CHAPTER
15
When Ric wasn’t back in five minutes, Dee
went looking for him. She actually had somewhere to be and she was
only giving him a heads-up on what she, Malone, and Desiree were
doing.
Dee stuck her head in the kitchen.
“Where’s Ric?” she asked the room.
“In the alley,” one of the cooks told
her.
Dee headed to the door that led to the
alley and stepped outside. Ric was at the far end of the alley
where it was blocked off by a brick wall that was attached to the
restaurant and the deli next door. He had his back to her, his body
hunched over.
Dee moved up silently behind him,
curious to see what he was doing all huddled into a corner like
that. When she stood right behind him, she went up on her toes a
bit and peeked over his shoulder. A brow went up and she relaxed
back to the flat feet she was born with—and waited. Because she
knew she wouldn’t have to wait too long.
Ric froze, knowing she was right
behind him. Knowing she was watching him do what he hadn’t done in
two and a half years. But after those six months of patches and
nicotine-tinged chewing gum until he’d gone cold turkey for two
years—Ric was right back where he’d been.
He clenched the cigarette he’d bummed
off a full-human from the deli next door tight between his lips,
the engraved gold lighter he hadn’t used in more than two years
clutched between his hands as he tried to get the goddamn thing to
light. Knowing he couldn’t avoid her forever, Ric slowly turned and
faced Dee-Ann. She had her arms folded over her chest, a smirk on
those perfect lips, and one brow raised while she waited for him to
say something.
“Look,” he immediately began to argue
around the precious, precious stick of death he had gripped between
his lips. “I’m not going to sit here and explain why I need this. I
. . . I just need this, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
Since she didn’t say anything else, he
tried again to get his lighter to work. He shook it a few times,
praying there was a little lighter fluid left at the bottom.
Finally, he had flame and he brought it close to the cigarette. His
mistake was looking again at Dee-Ann. Her expression hadn’t
changed. She wasn’t shaking her head or “tsk-tsking” him. She
wasn’t trying to grab the cigarette out of his mouth, or bursting
into tears, or telling him how disappointed she was in him. But she
wasn’t walking away either, or telling him to “do as ya like,” or
pretending he wasn’t smoking and getting on with whatever it was
she needed to discuss with him.
No. Dee-Ann didn’t do any of that. She
simply watched, smirked, and waited.
Waited for him to realize he was
making a huge mistake.
Although Ric knew all the reasons it
was bad to smoke, he’d given it up two and half years ago for one
reason and one reason only—it fucked with his taste buds. Something
that, as a chef, he couldn’t afford. He also knew if he started
again now, he’d probably never stop. Quitting was too painful a
process, too time consuming, and the reason for why he’d begun
smoking in the first place would never go away. At least not
anytime soon.
He’d been fifteen when he started,
somehow managing to keep it a secret among scent-prone wolf
shifters until, when he was seventeen, his mother found his pack
when she’d picked up his school jacket to hang it in the closet. He
remembered how angry she’d been, how hurt, but he knew she kind of
understood it, too. At the time, it was the only way Ric had of
dealing with his father. The tobacco soothed his nerves, cleared
his mind, settled his spirit, and allowed him to make it through
nightly dinners with Alder and Wendell. Ric had only stopped when
he knew it was putting his cooking career at risk and, more
importantly, he was no longer living with his father and
brother.
Ric closed the lighter and pulled the
cigarette out of his mouth.
“I hate you,” he
muttered.
“I know.” She took the cigarette from
his hand. “A nonfiltered wolf, I see.”
“I took whatever Joey at the deli had.
I was desperate.”
“Is this about Wendell?”
“Hardly. He was rude. He’s lucky
Adelle didn’t hear him. She would have torn his hair
out.”
“Then it’s the old wolf. Why was he
here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Okay then.”
“It isn’t that he was here that’s the
problem, Dee.”
“It’s his presence on this
planet?”
Ric finally smiled. “Well . . . yes.
Plus some other stuff that I can’t get into.”
“Understood. We’re from enemy Packs,
so you can’t go around telling me your precious enemy Pack
secrets.”
“Now you’re making me feel
stupid.”
Dee chuckled. “Not my intent.” She
glanced back at the door. “This doesn’t have to do with that
scruffy, homeless wolf you had roaming your apartment the other
morning?”
