SwitchBack: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Knightsbridge Canyon Series Book 1) Read online

  “Bullet wound?” she said, her mouth a big O.

  “Just a ricochet. Nothing serious. Forget I said anything. You look great by the way.” And she did. Married life looked really good on her.

  Jill’s face lit up. “Oh, you’re so sweet.”

  That was the difference between her and a city girl, who would have taken my comment as one-upmanship. She was married to a tall, blonde and dishy silent type I knew from school but not very well, and now they had a few kids. I fought back a pang of annoyance. I was so not going to settle, down or otherwise.

  You know, God laughs at people’s plans, my brother always said, and if you swear you’ll never do something, guess what? That’s what will happen.

  “Hey, Jill.” Will gave her a smile. “Can we get some of your custard-filled chocolate bars?”

  Jill smiled back and went behind the counter.

  “I just made up a fresh batch,” she said and I had a sudden déjà vu as I remembered that her mother Dawn used to tell me the same thing. I watched with anticipation as she took the oozingly creamy custard and filled the warm doughy chocolate-covered orgasm before my very eyes.

  Will paid her for the donuts and a couple of milks and we sat over at a table by the window. When I bit into it, I thought I was going to die and go to heaven right there. One thing I never had to worry about was getting fat, by the way. Yes, all you girls can envy the hell out of me, but it has something to do with my monthly romp in the woods.

  Silver linings? Frankly, I don’t think it was a good trade. You try waking up with your face covered in blood. You’ll see.

  “So, are they as good as you remembered?” Will leaned his forehead into mine across the table in an intimate gesture and I sighed.

  “Better,” I said, savoring every bite in silence as I watched him demolish his own donut in two seconds flat. I took a napkin and wiped his chin.

  Jill was looking at us with interest from behind the counter and I knew that the social media gossip line was going to be hard at work this evening. Local Girl Returns, Reignites Old Passions!

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said under my breath as we downed our milks and headed for the door.

  “Bye guys!” Jill called after us. “Don’t forget Homecoming’s next month! Alumni games are first and then Trojans versus Spartans!” Her voice drifted out. “Everybody would LOVE to see you!”

  “Trojans versus Spartans?” I asked. “Since when are Knightsbridge and K-Christian even in the same league?”

  “Boy, you have been gone a while, haven’t you?” Will teased. “KCHS even has a football team now. It’s grown a lot.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said as we headed past the Shell station and back to the truck. “Where are they getting the money? We had to buy our own cheerleading outfits when I was in school.”

  “Yeah, well times change, Ash.” He held the door of the truck open for me. “And so do people. The town’s not so small, and it got a lot richer with the influx of wealthy conservatives fleeing the Bay Area. K-Christian went from being That Other School to the place the elite all send their kids, at the same time the public schools were cutting their budgets.”

  “Wow. Weird.”

  “Yeah, never mind. Back on topic: believe it or not, lots of people remember you with fondness,” he said, and I could see he meant it.

  I felt bad. I had been a pretty mixed-up kid, and after Mom died and the date-getting-killed thing, which nobody ever talked about – don’t worry, I’ll tell you about it soon – I had a tendency to see the glass half empty rather than half full. It made me feel small, and I thought that perhaps I needed some new glasses. Half-sized ones, maybe, that would be full, with half the…

  Sorry, my metaphor just broke down. Not so good for a writer, but I always swore not to revise my diary, so I’ll just keep on telling the tale.

  I sighed as he drove me down past the boutique where I’d worked in the basement the summer in middle school, putting price tags on bras before I even had a need for one. He pointed out the old Woolworth’s I swiped fingernail polish from and the Safeway turned into a Von’s on the corner where we shopped for groceries back in the day. The small-town mansions that fronted the west end of town didn’t look so large anymore, and as we turned right onto Broadway and then onto Floral, the street where I grew up, I was floored.

