Taming the Wolf Page 2

  “We could meet at a designated time at a designated place for dinner tomorrow. You could wear something dressy—“

  “I have lots of clothes,” I say. “Some are even not stained with Love Potions made by short men looking like Peter Dinklage.”

  “That sounds great,” Jared says, his deep voice huskier. “And then you could let me invite you to a restaurant of some kind.”

  “Where there’s food?”

  “My favorite kind of restaurant,” he says.

  “Like… a date?” I feel stupid asking, but I’d feel even stupider if I assumed and it was just a friendly proposition. Maybe he likes my humor, or maybe he wants me to help him get a student loan, or maybe he’s gay—I have absolutely no gaydar whatsoever—

  “You could categorize it as a date-ish type sort of outing,” he nods. “I mean, if we actually wanted to categorize it. I like things categorized, myself. So if you agree, we could call it a date.”

  “These terms are acceptable to me,” I say, feeling silly but also elated. “I motion for a prompt decision as to the when and where part of the contract.”

  Jared steps forward, closing the distance between our bodies just like I dreamed about earlier. I have a hard time breathing, and I feel a little bit dizzy, dazzled as I am by his proximity. My back is touching the desk, so there is nowhere I could retreat to, even if I wanted—and I don’t want to. No. No way. No Siree. I like that not-so-distant distance; I could write songs about that non-distance. An epic poem.

  Jared breathes in, closing his eyes for a second.

  “Is tomorrow evening too soon for you? I actually have something going on with friends, but I’m willing to blow them off… I’m that desperate to see you again.”

  “D— Desperate?” I gulp again.

  “Am I coming on too strongly?” he asks, his gaze fleeting from my eyes to my mouth. “I’m not used to being fascinated. I guess I just want to make sure I don’t blow my chance with you, if I do have one.”

  Fascinated? Fascinated! My mind is spinning uncontrollably. Tomorrow evening. Why can’t I remember if I’m doing something? Dammit!

  “I guess I could make tomorrow work.” I know I should check my schedule, I could very well be blowing off something important for this date, but at the same time I don’t care much about anything else. My heart beats like crazy in my chest.

  Jared lifts his hand, cupping my chin softly for a second. “I promise you won’t regret this decision,” he says, a serious look on his face.

  Is he gonna kiss me? What is happening? I feel shy, but I actually want him to.

  “Meet you here around 7pm tomorrow?” he asks, smiling pleasantly again and slowly taking a step back.

  “I’ll be here,” I promise. His lips did not meet mine, it’s like the world kept spinning around and left me behind, waiting for him to finish what he started.

  Jared takes my bandaged hand with precaution, and slowly bows to place a kiss on it. “I look forward to it.”

  Chapter Three

  When I arrive at work at eight the next morning, my boss is not happy.

  “What happened to your hands?” he says, half preoccupied with me, half preoccupied with his business. “You can’t work like that!”

  “It’s a little bit harder, yes, but I can do my job, Paul,” I say, trying to appease him. “It’s just bandages, it’s not like my hands were amputated.”

  “Don’t joke like that, Missy! You have no idea what an untreated wound can lead to. Necrosis! Worse! Leprosy! Did you go see a doctor?”

  I look at my feet in defeat, knowing perfectly well how this is going to go. “A medical student… Does that count?“

  “Stop right there. You need to see an actual doctor, young lady. Now go immediately get yourself checked out, and don’t come back until you do. I’ll call Danielle and she’ll take your place this morning.”

  “But—“

  “Shoo!” he waves me off, chasing me away. Paul is not the most patient, nor the most affable, but I know he genuinely cares about all his employees.

  “All right, all right,” I huff, not wanting to show him that I appreciate his concern. It’s a bit we have. It’s how we roll.

  Still, I hate to lose my Saturday shift. The bank is one of the liveliest spots in town today, and I enjoy seeing my Saturday colleagues and the chance to deal with some of the clients face to face. I’m going to miss out on a lot of social interaction.

