Trouble Walked In Read online

  “This isn't over,” the man warned, sneering.

  Ronan reached forward, snatching him by the collar. When he saw the man's eyes widen in fear, he leaned in close. His rage barely contained, he said, “Give me a reason, asshole. Give me a fucking reason so I can break you in half.”

  When he began to shake silently, Ronan dragged the man to the door and tossed him out onto the sidewalk. “Don't come back.”

  The door closed behind him with a thud. Ronan immediately scanned the room until he saw Moira, still rooted to the spot she'd been in. He approached her and asked, “You okay? Is your arm hurt?”

  She looked down at it blankly and then nodded. “Hurts a little, but it should be fine in the morning. I'm...I'm sorry about that. It'd be nice if we could have a normal night where you didn't have to protect me from something, huh?”

  “Moira,” he murmured as her eyes filled.

  She blinked rapidly, then held up a hand when he reached for her. “I don't wanna do this right now. Please just let me go back to work, Ronan.”

  He felt a pang in his chest when he noticed her teary eyes, but simply nodded. “Take a few minutes if you need 'em.”

  Moira let out a shuddering sigh and squeezed his hand gently. “Thank you,” she said as she walked back toward the bar.

  Ronan watched the smile come back to her face in increments over the next few minutes. By the time Ty came back, she seemed almost normal again. He handed the bar back over to Ty and then waited until he caught Moira's eye. He gestured that she needed to take her dinner break.

  Rather than wait for her, he went back into his office and tried to focus on paperwork again. It didn't take long before she was knocking gently on the doorframe. The apprehensive look on her face nearly broke his heart.

  “Hey. How's your arm?”

  “Better. A little red still. Asshole,” she grumbled. “I'm so sorry about that. I don't know how he found me, Ronan. I'll try to keep my drama out of the bar. I—”

  He held up a hand as he stood. Circling around the desk, he pulled her into his arms and said, “Shh. Stop, stop. I don't think he'll be coming back, sweetheart. It's not your fault.”

  Moira leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist. For a moment, she leaned on him, seemingly content to be held. He took advantage of that, bringing her over to the small couch and sitting her in his lap.

  “I should let you get back to work,” she protested weakly.

  “Let me hold you for a minute, then you can go,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  Even as she settled back against him, he realized that he was in way over his head. In the short time that he'd known her, she'd managed to work her way past his defenses. With every passing moment they spent together, he was more and more certain that she was his mate. He was also equally certain there was no way things could ever really work for them.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time she left Ronan's office, she felt a lot better. She'd been worried when Lyle, her father's lackey, had come into the bar trying to stir up trouble. The last thing she wanted to do was cause problems for Ronan. Technically, the bar was more than a few miles outside the city limits, so at least that wouldn't make him an easy target for her father. Moira had no doubt that this was far from over, though.

  As the evening wore on, she moved from table to table on autopilot. She caught more than one look of sympathy. God knew it was a small town, so she figured just about everyone knew she'd had a falling out with her father. Ronan was the only person who knew the particulars, so she supposed the added mystery only made it more interesting.

  When she saw the pitying look in Sarge's eyes, she said, “Jesus. Not you too. I conned you the other night and now you're feeling sorry for me?”

  He merely shrugged and grumbled, “You won it fair and square. You were right. I wouldn't have hesitated to take your money, sugar. Much as it stung getting my ass kicked by a girl. Where'd you learn to play like that?”

  “My dad taught me when I was little,” she said a bit sadly. Her father hadn't always been this power hungry. There had been a time when he'd been just like any other ordinary man. Then her mother died and everything went to hell.

  “Look,” Sarge said. “I don't know what your troubles are, but as long as you keep actin' fearless, people will eventually back off.”

  Moira snorted. “Says the man who's six-foot-seven. It's easy to be fearless when you can crush just about anyone.”

  “And even so, which one of us walked off with my twenty bucks the other night, sugar?”

  Despite his gruff words, it was clear what he was trying to say. She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Thank you for that.”

  She was surprised when he reached up and patted her hand awkwardly. As he released her, she pulled away and asked, “Another beer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Moira,” she heard Ronan's voice call out across the crowded bar.

  She watched as Sarge looked up at the bar. His eyes widened a bit and he said, “Well shit, girl. Get on outta here before I need to find a new place to drink. Ronan looks like he's gonna kick my ass.”

  “Sorry. Can't have that,” she said, heading back toward the bar. “Be right back with your beer.”

  She skirted through the crowd and slid under the end of the bar. “Something you needed?”

  “Don't fraternize with the customers, Moira. Just take drink orders,” Ronan snapped.

  What the fuck? He'd been fine with her talking to his customers before. That was part of the whole waitress thing. It was in her best interests to be both efficient and charming. Shaking her head, Moira reached into the cooler and grabbed another bottle of beer out of the back. Aggravation laced her voice when she asked, “Gee, boss. You want me to go give him his beer or would you rather?”

  Without a word, he took the bottle from her, popped the lid off, and then ducked under the bar. She watched, wide-eyed, as he placed it on the table and said something to Sarge. After a few seconds, they both glanced up at the bar and then Sarge nodded.

