Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(13)

“They’re not from around here,” he said after a moment. “Came up for hunting too.”

When the kids scampered up to the counter with their drink requests, she sat back. She’d just have to be wary of those guys. And everything else too, for that matter. She’d gotten lazy in her city life, but she was on her own again, at least for awhile. And maybe that was exactly what she needed to get the music flowing.

She refused to think that the recent chorus had come to her only because she’d come. Because of him.

Well, she couldn’t orgasm her way through a whole album.

But a fiendish part of her brain asked, Why the hell not?

A bit later, as Grampa plated up a couple chicken-friend steaks for the table of two, Willow slipped a twenty under her coffee mug and prepared to make her move for the door. Another four-top of hunters had come in, talking even more excitedly about elk than the kids had been about carbonated beverages, and she would be invisible behind their wall of camo. She wasn’t interested in any manly attention, certainly not from any more guys in black T-shirts with watchful eyes.

But as her ass slipped off the counter seat, the bell above the diner door chimed again.

Oh, f*ck it.

His gaze speared right to her, and the shock hit her square in the chest, the ache spreading like a hollow point.

She was caught.

He strode toward her, slapping his hand on the booth top of the two black-clad guys without looking at them. She knew they’d seemed too similar to be unconnected.

Too bad she hadn’t ordered a chicken-fried steak. Then at least she’d have a knife close at hand. Because the way he was barreling toward her, he was on the attack.

Wait, she had nothing to be defensive about. It wasn’t like she had sneaked out in the middle of the night.

She raised her chin as he rocked to a halt, the toes of his combat lugs almost touching the brass tips of her cowboy boots. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if Seth on bass and Arlan on drums were right behind her. She could use some backup right now, but Grampa was busy with his orders. And anyway, she didn’t need anybody.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I was just leaving.”

“I got a light this time.” His low voice sent shivers through her.

“I quit,” she said. “Smoking, I mean.” And one-night stands too. At least with sneakers like him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Having coffee.”

His eyes narrowed. “I mean in Angels Rest.”

“Nothing, apparently. No place to stay, so I’m going back to the city.” And she was. Just like that she decided it. It was stupid to think just breathing some fresh air was going to help her find the music again.

Even more stupid to think that touching some more of his wildness would break her free from her frozen silence.

Nope, she wanted to go back to her soundproofed room service where she couldn’t even see the stars. There were plenty of songwriters for hire and eager collaborators out there somewhere. So what if the songs weren’t hers?

Diesel frowned at her, shifting his weight back to his heels. “You should go back. It’s not safe here.”

She scowled. “I’ve been hunting more than a few times. I know my way around a muzzleloader.”

“I meant…” He spiked one hand through his hair. “Where’s your bodyguard or a handler or an entourage or whatever?”

She stilled. “You know who I am?”

“Your face is on billboards,” he growled. “Yeah, I figured it out.”

She pursed her lips. It shouldn’t matter that he knew. He hadn’t known who she was before and he just walked away. She wasn’t interested in catching him again now that he knew she was rich and famous and whatever.

“So if you’ll excuse me,” she said snidely.

He didn’t move. “Why did you come here?”

She huffed out an annoyed breath. “Our residency at the casino is being renegotiated, and the band is on hiatus while I work out some new material.” Damn, that sounded so official and rehearsed and like it was actually happening. Well, it was all happening, technically, except for the new material part. “You mentioned this was a quiet place so I thought I’d check it out.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Angels Rest isn’t a resort for rock stars.”

“Uh, yeah, I got that. Actually, you know what, never mind. It’s not important.” She raised her hand to stop any more questions, but he was so close that the raging heat of his body seemed to press against her palm, as if he’d stepped right into her.

Every nerve seemed to ignite at the phantom touch, and she wondered just how badly she was going to regret leaving Las Vegas.





Chapter 6

When Malachi had texted him she’s here and WTF she smells like you, Diesel hadn’t had to ask where here was. LT and Mal were addicted to Grampa’s deadly diner fare.

And he didn’t have to ask who she was either.

He hadn’t stopped thinking of her once since they’d returned from Vegas. And now here she was, like she’d emerged from his dreams.

Smell-o-vision dreams, apparently. Because Mal was right—she still carried the faintest fragrance of their encounter.

That wasn’t possible. He could tell she’d showered since then, the perfumes of soap and shampoo disguised the natural smoky-sweet scent of her skin. But far under that… Damn, he was getting a boner just from the memories. But there was no way she should still be marked by his touch.