  I take the bus to the county hospital. It’s not too far from where I work, thankfully, but I didn’t feel like walking there, instead I wanted to zone out and think about Jared and our encounter last night. The morning is bright, and I’m still ten thousand feet high on my little cloud, thinking how wonderful he is, and how much I wouldn’t mind getting in his pants.

  But my Jared-induced high is trampled when I arrive at the hospital. The urgent care waiting room is packed, and it looks like the staff is very busy with real emergencies. Broken bones, fresh cuts, concussions… those real emergencies are waiting here with me, and I can hear the staff bustle around in the background while the more severe cases are brought in by ambulance and wheeled through another door on a gurney.

  I try not to resent Paul too much for making me go to the hospital and lose a whole pay day. I try not to watch the wounds of the people around me too much. I try not to feel too queasy. Try, try, try.

  “Paige?”

  I look up in surprise when I hear my name.

  I should have thought about it. I should have known.

  Jared is standing in front of me, in a white jacket, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. A stethoscope lays around his neck, and he’s holding a chart with his other hand.

  “Oh, hey.” I’m feeling so stupid it’s all that I can say. What is he going to think? That I’m stalking him? That’s not good.

  Ha!

  Who the fuck just laughed? Who is making fun of me? I heard a laugh. I glance around quickly only to realize no one is even paying me attention. Good thing I’m at the hospital, maybe I can get my head checked out.

  “Are you— Are you all right?” Jared asks. I get how weird I must look, mute, glancing around like a crazy person for someone who laughed at me… someone who obviously doesn’t exist in the real world.

  “Oh, yes. Yes. I’m good, all patched up,” I say, trying a smile, which thankfully he matches with his own beautiful smile.

  “Then, what are you doing here?”

  “Paul— That is, my boss, Paul— He— He thought that I should get checked up. I told him— But he wouldn’t— And so here I am.” I hang my head in defeat.

  “It’s okay. It’s best if we get another look, anyway,” he says, waving me to go around the reception desk and into the private exam room area where the emergencies are seen. I feel the looks of disapproval and envy burn into me from all the people in the waiting room as I stalk over to the private entrance where Jared directed me to go, trying not to look at anyone, shame on my face.

  He opens the curtain to an exam room and makes me sit on some kind of cot.

  “I had no idea this is where you worked. I’m sorry. I know I look like a crazy stalker,” I babble as he takes the bandage off my hand.

  He chuckles. “Oh, I saw how red your face got, you had no idea you’d find me here. That’s cute, by the way.”

  “Wh— What is?” My face is not going to stop being red anytime soon, if he keeps talking to me that way.

  “You. Blushing. It’s a rare occurrence nowadays, gotta enjoy a blushing girl.”

  I wince as he presses a little on my wounds.

  “You’re healing fine,” he says, keeping my hand in his. “No sign of infection. I don’t think you’ll need a shot after all.”

  “I’m going to need that written down. My boss won’t be happy until I can show him that I am not going to turn into a zombie or something.”

  “Well, I can’t promise that. But nothing is going to fall off this week, at least.”

  I swat
him playfully, and inch toward the edge of the cot to get up.

  “Wait a minute, I need to examine your knees as well,” he orders, pushing me back with a firm hand on my shoulder.

  Jared slowly lifts my skirt to uncover my knees, and it’s all I can do to refrain from gasping. His hand hikes up to mid thigh, looking me straight in the eye, and it’s so erotic I feel I’m going to combust right there.

  With his other hand, he lifts my leg a little, his strong fingers touching delicately the sensitive skin behind the knees. He caresses me softly there with the tip of his fingers until he finds the tail end of the bandage.

  I let a loud sigh slip through my lips, and at once feel ashamed that I’m enjoying this so much. I bet they heard that sigh from the other wing of the hospital. Maybe at the other side of town. Way to go, Paige, you’re going to go straight to jail for disorderly sexual conduct!

  Jared takes the bandage off, very slowly, his eyes now lingering on my knees and thighs, and isn’t it very warm in there? I’m having a hard time breathing now.

