How It's Meant to Be Page 3

  Rage filled every cell in Moore’s body at the vision of what the crow people would do to Aux and Brick. To their mates. This asshole didn’t understand. Moore had made promises to his dad before he died, too.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck about your people, or your threats,” Moore said, leaning on the railing post.

  “You should. You’re breaking the rules now too, aren’t you? I saw you with the woman tonight. What is her name? Aurora Azalea Shelton. Age thirty-five. Never been married. No kids. Lives on Juniper Lane in town. The blue house in the middle of the street. She lives alone. The locks on the doors are original to the house, built in 1942. Very old.”

  Something awful happened. Something horrible. A dark fog filled his chest and Moore pitched forward as excruciating pain wracked his body. One moment was all it took for the bear to rip out of his skin. One moment instead of the minutes it sometimes took him.

  Time slowed as he charged Krome. He could see the shock in the crow king’s eyes, and then the panic as feathers appeared over his body and he leapt upwards. Crows were fast. So fast. But Moore got to him. He actually got to him. He reached a claw up and swatted the giant bird across the back, trying to bat him out of the air so he could fuckin’ eat him for talking about Aurora.

  A pained cry came from Krome as he catapulted to earth. He flapped his giant wings hard and lifted up just before he hit the ground.

  There were sprinkles of red on the snow.

  Moore had really got to him.

  He roared loud enough to shake the trees as Krome flew away.

  Oh, the crows would come for him. Drawing blood from the crows was against the rules.

  So many rules.

  Too many.

  He’d tried to avoid war for so long, for so many reasons no one living on this earth would understand. He’d tried, but now?

  He didn’t care about the rules anymore.

  He’d always known his destiny. His fate wasn’t like Aux’s or Brick’s. The hell he would relive from his parents’ legacy wasn’t puppies and kittens and happily-ever-after with a mate.

  It was war with the crows.

  That’s how the bear shifter line would really end.

  Chapter Four

  Aurora had the day off. Not because she was supposed to, but because Misha Whitehall had cancelled on their design meeting for the second time in a row.

  And thanks to not being able to sleep last night, on account of thinking about sexyboy Moore, and overthinking everything that was said between them on their date, she’d gotten every speck of work caught up before she crashed at three in the morning.

  Aurora messaged Misha back, telling her it was okay that her cat might have a potential hairball today, and they could absolutely reschedule for Wednesday. Why did she get the feeling Misha was backing out of her services? “A hairball?” she muttered to herself.

  She’d tried and succeeded to not text Moore all night long. Oh, she’d started a dozen texts, but boys didn’t like clingers, she’d learned, and this time, she was going to do things better. Moore was a layered little onion that would be so fun to unravel. And she wasn’t the only one who found him sexy. All the women who had come into the Steak Shack last night had noticed him. That man was delicious. And grumpy in a cute way. And she knew he liked her for the following reasons (which she’d written into her journal):

  He didn’t bone a blonde in the bathroom in the middle of their date.

  When Gary asked if they wanted desert, he didn’t give her grief when she couldn’t decide between the chocolate thunder cake and the key lime pie. He’d simply ordered her both.

  He had shared food with her.

  He stayed the whole meal.

  He kept his insults to a minimum.

  When she moved in for a hug at the end of the night, he hadn’t poked her forehead or yelled, “no!”. He’d said “no thank you” in a reasonable tone instead. Romance.

  He’d told her to drive safe on the way home. Okay, he’d worded it like, “I bet you’re a terrible driver. Don’t die on the way home,” but he obviously cared about her survival.

  If they had a son first, she wanted to name him Timothy.

  Good morning, orphan sexypants, she texted. I had fun last night. I hope your day is filled with awesomeness. Send.

  She put her phone down on the counter and pulled her high heels off. She’d dressed up for her design meeting. She’d even brushed her hair for the second day in a row and everything.

  A text notification dinged on her phone, and she nearly fell on her remaining heel lurching forward to reach it.

  I’m outside.

  Oh, he was funny. Haha, okay creeper. Send.

  I’m serious.

  Aurora scrunched up her face and clickety-clacked her way, with one heel still latched onto her left foot, to the front door. She threw it open to find Moore’s blue Bronco sitting by the curb. He was at the back, lowering the tailgate.

  “What are you doing here?” she called.

  Moore tossed a glance at the giant trees across the road, but didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a heavy looking rocking chair out of the back of his Bronco and carried it—one handed!—to her porch. Just swinging it at his side like it weighed less than a weed.

  “Is that for me?” she asked in awe as he set it down next to her door.

  “The internet said girls like presents. I carved a dumb seahorse onto it.”

  “Gasp!” She hobbled over to it and knelt down to better see the carving on one of the arms. “It’s the cutest seahorse in the world!”

  “Do you have a cat?” he asked, frowning at the sleeping box and full food and water bowls on her porch.

  “Um, I thought I did, because I found poop on the porch. Only I’m not good at identifying that stuff, and I was really excited because I thought there was a stray and I was going to make it my outdoor pet and get it addicted to my love and food, but I think it’s really a raccoon.”