  Moira rolled her eyes and slid out from underneath the bar. Now wasn't the time to address this, but they certainly would. She didn't want him acting like a damned caveman any time she had a conversation with another guy. Christ. Sarge was old enough to be her father. He had to have at least ten years on Ronan.

  Around one in the morning, Ronan slipped out from behind the bar and went into the back without further comment. Moira breathed a sigh of relief. She found it was rather difficult to do her job when Ronan was clearly angry with her.

  “Wow,” Ty commented. “What the heck did you do to him?”

  “He's being a jealous idiot,” Moira answered. “I made peace with Sarge and Ronan just kinda flipped out on me.”

  “I've never seen him act like this before. Maybe you're something special,” Ty suggested.

  “So the crazy jealousy isn't normal?”

  “Nope. Where you're concerned, I suspect nothing is gonna be normal for Ronan.”

  Moira frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You should ask him. I probably already said too much,” Ty admitted.

  Moira just shot him a baffled look and then grabbed her drinks off the bar. “Thanks, I guess.”

  At the end of her shift, Moira cautiously opened the door to Ronan's apartment, uncertain what to expect. She found him sprawled out on the futon, beer in hand, watching television. He didn't even look up at her when she closed the door.

  “Ronan?” she asked hesitantly. He looked up at her, but didn't speak so she continued. “I don't know what you think happened, but the only person in the bar that I'm at all interested in fraternizing with is you.”

  “You were all over Sarge,” he said quietly

  “No I wasn't,” she denied, starting to feel the beginnings of annoyance. “I freaking touched his shoulder because he said something to me that I desperately needed to hear. It's not like I crawled into the guy's lap
. Besides, I believe that we already discussed the fact that Sarge wasn't my type.”

  He seemed to weigh her statement for a long while. Eventually, he just shrugged and turned his attention back to the television. He deliberately raised the volume and mumbled, “Whatever.”

  “No! Not whatever,” Moira said, raising her voice for the first time. “Get your head out of your ass and think about this for just a second! You were inside me less than twelve hours ago. Do you seriously think I'd be hitting on some old man who frankly scares the bejeesus out of me in the bar that you own? If anyone here has a right to be pissed off, it's me. I'm the only one of us that's been lied to.”

  “‘Scuse me?” Eyes blazing, he asked, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You think I didn't realize you were lying to me this morning when I asked if you knew why you started to shift during sex? Newsflash. You're a shitty liar, Ronan. I let it go ‘cause I assumed you'd tell me at some point if I needed to know. Considering how graciously I overlooked that, the least you can do is stop acting like some man child and talk to me.”

  Ronan carefully set his beer down on the table and turned off the television. “I saw him touch you and it made me angry. I damn near shifted in the bar and attacked him. It was that kind of angry. I don't like not being in control of myself, Moira. I saw red, okay? Is that what you needed to hear?”

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Then she figured, to hell with it, and shouted, “You think I'm in control, here? I'm not in control either! I hate to get all emotional on you, but I'm drawn to you in a way that I don't understand and it fucking terrifies me. There are a million excellent reasons why I never should have gotten involved with you. I keep telling myself I'll stop it, but I can't. I wish I could just say it's the sex, but it isn't.”

  His eyes blazed with unchecked lust and, if she wasn't mistaken, hope. It spurred her on.

  “I don't understand it, but I feel this weird, unshakable connection to you. It's almost...”

  When she trailed off, Ronan asked, “Soul deep?”

  Moira nodded, her heart pounding. “Yeah. Soul deep.”

  Ronan rubbed a hand over his face, then gestured to the space next to him. When she settled next to him, he immediately picked up one of the hands that she was twisting nervously in her lap. Holding it, he said, “I'm sorry. Intellectually, I know you're not lying to me. I'm not even mad at you. I'm mad at me. I'm just way out of my depth here and I fucking hate it.”

  “Well, jeez,” she said, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in her chest. “I'm not exactly making demands on you. If you'd rather cool things off, that's fine. I should be able to move out in another week or so. I wasn't exactly in the market for a ready-made relationship either, ya know?”

  “Stop. That's not what I meant at all. I don't want you to go, cupcake. That's my point. Shit. I'm not explaining this right.” He sighed deeply, not releasing her hand. “You're my mate. Without getting all spiritual on you, I'll just say that the Earth Mother knew when she made us dual natured, both man and wolf, it would be a difficult life to lead. For each of us, she chooses a mate. One person, be it human or shifter, to be a lover, a friend, and a lifetime companion. We have a connection unlike any other to that person. A special closeness and need for one another. You're my mate.”

  “And how can you tell?” she asked, even though a million other more important questions swirled through her mind. The connection they had was unnerving. She'd felt a sense of loss earlier when he'd left the room. It hadn't just been the fact they were fighting. A piece of her had gone missing. Maybe there was something to this whole mate thing.

  “I feel it. It's an overwhelming urge unlike anything I've ever experienced. The moment I woke up pressed against you that first morning. I suspected it then. That's why I got up and went to the bathroom.”

  “I thought you were going to go jerk off in the shower,” she said with a smirk.

