Gone with the Wolf

chapter Seventeen


By the time Emelia shut off the lights in the bar, it was just past 2:00 a.m. The night had been slow. Slower than she’d ever seen on a Friday night. Were the other businesses in the area being affected the same way? She’d counted one thousand dollars in the till. Much less than it should’ve been, even for the weekend before Thanksgiving.

Emelia flipped up her hood and made her way outside, following the three packmates who seemed to be stuck to her side like glue. Drake’s black convertible Roadster was parked against the curb, its soft-top in place, its windshield wipers sloshing rain onto the sidewalk. Drake exited his car, circled the front, and met them under the awning.

“I’ve got things from here, gentlemen,” Drake said, his dark, brooding eyes flickering from one packmate to another. “Thank you for your service tonight.”

“No problem, sir,” Logan said with a curt nod. He turned his attention to Emelia. “If there’s anything else you need from me, Ms. Hudson, don’t hesitate to let me know. I left my card on the bar.”

Drake grabbed Logan by the scruff of his neck. “In case you didn’t understand, I said beat it.”

Logan nodded, and Drake released his hold.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emelia said as her bodyguards strode to the public parking lot across the street. “He’s just trying to be helpful.”

“There’s a fine line between helpful and…helpful.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “He knows what I’m talking about, and he knows I’m only half-serious.”

Drake was officially jealous. Emelia’s pride swelled.

“You know,” she said, locking up, “it’s a good thing he’s being the first kind of helpful, the one before the eerie eyebrow dance.”

Drake laughed as Emelia scanned the sidewalk, looking for signs of a stranger, a werewolf—someone who would jump out from between the buildings and attack her. The last time she’d come out of her bar at this hour, one of Silas’s packmates had been there, ready to take her head off. Although Emelia didn’t see anyone around, the creepy, hair-on-end feeling that someone was watching her remained as strong as ever.

“How’d it go tonight?”

“Good,” she lied.

She turned around and caught her breath. She hadn’t noticed Drake’s attire. He was dressed in dark-washed jeans, a stone-gray sweater, and combat boots. He was drenched, his dark hair sticking to his forehead in wet strands. For the first time, Drake had opted out of his stuffy suit and tie, or his pressed-straight polo shirts and slacks. Emelia fought the smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. He didn’t dress up for their date. At least not in the way she’d expected him to. This was better.

Somehow, from a few brief seconds at her side, Drake eased the tension in Emelia’s shoulders and settled the anxiety swirling in her stomach. She felt safe with him. Like no one would be able to touch a hair on her head with him around.

“Have you been waiting out here long?” she asked, pocketing her keys.

“No, just got here. I had some business to take care of earlier that consumed my day.” It was clear that he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not really. Everything’s being handled properly. I’m just looking forward to spending tonight with you to get my mind off things.”

Palming the small of her back, Drake led Emelia to his car, opened the door and waited for her to settle into the leather seat. He really was a gentleman, wasn’t he? Probably one of the only few left in the world. He slid into the driver’s seat and brought the car roaring to life. She took Drake’s hand as he gripped the stick shift. His skin was wet but warm, and her hand molded into his perfectly. Just the way she knew it would.

“So where are we going on this first date of ours?” she asked.

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that? I told you earlier, it’s a surprise.” The car lurched forward as he slammed it into gear and peeled out, leaving the worries of the night far behind them. “Hold on.”

She gripped the “oh-shit” handle on the doorframe as Drake drove the BMW hard, handling it masterfully around curves, flooring it when they had room on the road, and stopping at lights without a single jar. Emelia couldn’t help but throw her head back, laughing from her belly when Drake slowed for passing cops and then sped around the next corner without looking back. Once they hit the freeway and followed signs to Auburn, Drake really let loose, revving the engine to its max, speeding down the slick roadway like he owned it.

When they exited fifteen minutes later, Emelia was smiling so hard that her cheeks hurt.

