Trouble Walked In Page 6

  The combination of her breathy request and the feel of her calf sliding up the back of his jeans-clad leg had him going rock hard instantly. Just as he was about to take her up on her offer, he heard a vehicle pull into the parking lot. Instead, he released her wrists and said, “Hold that very tempting thought until I can tell this person to fuck off.”

  When he turned around and saw the county logo on the pickup, he sighed. Turning back to Moira, he said, “I think I'm gonna need a rain check. I can't exactly tell the county to fuck off. Go on upstairs, okay?”

  “Fine then,” she said dramatically. “Just get me all excited and then send me away.”

  Ronan laughed at the almost comically overdone pout on her face and said, “As soon as I get rid of them, I'm gonna set your sexy ass up on the bar and eat your pussy till you scream. Know that.”

  “Lemme just leave you to handle your business then,” she said, nibbling on her lower lip. “I'll be upstairs counting the minutes until you make good on your promise.”

  She gave him one last wink and headed back inside. Jesus. She was insatiable. It was one of the many things he loved about her. There was that word again. It had been popping up in his thoughts more and more often since they'd talked about the whole mate thing. A part of him wished he could tell her, but thankfully, the smarter part of him seemed to know better.

  When he turned back around, an older man got out of the truck with a clipboard and cheerily said, “Afternoon.”

  “Hi there. Ronan Kelly. Can I help you?”

  The gleam in the man's eye said it all. “Dean Tennison. Code Enforcement. I do believe you can. We've had a series of complaints about your bar that I need to follow up on.”

  ****

  An hour and a half later, with two tickets and six warning citations in hand, Ronan walked into the apartment. He slapped the paperwork down on the counter in irritation and made a beeline for the fridge. He pulled a cold beer out and twisted off the cap. Not even bothering to close the door, he took a swig.

  Moira walked out of the bedroom and asked, “You okay?”

  Ronan stepped back and closed the refrigerator with a sigh, then said, “Yeah. I'm fine. Code Enforcement just crawled up my ass, though. I have some fines and shit I need to fix soon. That's all.”

  “Shit. I'm sorry. Was it my dad that sicced them on you, do you think?” Her eyes were filled with worry when he turned around to look at her.

  “The inspector said that there had been some complaints,” he hedged, not wanting to make her feel any worse. He had no doubt her father was behind this, but it would do no good for Moira to get upset about it.

  “What did they cite you for?” she asked, clearly not buying his deflection for a second.

  “Let's see. Not enough space between the side of my cooler and the bar. My dumpster wasn't far enough away from the back exit. The handle on the back door is apparently not up to code, somehow. The goddamned hose on the sidewalk. Nothing big. Just a bunch of small shit.”

  “You mean to tell me that someone complained because your cooler was up against the side of the bar, Ronan? Clearly this was my father's doing. How much are the fines? Please. Take them out of my check. Or I can pay them out of my tips. I feel—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “It's my responsibility to be up to code. Not yours. I'm not taking anything out of your paycheck because your daddy is an asshole. It's an annoyance. Nothing more.”

  “I just hate the fact that you have to be involved in this, Ronan. It's embarrassing. I would totally understand if...”

  Ronan stepped forward until he stood in front of her. Tipping up her chin, he said, “I'm involved in this because I'm involved with you. I'm not going anywhere. You think I didn't realize that there would be problems when I got involved with the mayor's daughter?”

  “Are you sure? Because I don't think this is going to get better any time soon.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “We were meant to find one another. You walked into my into my bar for a reason, Moira. You're my mate. You may not believe in it yet, but I do.”

  “I don't know what I did to deserve you,” Moira whispered, giving him a wobbly smile. “You really would've been better off kicking me out that first night.”

  “Even then I knew you were special. I still don't think you realize how much courage you have. You walked into a bar you knew was filled with a bunch of people that can change into wild animals at will. You walked away from everything you knew instead of letting your father continue to walk all over you. You're fearless, baby, and you amaze me. I'm part man, part wolf. I'm isolated, stubborn, and jealous as hell any time another man so much as looks at you. I'm probably too honest for my own good. I'm no prize.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her lips twitching. “You do seem to lack that rational part of the brain that stops you from saying everything that pops into your mind. If that's what you mean by too honest, then I can certainly agree.”

  Ronan rolled his eyes at her and explained. “What I'm trying to say here, smart ass, is that if anyone is undeserving here, it's probably me.”

  Her eyes misty, she just shook her head and stroked her fingers against his cheek. No one had ever looked at him quite like Moira was right now. She obviously saw something in him that he didn't really see in himself. Whatever it was, he could only be grateful for it.

  He glanced at the clock and cursed. “That jackass from Code Enforcement took up way too much time. Bar opens in fifteen minutes.”

  “I guess I don't get my pre-shift orgasm then?”

  “The second everyone leaves tonight and I lock the doors, I want you to take off those ridiculously tiny panties you've probably got on. Then you're gonna climb that sexy ass of yours up on the bar so I can make good on my promise, cupcake.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “So, I guess that means I should go and put some panties on, right?”

