her off. She glared at him, and he sighed. “Deja, I don’t want us to argue. We’ve been through a lot, and we haven’t been in Siberia that long. Things are still unsettled. I’m trying to feel my way into being the alpha’s son, working in a position I never dreamed of. In a couple of days, we’re moving into our own house.”
She’d lost her appetite and stirred the remainder of her fries in ketchup but didn’t bother eating them. Heath told the truth. Working with Ward meant a lot to him because he never knew his real dad, but the capacity of the job didn’t appeal. Heath craved a ranch, but no land for his own was available yet, not close enough to be considered a part of Siberia. They needed a rezoning for that, and apparently getting it handled took longer than Ward expected.
“So you’re not saying forever?” she ventured.
Heath didn’t answer, and she peered up from her plate.
“Heath?”
He slid his chair back and pulled bills from his wallet. He placed way more than enough money on the table for the food. “It’s not a good idea, Deja. Take care of lunch, and the rest is for grocery shopping. I’m going to be late tonight.”
When he stood up and leaned over to kiss her, she turned her head. He frowned, and after a few moments, he turned and left without another word. Deja ducked her head pretending to count the money when Melly shuffled over.
“On the house, sweetie,” she said.
“Thanks, Melly.” Before she made even more of a fool of herself, Deja surged to her feet and made a beeline for the door. The first tears didn’t plop onto her cheeks until she was well on down the road.
Chapter Three
A week later, Deja approached her favorite stool and frowned that someone already occupied it. She stopped and scanned the only bar in Siberia. The place was a good size, given that half the citizens of the town frequented it, and Jake was the head bartender. At the moment, he seemed to be the only one working and looked harassed. She shook her head in disbelief when he handed over a beer to a patron and almost seemed to have a heart attack when the man’s fingers brushed his. The shifter glared at Jake, making him quail all the more, and she went over to rescue her friend.
“Hey, Jake, how’s it going tonight?” She sat down. “You aren’t the only one here, are you?”
“Gabby’s in heat, whatever that means,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “You know what it means. If she was here, things would be a lot worse, or so I hear. Anyway, don’t tell me you’re still terrified of my kind. Come on, man, how can you live among us feeling this way?”
He popped the lid off a bottle of beer and slid it across the counter to her. With a hurried expression on his face, he swiped an arm across his forehead, trying to get the slick, overlong hair out of his eyes. Looking at him, she would put him at twenty-five, but Jake had told her he was pushing thirty-three. Good genes and not hard on the eyes at all.
“I guess you could call it a phobia. My head tells me there’s nothing to be afraid of, and I’ve even met some really nice people I know wouldn’t hurt me, but tell that to my body, which shakes every time. I feel like an idiot.” He glanced down the bar at a couple of more rowdy patrons. “Then there’s the ones that are not so nice. They tease me, telling me they can smell my fear.”
Deja followed his line of sight and recognized the two idiots he referred to. “Don’t worry about them. They’re all bark—growl? hiss?—and no bite. They know if they try anything, Ward will have their balls in a sling.”
She took a long drag on her beer and sighed after she swallowed the cool liquid.
“What about you, Deja?” Jake fixed clear gray eyes, full of interest, on her. “What are you doing here on a Friday night? Shouldn’t you be at home with your mate?”
“Mate,” she repeated, and Jake seemed even more alert to her answer. She changed the subject. “Damn, I