Damnation: Reckless Desires (Blue Moon Saloon Book 1) (6 page)

Her eyes flew open, because there really was a step vibrating through the floor, and she whipped around.

“Simon,” she breathed. Or maybe just thought it because, for a second, her mind went blank. Did she hate him? Love him? Which was it again?

He stood there, filling most of the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of loose lounge pants. Looking like a bear straight from his winter den, with his hair spiked up on one side and down on the other. He scratched his bare chest with one hand, wiped his eyes with the other. Slid his shoulder up and down the door frame, marking the place as his. The only part of him that seemed truly awake was his sense of smell. His nostrils were wide, sniffing deeply.

“Berries?” he mumbled. The sound vibrated through the floor and slowly, sensually, climbed her legs.

Her heart swelled. Her heart thumped. Her wolf wagged its tail. She’d made her mate happy! He loved her! She’d pleased him with—

Her human side slammed on the brakes. God, her wolf was as bad as her parents with their old-fashioned ways. Her life was not about pleasing men, least of all this one. She was an independent, self-sufficient, modern woman who could damn well…

He scratched his jaw, and memories of nuzzling that very stubble flooded her. Memories of the cave, all those years ago. It had been so cold in the blizzard that she’d had no choice but to stumble in. And then Simon had come along and their little shelter heated right up. First with anger, as they faced each other down, then with a whole different kind of heat once they’d finally agreed to huddle for warmth. He’d curled his bulk silently around her back and laid absolutely, positively still for a while. The only movement was the faint puff of air against her cheek. For a few minutes, at least, because she couldn’t help but sigh and wiggle back against him.

And then he’d come snuffling carefully closer. Sniffing, then nuzzling, as if he couldn’t resist her any more than she could resist him. He’d scraped his chin slowly, deliciously over the soft skin of her cheek in long, possessive strokes, and it lit every nerve ending in her body on fire. Sent her brain right out the door and let instinct take over. It wasn’t long before she pulled his arm over her side and around her front, because it was more comfortable that way. And it wasn’t long after his fingers first touched down on her breast that she turned in his arms and found his lips for their first, soft kiss. A kiss that led to another, and another, and—

Jess snapped upright, jolting out of memories and back into the kitchen. Christ, what had set that off?

“Berry muffins,” she said, planting her feet wide. She’d hold her ground. Stare him down. Let him know she was as over him as he was over her.

Fake it, at least.

“I made them,” she added for good measure. Daring him.

His ears twitched. His lips parted just a little bit. His eyes focused directly on her. They roamed down, then up, then down again. She had the distinct impression Simon was going through exactly what she had been, a minute before.
Do I love her? Hate her?

Love!
her wolf cheered.
Love!

Bit by bit, Simon masked himself in that impassive expression that was his armor, his shield, his castle, and retreated within the walls. “Can I have one?”

He didn’t bark out. Didn’t demand. Just asked, almost like a normal person would. But if she looked — really looked — she saw the bear inside, wide-eyed and hungry, desperate to get out.

She folded her arms over her chest, showing him she could play tough guy, too. Tilted her head. Let him wonder and worry and think the way she had through all of the previous night. Even if it was only for a few seconds, damn it, she’d get her revenge. A teensy, tiny bit of revenge.

“Sure, boss.” She kicked out that second word just to keep him on his toes.
Yes, you can have one, but only because I have no choice.

The moment she thought it, her body hardened, because it was true. She had no choice. Hadn’t had a choice for a long, long time. She stuck her jaw out a little so it wouldn’t wobble, then turned back to the sink. She turned off the water and stared into her bucket like it was a wishing well. If only she had a penny…

He came closer with slow, heavy steps. Closer. Even closer, and she squeezed her eyes closed, imagining the perfect happy end. His arms would wrap around her, and he’d pull her against his chest. Whisper
I’m sorry
and
I love you
and
Please, please, give me a second chance
. Kiss her ear like he used to, and she would turn and kiss him back. Go from kissing to touching and to wrapping her legs around—

Simon came up right behind her, and hope jumped into her throat.