  “Yes. Christ, baby. You're gonna kill me,” he muttered as she hurried into the bedroom, presumably to put on her panties. “At least I'll die a happy man, though.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Stop,” Moira cried, wiggling away from Ronan's roaming hands with a laugh. “We're in the grocery store. There are children present!”

  Ronan brushed his lips over her neck and then released her with a sigh. “Can't help it. The way that you've been comparing those two cans of soup for the last three minutes is gettin' me all worked up. Just put one in the damn cart, please.”

  Carefully, she set both cans on the shelf and moved on. When he'd asked her to go grocery shopping with him, she'd offered to pay. Ronan had unequivocally vetoed the idea. Just like he did whenever the subject of her giving him money came up. She appreciated what he was trying to do, but it made her feel like she was taking advantage.

  Moira heard the unmistakable sound of a can hitting the bottom of the cart. They walked down the aisle in silence before Ronan said, “Moira, baby. Stop for a second.”

  She turned to face him, trying to keep the frustration off her face. “What?”

  “You wanna tell me what's on your mind? Or are you gonna let it eat at you all day?”

  “I feel like a mooch, and I hate it,” she blurted out. “Why won't you let me pay for groceries?”

  “You're not a mooch,” he said, frustration lacing his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Well, you wouldn't have to tell me at all if you'd just let me buy the damned groceries like I asked!”

  Ronan sighed. “When you left your daddy's house, why did you go?”

  “You know why I left,” she answered, her forehead creased with confusion. “What does that even have to do with—”

  “You left because you wanted to choose how you were gonna live your life. I mean, ultimately, that's what you're after. Am I right?”

  Unsure where he was going, she said, “Basically, yeah.”

  “You need money to finish school and get a place of your own, right?”

  “Righ
t.”

  “When you're buyin' groceries and all of that, that stops you from being able to save. I want to help you do that. The bar does pretty well. Lorelei is full of drunks, Moira. I can buy you soup,” he joked.

  Was this his way of pushing her toward the door? Just the other day he'd told her he wanted her to stay. She couldn't ignore the small pang in her chest at the thought of leaving.

  “Whatever that thought was, get it out of your head,” he ordered, effectively reading her mind. “I'm not kicking you out. If I had my way, you wouldn't leave. That's not exactly fair of me, though. I want you to have whatever it is you decide you want. You'll have an easier time figuring out what that is when you have options.”

  Jesus. Had her thoughts been that damned obvious? Gratitude and some other feelings she wasn't quite ready to explore swamped her system. “Thank you. Seriously.”

  He abandoned the cart and pulled her into his arms. “You're welcome, Moira.” When she pulled away a minute later and started back down the aisle, he asked, “Where are you going?”

  “I'm going to get another can of soup.”

  Ronan teased, “Don't get greedy now.”

  In response, she turned around and stuck out her tongue at him. It probably wasn't the most mature response, but it felt good to be a little silly. Especially now. She felt like crap about the fact that all of her drama was making things so damned heavy between them all the time. She needed to focus more on enjoying the moment. The moments that she spent with Ronan were more enjoyable than most, it turned out.

  By the time they made it to the frozen food aisle, any previous tension between them was gone. It was hard to be annoyed with someone who so bluntly laid his feelings out there. In all of her life, she was certain that nobody had ever just wanted for her to have whatever she wanted.

  Ronan did, though. Even despite his concerns about whether she would ultimately choose a life with him. There had been no qualifications in his statement.

  There wouldn't be, though. She was beginning to see that. He was that sort of person. Kind. Decent. Honorable to a fault. Damn near perfect.

  “Jesus,” she screeched, jerking away from the freezing sensation on the back of her neck. She quickly turned and saw Ronan standing with a pint of ice cream in his hand.

  “You were lost in space, Moira. Ice cream is an important decision. I can't make it alone. Vanilla?” he asked.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Cookies and cream?”

  “Chocolate.”

  He made a face and asked, “Mint chocolate chip?”

  “I hate to be repetitive...”

  Ronan laughed, then tossed the container of vanilla in the cart and pulled another container of chocolate from the cooler. “You hemmed and hawed over a can of soup for five minutes, but won't even bend on ice cream, huh?”

  “Non-negotiable.”

  He pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Stubborn woman.”

  “Stubbornly opposed to inferior ice cream flavors,” she corrected with a smirk.

  On the way to the checkout counter, her cell phone rang. It struck her as odd because she'd just gotten it activated again. It was a brand new number that no one but Ronan had. “You butt dialing me?” she asked him.

  “Left my phone in the truck, so I hope not,” he said.

  Digging, she fished her phone out of her bag and then froze. “My father. How the hell did he even get the number? I've only had it for an hour!”

  Right before they'd gone to the grocery store, they'd stopped and gotten her phone activated under her own name. Her next step was a bank account not co-signed with her father. It had been convenient for her when she'd been in school, but under the circumstances, there was no way she wanted him to have access to her money. Nor would she be taking another dime from him.

  She muted the phone and waited for it to go to voicemail. No such luck. Since his initial call a few minutes ago, her phone had been ringing nonstop. Moira hoped he'd take the hint and leave a message, but no luck with that so far.

