Page 4 of Shifter Mate Magic
“Thanks, but I’m already running late.” She sidled toward the asphalt edge of the parking lot. It felt wrong to move away from him, but her situation made anything between them impossible. “I’m truly grateful for what you did.” She tilted her head toward the men lying in the alley. “Shifting in public like that means they’re fur-brained fatheads. Neither of us should be here when they wake up.”
“Let me at least walk you to wherever your bike is parked.” He pointed a thumb toward the convenience store’s back door. “They may have buddies.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Okay. Thanks.” She should have thought of that. Asshole shifters always had buddies.
She stepped up onto the asphalt. He put his hands in his pockets and rounded his shoulders, as if trying to make himself look harmless. He failed miserably, because it drew attention to his low-slung jeans and made her wonder what he’d look like without them. She’d bet her motorcycle he’d look a damn sight better than two scrawny coyotes.
They walked quietly together as the parking lot’s lights blinked on. His mother must have brought him up right, because he matched his stride to hers and kept a respectful distance. She allowed herself the secret, impossible fantasy that he was her man and she was his woman.
“Do you have someone you can call?” He glanced at her stomach, then away. “A mate, maybe?”
“No, thank God. I’ve had quite enough of shifters for a while.” Realizing what she’d said, she added hastily, “Present company excepted.”
He shrugged one shoulder, but his mouth twitched with humor. It gave her the wild impulse to do whatever it took to see him really smile, because she just knew he’d be stunning. And she shouldn’t be having those thoughts. She was a total basket case.
The sun dipped to touch the highest mountains to the west just as they arrived at her motorcycle. It looked lonely, standing by itself.
She shook off the fantasy, then looked up into his beautiful coppery eyes. “Thank you again.”
“I was thinking.” He tightened his hands into fists in his pockets, making his arm muscles bulge. “My semi only has half a load in the trailer. I could put your bike in there and take you someplace safe for the night.”
She shook her head. “That’s a gracious offer, but I need to keep moving.” She zipped up the jacket to prevent it from flapping in the wind and turned the kerchief at her neck around, so she could pull it up over her mouth to protect against road dust.
His eyes darkened. “If you’re in trouble, maybe I can help.”
He was making this so hard. “If I were in trouble, it would be horribly unfair of me to drag you into it, after you kicked coyote-shifter ass for me.” She fished the key out of her pocket and put it in the ignition.
“I wouldn’t mind.” His resolute expression hinted at stubborn determination. He glanced to her stomach again. “You shouldn’t be unprotected.”
She appreciated his tact. He’d obviously figured out she was pregnant. Shifters could scent that kind of thing immediately. The coyotes should have noticed, but they’d been too drunk on high-test booze and shifter-mate lust.
“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, but here I am.” An absurd thought crossed her mind, and her eyes went wide. “Oh my God! The name of the shifter you sat on was Wiley. You sat on Wiley Coyote!” She almost doubled over with laughter. It felt like forever since she’d found anything to laugh about.
His wide grin was every bit as sexy as the rest of him. “He must hate those cartoons.”
Still chuckling, she undid the helmet’s strap. “I’ll remember seeing that for the rest of my life.” She hoped he’d think she meant his bear form sitting on the coyote, and not his amazing smile that would be etched in her memory forever.
She dusted off the faceplate on her pants, relieved to find it not even scratched. She pulled the helmet on and secured the strap under her chin.
He pulled his wallet out and handed her a card. “This is me. That number is for a cellular phone that’s in my rig. If you ever need me to sit on someone, or you just want to talk, I hope you’ll call me.”
She took the card and read the top line out loud. “Trevor Hammond Independent Trucking.” She put the card safely in the zippered pocket over her chest. “I’m Jackie Breton, by the way. Well, Jacqueline, but only my mother and my former boss called me that.” That was another life, one she could never go back to. She pulled out her gloves and put them on.
“Nice to meet you, Jackie.” He stepped back. He looked as deeply unhappy as she felt, but that didn’t make much sense. He was a big, strong, healthy bear shifter, with wicked-long claws and magic, not an almost powerless, pregnant, terrified human on the run.
She straddled her bike and rocked it forward, letting the motion close the kickstand. She started the engine, gunned the hand throttle enough to make a slow circle, then straightened out and headed for the parking lot’s exit. She briefly lifted one hand and waved in case Trevor was still watching.
She liked the sound of his name. Hell, she liked the sound of everything about him, not to mention wanting to rub herself over every inch of him, even though she hadn’t been force-changed into a feline. If her life ever got normal again, maybe she would call him.
She shook her head. Her life was not Last of the Mohicans, with her handsome savior telling her to stay alive and promising that no matter where she went, he would find her. It was more like Marked for Death, where she’d be lucky to survive the vindictive people after her.
She squared her shoulders and got back to her plan. It was her best shot at staying alive. Probably her only shot.