  “Wow. This place has really gone to seed,” I said. Maybe it was just childhood, but I could have sworn most families in this neighborhood never had more than two cars, and none of them ever on blocks in the middle of the lawn.

  Will laughed. “It’s not the good side of the bad side of town anymore. All the money went up to the outskirts. New houses nearer the freeway for all the Bay Area commuters.” He looked apologetic.

  “You know, I’ve had dreams of coming back here and buying the old house. Dad sold it when he remarried and we had to move into the house on Devonshire. After that, it wasn’t really home-home, you know? Now, I think if I wanted to buy this place, I’d have to move it somewhere else just to feel safe.”

  We parked outside. It actually didn’t look too bad from here. Clearly it was the best-kept house on the block, if the neatly trimmed lawn and new paint job were any indication.

  “Let’s go in,” he said.

  I looked at him aghast.

  “What?” I shrugged. “Just walk up to the front door, ring the bell and say ‘Hey! You know I used to live here. Can I look around your house for a while?’”

  “Why not?” He smiled as he got out of the cab. “People are still people. They’ll understand.”

  “No way!” I refused to budge, but I watched as his cocky self walked right up to the painted concrete steps and then he turned to me.

  “Are you coming?” He threw his arms wide, like he was in a movie or something. I shook my head, scrunched up my face, then jumped out of the truck. I had to see this.

  He rang the bell.

  Nothing. I was so relieved.

  “See. They’re not even home,” I said.

  “No kidding. Come on, let’s sneak a peek inside.”

  If I really wanted to, I could come back the next full moon in wolf form and check the place out and no one would be any wiser. It would be safer. I wasn’t a scaredy-cat when I was in wolf form. In fact, when I was shifted, I wasn’t afraid of anything. But now…now I was just petrified.

  Will reached out his hand and tried the handle. It turned and he pushed the door open. I was in shock.

  “Come on,” he said. “Aren’t you curious?” He took a step inside the door.

  “What? Will. Stop!” I yelped and grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back and away from breaking and entering. Well, entering anyway.

  “Hello?” he called as I tried to shush him. “Anyone home?” And then, “Mom?”

  Mom? And then it all came crashing into my head and I shoved him.

  “You slimy shitbird,” I yelled as he turned and I beat on his chest. He grabbed me and pulled me down to the tan-carpeted floor. I was so surprised I didn’t even notice my butt pain. “YOU OWN THIS PLACE?”

  “I own this place.” He grinned and I wanted to wipe that bird-eating kitty grin off his face once and for all. All the feelings that I ever had about this home washed through me and I began to beat on him, slapping him for making me feel stupid and scared, and then I began to cry.

  “Well, that wasn’t the reaction that I was expecting.” Will kissed my forehead, held me and stroked my hair. I heard a sound and turned to see a woman’s shoes and stockings out of the corner of my eye.

  “Hi Mom,” Will said.

  I looked up bleary-eyed as his mother bent down to greet me.

  “Hello dear. And who have we here?” I buried my face in Will’s chest. “Well, Ashlee Scott, as I live and breathe.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Stenfield,” I muttered, as I turned my tear-stained face to her.

  Will’s mother gently touched my chin. “Now, what’s a nice girl like you doing with a rough boy li
ke mine?” she said with a chuckle. “Get up off that floor, young man, and let me greet this girl properly.” She stepped back and allowed us to rise.

  I smoothed the velvet crush of the fancy sweats I’d borrowed from my sister and ran my hands through my hair, pulling my locks away from my face.

  “Come here and give us a hug.” She pulled me into her and wrapped her small thin frame around me and I sighed contentedly. Mrs. Stenfield always knew how to make you feel at home. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make us some tea and we can catch up,” she said and then disappeared through the dining room and into the kitchen.

  “How could you buy this place and not tell me?” I turned on him. “If your mother wasn’t here, I’d kick your ass to hell and back.”

  “Well, then I’m glad she’s here. And when was I going to tell you, anyway? You took off so fast after that one summer, and we weren’t dating anymore, and the few times you did come back home I hardly saw you, so when was I going to tell you?”