He made a little sound. A barely perceptible, bottom-of-the-earth growl. The scent of desire steamrolled the muffin smell aside and spread through the warm kitchen like a pleasant haze. Her wolf nearly howled.

Then a sharp inhale, an angry puff, and he sidestepped toward the muffins.

And,
Poof!
Her fantasy vanished. Just like that.

Jess picked up the bucket so fast, water sloshed out the top. She grabbed her washcloth and hurried for the door.

“Jess.” His voice stopped her cold. A voice from the past, because it was soft and wistful and sweet.

She turned around slowly and there was Simon, looking like a man who needed a good, long sleep and not a man who’d just come out of one. Weary. Defeated. Struggling to find the strength to go on.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

A word. Practically a speech in bear-talk. But it was enough.

She nodded and walked away slowly rather than fleeing as fast as she could. Victory. A very small victory for her pride, if nothing else.

She went back to scrubbing windows and managed to will her mind blank. Of everything that is, except for muffin recipes she’d be trying out for her bear over the next couple of days.

She corrected herself quickly. Er, not for her bear. For her boss. Just her boss. And her sister and the saloon and everyone else.

Her wolf licked its lips.
Yeah, right.

Two weeks went by like that, and Simon went right on vacillating between heaven and hell.

Heaven was the sight of Jessica, bright and shiny and energetic, with the morning sun glowing on her hair. Heaven was the honey-lavender scent of her, a minute after she cleared the shower and padded down the hall, thinking he was asleep when he was listening to her. Heaven was in the muffins his bear kept insisting she’d baked just for him, even though she shared them with everyone else.

But hell was never far behind. Hell was the sight of her gray-blue eyes firmly fixed on the floor. The way her smile vanished when she turned away from a customer and glanced toward the bar. Hell was having to head upstairs after a long day’s work and not being able to follow instinct around the bends of the hallway, all the way over to her room.

Hell and damnation. He lived them each and every day.

Occasionally, they’d both be so busy that they’d forget, and their bodies would drift together, only to skitter apart. As if their animal sides knew just what they wanted, while the humans kept stubbornly apart. He’d be filling drinks behind the bar at peak time; she’d pop in to wash her hands at the sink. And somehow, the space between would slip away so their arms could graze, and a brush fire would race through his blood. A primal rhythm would start to beat in his bones. A smile would build on his lips—

And Jess would jolt and hurry away and not look back.

So nothing was different, though nothing was quite the same. Of course, it wouldn’t be, with two she-wolves slowly taking over the saloon. Jess and her sister were like a pair of tornadoes determined not to leave anything in its place. Some things for better, some things for worse.

It started with cleaning, which was mostly good. Other than them throwing out the stuffed beaver that used to hang in the corner by the bar, claiming it was disgusting and moldy and a travesty to shifters everywhere.

Well, okay, he’d give them that, even if he did hate beavers. Snobby, intellectual little things.

The next thing they did was number the tables. What that was all about, he didn’t know. There were only ten tables in the whole place. A couple on the right, a few in the middle, and the booths at the side. Who needed numbers?

Wolves, apparently. Jess and Janna numbered the tables and even rearranged a few, chattering something about traffic patterns and light and views.

He looked around. What views?

“Three Cokes for table five,” Jess would say, handing off the drink order to her sister. Avoiding him, of course.

“Three Cokes for table five,” Janna would echo as she slapped down her tray.

He’d squint out over the saloon and wonder which was table five, because it wasn’t like they’d actually labeled the tables or given him a chart or anything. They had it memorized. A damn good thing he didn’t have to deliver the drinks he poured.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. No, a goddamn avalanche, and it was all he and Soren could do to keep up.