  “Jesus. Is he still calling?” Ronan asked as they loaded up the truck.

  “Yeah. This is something like his twentieth call. Should I just answer, do you think?”

  “Do you want to talk to him?”

  “Not particularly. He's kind of on my shit list.”

  “Mine, too,” Ronan agreed. “If you don't want to talk to him, you don't have to. Block his number.”

  “You don't think that's a bit harsh?”

  “What you want to do is entirely up to you. I'd like to remind you that you showed up in my bar because he tried to marry you off to some old man with a spray tan, then he hit you and kicked you out when you told him no. Do I think blocking his number is harsh? Hell no. That's the least of what I'd do.”

  “Excellent point. Lemme figure out how to block him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ronan reveled in the feeling of his paws against the earth. He let loose a howl as he tore through the otherwise quiet night. He could sense more than actually see the blur of smaller creatures scattering when he came into sight. It had always made him wonder. Did they run because he they sensed a predator in wolf form, or because they sensed the fact he was partially human?

  He gave a mental laugh as he saw a rabbit take off a few feet in front of him. Some shifters liked to hunt when they were in their animal form. He definitely wasn't one of them. He much preferred a hot meal. With salt and pepper.

  Ronan could only imagine the look on Moira's face if he came home with dead animal in tow. She was accepting of many things, but he didn't want to push his luck. Since the night they had discussed the fact she was his mate, things had settled into a nice, easy pattern. They'd work at the bar till closing, make something to eat, and spend a few hours talking and making love before they passed out. He'd done his best to make sure that she had a realistic view of the way things would be between them, of what he had to offer her. If she chose to let him mark her, that wasn't exactly a bell that you could unring.

  This morning, she'd awakened early and borrowed his truck. Hope had flared inside when she'd told him she was going to register at the community college in Sanders as he'd suggested. He liked the idea that she was putting down roots, even if they were only until she could finish school.

  Tomorrow, they both had the day off. There had been talk of going to the beach. Even though he only lived an hour from the coast, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been. He was more of a woodsy kinda guy, for obvious reasons.

  He continued to run until he was bone tired. Sprawling out on the ground, he laid there, his body pressed against the earth. At times like this, he felt more connected to the universe than ever. Everything around him seemed to be living and breathing. The plants, the animals. The air even shimmered with tension. Even the earth seemed to be taking shuddering breaths beneath him.

  Despite all of the hardship that came from having to hide part of himself from the world at large, it was this exact moment that made it all worth it. He was never able to manage this level of peace in human form. Utterly sated, he let the hum of the bugs and the feel of the soft breeze against his fur eventually lull him to sleep.

  It was almost two in the morning when he walked through the door of his apartment. He was glad he'd beaten Moira home. That would give him time to hop in the shower. He really needed to wash the grit and grime off of him.

  Twenty minutes later, his energy restored, he wandered into the kitchen. He grinned when he found Moira making a sandwich. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said, feeling lighter than he had in a very long time. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck.

  “Hungry?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. When he continued to press light kisses against her skin, she set the package of cold cuts down on the counter. Seconds later, she leaned back against him and gave a soft hum of pleasure.

  “Not for food,” he murmured, nipping at the soft bit of skin just below her earlobe.

  Moira pressed he
r hips back against him and playfully asked, “What are you hungry for then?”

  He grabbed her and held her back against him. Then he moved his mouth so that it hovered just above her ear. “You know exactly what I want, cupcake. And you're gonna give it to me.”

  “Oh, am I?” she teased, moaning softly when he began to rock his hips against hers. “What if I just wanted to eat this sandwich and go to bed?”

  His hands slipped up to cup her breasts through the thin cotton tank top she wore. Stroking her nipples, he waited until she shivered against him. “I'll make you a deal.”

  The voice trembled with need when she asked, “What kind of deal?”

  “If I reach down into your panties, and I don't find you soaking wet,” he said, his hands trailing down her belly to work at the button of her jean shorts. “Then, by all means, have your sandwich and go to bed.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, rocking her hips back against him, her feigned disinterest long gone.

  “But if I do find your pussy as soaked as I think I'm gonna,” he continued, “then I own this body for the rest of the night. Sound fair?”

  Moira gave a needy whimper in response. “Fair enough.”

  “You sure about that, cupcake?” he asked, his own voice rough with need. “I'm not going to go easy on you.”

  No longer able to manage the pretense of disinterest, Moira whispered, “I don't want you to.”

  “You don't know what you're asking for.” He groaned, his fingers slowly dragging the zipper of her shorts down. At her shuddering breath, he slipped his hand inside her panties and said, “As I suspected. Cupcake, you're not going to sleep any time soon. You better have the sandwich, though. You might need your strength.”

  “Fuck the sandwich,” Moira moaned. “Touch me.”

  Ronan lightly traced his fingertips over her slit. “Like this?”

  “More.”

  “Ah, but what you're not remembering is that, right now, I'm in control.”

  “Please,” she moaned, trying to rub her pussy against his hand.