Coffee brewing, I leaned against the counter and openly smirked at Sam. “Come on, don’t be pouty about this. We made a deal and I stuck to it. I’ve met more man-dogs,” my made up term amused him, “than I can remember. Some, even twice.”
I pushed away from the counter walking behind his chair. Resting my forearms on his shoulders, I rolled them outward pressing down with my full weight. The tension slowly left his shoulders and I rested my chin on his head. Yeah, I was that short compared to him.
“Tell me you’re going to be okay without me here,” I whispered.
I couldn’t remember my real grandpa, but over the last two years, Sam had filled the roll to the letter, despite our rough start. I knew he’d managed his own coffee in the morning for years before I moved in with him, but I still wondered what he’d do.
He sighed gustily and reached back to pat my cheek, the extent of affection I allowed with hm. It had been a gradual progress to work up to it. He knew most physical contact made me uncomfortable. He understood it and never seemed offended by it. I’d held myself away from people for so long, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be completely comfortable with casually touching anyone.
“You know I will,” he said sounding tired. He shoulders sagged beneath my touch and he said, “I don’t understand why you won’t go to the community college here. Out of state is so expensive.”
I stood up, moving away from him and said, “No, it won’t be. I have scholarships and aid because of being a foster.” I made my way to the coffee enjoying the warm breeze that brushed past the kitchen curtains to swirl around the room. As I poured him a cup, I continued defending my choice. “Besides, you know very well why I’m going out of state.”
It was an old argument. My place in pack society, forever the bachelorette, bothered me. I wanted out. No other female went through such a long Introduction period. Over the last two years, I’d become the one all the guys wanted to meet and hoped to Claim by the end of the weekend. Though they treated me with kind hopefulness, my attitude toward finding a mate hadn’t changed. I didn’t want one. So two years of being the family disappointment was enough.
“I want my own life before someone tries to take it over. Sam, I’ve always had to follow other people’s rules. I want to live by my own rules for a while.”
Sam harrumphed, “What rules have I ever enforced on you?”
Handing him his cup, I gave him a steady look.
“Besides insisting on the Introductions,” he mumbled. He dropped his gaze to the proffered cup, accepting it with a lack of enthusiasm.
Not meeting my eyes, he blew on the brew, turning the cup in a circle on the table before he began to sip it slowly. He seemed unexpectedly guilty for such an innocent remark. Suspicious, I continued to study his face waiting for him to look up again.
Though I chafed at his rules, they were simple enough. Go to the Introductions. Spend the weekends getting to know the pack and the pack laws. Never stay out past dark without a way to get home, which meant a ride from Sam since owning my own car made him uncomfortable. How could he not see he completely controlled my life with those rules?
Though I understood the reason for them, it didn’t make them more palatable. The very real draw men felt when near me had only grown stronger as I matured, making time alone risky. Sam had insisted on enrolling me in self-defense classes, which had come in handy until the instructor started suggesting one on one training sessions a bit too loudly in class. Before bailing on the class though, I’d learned enough to keep men at bay, but not werewolves. Even knowing I had no protection against them other than Sam didn’t stop me from wanting to try it out on my own. Although Sam’s rules were simple, they weren’t mine.
“It won’t be safe,” Sam interrupted my thoughts. He looked up from his half-empty cup. “You know it won’t be safe.”
“Sam, I’ll get a dog.” I could see by his expression that he was gearing up for another round in an old debate. Why couldn’t he understand that I’d rather get a dog than be mated to a werewolf?
Hurrying around him for the bathroom down the hall, I called back over my shoulder, “I better go shower. We don’t want to keep the wolves waiting.” I spun into the bathroom, shutting the door with a snick to stop any further objections.
Just before dinnertime, I pushed open the door of Sam’s old pickup and ignoring its groan of protest climbed out. My feet crunched on the familiar gravel parking area of the compound. Still rundown and needing repairs, the familiar compound exuded welcome. With a twinge, I realized I’d probably miss these frequent visits.