“How is it possible that you’re so uptight in the boardroom,” Emelia said, as he gunned the car around a tight corner, “and so reckless on the road?”

“I’ve always loved cars. I should show you the muscle cars in my garage back home.”

Muscle cars? So it wasn’t about speed or recklessness at all. It was about power. The Drake Wilder Puzzle fit together before her eyes. Suddenly, it wasn’t so surprising that he owned a ton of cars and drove like a bat out of hell. He owned a bunch of companies and ruled over a pack, too. It shocked Emelia how easily she was starting to be able to figure him out.

“At least now I know why you take the limo everywhere,” Emelia teased.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re hell on wheels! Do you know how many tickets I’d have if I drove like this all the time?”

“Two,” he said, giving her a knockout smile. “One for going sixty-five in a forty-five zone and the other for not wearing a seat belt.”

She smacked him in the shoulder playfully. “Your background checks sure are thorough, aren’t they?”

“Not thorough enough for my taste.” His hand slid up her thigh, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. Her legs parted on their own accord, willing his hand to continue its trek.

When they pulled into a drive-in a few turns later, Emelia swore she’d died and gone to heaven. She’d never been to a drive-in and had always wanted to go. The place looked like it had been awesome in its heyday, with overgrown lawn lining the edges of the parking pad, a swing set near the screen, and picnic tables beneath a spattering of leafless trees.

“Seriously?” she said, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “There’s a show playing now? This late at night?”

“For us, there is.” Drake rounded the corner of a deteriorating snack shack and parked in a stall near the enormous blank screen. “One of my packmates had a vision for the lot and wanted to buy it. The numbers were right, so Wilder Financial invested in the property, and he was kind enough to let me rent it for the night.”

“Wow.” There were no other words. The lot was barren, leaving sound-posts sticking out of the ground like flower stems robbed of their petals. “I thought they did away with these things. Don’t they have the sound from the movie play through the radio?”

“I don’t think he’s had a chance to renovate the place yet.” Drake turned off the engine and smiled as the quiet patter of raindrops ceased to fall on the softly padded roof. “Perfect timing.”

Drake peeled back the convertible top and let it drop behind them. He rolled down the windows, unhooked the speaker from its stand, and hung it on the door. They wouldn’t get a reprieve from the rain for long, but maybe it would hold out long enough to watch the movie.

“Okay, now this is f*cking cool.” Emelia squirmed in her seat. Although clouds still cluttered the sky, the rain had stopped and the wind had died. “What’s playing?”

“Sabrina.” With a smile, he popped the trunk and exited the car. “I’m a Bogart fan and thought you might like it. Have you seen the original version?”

“I’ve seen the newer one with Harrison Ford,” she said, thinking back to whether or not she liked it. If the movie was a downer, she could think of other things to do with Drake in an empty parking lot. “Is the original black and white?”

“Of course. It released in the fifties.”

She suppressed a groan, but dropped her head back against the seat. Black-and-white movies put her to sleep.

“We can watch something else.” Drake tossed two fuzzy blankets onto her lap and returned to the front seat. “I’ve got Teen Wolf on standby.”

“Hardy-har.”

As the screen came to life, rich in its shades of black, gray, and white, Emelia draped the blankets over their laps and snuggled against Drake’s shoulder. Within minutes her disappointment eased. She was at a drive-in watching a movie beneath a cloudy sky with the man of her dreams. Who cared if they watched a black-and-white movie or the newest hit?

Excitement bubbled inside her. It wasn’t the warmth of his body, the buzz of the coffee she’d had before leaving the bar, or watching a movie this way that had her heart beaming with light.

It was him.

Realization struck Emelia as Audrey Hepburn’s voice flowed from the speaker and into the car. She could be in his mansion or her teeny-tiny apartment, his yacht or an inflatable raft, beneath a starry sky or balloons of rainclouds…as long as she was with Drake, she’d be happy.

Damn, if she wasn’t in love with the business-suit-wearing, classic-movie-loving, richer-than-gravy werewolf.