“He’s not homeless . . . anymore. He’s
sleeping on the couch of my saucier. And although I doubt Stein has
anything to do with what happened today, I’m sure my father will
use him against me somehow.”
“His name’s Stein?”
“At least it’s just one name.”
She grinned. “Look at you trying to
sweet talk me.”
Ric flinched. “Sorry. Unnecessary
roughness.”
“Not where I come from.”
“Stein’s my cousin. I hired him to mop
the floors and wash dishes.”
“What’s wrong with that? You’re
supposed to watch out for your kin.”
“Not when your kin has been shoved out
of the Pack. And it’s not like the kid didn’t deserve that shove.
He did.”
She stepped closer. “How bad could
this get for you?”
“That depends. If Stein never screws
up again, takes this opportunity to become the best chef that has
ever walked the earth, and he manages to make this world a better
place for everyone throughout the universe—maybe my father will let this go before he’s
on his deathbed. If the kid screws up even once . . .” Ric
shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to open up a little bistro in
Soho. Now this could be my chance.”
“Seems a lot of trouble to let a kid
wash dishes.”
“He needs the work, Dee. Really needs
it. And from what I can tell, he can’t drop any lower at this
point. Not without some real effort. I can’t just turn him away. I
at least have to give him one more chance to ruin everything for
both of us.”
“Now see?” she asked and Ric realized
that they were so close that all Ric had to do was lean in another
inch or so and he’d be kissing her. “What am I supposed to do with
a wolf that’s just so dang nice?”
“Get naked with me in the office?
General manager won’t be in for a couple of hours.”
“You have no idea how much I
really want to, but I
can’t. I only came here to give you a heads-up what I’ve got going
on tonight with Desiree and Malone.”
“You and your damn work
ethic.”
“It’s a flaw. I know.” She petted his
cheek, stepping into him until their bodies were flush. “You gonna
be all right?”
“After seeing you slam my father’s
head with that door?”
“That was an accident . . . so maybe you
shouldn’t smile about it.”
“Can’t help it.” He kissed her,
feeling nothing but hope at the way her body kind of melted into
his. When they finally stopped, Ric pressed his forehead against
hers and closed his eyes. The She-wolf let him stay that way for
several minutes until his soul had calmed, his desire to shift and
run until he hit Jersey throttling down to a tolerable hum of
awareness.
“Come back to my place when you’re
done,” he told her.
“All right.”
He stepped away from her, knowing he
had to let her go. “Come inside and tell me what’s going on first
and I’ll give you a set of keys for my apartment.” Something he’d
forgotten to do earlier.
She smirked. “Keys? What do I need
keys for?”
“So you can at least
pretend you’re not
breaking and entering?”
“If you’re going to be particular
about it.”
Laughing, Ric headed to the alley
door. “Come on.”
“Yeah. Give me a minute.”
“Sure.”
Ric reached for the door but stopped
and faced Dee again. He returned to her side and stared at
her.
She blinked. “What?”
“Dee-Ann,” he told her, “it’s
me.”
“What’s that supposed to
mean?”
“Do I really need to call your mother
about this?”
She snarled at him. “Sometimes you are
just mean!” She slapped
the cigarette back into his hand. “How did you know
anyway?”
“I could see it in your eyes when I
came back over. This cigarette was going down. How long?” he asked
and she knew what he meant.
“Since I got home from the Marines and
Momma caught me smoking behind the barn. She slapped that cigarette
from my hand and threatened bodily harm on her only child—all while
crying.”
“It was the crying, wasn’t
it?”
“Of course it was the crying. There’s
some things I simply can’t tolerate. Wild dog howling, zebra,
Teacup”—Ric threw his hands up at that—“and seeing my momma
cry.”
“Since my mother also would be
destroyed by her youngest taking up smoking again, we’ll make a
deal.” Ric crumpled the cigarette in his hands until it was nothing
but bits of paper and tobacco. “If we think about starting up
again, we’ll call each other.”
“And chat about it like
girlfriends?”
“Only after we talk about what Prada
is coming out with in their latest fall shoe line.” When she only
stared at him, Ric quickly added, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I
don’t wear Prada. They make my ankles look fat.”
She turned away from him, walking to
the door.
“I saw that smile, Dee-Ann. You can’t
hide it from me.”