She twisted her head around to look at him. “How can you know that?”
“Your stomach grumbled.”
“You couldn’t possibly hear that.”
He lifted that one brow again, giving her that side smile, his silent way of reminding her he wasn’t quite human.
She took a deep breath. This was almost too weird. The man could smell her and distinguish her from her sister. He had uncanny hearing. It seemed like he knew what she was thinking before she did.
She flinched at that last thought and tipped her head back. “Please tell me you don’t also read minds.”
“Nope. That would be cool though.” His hands squeezed her shoulders. “What do you want to drink?”
“A beer would be great.”
He nodded. “Can I order some appetizers? I assume Elena hasn’t eaten either?”
She leaned back against his chest. It was impossible to explain or understand, but she felt like she’d known him a long time. She could barely hold on to the warning sirens going off in her head. Did she really need to be worried? This was a small town. Everyone in this bar knew the man. If he was a serial killer, they wouldn’t let him lure her into a ditch.
The word lure stuck in her mind. Was he luring her? That was definitely one of her grandmother’s words.
“I’d love to be able to read your mind, Layla. There is so much going on inside that pretty head of yours. You go from hot to cold every few seconds. I fear I’m the cause of your concerns. Please don’t be afraid of me. I swear I would never harm a hair on your head.”
She held her breath while he spoke into her ear, the warmth of his breath hitting her with every syllable.
“Let me order us some food for the table, get us some beers, and we’ll join your sister and Caleb, yeah?”
She nodded. “Thank you.” She watched as he slid around her and leaned an elbow between two people on bar stools. He kept one of her hands in his the entire time as if worried she might disappear if he broke contact.
She couldn’t hear anything he said, but how could he go wrong with a few appetizers and cold beer?
What caught her attention was the man sitting at the bar stool to the right of Hunter. He wasn’t facing the bar. He was completely turned around, facing Layla. Staring at her. His expression was eerie. Scrutinizing. She got the impression he didn’t like humans, assuming he was a shifter. Or maybe he didn’t like her in particular. He had white hair and a two-day-old white beard and mustache. He looked tired. Worn out. She bet he was younger than he looked. When he narrowed his gaze at her, she turned away, setting her sights on Hunter’s fine ass encased in equally fine jeans.
Hunter suddenly turned to the white-haired man. “How’s it going, Anders?”
The man, apparently named Anders, grunted in response. He didn’t glance at Hunter though. He kept his gaze on Layla. She wondered if Anders was his first or last name.
Hunter stared hard at Anders, and if Layla wasn’t mistaken, Hunter stiffened. A second later, he leaned in closer and spoke to Anders discreetly. Layla couldn’t hear what Hunter said, but it did nothing to alter Anders in the least. He continued to stare at her. She wasn’t sure he even blinked.
Never releasing Layla’s hand, Hunter turned his attention back to the bartender and picked up a beer. As he swiveled back to face Layla, he hesitated, his gaze on Anders, and gritted out, “Not tonight, Anders. Please.”
Anders finally glanced at Hunter and gave a slight nod.
To say the exchange was weird would have been an understatement.
Hunter finally handed Layla a beer and then snagged his own from the bar. “They’ll bring our food to the table.”
She shook off the strange older guy, took a sip of beer, and moaned. It was perfect. Cold. Crisp. Light. Just right. Maybe it would help her loosen up a bit. Her behavior was odd. She’d come here with every intention of finding and fucking this very man. He’d turned out to be every bit as sexy as she’d imagined. He was funny and kind and attentive and generous. He was the full package.
Her body was completely alert. Tingling with anticipation. She would give anything to see him naked, have him slide into her and fuck her so hard she lost her vision. It had been her goal. And she was certain he would be in agreement. What was slowing her down?
She couldn’t put her finger on it. Something about this entire bizarre encounter felt…important. Like having sex with him would be more meaningful than just a one-night stand. That odd sensation might have been what was making her slow down. She for sure wasn’t going to stay in Canyon Springs like he’d jokingly suggested.
He had been joking, right? He did realize she was passing through town, right? Maybe it was his reactions to her that were making her think twice. He didn’t seem like he wanted to simply enjoy a quick fuck with her and go home.
God. That was it. It wasn’t her. It was him. He looked too serious. Intent. Like she was more than tonight’s conquest. If he were more laid back and didn’t look like he wanted to eat her and never stop, she might have simply left with him. But his demeanor and his expressions spoke of something more.
Layla didn’t have more. She had a week. Two at the most. She hadn’t told Elena yet that she intended to go with her sister to Chicago, but she sure wasn’t staying in a town where she didn’t know anyone.
Damn, he was alluring though. She’d give almost anything to pull his henley over his head and flatten her palms on his chest. She bet it would be smooth and chiseled. She wanted to grip his ass next, hold on to him with her fingertips. She shivered at the thought of him entering her. Dammit.
His voice was deeper than she’d heard before when he spoke again. “Layla, babe. Stop looking at me like that. You’re making it very hard for me to continue to be a gentleman.”
She swallowed, not realizing she’d been ogling him and plotting their future sexual encounter. Shit. She took another drink of her beer. She needed to break up this trance she was in. “Let’s go find Elena.” Before he could respond, she turned and headed toward the table. Her heart was racing. She’d never wanted a man as badly as she wanted this one. It unnerved her and made her think twice. Maybe sleeping with a local wasn’t such a good idea after all. Not if she was going to have freaking feelings for him.
Nope. Feelings had never been in the plan for this week.
Fucking yes. Feelings no.
Chapter 6
May 5, 1967
Dear Mabel,
It feels weird to keep writing to you since you never open any of my letters, but I find it cathartic anyway. You’re like my diary. At least I know no one ever reads my diary. Josiah says I could build an addition on our house with the money I would save in postage if I stopped writing. I know he’s kidding. I will never stop writing.
Also, it’s starting to seem like we’ll never need an addition on this house. I haven’t gotten pregnant. We moved into this large two-story house last year, intending to fill it with kids, but that hasn’t been in the cards for me yet.
Speaking of pregnant, Mom says you haven’t conceived yet either. That seems like a strange coincidence, but then again, you and I have the same genetics. Maybe we’re not very fertile.