Daric's Mate (2 page)

Money. You could use the money and Temple’s needs the business of Daric Carvillius. You can’t afford to turn down that kind of cash or piss off Temple’s best customer.

Stripping off her contaminated disposable gloves, she tossed them into the trash with an exhausted sigh, yearning for a hot bath and a good book.

Not happening, Hannah. You have a huge order to fill and deliver.

Walking slowly to the door of the small eatery, Hannah flipped the sign to
Closed.
It was nearly closing time, and she didn’t really expect to see another customer, but she might as well make it official. It was going to take her a very long time to finish this order, and then deliver it outside of town. If she could even make it to the Carvillius home. Her old truck was a workhorse, but it wouldn’t matter if the mountain roads were filled with more snow than any vehicle could handle. Hannah wasn’t sure how much snow had fallen throughout the day and evening. She had been too busy working the restaurant to notice, most of her staff either out with the flu or unable to make it down the rural roads and into the tiny town of Temple. The small village had been named after one of her ancestors, a man responsible for establishing the community. The pizzeria was nearly a historical landmark, a business that had been started by her grandfather in his youth. Hannah’s father had learned from her grandfather, running the business as it had always been run, keeping tradition alive. Now, unfortunately, the business was in the hands of Hannah-the-Clueless, a woman totally unprepared for the challenge of keeping the business efficient and thriving.

I should have closed today, not tried to run the restaurant with almost no help.

It wasn’t as if the little pizzeria was incredibly busy, but she had been steadily working since lunch, and her leg was aching.

Hannah sighed as she walked back to the kitchen, pulling dough from the refrigerator and plopping it on the preparation counter, returning a second time as she contemplated the number of pizzas she needed to fill the order. She gathered what she needed, her hand occasionally straying to her right thigh, rubbing the aching muscles, and trying to put most of her weight on her left leg to take the stress from her right knee.

What the hell am I doing here? I don’t know how to run a business. I don’t belong here. I should have closed Temple’s when Dad passed away.

Tears filled her eyes, and she willed them not to fall, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes in frustration. Her father had only been dead for eight months, and
Temple’s
was already faltering, slowly losing the character and efficiency it had known under her father’s nurturing hand.

I need you, Dad. I miss you so much.

Pain lanced through Hannah’s chest, barely dulled by the time that had passed since her father’s death from an unexpected fatal heart attack.

Probably caused by my selfishness.

Washing her hands and gloving back up, she started on the crusts for the pizzas, shaking her head at her foolishness. Rationally, she knew her father had been taken from her early by heart disease, but it didn’t stop her from hating herself for stressing him more than she should have, by not being here in Temple to help him with his business. Had she been a better daughter, she would have been here instead of Vail, helping her father instead of indulging herself in her love of downhill skiing and catering to a man who would never love her as much as he loved himself.

Her career as a member of the ski patrol and ski instructor had ended a year ago, when her fiancé had crashed his SUV on the freeway early one snowy morning, both of them on their way to the slopes for a day of training. Hannah had never blamed Mark for what had happened. It hadn’t been his fault that the impact had occurred on her side of the vehicle, mangling her right leg and requiring multiple surgeries just to get her walking again. However, she couldn’t help but hate the bastard for dumping her, dropping her like a hot potato when she was no longer, able to ski no longer capable of hitting the slopes with him to admire his skills and sigh over every expert maneuver he made. Mark was an Olympic hopeful, and he had replaced Hannah with a brainless little blonde ski bunny once Hannah was no longer useful to his image or his massive ego.

Couldn’t have a limping woman on his arm, could he? It wouldn’t look good on camera.

Hannah pounded the dough harder, wishing it was Mark’s face. Oh, she didn’t delude herself anymore that she loved him, but it was galling that she hadn’t seen through his superficial façade earlier, to chase her own dreams instead of making his dream her own for eight years. When she and Mark had left Temple at the age of eighteen, Hannah had been an expert skier and Valedictorian of their class, capable of doing great things in the future. Instead, she had worked ski patrol and taught skiing courses to support the two of them while Mark chased his dreams, with Hannah as his greatest supporter. Honestly, she had loved her job as a member of the ski patrol, but she could have done so much more, should have been working on an education instead of waiting for Mark to marry her. Like an idiot, she had waited for years, making excuses to her father that Mark was too stressed, too busy, too exhausted to worry about a wedding.
And I was too busy worrying about Mark.

To his credit, her father had never lectured her about Mark. Instead, he had quietly encouraged her to make a life of her own, pursue her education. Looking back, Hannah wondered if her dad had known how things would end with Mark, but had never wanted to push her. Most likely, he had known Mark’s true nature, but it wasn’t her father’s way to interfere, trusting his daughter to figure it out on her own. Now, at the age of twenty-seven, Hannah wasn’t even sure what her dreams were anymore.

After spending eight years living Mark’s dreams, it was time for her to find out exactly what Hannah wanted. She had spent the last year in and out of the hospital, losing her father four months after her accident, while she was still recovering from her last surgery.

Hannah hadn’t been there when her father had died, needing to be closer to a large medical facility to recover. Dad had stayed with her in Denver, taken care of her, only going back to Temple to check on the business. It was during one of those quick visits to Temple that the heart attack had struck, taking him away within moments, leaving Hannah weak and grieving in Denver, while friends looked after the details of his burial here in Temple. She had come home for his funeral, never leaving again since that dark day eight months ago. The local doctor checked her leg, watching for problems or infection. No doubt Hannah would need another surgery in the future, but right now, she was determined to keep her father’s memory alive by running
Temple’s.