  “You could have emailed me. The address is on every article.”

  “I’m not an email kind of guy.”

  I knew that. He didn’t even have a smart phone, just a beat-up old Nokia that could barely text, and he probably only carried that because his work required it. I always felt Will was born too late, and would have been more comfortable in Mom and Dad’s world.

  “You could have told Amber. She would have told me.”

  “I asked her not to,” he said. “I wanted to surprise you, if ever…”

  “If ever what?”

  “Nothing. You know.”

  Will’s mother came back with a serving tray and a tea cozy as I slid into the soft lining of the brown suede sofa. I took the cup she offered, almost overwhelmed with the memories.

  “So, what brings you back to town, Ashlee? Last I heard you were doing some articles for Contemporary Cruising.”

  I forced myself to focus on talking to her rather than reminiscing. “Really? Where’d you hear that?” I avoided the first question. I so did not want to talk to her about my bullet wound. Once I started that I’d be sounding like everyone’s grandparents talking about their medical conditions. Why is it that the older people get, the more readily they pull out their aches and pains? Probably because there are more of them. I guess I could relate, or at least, my butt could.

  “I think you told me, didn’t you, Will?” She turned and I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

  “Huh?” He was blushing. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

  Mrs. Stenfield turned back to me. “Will has everything you’ve ever written. Asks Amber to call him when you’ve got a new article and buys it up before it hits the stand.”

  “Oh, really?” I looked at him with pursed lips. I wondered what other secrets my dear identical twin had been keeping. I made a mental note to interrogate her when I got home.

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Stenfield went on with enthusiasm. “I think my son just might be your biggest fan.”

  I could not believe it. Will Stenfield? He’d never be comfortable in a five-star hotel and spa. Then again… “Well, then. I guess I’ll just have to hit you up when I finally organize my fan club.” I laughed.

  How natural this all seemed. Smooth. Easy. Not like any of the other conversations I’ve had with the parents of the guys I’ve dated. Actually, scratch that. I rarely got around to meeting the parents of the guys I dated, because I normally didn’t go longer than three dates with any of them. Sound familiar?

  Will settled back and popped the leg rest up from where he sat at the end of the sofa sectional. He looked really comfortable and at home here. In my old home. Who would believe it?

  We chatted a bit more, small talk and things.

  “You know, you really should go visit Sam and Muriel next door. I bet they’d love seeing you again,” Mrs. Stenfield continued. “Darcy’s over there a lot, with her husband and the kids. After Oliver died, they needed the grandkids around to fill the place with gladness.”

  Darcy and Oliver were our neighbor playmates growing up. Ollie died of diabetes complications years before and I didn’t get back very often. I sometimes felt guilty about that, but dammit, my life wasn’t easy and coming home always intimidated me. I was a moody bitch growing up and still am sometimes, and didn’t like being reminded of that fact, which is why I usually avoid things like Homecoming and class reunions.

  Forgive yourself, the little voice in my head said. I promised to try.

  “Yeah. Maybe I will,” I replied to her and myself both.

  Will threw the kickstand back on the recliner and pounced out of the chair. “Hey Mom. I’m gonna show Ashlee the rest of the house. Let her see what we’ve done with the place.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Omigod! Why did he have to be so cute with his mother? And me without mine, since I was eleven. At least corporeally.

  But he was, and he pulled me up off the couch and motioned me over. “As you can see, I stripped the paint off the mantel and off all the floor and sideboards, leaving the natural walnut to breathe. This place was made simple, but they used really good techniques in the joins.” He rambled on about renovation as I ran my hand over the polished grain. It looked like he’d put a lot of love into the job and I said so.

  Will smiled shyly and my heart went pitter-pat. I was such a goner! Inwardly I groaned. What the hell was I doing? This wasn’t going to work, me the world traveler and him the small-town guy.