  “Your pretty legs are in good shape,” he says. “You’re healing just fine. Just don’t do any Cinderella work for a week.”

  “Cinderella?” I wonder.

  “Yeah, you know… Washing the floor on your knees, scrubbing the fireplace with your bare hands. That kind of Cinderelling.”

  We stare at each other smiling for half a minute, in a comfortable silence. I keep thinking that I like him—he’s intelligent, an almost-doctor, but he’s also pretty funny, and drop dead gorgeous—and I am amazed at the fact that he seems to like me too. What does he see in me?

  Probably the same thing you see in him.

  Okay, that’s it. I’m at the hospital, maybe I should get some kind of consultation about that voice I’m hearing. I—

  “Does this mean you’ve had enough of me for today, or do you still want to see me tonight?” Jared says, bending a little, all of a sudden his mouth a few inches from mine.

  “I— I—“

  “Because I really want to see you tonight… And I’m not sure I can accept a no… if that’s your answer,” he says. “I’m going to have to insist.”

  “I do want to see you again tonight. Without any kind of doubt.”

  Jared comes even closer, and his mouth brushes against mine. “I swear you won’t regret this.” His hand reaches behind my neck with care, and he kisses me softly.

  I have never come that close to melting in my whole life.

  I feel him vibrate against my leg, and he jumps straight back. His pager.

  “Tonight?” he asks, and I nod as he turns on his heels and runs away.

  Chapter Four

  There’s already quite a few people in The LoveSick when I arrive. There are a few tables pushed together in a corner where a dozen people or so are chatting animatedly.

  Near the back of the bar, some men are being raucous, which is not how I remembered the ambiance from last night.

  I choose a table near the front door, as far away from them as possible, and start taking off my jacket.

  Not there, come to the bar.

  Tomorrow I’m going to get checked by the doctor. Hearing voices—well, a voice—is utterly disturbing. I keep wondering if I’m imagining things, or if I’m… schizophrenic? This is so not something I want to deal with right now—not when things are finally going so good for me on the romance front.

  My mind reels automatically toward Jared, and how it could be a good excuse to see him again after tonight… But then again, do I really want to tell him I am going crazy?

  As I stand there, deciding I can’t possibly tell Jared I might be mentally ill, I see Old Peter Dinklage—

  Ugh.

  Old P— The bar owner is waving me closer, a scolding, impatient look on his face.

  I grab my things, and make my way through the crowd. I sit at the bar, right in front of him… I dread being so close, incapable of forgetting the stabbing—the stabbing no one else saw… or reacted to? He keeps staring at me silently. It’s so creepy.

  “It’s not creepy,” he says. “I’m just shutting up to hear you think, Blondie.”

  “How— How do you do that?” I say, grabbing the bar so as not to fall from my chair. So he is the one I’m hearing? Am I dreaming? No, my hands hurt, so this can’t be a dream. He just confessed he is listening to my thoughts!

  “It’s not a fucking dream, it’s real. Look around. Who do you think I am?”

  I look around, taking the setting in consideration. Red paint, hearts, a bow and two golden arrows right over the bartender space, The LoveSick… I look back at Old Peter Dinklage and—

  “If you call me Old Peter Dinklage once more, I’ll stab you again, bitch.”

  “Who are you?” I ask, but I’m starting to have a pretty good idea.

  “Yeah, I’m him.”

  “B— But…” Cupid is supposed to be some kind of flying chubby little cherub—

  “Yeah yeah, I’m old, I know. I heard. You’re very insensitive, bitch. You’ve hurt my feelings, multiple times.”

  “I’m sorry?” Am I really apologizing for thinking something? Aren’t my thoughts supposed to be private?

  “Yeah, it’s kind of unavoidable when I stab someone with one of my arrows. It’s fucking annoying for me, too—but this is how it works—I’m in your head until you resolve your loving feelings for that cute piece of ass.”

  “Jared? You— You did that?”

  “Well, duh.”

  “But why? Why me?”

