a week, strumming his guitar with his prosthetic hand. Despite the rude nature of the nickname, Jake liked Gary. He was a decent guy who’d had some hard luck over the years. As far as Jake knew, Gary didn’t have a home. He played for money with his guitar and earned enough to eat.

Those days he didn’t, Jake dropped some extra bills into the man’s case. Who was he to judge how the old man spent his time?

“Yes, though I wouldn’t call him that name. Gary Johnson plays really well, and I’ve seen him a couple of times at the community center where I studied pottery…”

Good lord, she had another hobby.

“I truly suck at pottery, but Gary was pretty good at it. He told me it’s in the control of his fingers, and he offered to teach me guitar. Since music lessons are on my list, I accepted, but only if I can pay him. I think he’s homeless, but he’s a nice guy and I want to help him.” The echo of his internal narrative where the vet was concerned pleased him. “I plan to start meeting him out at the beach a couple of times a week, but I have to find a guitar first. I have that on my list of things to look for.”

“Guitar, check.”

The timer on the oven dinged. “Dammit. Hand me a pan from the set beneath the cupboard behind you.”

Obeying, he squatted down and got out another cupcake pan while she removed her batch from the oven. Hustling, she raced around the kitchen and snatched the pan and then loaded it with cupcake sleeves, then began to pour her batter. A minute later, she had another set loaded into the oven.

“What time is your painting class?”

“One,” she said with another glance at her watch. It was just after eleven. They had plenty of time.

“Okay, so two hours. Can I help?” Volunteering for cooking duty wasn’t his favorite, but she was so harried and adorable.

“Yes, just go out and let me concentrate…oh, and take the trash out for me, too?”

Trash he could totally do. “You got it. How about I clean up when you’re done? You can just stack any bowls, utensils, everything in the sink, and I’ll wash up when we get back from your painting class.”

“I—I would appreciate that. You don’t have to go with me.” She grabbed another pan from the cabinet and began setting it up for more batter.

“I know, but I figured I could hit the grocery store, take a walk, and watch your back at the same time. You haven’t heard from Mitch today, have you?” After all, the whole reason he’d been staying at the bungalow had been at the Enforcer’s request. Though they’d danced in the rain and managed to watch a whole movie with only a minor popcorn fight, he’d mostly kept his hands to himself.

“Only that he hadn’t tracked the wolf yet, but he had something urgent come up and he’d be in touch.” Mimi sighed as he pulled out the garbage sack, then added a fresh bag to the can. “Thanks, Jake…you know, for putting up with my crazy.”

Pausing, Jake leaned over and dropped a light kiss to her batter speckled nose, then a second kiss on her lips when she froze. “I like your crazy.” He winked. “Now bake, woman, bake.”

Leaving her, he grabbed the trash bag with one hand then sneaked a strawberry cupcake with the other. Whistling, he made it all the way to the door before she said, “I saw that.”

He grinned, but still fled with his prize in hand.

J
ake
not only went with her to her art class, but also to both of her cooking classes and shopping. He added plenty to her cart she hadn’t planned for her recipes, but assured her he knew how to cook—sloppy joes, tacos, and some godawful thing called meat-losh. She’d enjoyed them all surprisingly, even the last thing. When he cooked in her kitchen, he wouldn’t let her touch anything, so she’d spent the time sitting on the counter and sketching while he chopped, sliced, diced, and threw his concoction together.

Each day, he asked her what she had planned and tagged along. Five days they’d spent together, with him sleeping in her guest room. Other than the kiss he’d given her before stealing a cupcake, he hadn’t made a single move in her direction. Not even when she could scent his interest. Respecting the choice, she kept her distance. With no word from Mitch forthcoming on their foreign wolf, she decided to ask Jake what he wanted to do for a change.

The way his eyes lit up at her question should have warned her. “Do you know how to surf?”

No, she didn’t. So fifteen minutes after they finished their waffles, he loaded her into his van instead of her car and they were off to his beach. When they arrived, he dug around in the back while she sat in the passenger seat watching him. “What are you looking for?”

“You’re going to need a wetsuit. The water is damn cold.”

Mimi transferred her stare to the ceiling, or risk insulting him.

“Something wrong, pretty lady?” Jake’s voice came very close to her cheek and she glanced over to find he’d shifted his position to right behind her seat. They were nearly nose to nose.

“Not exactly…”

His eyes narrowed, while his nostrils flared. “You do know how to swim right?”

“Of course I know how to swim. All the Chase children learned. My father is a Hunter, do you really think there’s anything physical we didn’t learn how to do at a young age?” Learn and excel at. Though Owen remained the best at all of them, Mimi was no damn slouch.

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. Jake touched his forefinger to her cheek. “Then what’s worrying you?”

“Well, I’ve never surfed before, which means I have no idea what I’m doing.” Butterflies did the jitterbug in her belly. Wasn’t her whole trip to California about exploring an entirely different life? Letting her spread her wings, so to speak? Surfing was new, right? The thought did nothing to ease her nervousness.