Stephanie had wondered what type of reception she'd get from the townspeople. It was a chilly one at best. The cafe looked like something out of a black-and-white movie. Even the people inside appeared as if they'd stepped from the screen of an oldTwilight Zone episode. The waitress still wore her hair in beehive fashion. Her name was Betty, and she nearly melted on the spot when she caught sight of Rick, but frosted up when she realized he wasn't alone.
"So what will you have, miss?" she asked, without looking at Stephanie and drooling over Rick.
"What's good?" Stephanie asked.
"The lamb chops are always fresh."
With a shudder, Stephanie studied the menu again. "I'll have a salad."
Betty's gaze finally swung toward her. She snorted. "Figures." She turned a stunning smile on Rick. "No wonder she doesn't have any meat on her bones."
He smiled back. "Miss Shane doesn't eat meat. She's a vegetarian."
The waitress lifted a brow, snorted again, then asked, "Will you have your usual?"
"Burger and fries. You know me. I'm a meat and potatoes man."
"Rare?" Betty asked.
"The redder the better," he answered.
Stephanie's stomach rolled. She didn't know if it was due to the bloody meat reference or a result of the way Betty kept eyeballing Rick. It shouldn't have surprised her. He was a handsome single man in a town where probably few could be found. She imagined he could have his pick of the single women. Maybe even the married ones. The waitress took their menus and sashayed off, her ample hips swinging.
"Why is everyone staring at me?" Stephanie asked through tight lips.
Rick glanced around. "They're just curious. We don't get many strangers here." His gaze swung back to her. "I'm curious, too. Tell me about yourself."
Stephanie wasn't comfortable discussing her past with anyone, much less a man she didn't know. She shrugged. "Not much to tell."
"Why aren't you married?"
"Why aren't you?" she countered.
He smiled, and she tried not to melt. "Never got around to it. I used to travel a lot."
"You said used to. Don't you enjoy traveling?"
Rick tugged at his shirt collar and shifted against his seat. "No. I've become a homebody of sorts."
"I love to travel," Stephanie admitted. "It's one of the things I like most about my job. That and being outdoors."
"And the animals," he added. "You do like animals, don't you?"
She laughed. "Of course I like animals. I'm naturally suspicious of anyone who doesn't."
"And you like wolves in particular?"
His line of questioning seemed strange to her. "Yes," she answered. "Wolves in particular."
Lifting a salt shaker to examine, he continued, "Why wolves in particular?"
Stephanie had never given her attraction to the species much thought. "I suppose because they're beautiful. And they have values. The pack is like a family. They love and protect one another."
"What about your family?"
He'd hit upon a sore subject. It had been three years since her father's death, and she still felt an empty place inside. "My parents were in a car accident. My mother was killed instantly. Dad held on for another year, but he was in bad shape. An invalid." She lowered her gaze because she felt the tears gathering. "I don't think he even knew who I was in the end."
The gentle touch of his hand startled her. "I'm sorry for your loss."
His touch felt comforting; his expression held sincerity. Stephanie managed to get her emotions under control. "What about you? Are your parents still living?"
"Yes," he answered.
"Do you see them much?"
"No." He glanced away from her. "Not in a while."
"Why not?"
He removed his hand from hers. "Too busy, I guess. They live in Texas."
"You should visit them as often as you can. You won't have them forever." They sat silently for a moment. "What about brothers and sisters?" Stephanie asked.
"I have a brother," he responded. "Or I did. We were together on a hunting expedition in Canada a few years back. He? he was killed."
"How horrible," she breathed. "What happened?"
Rick glanced around as if looking for someone. "I'd rather not talk about it."
She supposed she was getting too personal and tried to change the subject. "You don't strike me as the hunting type."
"I'm not," he admitted. "I went because Jason wanted us to spend time together." Betty appeared, and he looked relieved. "Great, here's our food. I'm starving."
And he evidently was, because he attacked his food only moments after the waitress set his plate in front of him. Stephanie had to glance away. She was surprised the burger wasn't still mooing. She tried to concentrate on her salad.
"You should have children."
"What?"
"Children," he repeated, taking a bite of his bloody hamburger. "You'll make a good mother."
She loved children. Once, she'd pictured herself with a husband and babies of her own. She didn't know if she could stand to love someone that much again, because she felt certain she couldn't stand to lose anyone else she loved.
"And you have arrived at this conclusion based upon? ?"
"You have a nurturing nature," he answered. "You like to take care of people."
Stephanie laughed. "For a man who hardly knows me, you assume a lot."
He lifted a brow. "You don't want children?"
A hot flush spread up her neck. She could imagine having his children. And what beautiful offspring he would produce. "Most women want children. That was an easy assumption." She moved her fork around in her salad, not looking at him. "Would you like to have children?"
When he remained silent, she glanced up. He mumbled, "I can't," then looked away.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, realizing she'd gotten too personal again.
