The Gamma's Reluctant Mate -The Wolves Of Winter Valley Bk 3

Chapter 6 - The First Dent In Her Armor

Megan POV

While I really could have done without the drama, I had to admit, it was pretty entertaining watching my mother fume most of the day over the fact that someone sent me flowers and not her. I couldn’t remember her ever receiving flowers, not even from my father. Of course, she was known for saying that they were a waste of money because they died after a few days, so my father always bought jewelry when gifts were expected. Wasn’t it funny how fast she changed her tune when a bouquet arrived, and she wasn’t the intended recipient? Or maybe it was the fact that I was the recipient that made the flowers suddenly so appealing.

Whatever the reason for her sudden change of heart toward the value of those colorful blooms, her reaction to not receiving them had been well worth the busted lip I was currently nursing. Gingerly, I dabbed the ice-water-soaked kitchen towel against my swollen and bleeding lip as I moved from my kitchen to the living room and sat down on the couch. Carla was going to lose her mind when she saw my face in the morning.

For some reason, Bonnie’s violence was escalating. She was growing more vicious with her assaults and less conscious of where she left marks. Before, she was careful to only inflict bruises where they would be covered by my clothes. I guess it no longer mattered. She knew I’d come up with a cover story because it was just as important to me as it was to her that no one knew she was a f*****g psycho. There was no point in anyone knowing. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

Until my 25th birthday, she held the reins to the restaurant. She also held the heart of my father’s attorney, who would bend over backward to protect her. If I reported the assaults and filed charges against her, he’d make them go away and help her steal the restaurant from me. If I defended myself, he’d help her make herself the victim, and I’d lose the restaurant. The only thing I could do to make the assaults stop was to walk away, and I couldn’t do that. Nebula was the only thing I had left of my father. Well, that and the few pictures I’d managed to save.

Bonnie had cleared the house of all of dad’s belongings less than a month after he died without asking me if I wanted any of it. She literally erased all evidence of his existence. The restaurant was his legacy, and I was grateful to have a chance to hang on to it. She’d made it no secret that she would have sold Nebula if it had been left to her. I think he knew she would, and that was why he’d left it to me. He knew that I would keep it going, and I would maybe pass it down to my own children one day.

I snorted at that. In order to have children, I first had to have a man, and that so wasn’t happening.

Speaking of men… I set the towel aside and prodded gently at my sore lip. I never did get to thank Adam for the flowers. He was gone when I came back down from my apartment. Which was probably for the best. Bonnie had stuck close to me all day, trying to catch me contacting the sender. To soothe her wounded pride, she’d convinced herself that I’d either sent the flowers to myself or I’d asked someone to do it just to spite her. I’d have gotten way more than a fat lip if she’d found out that Adam had sent them.

Retrieving my cell phone from the coffee table, I leaned over and indulged in a long, appreciative sniff of those gorgeous purple blossoms before searching for Adam’s number. I fought a smile when I found his contact information stored in my favorites.

Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Keller?

A sudden attack of nerves caused me to hesitate while staring at the screen. Should I call? Text? Should I wait until I see him in person? If I called or texted, he’d have my number. He’d have access to me that I didn’t allow anyone other than restaurant employees and my father’s attorney to have. Did I really want to have to field calls and texts from a man who was likely playing me for a fool? He seemed so sincere Sunday afternoon. Didn’t they all seem sincere? I sighed deeply, my finger hovering over the call icon on the screen.

Fuck it.

I jabbed my finger against the glass and brought the phone to my ear. I could always block his number if I started to suspect that he had ill intentions.

“‘lo?” A very groggy male voice answered after the third ring.

“Oh, my God, you’re sleeping. I’m so sorry. I’ll call…” I began to ramble, embarrassed that I hadn’t considered the time.

“Megan?”

I covered my face with my hand. “Yeah… I’m sorry,” I admitted with a heavy expulsion of air.

“No. No, don’t be,” he said, starting to sound more alert. “I’m glad you called.”

Glancing at the clock, I noted that it was nearly 11:30 pm and grimaced. “I really should have checked the time… I can call back tomorrow.”

