Angel and Slate Page 7

  Tomorrow, if Ruby felt better, he’d get in touch with Angel again. She would see that he was true to his word, and he’d be back with her soon enough. She’d learn what he was—a man who knew how to look after people. Honest, responsible and caring.

  And so fucking horny.

  Chapter 9

  Angel slept, though far from well. Her mind was a mix of the fantasies of physical pleasures that might have been, and regret at what might never be. The wedding, for the moment at least, had moved to the back shelf in her library of thoughts. She found herself interested only in the brawny bear shifter, his mind, his body, and some strange, inexplicable bond that had formed between them over the course of just a few hours.

  On paper they seemed so wrong for each other. He had a daughter; she’d never even considered what it was to be a parent. Their career paths were very different as well, to say the least.

  But then, he worked with his hands, and so did she. He wanted to design and build his dream house, and she wanted to rebuild hers. Each of them strove to create a protective den where they could reside in peace and happiness. And somehow during the night, Angel’s mind delved into the near and distant future, picturing a life with this man whom she’d only just met. How on earth could she be so hooked so soon?

  Was it true, what Miri had said about shifters sinking their teeth in? Well, the literal bite had already occurred when Slate’s bear had given her that nip in the bar. He’d wanted to possess her as much as she’d wanted to be possessed, and the disappointment when he’d left her alone had been almost too much to take.

  There was more to this than simple arousal, too. She hadn’t wanted to lose him. She’d never missed a person in her life, and yet in that moment, lying beneath her sheets, she missed him. It was mind-blowing that a man could make his way so deep into her system so quickly.

  And terrifying, as well.

  She let her mind meander through the fantasy of a life with a gorgeous creature like Slate; the mornings, waking up next to him. Working together on the house. Walks in the woods, making love down by the stream in the summertime, the sun coursing through tree branches, stroking their bare skin with warmth.

  The only real challenge was his daughter Ruby, who was currently an invisible entity in Angel’s mind; a mere illusion of a person. Maybe if they met it would be easier; if Angel could see father and daughter together, maybe she’d understand what she might be in for.

  But what struck her as she began to drift off was that there was no casual relationship to be had with a man who had so much responsibility. It would be all or nothing, and she’d have to make a choice: to hold onto him or to set him free for his own sake, and for Ruby’s.

  And as the thought came to her, Angel’s heart sank. He was a good man, and Ruby was living proof of it. It was a rare man who could be summoned away from a shirtless woman sitting on his lap—but when the circumstance had arisen, Slate hadn’t hesitated for a second. His daughter was the priority, and well she should be.

  Angel could only have wished that her own father had been so attentive. Instead, he’d been off making money all their lives, ignoring his children in the process. He’d never spent a lot of time with her or her sister, and rumours had swirled about illicit affairs and betrayals of various kinds between her parents. She and Linda had been raised in an angry house, devoid of love or affection.

  Her father had been selfish, just as her sister tended to be. But then again, so did she. Somewhere deep down, she’d wanted desperately to tell Slate not to leave. Not to go back to his sick little daughter. It was only for a split second, but it was enough to cause concern about her own nature.

  So in the moment before she lost consciousness, her last thought was, “No. I will never allow myself to be like my father.”

  * * *

  At ten a.m. on Sunday morning, her phone rang. She reached for it, cursing her robe’s wide sleeve as it caught on the corner of the kitchen table, causing a temporary series of unfortunate events. When her hand finally came free, she nearly flung the phone across the room.

  “Damn it,” she growled as she hit the button to answer. “Hello?”

  “Angel—it’s Slate,” said the gruff voice on the other end. “And you sound pissed off on this fine morning.”

  “Oh, hi! Sorry about the cursing. I’m a klutz and nearly punched myself in the face trying to answer the phone.” Suddenly she remembered her vow to be more generous. “Hey—how’s Ruby doing?”

  “She’s fine. I gave her a kids’ painkiller last night. But I don’t think she even needed it—she’s part grizzly of course, the little half-breed, so she recovers quickly from anything that ails her.”

  “Great. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Listen, I thought I might come by and look at your house in a little, and we could talk about plans for the future. And maybe pick up where we left off last night?” The last sentence came with a change in tone to something a little naughty, setting Angel’s body on fire. An inferno that doused itself quickly when she realized that she needed to process his first sentence.

  “What do you mean, talk about plans for the future?” Was he already making references to a life together? Her heart beat hard in her chest, not certain whether to be happy or terrified at the prospect.

  “For the house. You know, a redesign, renovations, or whatever.”

  “Oh, yeah. The house. Of course, that would be great.” Suddenly he was her contractor. A contractor with benefits, anyhow. “And picking up where we left off sounds really good.”

  “Good. I hated leaving you last night, I really did.”

  “I’m glad you said that, because I didn’t like being left. But I get that Ruby needed you.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Is eleven okay?”

  “It’s great. I’ll see you then.”

