Page 5 of Bound to the Griffin
“I mean,” I added quickly, “you didn’t have to say yes. I just thought… well, after walking me home, you looked like you could use… God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird.” I blabbed my mouth like an idiot, chattering without breathing when I got nervous, and I wasreallynervous right now. The tea would help, I hoped.
Jackson looked over his shoulder at me, one brow arched, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The breath stalled in my throat when he looked at me like that. He was sexy as sin, too gorgeous to be real with his sandy blond hair, those sharp cheekbones, and all those freaking muscles.
“You’re not weird, Gwen,” he said gently. His voice sounded a tad husky, smoky even. Gwen. NotMs. Avery, notma’am, not any of the stiff, polite nonsense that hid nothing but barbs I’d been dodging since I got here. Just Gwen. It was plain, simple, the kind of thing my friends back home used to call me before those friendships had abruptly exploded in my face. It brought on a wave of homesickness I didn’t expect, not this early on in my venture.
I swallowed, busying myself with the kettle as it began to hum. My heart thudded in a way I wished I could blame on the tea, but I’d chosen a calming blend, damn it, nothing high-octane, full of caffeine. The tea was absolutely blameless, besides the strongest I had was Earl Gray or some Darjeeling, nothing with a real kick. The truth was, having someone here—someoneon my side—felt like air after drowning. The town might’ve eyed me like a stray dog dragging in fleas, and a few kind words and help with my supplies from him counted for a lot.
The wave of homesickness was gone as quickly as it had come, because it was silly and pointless. What I’d had before was gone, whether I was here or there. Better that I be here, making new friends, new connections, like with a handsome, helpful sheriff.
When I turned around, he was kneeling at the hearth, his big hands expertly arranging the split logs I’d stacked that morning. There was something almost reverent in the way he worked, like the fire mattered, likeImattered. That was fanciful thinking on my part, but the shiny, polished hearth with its beautiful carvings evoked images of older times, bygone times. Somehow, Jackson’s handsome, aristocratic face seemed to fit into an older setting too.
“Lemon?” I asked, holding up the tiny dish with the slices. My mouth was dry as a bone, caught on the way his tan shirt stretched over his wide shoulders, his thighs and butt filling his pants in the most glorious fashion. Get it together. If he caught me drooling, that would be so embarrassing.
He glanced back again. “Sure.” Something passed through his amber eyes that could have been amusement, but I wasn’t sure if it was at me or the situation. I supposed a guy like him didn’t drink tea, let alone lavender and chamomile with a slice of lemon and a dollop of honey.
I knelt beside him as he struck the match, his steaming cup trembling in my hand. The scent of sulfur curled through the air before the kindling caught and light blossomed in the hearth, dancing golden and alive. We sat there a moment, both of us watching the flames like they held some kind of answer.
He broke the silence first. “You’ve done a lot of work on the fireplace. It’s beautiful.” It went to show what a little love, polish, and a few hours with a rag could amount to. The fireplace did look good, the only thing not faded and ancient in the living room.
“All in vain, if the rest of your townspeople have their way. I don’t think they want me here.” I didn’t say it because I wanted pity, or for him to say nice things again, things that implied that at least one person did want my company. I said it because it was a fact, and one that was a little more hostile than the reception I had expected. I wanted him to make sense of it for me.
His jaw tightened just a little. “Most people don’t know what they’re talking about.” That was it, no explanation for why people had behaved the way they had, though surely he knew. His gaze was resolute, but it didn’t tell me anything either, just that he was steady, and that I likely wouldn’t get answers even if I asked why. Damn it, I hated secrets.
With a hint of a frown, I handed him the tea, my mind spinning as I tried to solve the puzzle, even though I knew I couldn’t. Our fingers brushed—warm skin against warm skin—and the contact buzzed straight through me, like static on a winter’s day.
I sipped my own and tried not to look at him over the rim of the emerald green cup, but I felt his presence all the same. He was steady, calm, but larger than life at the same time. His warmth against my shoulder was stronger than the beginning heat from the flickering flames.
Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it wasso very meto want something soft and kind in the middle of a town full of secretsand half-hidden snarls. But as the fire crackled and the old walls of Halver’s Haven soaked in the heat, for the first time since I had set foot in this creaky place, I felt back in touch with the sense of adventure that had caused me to buy it.
Sitting next to the town’s handsome sheriff, who was willing to go against the grain, made me feel as if it was more than simple stubbornness that made me want to stay.
Chapter 4
Jackson
Having tea with the beautiful, stubborn Gwen could very well have been a mistake. A mistake in the eyes of everyone in town, but not a mistake to me. It felt like seeing the inside of Halver’s domain and discovering the little changes, the little hints of her character, had eased my mind. She was going to be a perfect fit once the others got over their distrust and realized she was my mate.
They’d welcomed Rosy, but she was our nymph, so that had been worth a celebration or two, maybe three. And they’d welcomed Kess not long ago, though she was human, simply because she was Gregory’s fated mate. They’d do the same for Gwen, even if I had to order them to behave.
Darkness had fallen by the time I’d left through the B&B’s backdoor. I’d spent an extra minute examining the frame, as it appeared to be crooked and letting in an icy draft. The more beastly parts of me did not handle the thought of my mate getting cold well. They wanted to build a nest for her and make it a fortress. Though the living room, with its beautiful fire, had been cozy and warm. I’d have to make sure to come back tomorrow to ask if Gwen wanted any assistance.
Her comprehensive shopping list told me she knew what she was doing, but she didn’t know all the ins and outs of the old building the way I did. I’d spent more time at that house than any other in town, courtesy of the old grump who’d been convinced that thieves were after one worthless possession after another.
Main Street was deserted at this hour, but silver light glowed from Luther’s window above the general store. I crossed the road and ducked through the alley behind Luther’s shop to take the shortest route home. Everything felt muted, quiet. The snow had a way of swallowing the world whole.
My boots crunched in the snow that had gathered in the alley, but the sound didn’t carry far, muffled by the blanket of frost that covered everything. Breath steamed from my mouth in white curls. The town was quiet this time of night—more so in winter—but lately, it felt like the silence carried weight, like something just under the surface was holding its breath. Everyone was on edge after that mess with Gregory’s mate last month.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Gwendolyn. The tilt of her stubborn chin, the slump of rejection in her shoulders. All that pretty brown hair curling out from beneath her knitted hat. Those big brown eyes that seared me to the bone. I’d been utterly taken by the beautiful curves of her body when she’d taken off her puffy winter coat.
She hadn’t asked for help, though the B&B practically groaned with every step I took inside. The place was colder than the woods until I’d lit the fire in the fireplace, the one area in the room that had seen any kind of care. Halver had let it fall into further disrepair after my last visit. Still, she stood there like she belonged: chin high, eyes defiant, dark and stormy and impossible to look away from.
She needed someone. Whether she wanted to admit it or not. I could do it. I could fit her in between patrols and peacekeeping. Hell, I’d even swap with Drew if I had to. He’d pitch a fit,of course. The man treated anything past the diner like it was haunted, though perhaps he just didn’t feel like finessing the more cantankerous of our residents. Gwendolyn was my mate, though, that made this different.
Shewas different.
My cabin came into view. It was small, square, and tucked just enough off the road for privacy, surrounded by evergreens. I’d left the lights off, and I’d forgotten to leave the porch light on because I hadn’t expected to be out this late. Which was fine, because something else was waiting for me there.
A wolf.
