“I’ll go order it for you before I pick up some things,” said Aspen. “Hey, did you know the full story about Tate’s ex?”
Havana shook her head. “He never spoke of her, and I never asked.”
“Maybe the reason he has such razor-sharp boundaries is that he’s trying to avoid ever triggering the imprinting process to start. I mean, if you felt the pain that came with the snapping of imprint threads, it’d make you reluctant to go down that road again, right?”
“Probably. But I really don’t want to talk about Tate or his ex or anything else that has the potential to give me indigestion. I just want to get this grocery shopping done so I can head home and pig out.”
“I’ll go to the pizza counter, place your order, and wait for it to cook. I’m guessing you want the usual toppings.”
“You guessed right, thanks.”
“No thanks needed.” Aspen disappeared.
Havana walked down several aisles, tossing various foods into the cart such as apples, oranges, bagels, cupcakes, potatoes, and meat trays. She liked shopping here. Unlike with human-owned stores, the fluorescent lighting wasn’t quite so bright, and the background music wasn’t loud, so the place was kinder to a shifter’s enhanced senses. There was no lessening the strength of the food smells, but she didn’t mind that; she liked inhaling the scents of cinnamon buns, fresh-baked bread, and citrus fruit.
Hearing her phone chime, she dug it out of her purse. Dieter. She blinked, surprised. Like Tate, he only contacted her when interested in hooking up. Huh. She answered, “Hello.”
“Fuck, Havana, I only just heard about what happened,” he burst out. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
Havana’s brows lifted. “Well, hello to you, too. Yes, it has been months since we last spoke. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”
He snorted. “Like I’m going to bother my ass with small talk when you were almost kidnapped. Jesus, I got the shock of my life when I heard about it.”
“Yeah, the whole thing was quite a surprise for me, too.”
“You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Really. What about you?”
“I was fine until I received that fucked-up news about you. I can’t believe you didn’t call me. We’ve been friends a while, Havana. You had to know I’d want to hear about this.”
She wouldn’t say they’d ever been actual friends. Just two people who were friendly and occasionally hooked up. He’d never been a shoulder for her to cry on. Never shared his dreams or goals with her. Never been at her side through tough times. Well, whatever. “How’re things with you and Tabitha?”
“They’re fine, but don’t think I’m letting you change the subject. If you have any more problems, if anything else happens, you pick up the phone and call me.”
She almost snapped her teeth. It was pretty freaking irritating that both he and Tate—two guys who didn’t want to make her a part of their lives—thought it reasonable to demand that she look to them for help. It was slightly different with Tate, considering she was officially under his protection, but still irritating.
“Dieter, you know better than to use that tone with me—it gets you nowhere.”
He growled. “I’m just asking that you call me if more shit goes down.”
“You’re not asking, you’re demanding. And I’m trying not to laugh because, yeah, you seem to think I’ll bow to your whim.”
“I just worry about you.”
“You can worry without laying down laws I’ll never follow.” She carefully lowered a crate of eggs into the cart, balancing it on a box of cereal. “Now I have to go. Take care.” Hands landed on the end of her cart. Her head snapped up. And she froze. Because right there was Tate, looking all delicious and sexy and self-possessed. He was also staring down at her, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“We’re not done,” Dieter insisted.
Oh, they were. “I’ll talk to you again soon.” Ignoring his protests, Havana rang off and returned her phone to her purse.
Her devil glared at Tate, her mood fouler than usual after seeing him with his ex. Havana might have been equally irritated if Valentina hadn’t relayed the whole story. Ashlynn really had screwed him over. It was impossible not to feel bad for him.
“Who is Dieter?” he asked, his tone even.
She curled her hands around the cart handle. “An … acquaintance of sorts, I guess you could say.”
“An acquaintance who knows you in the biblical sense?”
She thought about pointing out how that was absolutely not his business, but she’d just learned a fair bit of personal info about his past. She figured turnabout was fair play. “Yes.”
A muscle in Tate’s cheek ticked. “What did he want?”
“To know if I’m okay. What did your ex want?’”
Tate frowned. “Who told you about her?”
“A few of your pride mates mentioned her over the past few months. Valentina pointed her out just now. She was under the impression that you and I still had a ‘thing’ going on, so she explained about your ex, not wanting me to worry that the girl was competition. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“You haven’t really been answering mine properly lately, but I’ll tell you anyway. She wanted to apologize for how things went down three years ago and then asked if we could have dinner. I said no.”
“Have dinner?” Hmm, maybe Skank of the Century really was back for him.
“Yeah. She wants to talk. I don’t.”
Havana wasn’t entirely convinced he was as disinterested in Ashlynn as he sounded. They had serious history, after all. He had to be at least a little curious to know what she had to say. “Okay. Now could you move, because I need to grab a few more things. Thank you,” she said when he released the cart. But he didn’t leave. He fell into step beside her as she pushed the cart round to the next aisle.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
Glancing into her cart, he replied, “Wondering how hard it will be to convince you to share that chocolate trifle with me. We had fun with one of those once, didn’t we? It tasted better when I was eating it off you.”
She almost spluttered. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. And that was not a memory she wanted to revisit in the middle of a damn grocery store. “Don’t you have Alpha stuff to do?”
“If someone needs me for something, they know how to reach me.”
Alphas were often on call 24/7. It couldn’t be easy, but she doubted Tate would ever find it something to complain about. He was a man of action. He seemed to thrive on it.
“Now, about that trifle …”
“You’re not getting any of it,” she said. “You want one, buy your own.”
Aspen came into view, her basket full, holding a pizza box. “You done yet?”
“Almost. Just got to grab some milk.” Havana nearly ran over something with her cart. Noticing what it was, she sighed. “Okay, now things are just getting weird.”
Tate’s brow furrowed. “Weird how?”
“Last night, I had a dream that I was trying to check into a motel, but it was closed. Earlier, a woman walked past me singing Moonlight Motel to herself. And look what we have here.” Havana picked up the object off the floor. “A DVD of Bates Motel, season one.”