Hannah had worked at
Temple’s
with her father as a teenager, but she hadn’t been involved in the business since she’d left for Vail at the age of eighteen. She had dived in, tried to learn everything she possibly could about the pizzeria, from bookkeeping to making the items on the menu. She had a good manager, and business was just as good as it ever was, but something was…missing. It was as if nothing could fill the gaping hole that was left in the business since her father had died. His laughter, his jokes, his positive attitude and gentle ownership were gone, leaving the pizzeria just…empty, a shell of what it had once been.

Give yourself time, Hannah. It’s only been eight months. The darkness will lighten eventually. Get this damn order done and go home. You can’t afford to mess this up. Not with Daric Carvillius.

Hannah shivered as she placed the pizzas in the oven, recalling the low, demanding voice of Temple’s most notorious resident. Daric Carvillius was beyond wealthy, living in an enormous mansion outside of town. Nobody really knew the man, but everyone in Temple knew who he was, and there wasn’t a single person in town who wanted to piss him off. Hannah wasn’t sure if they were in awe of the man…or his money. She’d heard he was a giant, a man who would dwarf her own five-foot-nine height. Personally, she’d never seen him, having left Temple before he moved here, but she had heard tales of his monstrous orders from various small businesses in town, especially the food orders. There wasn’t much to choose from as far as restaurants in town, but Mr. Carvillius seemed to prefer
Temple’s,
and Hannah wanted to keep it that way. The business turned a profit, being one of the few eateries in town, but she couldn’t afford to screw up with one of her best customers.

How could any one man consume this much food? And why was he offering so much money just for delivery?

She shrugged, preparing the massive orders of breadsticks for the oven, reminding herself to add plenty of sauce to the order. She knew the man was eccentric from the information she had gathered over the months. He placed massive orders like this frequently. And he paid. What did it matter
why
he did it?

Hannah picked up her pace, working as quickly as she could on her battered leg. Mr. Carvillius had not sounded happy on the phone and she had definitely offended him. She needed to move her ass, try to stay in his good graces.

Obviously, the man was bossy, used to getting his own way. He might have reminded her of Mark…but he didn’t. Not in the slightest. Mark was whiny, getting his way by manipulation and guilt. Hannah didn’t think that was really Mr. Carvillius’s style. He sounded like a man who got his way by complete domination rather than manipulation.

God, his voice was sexy.

He had a low, commanding baritone that had sent tingles of heat throughout her entire body, a voice that meant business, expecting to be obeyed whenever he spoke.

He probably looks like a sumo wrestler if he eats like this!

Slamming one of the ovens closed with her hip, she turned and began to start boxing up food. Somehow, she just couldn’t match that voice with the body of a sumo wrestler.

That’s because his voice made your panties wet.

Yeah, his voice was most definitely hot. But it wasn’t just his voice; it was the strength she sensed behind the voice.

Shaking herself slightly, Hannah forced herself to stop fantasizing about her best customer. Seriously, it was ridiculous to read so much into a sexy voice and domineering tone. The man could be an eighty year old bald guy for all she knew.

Smiling, she began to wrap up the order, her mind more at ease as she pictured a large, sweet old man with a husky voice, waiting for his enormous delivery.

Yeah. Better.

It was so much easier to picture Daric Carvillius in a non-threatening way.
And so much safer.

Wiping the memory of that compelling voice from her head, she kept her attention on getting the order correct and keeping Mr. Carvillius’s business in the future.

*****

Daric heard the crash over an hour later, the unmistakable sound of twisting metal. He probably shouldn’t have noticed it, wouldn’t have noticed it if he had been human, the howling wind so loud that it drowned out every other sound. But he was vampire, and he had no problem discerning the disturbing noise that filtered through the battering wind.

He’d been cursing the fact that he had actually called someone to drive through the raging blizzard, an epic storm that he had gleaned information about only after turning on the television to wait for his food. Finally, he had concluded that there was no way someone was coming to deliver. He had basically been waiting for a call from
Temple’s
telling him that they couldn’t fill his order or they just wouldn’t show.

The area had been pounded with snow throughout the day and evening, visibility almost nil.

Barefoot, dressed in nothing more than a ragged pair of jeans, Daric crashed out his front door, letting loose a string of profanities as he plowed down his front porch.

“Fuck!” He waded through waist-deep snow, disparaging himself for not feeding. He was so fucking weak, so depleted. If he had fed, he could have been to the car right now, teleporting himself there in less than a heartbeat.

“I can’t believe someone actually attempted to come way the hell out here. What kind of fool human actually drove the three miles from town to deliver pizza?” he growled, propelling his massive body through the snowdrifts.

Once Daric arrived at his long, winding driveway, the snow was lighter, the wind blowing the powdery flakes toward the accumulations already present in his front yard, forming massive drifts. Still, there was plenty of the white stuff in his driveway, way too much for anyone to be on the roads that were certain to be exactly the same way.

He found the disabled truck in the gully. It looked like the vehicle had slid off his driveway, plunging down about thirty feet head-on into a tree.

Starting the descent on his feet, he ended up on his ass, sliding down the incline until he reached the battered vehicle. He wrenched open the door, hoping the delivery boy was safe, unharmed.

Except, the delivery person was
definitely
not a boy, and
she
was out cold. The woman’s head was against the steering wheel, her body unmoving. The truck was old, too ancient to have airbags, and the woman had been virtually unprotected except for her seatbelt, which was securely fastened.

Daric unlatched the belt, examining her quickly, finding a gash on the left side of her head, obviously a
head versus window
impact.