  “I saw your potential. Yours and his both. And I was fucking bored. So, you know… gotta find my entertainment somewhere.”

  “You’re Cupid.”

  “Cupsy. Don’t fucking call me Cupid out loud, Blondie, or you’re going to get yourself committed,” he says, annoyed. “And if you do get committed, I’ll stay stuck in your head until you die. You can’t do that to us, bitch. I’m sorry to say this, but your mind is not that interesting. I’m getting bored again, I want some action now.”

  As if on cue, the sound of a glass crashing on the floor interrupts our conversation. Cupsy looks at the group who had set themselves up in the back corner of the bar with a furrowed brow, and waves a waiter to go deal with the damage. I take a longer look at what’s going on over there, and this time I’m taking the whole scene in: they’re all bikers, sitting and bantering, and some of them are very drunk. They’re laughing loudly, roughhousing. Given the state of the table, it’s not the first drink they’ve spilled tonight while acting like jerks.

  One of them is staring at the girls around The LoveSick, I can hear him making lewd comments to his friend. I’m pissed off because I hate that kind of guy, but then all anger flees from my body as he turns his head in my direction and notices me watching him.

  I jerk my head back toward the bar, purposefully trying to avoid looking over there again, fearing it would encourage him to come hit on me. I can already hear him in my head, saying that I’m looking for it.

  “Hey, Cupsy,” says a voice coming right from behind me. I jump in my seat, surprised. As I turn around, I see I didn’t look away quickly enough, and that the jerk definitely got the wrong impression. He’s already leaning in on the bar beside me. He’s gigantic, and has absolutely no concept of personal space whatsoever. I can feel his beer-stinking breath on me—he’s that close. I inch farther away, trying to regain a little space.

  “Do you little shits need more beers over there?” asks Cupsy. His tone is icy—not that he’s ever all that warm from what I’ve seen, except when he’s entertaining his adoring fans.

  The guy roars a laugh, exhibiting a lack of front teeth that is as terrifying as it is unattractive. “Yeah, sure, keep ‘em coming, old fart.”

  As Cupsy waves at another waiter to prepare more beers for the group of bikers, the toothless guy reaches for me and grabs my arm. “Hey there little lady,” he slurs drunkenly. I try to free my arm but he doesn’t even seem to notice my struggling—his gra
sp is too strong, and I can’t get away, at least not without being openly aggressive.

  “Please don’t touch my arm,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and confident.

  “Guyv. Leave her be,” scolds Cupid.

  “I’m just making small talk,” Toothless Guyv says, holding his hands up in a sign of appeasement and then turning back to me. “Would you like to be the group’s new sweet ass, baby?”

  “I’d love that,” Cupsy answers for me, “but I have to work. Maybe another time.”

  Toothless Guyv seems to be stunned by Cupsy’s answer for a second, but then he laughs, flashing his empty, gray gums, holding my arm tighter, squeezing it just a little harder, and I’m shaken as he slaps his knee in amusement, almost yanking me from my bar stool.

  Are you going to do something about that or are you going to take his shit?

  Well, I’d try to tell him off, but the man is twice my size. I’m not sure a simple, polite rebuttal would be enough to make him go away—he doesn’t look like the kind of guy that worries about what Miss Manners would say. At the same time, I can’t possibly let him keep his grip on me.

  I stand up from the bar stool and pull on my arm. “Excuse me, I need to go. Cupsy, please tell Jared I’m sorry I missed him, but that I’ll talk to him soon.”

  I’m furious that I have to leave and miss my date with Jared, but I can get a hold of him tomorrow at the hospital and explain what happened.

  Except Toothless Guyv is not letting go.

  All of a sudden, a huge guy stands between Toothless Guyv and me.

  Jared.

  I hadn’t even noticed that he had arrived in the bar. His hand is firmly on my arm, and another one is on Guyv’s shoulder, forcing him to stand back from me and—finally—to let me go.

  “Hey pal, please leave the lady alone. You’re frightening her,” Jared says, his voice calm and measured.