  When she’d hung up the phone Angel dashed into the bathroom. She’d showered already, but wasn’t yet dressed in anything but the satiny black robe. As she glanced at herself in the mirror she decided against changing. Maybe if Slate showed up and saw how easy it would be to finish what they’d started—it would only require a quick pull of her belt—they could have some fun before examining the house.

  She put a little makeup on—just enough to look as though she wasn’t actually wearing any—and wandered into her studio to work a little on a watercolour painting of a boat in Grayson City Harbour as she waited.

  At eleven precisely, the doorbell chimed. She shot up, amazed that an hour had already gone by, and dashed to the door, flinging it open to greet him.

  And there he stood: the gorgeous grizzly shifter, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, the muscles that she’d only felt the previous evening on full display for her eyes. For this time of year, the weather was really becoming unseasonably warm—snow for Linda’s wedding was looking less and less likely—and Angel was grateful for global warming, or hot shifter blood, or whatever this was.

  She took a step towards him, prepared to kiss him full on the lips, when a tiny form emerged from behind his back, sneaking around to stand between them. Angel froze mid-stride, inhaling and holding the breath in, uncertain of how to react to this…miniature person.

  The little girl, a head of curly red hair occupying most of her head, turned to look up at her father after studying their hostess for a few seconds with her large brown eyes.

  “Daddy,” she whispered as Slate bent towards her. “She really does look like an Angel.”

  “That’s because she is,” he said.

  Ruby turned to face the young woman and smiled. “I’ve never met an Angel before.”

  “Well, I’ve never met a precious gem, so now we’re even.” Angel smiled down at the small girl, Ruby’s charm pushing out any disappointment that may have begun to bubble under the surface.

  “I brought her because it turns out that the sitter’s not free for a little. If it’s okay with you, Christine will come by and pick her up in an hour.”

  �
��That’s fine,” said Angel. “I’m sorry I’m not dressed—the shower—”

  The left side of Slate’s lip rose and she knew that he understood exactly why she wasn’t wearing clothes. But the more innocent Ruby replied, “It’s okay. We’ll wait while you put something on.”

  “Thank you,” said Angel, shutting the door as they walked in. “I’ll be right back. There’s some fruit in the kitchen if you’d like anything.” Her eyes went to Slate’s face for a moment before she turned and fled to the bedroom to throw on something more appropriate.

  Emerging a minute later, she found them in the kitchen. Ruby was biting into an apple and Slate was staring out the window at the back field.

  “It really is a great property,” he said. “You could do a lot with it.”

  “If I were rich, sure.”

  “You don’t need to be rich. I know how to maximize a budget,” he said. “Besides, you’re an artist. Can’t you sell a painting for ten million dollars?”

  “Ha ha. I think I need to be dead to start raking in that kind of cash. That’s how all the greats do it.”

  “Well, maybe you should fake your own death, then.”

  Ruby approached Angel, an apple core in one hand, and tugged at her shirt. “May I see your art?” she asked quietly.

  “Of course. I’ll take you to my studio.”

  She escorted them down the hall to the bright sunroom, eliciting a loud gasp from the little girl as she beheld the dozens of canvases on display throughout the space. The first thing she did was to approach the oil painted landscape that Angel had recently worked on.

  “It’s so pretty,” she said. “It’s like a dream.”

  “Thank you, Ruby.”

  The small girl moved through the room slowly, taking in each piece even as her father remained still, assessing the paintings from a distance.

  “They really are amazing,” he said. “I can see why you’re successful.”

  “Success is a relative term. I get by.”

  “Well, whatever it means to make it, you’ve done it,” he said. “You have a gift.”

  “Thanks. I try.” Genuine pride filled her chest; his opinion meant a lot, especially considering that they’d known one another for such a short time.

  “One day I’d like to buy one of your paintings.”

  “Well, you take a look at my house and help me out, maybe I’ll give you one after all,” she said. “Come on, let’s head out to the back field.”

  She led them once again, this time through a narrow screen door leading out of the sunroom to the grassy expanse. Slate turned to look towards the house, seeing the damage that had been done over the decades by weather and neglect.

  “The foundation’s sunk a little,” he said. “It’d probably need some major restructuring work.”

  Angel sighed. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

  “Or you could tear it down and rebuild from the bottom up.”

  “That’s even more scary,” she said. “But you’re right, I could, if I could figure out how to pay for it. Besides, it would be like a dream come true, building my home from scratch.”

  “It’s my dream too, as you know,” said Slate, turning to his daughter. “What do you think, Rubes?”

  She shrugged her thin shoulders, turning away from the house, which didn’t much interest her, to face the distant trees. “Is that a forest?”

  “It is,” said Angel, crouching down beside her. “Full of animals and other things.”

  “Is there a stream?”

  Angel laughed. “Yes, there is. Do you like streams?”

  “If they have fish in them I do.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’d like to catch some, wouldn’t you?”

  The little girl began to sway from side to side, her feet firmly planted on the ground. “The bear cub would,” she said, her voice the essence of innocence while mischief bubbled beneath the surface.

  Angel looked up at Slate, who frowned at the words.

