Shivers ran up Noah’s spine. “Sure.”Breathe in, breathe out, relax. Talking to Slade yesterday took Noah’s mind off his ankle. Today Slade needed to talk to other people.
Noah forced himself not to think about the guy filming. He zoned out to the point where several moments passed before the lack of buzzing registered, the sound replaced by Slade’s question. “Need a break?”
“No, I’m good.”
Time passed, though Noah couldn’t say how long. Finally, Slade helped him sit up to the applause of the onlookers. He held up a hand mirror for Noah to see his back in the full-length mirror behind him.
A dragon hovered in the air, wings raised, on his shoulder. Intricate shading gave a three-dimensional effect. Wow! Too bad Noah couldn’t keep the piece of amazing body art. An assistant at the shop offered to help, but Slade took care of slathering ointment and wrapping the inkwork himself. Couldn’t let someone else see how much Noah had already healed.
He watched TV in the waiting area while Slade finished cleaning his equipment. Finally, they headed out to the bike, donning their helmets. They’d already packed everything into the SUV to make 11:00 a.m. checkout time. Next stop: Louisville for a week, then on to Kansas City.
After Kansas City?
The full moon.
Weeks went by in a blur of diners, tattoo sessions, Slade teaching Noah about the Internet, TV remotes, laundromats, and making hotel reservations. Noah officially went from rescued wolf to Slade’s assistant.
Once Slade realized the depths of Noah’s social anxiety around humans, he made sure not to leave Noah alone in public. The tough, scary biker paid attention to Noah’s likes and dislikes—some of which Noah hadn’t realized himself due to limited exposure to all things human.
“I got you something,” Slade said as they sat in a diner, waiting for breakfast.
“What?”
Slade pulled a small jar out of his pocket.
Apricot jam. Like Paul used to make.
Noah’s favorite.
He blinked back tears so Slade wouldn’t see how much the gesture meant.
“I got you something.” Slade handed Noah a new backpack to replace his old, ratty, ten-years-and-a-lot-of-miles bag.
“I got you something.” Slade placed a bag of chocolate candies, something Noah had recently taken a liking to, on the nightstand by Noah’s bed.
“I got you something.” Slade reached into a plastic shopping bag and pulled out three paperback books. He shrugged. “I don’t read much, but the lady at the bookstore said these were the current bestsellers.”
One night, Noah woke cold. Damn. He’d kicked the covers off the bed again! Before he could drag them off the floor, the covers settled over him in a cloud of warmth. He pretended to sleep while Slade tucked him in. Somehow, Noah felt even warmer, knowing someone cared enough to see to his comfort.
He fell asleep, dreaming of Slade, naked, climbing into Noah’s bed.
The next day, he pushed back fear long enough to brave a store alone, spending some of the money Slade insisted on paying him as an assistant, and left a pack of cookies on the man’s bed—Slade’s favorites.
While checking out of the motel in Kansas City, Slade said, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“What?” Jam? Candy? Something else?
“You’ll see.” Slade smiled. At Noah. A secretive smile full of mischief.
Noah sniffed. Nope, no deceptions. Anticipation, maybe?
They loaded the bike on the trailer at the motel and hit the road.
Two hundred miles put them at their destination. Slade shot straight past town, turning off the main road rather than stopping at a motel once they arrived. Camping? Excellent, though the temperature might be cool after dark.
After a few more miles, Noah caught the clean scent of water. His ears perked up. A waterfall in the distance?
They pulled to a stop in front of an elegantly built log cabin, colorfully painted pumpkins arranged on the porch. A scarecrow perched on a hay bale in the yard. Pretty. Noah sometimes saw Halloween decorations on his few visits to town and at the farms where he’d worked. He and Paul never decorated or celebrated. No point in decorating with no one else to see.