“Okay, we won’t talk about it then. But let me feed you before you go back to Nantahala.”
He leaned back and frowned down at her. “How do you know I live there?”
Ignoring his question, she said low, “I like your eyes this color.” As she searched his gaze, she didn’t look or smell terrified. She looked awed.
And little by little Bear settled. Baffled by his animal’s reaction, Aaron explained, “They get like this after bad shifts at the station.”
“Understandable.”
It was?
Alana tugged his hand and led him into the coffee shop. The patrons were staring, but she clipped out, “Get on back to eatin’,” and her customers did just that.
There were three full tables on one side, so Aaron sat in a booth on the far wall to make the humans more comfortable. Even if they didn’t have the instincts he did, they could tell when a predator shifter was worked up. He’d learned that over the years. It was in their subtle behaviors when he got too close to a Change in public. Even if they didn’t realize they were afraid, they would shift their weight away from him, or cross to the other side of the street with confused frowns on their faces.
But then there was Alana. He could feel the heaviness of his own dominance thickening the air around him, but she’d approached him slow, like she knew what he needed, and hugged him. Settled him.
He inhaled deeply as he watched Alana pile pastries onto a plate and pour a cup of fragrant coffee, and on the exhale, he felt lighter, relieved almost. The scent of vanilla was strong and relaxing in here. Maybe that’s why she smelled like that, from baking.
Under her breath, she hummed softly as she bustled over to him. Today she was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans that clung to her curves, a pink button-down blouse and matching apron with the logo for the coffee shop.
“I was thinking about not coming,” he admitted as she set down the plate of frosted strawberry pastries and the mug of hot coffee. Keeping anything from her felt wrong.
“I could tell.”
She didn’t sound mad, though. When she made to move off again, Aaron lost his damned mind and reached out, grabbed her hand, pulled her back slowly to him. Her reaction was perfect. An easy giggle, and then she ran her nails through his hair, smoothing it back from where it had fallen in his face. She cupped his cheek, rasped her touch down his unshaven jaw, and prettily arched her eyebrows. Her full lips turned up in the corners. Alana wielded magic. What else could explain just a touch of her hand offering him such salvation from the bad night he’d had?
Aaron angled his head and rubbed his cheek against her hand in an affection only shifters would understand the importance of. As Alana slipped away and sauntered off to help a customer who’d just come in, she swished her sexy hips with each step, as if she knew he was watching her leave.
Done. Aaron was done for. Heaving a breath, he relaxed back against the bench seat and shook his head in disbelief. If Alana even knew how much Bear had settled under her touch, or how he was slowly devoting himself to her, she would run away and never look back.
She didn’t seem like a woman to play games, but Alana sure knew how to make him want to chase her.
Chapter Seven
Why was she so nervous? Alana had never had the shakes like this in all her life. Talking to people had never scared her, but just the thought of refilling Aaron’s coffee sent a tremble of anticipation up her spine and made her hands shake even harder. Her heart felt like it was going to gallop right out of her chest cavity. And he was a shifter! He would hear her pounding pulse.
She waved goodbye to the last table of customers and poured herself a mug of coffee, then dumped cream and sugar into it until she could stand the taste. It was ironic that she ran a coffee shop but didn’t like the flavor of coffee.
Aaron had finished his breakfast and sat with his elbows resting on the table, hands cupped around his mug, staring out the open blinds to the parking lot with a faraway look in his eyes.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said as she sat across from him.
He huffed a laugh and eased back. “They aren’t worth that much, I’m afraid. What happened with Doucheface?”
Alana sipped her steaming cup. “Nothing to tell, really. He wasn’t my type.”
“Didn’t meet the list requirements?”
“Ha! He didn’t meet a single one.”
It was then she noticed the exhaustion in Aaron’s eyes. Oh sure, he was putting on a good show, complete with smiles and nods, but he looked thrashed. Well, he had been up most the night with that wreck.
“Why were you crying last night?” he asked, gaze on the half-full mug cupped in his hands.
“Because I’m a wimp. I let him get to me—”
“Why?”
She sighed out a pathetically human-sounding growl and said, “Because he mentioned my scar. He was rude about it. I’m not a fan of rude people. There is a difference in being honest and saying what’s on your mind, and saying something just to hurt a person.”
Aaron nodded slowly, and seconds of silence stretched between them. “What happened to your lip?”
Ah, there it was, and she didn’t want him feeling sorry for her, so she sipped her coffee and formed a perfect answer before she spoke again. “I was born with a cleft lip and a cleft palate. I had four reconstructive surgeries when I was a kid to fix it, and now I don’t even notice.”
Aaron stretched his legs under the table, brushing her calf with his. Then blandly, he said, “Lie.”