  “The bear cub wants to fish, does it?” she asked.

  “Yes. It tells me so.”

  “That’s enough, Ruby,” said Slate, his hand on her shoulder, stopping her motion. “The bear cub will have to wait til another day to go fishing.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” She turned to Angel and tugged on her sleeve again, whispering, “Will you take me to the stream sometime?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  * * *

  A little after twelve, the three were inside enjoying a cup of hot chocolate when the doorbell chimed again.

  “It’s Christine!” Ruby said, charging to the door to greet her sitter.

  “She smells her,” said Slate, turning to Angel. “She can scent people from a mile away.”

  “Cute,” said Angel.

  “I suppose,” he said, letting out a sigh before stepping towards the foyer. Ruby had already opened the door.

  “I’ll be home by five, I’d think,” he told Christine, who smiled and took Ruby’s hand to lead her towards her car. “Bye, Honey.”

  “Bye, Daddy! Bye, Miss Angel!”

  Angel stood beside Slate in the doorway, watching the two leave, Ruby’s red curls bouncing along.

  “She’s amazing, adorable and sweet. Like her dad,” she said.

  “Too much like her dad. Ruled by the bear inside her.”

  Angel closed the door. “Is that really so bad?”

  “I guess not. It’s just—I’d rather she be more like you. More normal. Predictable.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she laughed, stepping back into the kitchen.

  “I don’t mean that in the dull way. I mean that you’re not likely to grow fur at the drop of a hat and slash someone’s face.”

  “You can’t say that for sure. You should see my legs in January when I haven’t shaved. As for slashing someone’s face, well…”

  “True,” chuckled Slate. He’d followed her into the kitchen and now, as she gathered the mugs off the table, he pulled up behind her and laid his hands on her waist. Angel froze, her mind a cacophony of contrasting thoughts. It felt so good to have him touch her.

  But so terrible at the same time.

  She lay the cups on the counter and turned to face him, even as he moved in to kiss her. But she pivoted her face away, his lips hitting her cheek instead of her mouth.

  “Well, that wasn’t so predictable,” he said. “What’s wrong? Has something changed since last night?”

  Angel walked over to the fridge, her fingers fondling the wedding invitation once again. “Everything has changed,” she said. “Everything.”

  Chapter 10

  Angel pulled the magnet off the wedding invitation and took it in her hands, opening the folded paper before handing it to Slate.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Just…read it.”

  His eyes ran over the raised gold letters and Linda’s hand-written note, his expression altering rapidly into the stern set of his frowning features.

  “Is this your sister’s wedding? Same last name…” he said.

  “Yes. My older sister, who has spent much of her life judging me and treating me like a second class citizen. I pretend to be laid back and free-spirited, possibly just to spite her. But in the end, I’m just an insecure basket case who fears commitment and runs away from responsibility.”

  “Why would you say that? And why are you showing me this? I still don’t get what’s happened since last night. I thought we had a good thing going. Your shirt was off, my pants were tight…”

  Angel pulled a chair out and took a seat at the table. “I told Linda that I’d bring a date to the wedding,” she said, her eyes focused on the sink rather than on Slate’s face. “I said he was amazing. That he was big and gorgeous and would blow her mind.”

  “Okay.”

  “I told her that months ago.”

  “Oh, so you were dating someone? That’s okay, you know. I don’t delude myself that you’ve never been with a
nyone.”

  “No, Slate. I wasn’t dating anyone. I haven’t dated in ages. But more to the point, the reason I called Miri was to try and find someone who might fit that description. A man who could come with me to the wedding and impress my whole family. So they’d shut up about what a failure I was in every aspect of my life.”

  “You’re not a failure,” he said. “You’re a great artist. You bought this house…” But he stopped mid-sentence. It seemed, finally, that he was grasping her deeper meaning. “Oh, I see. What you’re saying is that I’m the beefcake who’s supposed to go with you, impress the family, convince them that you have your shit together. And then you’d blow me off once you’d sent your sister off on her honeymoon.”

  Angel’s eyes, pink and filled with emotion, sought his. “When I saw you in the video, I thought you could use someone to show you a good time for a couple of weeks. I thought you could use some genuine fun. Maybe we could have a few dates and a few laughs. I’d teach you how to relax and you’d remind me what it was like to have companionship, just for a little.”

  “For a little. Right. I see how it is. I get it.”

  “But then I met you in person, yesterday. And you—it—meeting you—did something to me. I don’t know what. I’ve never met someone like you. You’re serious and playful and tough and soft, all at once, and I wanted you. So much that it was scary. I don’t know how, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

  “And so?” he asked.

  “It should be good—all of it. Even this morning when you called I was set for you to come over here. I wanted to take off your clothes, to do everything in the world to you…”

  “Okay, well, if this is foreplay, it’s working, but it’s seriously messing with my mind,” he replied, that left corner of his mouth upturned again. “I would probably have enjoyed this morning a lot, if that’s how it had gone down. But for some reason I get the impression that you no longer want me naked.”