The menu grew the way hair products multiplied in the bathroom they all shared, which was fine, in principle. In practice, his bear wasn’t so sure. Like the third morning of the avalanche, when he’d woken from a beautiful dream in which he and Jess were rolling in a mountain meadow, naked, feeding each other berries — a weird combination, but yeah, a damn good dream — and stumbled downstairs to find the kitchen packed with racks and racks of muffins. The air practically crystallized with their sweet smell, but there was no sign of Jess. He snagged a muffin that just pleaded for him to show some mercy and gobble it up, and when he bit in, he groaned. Sweet, juicy blueberries exploded in his mouth and transported him home to Montana. He stood there savoring it until he stomped himself into action and headed out front. Still no sign of Jess, so he continued out the open front door, where he stalled out at the sight of her squatting beside a sidewalk chalkboard, spelling out the saloon’s latest deal.

Coffee and muffin to go!
Her script was clear and inviting.
$6 combo.

“Coffee and what?” he yelped, suddenly awake.

She jolted, as she always did, and stopped humming. Stood slowly. Defiantly. All wolf, all pride. Probably composing her face as she turned, putting on that icy expression she always socked him with.

Yep, there it was. And God, she was something, even as Miss Frost.

“Muffins.” She drew the word out like a dare.

Muffins? She was selling
his
muffins?

“This is a saloon, not a bakery.”

“A saloon that can use every customer it can get,” she retorted, stepping back to check her work. She knelt again, wiped out the $6, and changed it to $5.99.

“Who cares about a penny?”

“Believe me, it works.”

A slip of paper fluttered out of her hand, and he caught it flying down the sidewalk like a tumbleweed.

“What’s this?”

“Flyers. I put them in the bag with the muffins. What we really need is printed napkins, though.”

We? His bear chuffed with hope.

He glanced at the slip of paper, trying not to get distracted.
Ribs, burgers, & beers on tap at the Blue Moon Saloon. Thursday special.

“We have a Thursday special?”

“We do now.” Jessica nodded and waved to someone down the street. A guy with a whole plate of muffins in hands. “See you, Mike!”

Mike? “Who the hell is Mike?”

“Thank you, sweetheart. See you later,” the asshole called back. The short, bald asshole disappearing into a store two buildings down.

“Mike,” Jess said firmly. “Of Mike’s hardware.”

He stared at her. “Don’t tell me you’re giving muffins away.”
Giving my muffins away
, he nearly said.

“Think about it. We’re right between Mike’s Hardware and the nearest parking lot. When the spots on the street fill up, most of his customers walk right by here.”

“Yeah, when we’re closed.”

“If we open half an hour earlier—”

She wanted him to get up half an hour earlier?

“—we’ll get his mid-morning rush. And if Mike and his guys are all licking their fingers and saying how good the Blue Moon Muffins are…” She smiled in satisfaction. “…his clients will become our clients.”

She left out the
dummy
at the end of that sentence, but he saw it on the tip of her tongue. Apparently, her wolf had found her sassy side again. He watched in silence as she squatted over the chalkboard again. Now what?

Soren padded out beside him, yawning. Watched her write. Scratched his chest.

They both stood there a long time after Jess rose, gave a satisfied nod, and marched back inside.

“Gluten-free?” Soren examined the muffin he was holding. He took a bite, washed it down with a sip of coffee in a paper cup, and munched thoughtfully. “Raspberry chocolate. Not bad. Not bad.”

Jesus. Whose side was Soren on, anyway?

He spent a good five minutes scraping up and down the doorframe after that, trying to reclaim the upper hand.

And that was just the start. It got worse, or better, depending how you viewed change. The chalkboard by the door was filled with colorful, girly handwriting, starting with
Smoked Spare Ribs
in letters decorated with little flames. Then came burgers. Lots and lots of burgers. There seemed to be no limit to their imagination when it came to burgers. And two she-wolves were more dangerous than one.