  “That too,” he agreed, laughing. “When I woke up, I laid there for a few minutes, not sure how to move. You were partially on top of my hand. Christ. My dick was already throbbing and then you started rubbing up against me.”

  “God. I was so mortified. I try and make it a policy not to randomly dry hump people in their sleep,” she said, flushing. “You just felt so good pressed against me. Shoot. I'm getting a little hot just thinking about it right now.”

  Ronan grinned and said, “We can definitely address that. But, um, seriously. I'm glad you stopped when I said something, at least. I was really close to marking you right then. With or without your consent.”

  Moira settled back against the futon. “Marking me?”

  “Yeah. It's a sign of ownership.”

  “How exactly does this marking thing happen?” Moira asked, ignoring the overtly feminist urge to remind him that women weren't exactly property. “Don't wolves pee on things to mark their territory? There's no way in hell I'm gonna let you pee on me, Ronan!”

  Ronan blinked at her for a minute and then started laughing. “Christ, no, baby. I don't wanna pee on you,” he finally managed.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know? You were the guy that wasn't even gonna tell me this was a thing, and now I'm supposed to know all about it?” she grumbled, shooting him a dirty look.

  “It's a bite mark,” he replied, sobering instantly. “I'm sorry. I know you're new to all of this. It's just that I couldn't help it. The look on your face was priceless.”

  She shot him a bland look and said, “I live to amuse. So you bite me? That's it?”

  “My wolf does. I shift partially and then I bite you. It leaves a mark. You become one of us. Not as powerful as a natural born wolf, but it would make you a shifter, too.”

  “Oh,” Moira said quietly. “I would become a shifter?”

  “That's part of why I didn't even want to tell you. It's a lot to ask of someone who isn't in the middle of a major life change. You walked into my bar the other night with no idea what you were going to do with yourself. Seems a little unfair of me to ask you to make that kind of decision right now.”

  “I can appreciate that you were thinking of me, but by not telling me, you were in essence making the choice for me. That's not exactly fair either.”

  He considered for a minute and then said, “You're right. I don't really see this working out in my favor, though. I can't blame you. Settling down with a shape-shifting bartender who claims to be your mate? Turning into a wolf on a full moon? Living above a bar? Maybe having a couple of pups when the time was right? I'm sure that's your dream.”

  She took in his scoffing face and sighed. “I'm not likely to agree to it with a sales pitch like that, Ronan. Jeez. You gotta work on your delivery. As for my dream? I've got no idea what my dream is. The only thing that I'm certain of is that I feel something inexplicably strong for you. Let me work out my life and see if there's a place for you in it.” She paused for a moment and then said, “I really want there to be.”

  “I want that, too,” he admitted, his gaze hopeful. He gave her hand a gentle tug.

  She didn't hesitate when he drew her near. Before he could kiss her, she asked, “Would I get to claim you, too?”

  “What do you mean? I would be yours. You would be mine. There wouldn't be anyone else,” he said, confusion all over his face.

  “I'm not asking if you'd be loyal to me, Ronan. You'd do that if you knew what was good for you,” she joked. “I meant that if I had to walk around with some sign of ownership on my body, I'd want you to have one, too.”

  He gazed at her, some unreadable emotion on his face. Then he said, “Wolf culture is a male dominated thing, so that's not exactly the norm. We already established that I don't exactly play by the rules, though. I guess I never really thought about it before, but I would be honored to wear your mark if you wanted to give it to me, Moira.”

  Her eyes filled at his sweet words, so she did the only thing she could do. She closed the space between them and presse
d her lips against his. Immediately, he responded by deepening the kiss and pulling her onto his lap. No matter how strange this night had been, a part of her was relieved that everything was out in the open. She had some difficult decisions she'd face soon. They had tonight, though. Right now, that was more than enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ronan turned on the hose with a grimace. Looked like someone left a parting gift on their way out the door last night. He turned on the high pressure stream, spraying at the dried-on vomit. Much as he'd like to wait for the late afternoon rain to rinse it away, puke on the sidewalk was bad for business.

  Moira poked her head out the front door and took in the scene. Her face scrunched up in disgust. She teased, “And you said your job wasn't glamorous, baby!”

  “You best watch it, woman, or I'm putting you on puke removal duty from now on,” he warned, smirking.

  She snorted. “Not if you ever want inside me again.” When he remained quiet, she grinned. “See, you're not the only one who can make threats.”

  Reading the challenge in her eyes, he dropped the hose and said, “That's an idle threat and you know it, cupcake. You'd be begging me for it inside a day.”

  “Is that right?” she said, slipping the rest of the way out the front door. “You think I'd be the one begging? I see the way your eyes roll back in your head when you slide inside me.”

  Awareness crackled between them as he stalked toward her. He took her hands in his, then pressed her back against the door. Pinning her hands above her head, Ronan took her mouth in a deep kiss that had her moaning against his lips.

  When they eventually separated, he said, “See.”

  She laughed in response. “I think you really only just proved that neither of us have any willpower where the other is concerned. Speaking of willpower, why don't you come upstairs and help me prove my point?”