  Will showed me how he’d done the same refinishing with the French doors that slid into the wall, and talked about hand-beveling and then showed me the wall with the china cabinet where we used to keep only the best dishes for when guests were over. We usually ate in the kitchen otherwise. The etched panes of crystal seemed to glitter and the light from the chandelier over the dining room table refracted rainbows along the wall as he opened and closed the cupboards, showing me the gleaming burnished solid brass hinges. God, I loved this place, though I really didn’t understand as a child how nice it all was.

  We hardly ever do.

  They’d cleaned up the sun porch that opened off the dining room and added a settee and a breakfast nook and I smiled as I remember how often I’d retreated to this room as a child to read about the Patchwork Girl in Oz, and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. Will then let me out the side door of the house and showed me the well-tended gardens where my father and I had pulled weeds and the now-huge chrysanthemums we’d planted years ago. He walked me around the back and showed me how he’d turned the tomato garden where we used to have mud-fights in the late summer into a small rock garden and how he’d resurfaced the patio and rebuilt the sandstone outdoor barbecue that was still shaded by a couple of plum trees. Sliding open the garage, I caught the whiff of gasoline and the same smell of freshly mown grass that clung to his well-oiled tools occupying the back wall. And he showed me the motorcycle he was building from scratch that looked like he hadn’t worked on it for a while, but would get back to, once the landscaping season slowed down in winter.

  “Hey! Is that crawlspace still up here?” I asked and climbed up the slatted wall on the left side of the garage to peek my head into a small storage area. On a sleeping bag up there we’d felt each other up for the first time, hiding from the world and discovering clumsy teenage lust.

  “Don’t go up there!” he said, but I already had.

  “Looks like you haven’t been up here in a while.” I saw it clean and empty. I climbed down, snickering.

  “Yeah, well, there’s this thing called the internet now,” he replied, sheepish.

  “What, no girlfriend to take care of your base carnal needs?” I asked with false lightness.

  “No, Ash. Not since you.”

  Wow. I felt honored, and more than a bit pressured. He really had waited. I gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because you’re so cute when you turn red.” I hugged him again and then stepped away.

  “L
et me see the rest of the house.” I ran toward the garage door, pulled it shut behind me and latched it.

  “Don’t you dare lock me in here!” he called, but I already had. He pounded on the door and I giggled.

  “Ash. It’s not funny.” He pushed hard against it and I thought the lock was going to snap.

  “Okay. Okay. Step back and wait a second.” I unlatched it. When I slid the garage door open, I saw anger in his eyes.

  “What?” I remarked. Boy, he was actually pissed.

  “You of all people should know that that’s not cool.”

  And all of a sudden, it dawned on me how right he was. I’d gotten locked in the garage more than once back when I was a little kid, and the last time I did, it took a couple of hours for someone to find me. It happened to be Will. By that time I was so distraught, I thought the Rapture had occurred and I’d got left behind. I shivered at the memory.

  See, there were these movies some friends of ours had been into when I was little, about getting left behind after the Second Coming, and then the Antichrist showed up and everything went to hell, Christopher Walken style. Freaked me out so bad I had nightmares for days and prayed the sinner’s prayer every night for the next two years. So, when I got locked in the garage after falling asleep there one day, I was understandably distraught. My brother and Amber had just laughed at me.

  “You’re right,” I said and hugged him. “I should know better.” I looked into his eyes and apologized. “Forgive me?”

  He nodded. “Of course I forgive you.”

  People don’t apologize enough anymore. Instead, they say something like “I’m sorry,” or even worse, “my bad.” But forgiveness? Only seemed to happen in certain circles and I’m sorry can mean so many different things including sucks to be you.

  Coming home was hard. It reminded me of all the things I’d done that I was ashamed of. So why was I back here?

  Will said, “C’mon. Let’s see the rest of the house.” He pulled me close and sniffed my hair as we walked toward the back door past the fruitless Mulberry tree that our family had to trim as a ritual every Thanksgiving. I looked up into the newly sprouting branches.