  He sniffed the air. “Yeah. It’s definitively a raccoon.”

  Aurora shrugged up a shoulder. “I named it Cat, and I kept feeding it.”

  Moore pursed his lips, but she’d seen it. He’d almost, almost smiled. Challenge accepted. She was going to win that smile.

  When she stood back up, he was staring at her with this thoughtful expression on his handsome bearded face. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Work. I was supposed to have a meeting but they cancelled after I was already dressed.”

  “Do you own not-fancy clothes?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his broad chest, stared at the rocking chair. “Do you want a second date or not?”

  Aurora whooped and stomped her feet really fast in excitement. “I’m wearing you down.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I’m wearing you dow-how-howhowhow-oooown,” she sang.

  “Look, can I be honest?”

  “I prefer honesty,” she said with a nod.

  “You talk too much, you overshare, you stress me out for reasons I don’t understand, and I want to walk away from our conversations half the time.”

  “That’s called love,” she whispered.

  He ignored her. “But I also care if you live or die and you’re the only human who has really accomplished that, so I guess you aren’t horrible to hang around with. Why are you smiling like that?”

  “No reason,” she told him.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  He rolled his eyes closed and inhaled slowly, then exhaled. “What does your weird-ass smile mean? Please tell me.”

  “It’s okay to have a crush on me. I have a crush on you, too.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “If I asked you to get in my truck right now and go in the woods for a hike with me, what would you say?”

  She nodded decisively. “Absolutely.”

  “Hmm. And if I asked you to come to my cabin to spend the day?”


  “I would say I’ll grab a change of clothes, just in case.”

  “And if a man drove up in a white van and said he had a puppy inside, would you get in it?”

  “Not immediately. I would ask what kind of puppy. If they said Corgi, then definitely.”

  His frown grew even frownier. “Do you have no survival instincts at all then? Just none?”

  “I really like my new chair. I can’t believe you made this for me,” she said, testing it out. It rocked like a dream.

  Moore hooked his hands on his hips and glared at the trees across the street. “I need you to be more careful.”

  “Careful of what?” she asked, gripping the arms and rocking back as far as she could.

  “I have…” He shook his head and tried again. “There’s things I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not allowed.”

  “Why not?”

  It was too much talking. She could tell because he walked right off the porch and went to his Bronco, got inside and sat there, behind the wheel, staring straight ahead. Two minutes later, he came striding back across the yard to her. “I’m going to take you to breakfast. French toast. You said it’s your favorite smell.”

  “Is this a test?”

  “What?”

  “Is this a test and I’m supposed to say, ‘No thank you, and also I have a taser in my pocket so don’t try anything uncouth, mister.’ To see if I have survival instincts?”

  “No, I already accepted you don’t have survival instincts. I actually am going to take you to breakfast.”

  “I’ll dress in my ugliest attire for you then,” she said grandly as she stood from the rocking chair.

  “Fantastic,” he muttered.

  “Want to see my house?” she asked.

  His eyes went dead.

  “Oh, right. You’re practically a stranger and not my official boyfriend so it’s weird to invite you in when we’ve only known each other one day.” She stood there, shifting her weight from side to side. “It’s just I wanted to show you my reading nook. That sounded dirty, but I really do have a reading nook.”

  She’d never seen a man look quite this tired before. “Okay, show me your reading nook.”

  “Yesss,” she said with a fist pump. And then she led the way in, turning quickly so she could watch his face when he entered her house.

  The annoyance faded from his face in an instant as he looked around. “Whoa,” he rumbled. His voice was really growly and sexy. “Did you decorate this place?”

  She was practically glowing. “That’s my job! Sometimes I have design meetings here, so I wanted to make it a combination of my style and homeyness, and also a professional atmosphere.” In here, it was all open spaces, natural light, modern light fixtures to contrast with the barn-wood accent walls and the soft gray tones throughout the kitchen and living area. Lavender was her pop-of-color of choice, and the kitchen was all country back splash, farm style sink, white cabinets and gray speckled granite countertops. A trio of lavender vases lined the window sill over the sink, and the curtains on the front windows were light purple, too. Even the couches had a subtle grayish purple finish, and the living room rug over the barn-wood floors also held shades of lavender. One of the walls was lined with cork boards. Each held a different look she’d come up with for rooms. They were pinned with scraps of fabric and patterns, pictures, sketches, and trinkets she found that gave her inspiration.

  “You’re an artist,” he murmured, studying them.

  “Your head almost touches the ceiling,” she pointed out in awe.

  “Is that your reading nook?” he asked, pointing to the door off the kitchen.

  “How did you know?”

  “I can smell the books.”

  “How can you smell them from all the way in here?”

  “I can smell and see better than most people,” he rumbled.

  Oh. Kay. That was a cool talent. She’d put on deodorant this morning, right? She sniffed nonchalantly as he made his way to the nook. Yep. She smelled baby powder fresh. Relief.