Rick wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Hugh's here. Do you mind if I talk to him?"
She glanced behind her and saw the sheriff conversing with Betty. "No. Go ahead. I'll wash my hands and freshen up, then meet you at the door."
He grabbed the bill, slid across the seat, and waited for her to rise. Conversation stopped at each booth or table they passed. Stephanie felt self-conscious. She nodded at the sheriff when they reached the man, then proceeded to the restroom. Once inside, she washed her hands and splashed her face with cool water.
She found herself primping before the mirror, which wasn't at all like her. Stephanie knew she was pretty, in a natural, no-fuss sort of way. Her job didn't allow her to waste time with makeup or hot rollers. That was the bad thing about camping out. No electricity. Of course, it had never bothered her much before. But then, she'd never had a single, handsome man living near her campsite before, either.
Frowning over her silly primping, she threw the paper towel in the wastebasket and left the restroom. Rick stood at the register talking to Betty.
"Sure you can't stop by later tonight and look at my Sugar, Rick? Her appetite hasn't been at all good lately."
"You know I don't practice on small animals. You'll have to take her?"
"But Sugar doesn't like that old vet," Betty interrupted, her plump red lips forming a pout. "And it's so far over there."
He dug in his back pocket for his wallet. "Sugar doesn't like me either, remember?"
Stephanie stepped up to the register. "Who's Sugar?"
"My poodle," Betty answered, frowning over the interruption. "I wanted Rick to come over tonight and have a look at her, but I forgot, she pitches a fit anytime she comes within sniffing distance of him. He's the reason we've all had to take to penning up our pets."
"You should keep them penned up anyway," Rick said. "Confinement stops the spread of disease and keeps them from getting run over."
"I suppose you're right about that," she admitted. "Well, don't be such a stranger."
"Keep the change," he said, ushering Stephanie outside.
"Why don't dogs like you?" she immediately asked, finding that strange since Rick was a veterinarian.
He looked a little embarrassed. "They just don't."
"But that's odd, isn't it? Haven't you ever had to practice on small animals?"
He nodded. "There's the drugstore. You can get film and anything else you need. I'm going for a haircut."
Although it pleased her that he'd taken her suggestion to heart, Stephanie wouldn't be put off. "Well, haven't you?"
Rick sighed. "I used to practice on small animals when I lived in the city. I can only assume that dogs no longer like me because they smell wolf on me."
She drew up short. "What?"
"My shoes," he specified. "Tromp around a forest inhabited by wolves and you're bound to pick up their scent on your shoes. Spoor and things."
"Oh." She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose you're right. I hadn't thought of that. How'd it go with the sheriff?"
He shrugged. "Okay. He said he'd speak to the farmers, but he also said to tell you to be careful. Some might listen and some might not."
"I guess it's a start," she said.
"Do you mind shopping alone while I get a haircut?"
The idea wasn't too pleasing since she was a stranger in town and evidently not highly regarded, but Stephanie answered, "No problem."
"I'll meet you back at your Jeep."
With a nod, Stephanie veered off toward the drugstore. She received a chilly reception from the owner after she entered, but ignored the balding older man. Stephanie picked up a few rolls of film, strolled the aisles until something caught her eye. She smiled and plucked a bottle of her favorite shampoo from the shelves. Since she didn't know how long it would take Rick to get a haircut, she lingered over the magazine section and chose a mystery novel from the limited selection of books.
The man running the cash register didn't thaw a fraction toward her, even though she'd spent more money than she intended, maybe unconsciously trying to win him over. She took her sack and headed back outside. The barbershop was just up the street, but Stephanie decided to wait at her Jeep. She headed toward the vehicle. A woman stepped from the alley beside the drugstore.
The woman's appearance startled Stephanie. She had long, tangled hair and wore ragged clothing. Her face was a mask of wrinkles. She lifted a bony finger and pointed.
"Beware of the wolf," she croaked.
Stephanie glanced behind her, unsure if the woman was speaking to her, and also to make certain there wasn't anything frightening standing behind her. There was no wolf. Only Rick walking toward her. She turned back. The woman had disappeared. Stephanie scanned the streets, searching for the woman. When she didn't find her, she stepped into the alleyway. It was deserted.
Rick held the shampoo bottle beneath his nose. He took a deep breath, then sighed with pleasure. He smiled, recalling how Stephanie had pulled it from the sack once she'd brought him home. A gift, she had teased, so he wouldn't have to sniff her. He wouldn't use the shampoo on his now shorter hair, but he liked having her scent floating around the room.
His smile faded when he recalled something he hadn't liked. Stephanie had said an old woman stepped from the alley and warned her to beware of the wolf. He'd thought she might be seeing things until they spotted the old woman later, hobbling down the road.
