Keri Arthur - Beneath A Rising Moon

She dressed, swept her hair into a ponytail, then clattered down the stairs to grab a quick breakfast of toast and coffee. Then she snagged her leather jacket from the arm of the chair and made her way outside. The day had dawned crisp and clear, but the smell of rain was in the air. The weather could change so quickly up here in the mountains, especially in the early days of spring, and it had caught many a tourist by surprise. Not that Ripple Creek was anywhere near as popular with humans as nearby

Aspen--but then, most of the wolf packs who lived here didn't want it to be.

Her pack was the exception. Her father even headed the "bring Ripple Creek into the twenty-first century" committee.

A smile touched her lips, but just as quickly faded. She'd have to watch her step around her parents today, or the shit really would hit the fan.

She thrust her hands into her coat pockets and made her way toward the diner. Her parents lived above it--as had she, until her mother's incessant nagging that she find a mate and settle down had grown beyond the joke it had originally started out to be.

Sav certainly didn't cop half the flack she got--but then, Sav had what her mother considered a worthwhile career. She, on the other hand, was simply another waitress in the diner. Which was a job she actually enjoyed doing and had no intentions of leaving.

A bell chimed softly as she pushed open the door. The rich aroma of omelettes and coffee filled the air, stirring her hunger even though she'd already eaten. "Morning, Cub," her father called from the kitchen.

She snagged an apron from under the counter, tying it around her waist as she pushed through the double swing-doors into the kitchen.

"Morning, old one." She dropped a kiss on his leathery cheek.

He swatted her with his spatula, green eyes twinkling good humoredly. "Enough of the old, thank you very much."

She grinned and pulled herself up on the nearest bench. "Where's Mother?"

"Still at the hospital."

"No word from the doctors on Savannah's progress?" His mask of cheerfulness slipped a little. He sighed and thrust a hand through his thinning blonde hair. "They said her vital signs were a lot stronger.

It's just a matter of waiting now."

Waiting was the one thing she wouldn't be doing. "Her thoughts are stronger, Dad. I don't think waking is that far off."

He lightly squeezed her arm. "Thanks. I'll tell Mother that."

"Need anything done in here before I start setting tables?"

"I did it all last night. Couldn't sleep. You want an omelette?"

When she nodded, he slapped one onto a nearby plate and began making another. She shifted her leg and grabbed a knife and fork from the cutlery drawer underneath the bench, then dug in.

They ate in silence. When they'd both finished, she collected the dishes, throwing them into the dishwasher before pouring them both a coffee.

"Your mother wants to know if you'll come for dinner tonight," he said.

She stared at him for a second, her heart feeling like it was about to race out of her chest. "Is this a request or a demand?"

He grimaced. "You know your mother."

A demand. By the moon's light, what on earth was she going to do now? "I--" She hesitated, but knew it was better to tell a half truth than a straight out lie. "I was planning to go out later tonight, but I can come over if dinner is early enough."

He nodded and raised his eyebrow. Curious, but not overly so. "Anywhere in particular?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "They're reshowing Charade at the Playbox. Thought I might catch that."

She'd actually caught it two nights ago, but he didn't know that. Her dad snorted. "How many times will that make it?" She grinned. "Only fourteen."

He shook his head. "You're never going to catch a mate if you keep spending your time down at that old movie theater lusting after ancient actors."

"Well, until I meet a man with Cary Grant's looks, charm and style, that's exactly what I intend to keep doing."

"We're never going to get grandkiddies, that's for sure," he muttered. He slapped her leg, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Go set the tables before I get inclined to lecture on the virtues of finding a good man."

Grin widening, she slipped off the bench, planted another kiss on his cheek, and headed off to work. The morning rush came and went. Arianne, a fellow waitress and long-time friend, swept in at eleven, all color and energy and smiles.

"Such a wonderful day," she all but trilled, shucking off her coat and grabbing an apron.

"Got lucky last night, did we?" Neva commented dryly. Ari grinned. "No, but I'm intending to tonight.

Hooked myself a fine specimen last night."

"And you didn't dance? Good grief, girl, are you sick?"

"Nope. He was with another mate at the time, and it's not polite to steal, you know."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

Amusement twinkled in Ari's dark green eyes. "Since his mate was double my size."

Neva snorted softly. "Good enough reason, I suppose."

"Generally. You filled the salt shakers yet?" Neva shook her head, and the two of them got to work.

Lunch was busier than normal, thanks to the rising influx of fly-fishermen wanting to take advantage of the early season warmth. At one, when there was a brief slowdown in customer traffic, Neva grabbed a soda and leaned wearily against the counter. Lack of sleep was beginning to tell. Thank God it was

Monday, and the diner was closed tonight.

Then she remembered what she had to do, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Ari joined her near the fridge, leaning her forehead against the cool glass. "Man, I'm hot."

She raised an eyebrow. "Can't wait for tonight, huh?" Mischief danced in Ari's eyes. "Well, now that you mentioned it." She hesitated as the doorbell chimed. "Maybe we should put the 'Closed' sign up.

Otherwise, I don't think we're going to get out of here today." Neva smiled as she glanced toward the door--and felt her smile freeze on her face. It wasn't just any old customer who'd entered. It was Duncan

Sinclair.

Ari's soft gasp of admiration seemed a hundred miles away. Neva could only stare at him, her mind whirling with a thousand different thoughts and fears. What on earth was he doing here? Was it just chance that brought him here or something more? He adjusted a small brown-wrapped box tucked beneath his arm and took off his dark glasses, his gaze skating across the crowded room. No, she thought, knees weak, heart straining with fear. It wasn't chance, but something more sinister.

"Now there's a honey I wouldn't mind wrapping my legs around," Ari whispered. "Moons, what a delicious bod."

He certainly had that, Neva thought with a chill. She'd thought him dangerously handsome last night, but now, when he was wearing dark jeans that hugged his legs with such thigh-defining tightness, and a black sweater that fitted his lean body and seemed to show every ripple of muscle, the impression of a dark angel was doubled. Tripled.

His gaze collided with hers, and something trembled deep inside. Whether it was fear or anticipation, she wasn't sure.

Which of the free tables are yours? His mind voice was brusque, unemotional. A tight beam only the two of them could hear--thankfully, given her dad was next door in the kitchen.

Booth second from the end. She kept her tones as clipped as his.

"God," Ari continued. "Hope he chooses one of my booths."

"Thought you had a date tonight?" she said, hoping Ari was too intent drooling over Duncan to notice the slight tremor in her voice.

"Are you crazy? That honey gives me the slightest indication of interest, and I'm a puddle at his feet."

Neva watched him stride to the booth and had to admit, if only to herself, that if he'd shown the slightest bit of interest in her, she would have puddled right alongside Ari.