  He pulled open the door and walked in. Most of the small room was filled with a queen-sized bed strewn with decorative pillows. The walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched all the way to the ceilings, and she had most of them filled.

  “You’re a collector?” he asked.

  “I guess. I’ve been reading since I was a kid, and I just buy the ones I reread. When I have a bad day, I like having all of my favorite adventures to choose from. This used to be a mud room, but I’ve always dreamed of having my own reading space, so I built this right after I moved in. It’s my favorite room of the house.”

  He pulled a book off the shelf and studied the cover.

  “That one is about a renaissance village being pillaged by a werewolf. And everyone thinks he’s evil, and he mostly is, but one of the townie girls named Marsel falls in love with him and tries to save him from himself. Only she’s too late, he’s done too much damage, and the town is after him.”

  “How does it end?” he asked quietly.

  “I can’t tell you the ending. You can borrow it though.”

  Moore replaced the book. “I don’t want to know. Happy endings are all pretend.”

  That hit her right in the heart. “It’s sad if you really think that.”

  He didn’t say anything after that. Moore got really quiet as she gave him a tour of the house, and afterwards he sat on the couch, perfectly still, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at her brick fireplace. She made her way into her room and changed. Leggings, old comfy snow boots, a tank top and an oversized, mustard yellow sweater draped over it. She even put a headband in her hair to keep her curls out of her face. When she came back out into the living room, Moore was still sitting there, just as he was when she’d left him, as if he hadn’t moved at all.

  “I’m ready.”

  He dragged his bright silver gaze from the hearth to her, and he looked surprised. He dragged his attention down her body and back up to her face, then nodded.

  That was pretty close to a compliment, so she minded her manners and thanked him.

  The drive to Main Street was a quiet one, but not because of her. She chattered like always, but Moore had gone silent. She didn’t like it.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, exasperated.

  Moore pulled into the parking lot of Hope Diner and parked right up front. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You went dead-quiet on me. It’s boring. I feel like I’m talking to myself.”

  “Do you see that woman in there?” Moore asked softly. His voice was the grisliest voice she’d ever heard.

  She followed where he was pointing at a big picture window. Inside, a thin blond woman was serving tables. She wore a white apron and an easy smile for the customers she served. “Yeah.”

  “I have two brothers. We’re triplets.”

  “You’re a triplet?”

  “Yes. My brothers Aux and Brick made a promise to me a long time ago that we would all remain bachelors.”

  “That sounds boring.”

  Moore sighed. “Yeah well, we had our reasons.” He jerked his chin toward the woman. “She’s Brick’s mate.”

  “Mate. Like in Australia. Put another shrimp on the barbie!” she said in a terrible impression of an Australian accent. Aurora frowned. “Probably Australians would be really offended by me saying that. I just don’t know anything else that sounds decent in that accent. Want to hear an admission? I always wished I had a cool accent. Mine’s just plain.”

  He was staring at her again.

  “Right. You were saying?”

  “I’ve never met that woman. I’ve only seen her at night, when me and my brothers were…”

  “Were what?”

  “Trying to kill each other.”

  “Well, you probably owe her an apology then. We ladies don’t really like when boys go all murder-murder around us. Come on. We will eat in her sect
ion.”

  Aurora hopped out and made her way toward the door, then held it open for Moore like the gentlewoman she was. Only he seemed to be frozen in his Bronco, hands choking the steering wheel, eyes on the lady inside.

  “Want me to order you something to-go?” she yelled.

  That seemed to defrost him, because Moore slipped out of the Bronco and slammed the door closed behind him, then held the door and gestured for her to go inside.

  “Hi,” she introduced herself as the woman walked by. “I’m Aurora.”

  The woman looked confused but recovered quickly enough. She shook her offered hand and gestured to an empty table near the window with the half-full coffee pot in her other hand. “Trinity. I’ll be serving you today. That table is open if you want a booth. I’ll be right with you.” But when she looked up and saw Moore, she stumbled backward and spilled some of the coffee on the floor. Her blue eyes got even bigger and she looked scared. “I know you.”

  Moore didn’t say a word, just made his way past Aurora and took a seat at the table Trinity had suggested.

  There was an odd spark in the air. A tension Aurora didn’t understand as the restaurant delved into a strange silence.

  “Tell him Brick is on his way,” Trinity whispered to her.

  Aurora couldn’t take her eyes off Trinity’s shaking hand where she held the coffee pot. “Okay,” she murmured, confused.

  Trinity made her way back behind the counter and to a landline phone on the wall. She made a call. Baffled, Aurora padded to the table and took the booth opposite of Moore. “What have you done to that woman?” she asked.

  “Scared her. I scare everyone.”

  “Not me.”

  “Well, we already decided your survival instincts are broken. Hers are not.”

  Aurora leaned forward and whispered, “Why are we here?”

  “We aren’t here,” he answered. “You are.” He handed her a folded photograph and told her, “Show this to Trinity.” And then he stood and left the restaurant without looking back.