He hadn't seen her before, but she'd stopped as they passed, staring at him with eyes too knowing. Rick had turned his head to look at her, and she'd lifted a bony finger, pointing at him accusingly. Did she know? How could she? And who was she? His immediate feelings on the matter were that she'd come from a county fair in one of the neighboring towns. She looked like a gypsy, a fortune-teller. The road she'd been traveling only veered off to one place?a broken-down shack up in the mountains that had long been abandoned.
If this woman knew what lurked beneath the fa?ade of his human flesh, she was dangerous. He didn't want his curse exposed to the world. His parents had suffered enough; he wouldn't bring this down on their heads, as well.
He didn't like to recall the turn of events that had forever changed their lives, and his. He'd gone to Canada on a hunting trip with his older brother, Jason. Rick wasn't a hunter, but Jason had laid a guilt trip on him about how little time they spent together. Rick wished the trip had been an instance when he'd remained self-absorbed, instead of giving in. Then he and Jason would not have fallen into the nightmare.
They were drinking beer and bragging about women that night in front of the campfire. Jason had excused himself, muttering he had to see a man about a dog. Rick sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the silence of the wilderness and the popping of the fire. A short time later, he'd heard his brother's calls for help.
He'd grabbed his rifle and charged through the foliage. Rick stumbled upon a scene he would never forget. A huge wolf had his brother down, its powerful jaws wrapped around his throat. Rick lifted the rifle and shot at the animal, missing because he was no marksman.
Then the animal had come at him. Rick barely managed to lift the rifle when the wolf sunk its teeth into the flesh of his thigh. He'd shot the animal in the back at close range. The wolf yelped and fell to the ground. Dragging his injured leg, Rick rushed to his brother's side. It had been too late. Jason was dead. Even though he knew, Rick removed his jacket and wrapped it around Jason's throat, hoping he was wrong.
He'd carried him to their vehicle, thrown him in the backseat, and raced for the nearest town. The rest seemed like a blur. Because he'd lost a lot of blood from the gaping wound in his leg, he passed out at the hospital. He'd awakened in a room, tubes running from his arms, with the recollection that something had gone horribly wrong tugging at his conscience.
His brother had, in fact, been dead upon arrival at the hospital, he learned later. He'd taken him home in a casket. Or at least he thought he had. The loss of his brother had blunted his emotions. He hadn't even noticed that the wound in his leg healed at an impossible rate. Then the changes started. The restlessness. The sleepless nights. His infatuation with the moon. A need for raw meat. He'd never believed that werewolves truly existed.
Not until he realized he had become one. He'd wake in the morning to find dirt beneath his fingernails, sometimes blood on his hands and the taste of it in his mouth. The newspaper had started reporting accounts of a wolf roaming the streets of the city. He tried to convince himself it was impossible?a man could not assume the shape of an animal?but deep down, he knew it was possible, and that he was such a man.
Rick brought trembling hands to his head, burying his face. He didn't want to think about when he had come to accept the curse that fate had dealt him?the day his dead brother had paid him a visit. Rick had almost died of shock. He'd thought he might be hallucinating, had prayed he was dreaming, even though he was overjoyed to see his only brother again. But he hadn't been dreaming. It took seeing Jason to convince him that what he suffered was also real.
Jason was a werewolf. He wasn't in the casket Rick had flown home with. Confused and delirious, his brother had escaped the hospital. Rick later figured the hospital didn't want to admit they'd lost a body, so they'd played along with a hoax. But Jason soon learned what he'd become, and convinced Rick that he shared the same curse. His brother told him he would return to Canada, find the wolf that had bitten them, and kill it. Only then would they both be free. That had been three years ago. Jason had obviously not found the wolf.
He wondered if his brother had lost sight of the human within him, and now ran wild in the Canadian wilderness. Rick had a lot of questions he wanted answered. He'd done research, of course, but one claim disputed another, and he didn't know what to believe. If the curse could truly only be broken by killing the werewolf that had bitten him, he feared it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Finding that one particular wolf in the wilds of Canada would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.
An ad for a country vet had caught his attention one day. A secluded mountain town nestled against the rugged mountains of Montana sounded like a good place for him.
The wolves came shortly after he arrived. For all he knew, he had called them in the lonely hours when the moon hung full in the sky. They were his companions, the only ones who didn't judge him. He'd awoken many times among them. Rising naked in the cold light of dawn in his glaring human form. But they accepted him, either way, man or beast, which was more than his own kind would do.
They would kill him if they knew. He would be talked about, publicized, and crucified. His parents would suffer even more than they already had. Rick wouldn't allow that to happen. They'd lost two sons to that hunting expedition. At least the two they knew and loved.
Once, he wouldn't have given the strange woman he'd seen in town a second thought; now the beast within him said he must. He would wait awhile, see if she disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared; if she didn't, he'd be forced to do something about her.
