Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(16)

She stepped back into the hallway, her bare feet silent on the tile floor. Diesel kicked off his boots, and after a moment Willow did the same. He grinned at her striped socks.

“I’m Betsy Rowan,” their hostess was saying as she held a hand out to Willow. They shook, then Betsy waved toward the French doors off the hallway. “A.k.a Auntie Fate.” The banner hanging from the bookshelf full of arcane knickknacks behind her computer made the backdrop for her webcast.

Willow’s eyes widened. “I’ve seen your show.”

Betsy snorted. “I hope you didn’t believe any of it.”

“Just a little.”

“Okay then. You can stay.”

“I really do appreciate it,” Willow said. “I wasn’t thinking about hunting season and how hard it would be to find a place anywhere around here.”

Betsy grimaced. “Yeah, everybody’s here to kill something.” She shot a glance at Diesel before waving her hand again. “I’m vegan to fit expectations of an aging hippie.”

Willow grinned. “Secretly, I don’t even like cowboy boots.”

“Good god, girl. Don’t let anyone hear you say that aloud. We do have some standards in this hick town.”

“Outside of the cowboy boots and the expectations, I’m Wendy. Wendy Rawlings, although I mostly go by Willow now.”

Diesel froze, astonishment locking him in place while the two women continued deeper into the house.

“Nice to meet you, Willow,” Betsy said. “We have an electrical hookup for the parking pad if you have power in your van—”

“Wait,” Diesel barked. “What did you say?”

Betsy glanced back with a frown. “If she has power—”

“No.” He stared at Willow—Wendy? “What did you say your name was?”

Betsy snorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize her. Willow Raleigh once sang the national anthem that made hockey players weep icy tears.”

He kept his gaze fixed on the younger woman. “Wendy Rawlings, from Big Sandy River?”

She rocked backward in her striped socks. “Yeah? Why—”

“Your next door neighbor was my cousin.” When she just stared at him, he gritted out, “I spent almost two weeks there one spring. We were seven.”

He saw the moment she remembered.

“Danny?” she whispered.

“Damn,” Betsy mused. “Does anybody use their real names anymore?”

“Obviously Diesel wasn’t real,” he snapped. “But I haven’t been Daniel for a long time.”

Willow—little Wendy!—clamped her hand over her mouth, but her eyes danced. “Oh my word, it is a small world.”

And about to get smaller. Because the things they’d done back then and the things they’d just done might mean she’d never be able to go back to Vegas.





Chapter 7

Willow—she hadn’t been Wendy in so long—couldn’t believe it. Geeky Daniel with his ridiculous B horror movie T-shirt of the Wolfman that he wore almost every day had grown all up! What a glorious couple weeks they’d had as school let out for the year, riding their bikes to the creek to fish—never caught anything and didn’t care—just running wild. They’d had one of those intense summer vacation friendships that only childhood adventures could create.

The last night before Daniel returned home, she’d jumped out of her back bedroom in the single-wide and crept across the narrow space between the trailers to throw a rock at his cousin’s bedroom window. His cousin slept like the dead, but Danny answered her gesture to sneak out.

He’d joined her under the tiny sliver of waning crescent moon. The wheeling stars and fireflies gave everything an ethereal glow as they walked down the lane leading out of the trailer park.

“Let’s play hunting,” he said.

She scoffed. “Haven’t caught anything all week.”

“So this time, you be the prey. I’ll be the hunter. But you gotta let me catch you.”

“What? No.” She stood on one leg to scratch a mosquito bite on her ankle. “I want to be the hunter.”

He considered. “Okay. This time only though.”

He’d taken off through the woods. Without even making her count to ten or anything. She was right on his heels. She’d already known he was fast—he could pedal his cousin’s second-hand rickety bike quicker than any of them—but now he stayed just ahead of her reaching fingers. He made yipping noises whenever she lost him, and she was half shrieking with laughter, half gonna kill him when they burst out onto the riverbank.

She wasn’t supposed to go to the river by herself. But she wasn’t by herself; she was with Danny. Still, the slow, dark churn of the water added a mystery and sense of danger to the night that hadn’t been there before.

They stood on the edge of the river, catching their breath. Finally, she remember to actually catch Danny. But when she tackled him to the ground, he rolled her over. And kissed her.

Just a smack of lips, really. But she’d seen enough Disney movies to know what was what.

She touched his hair, which was always standing straight up around his head, as if some wind was blowing that only he could feel. And she kissed him.