“Megan…stop. I am glad you called. I wouldn’t have cared if you called at two o’clock in the morning. You called. That’s all I care about. Okay?” he said. His voice, thick and dangerously sexy, from sleep, sent shivers up my spine.

“Okay…” I folded my legs in front of me and leaned my head against the back of the couch. “I just wanted to say thank you for the roses. They’re really beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. They didn’t cause too much trouble, did they?”

I moved my fingers to my mouth, touching the swollen mass that used to be my top lip. “No, of course not. Bonnie sulked all day, but that was about it,” I lied. “By the way, what did you say to her?”

“When?”

“I’m not sure. I just know she was pissed when she came into the kitchen to get your order together.”

“Oh.” He chuckled. “I told her that I believed she misinterpreted my flirtatious nature and that I wasn’t interested in seeing her outside of the restaurant.”

Despite the pain it caused, I grinned. “Ahh, well, that explains it,” I said. “What made you do that?”

“You did.”

“What?”

I heard him shuffling around and imagined he was sitting up in bed. “I told your mother that I was not interested in her so that she could accept it and move on before I start publicly pursuing you. I’m not going to hide from her or anyone, Megan.”

Fear sliced into me. “No!”

“Megan… I want to…” he started, but I shut him down.

“No, Adam, you can’t. Please. She can’t even know I’m talking to you.” I started to shake and wrapped my arms around myself to fight off the chill. I had withstood hundreds of attacks for various reasons, my hair color, piercings, and tattoos. I’d been slapped, kicked, and punched for burning dinner, for forgetting to vacuum the living room, or for a bad grade on a test. That evening it had been the flowers Adam sent me. Those were all, what I called, minor infractions because Bonnie didn’t really care. She just wanted an excuse to hit me. Men were more valuable than gold to her—especially men she’d been actively pursuing. I’d seen her go after a neighbor with a knife over a man. The neighbor had been her friend. She loathed me. What would she do to me if Adam attempted to pursue me openly, even as a joke?

“Why? Why can’t she know? What is it you’re not telling me?”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Before he could object, I disconnected the call and tossed my phone to the other end of the couch. As I’d expected, it rang, and I fled to my room, leaving it to go to voicemail.

Adam POV

I texted Megan the following day and received no response. The day after that, I called. It went straight to voicemail. Tuesday, when I stopped in for lunch, as I did every week, she disappeared into the kitchen and stayed there. I sent more anonymous flowers and balloons, hoping she’d feel compelled to call to thank me or tell me to stop, either one, but she didn’t. By Thursday I’d had enough of the silent treatment that I hadn’t earned and went back to Nebula to wait for her to close for the day. If I had to camp out in front of the door, we were going to talk.

From my SUV, I watched as the sign flickered off, then the lights inside the restaurant. I waited for Megan to emerge from the front door, but she never did. Irritated, I got out of the car and went to the door. There was a faint glimmer of light just out of range, blocked by a wall. I assumed it was coming from the kitchen. When I raised my fist to knock, I heard a shout in the alley behind the building. My heart began to pound as I took off in the direction of the sound. The kitchen door was propped open, allowing the light to illuminate the few feet in front of it. Megan was up to her waist inside a giant stainless-steel machine. A large toolbox lay open at her feet with a selection of tools scattered about. A trio of rubber-coated racks had been discarded in front of the sink.

“Come on, you son of a b***h,” Megan grumbled amid a series of loud bangs. “Ouch! Damn it!” she yelled as she backed out of the contraption, holding her bleeding hand. She turned, saw me, and froze. “Adam. What are you doing here?”

I strode toward her, pausing to rip several paper towels from the roll on the wall. Gently, I cupped her injured hand in mine and dabbed away the blood. “I came to see you and find out why you’ve been avoiding me. Now, I’m curious about what you’re doing and why?”

She sliced a narrowed glance at the contraption that injured her. “Dishwasher is down again. I need to get it fixed by morning, or we’re going to be struggling to keep clean dishes on hand.”

“I see. Does it go down a lot?” I asked, drawing her toward the sink.

“Two to three times a week for the last year. It’s old.” She hissed when I held her hand under the cool water to clean out her cut. “Damn, that stings.”

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” I said, meeting her gaze. “Do you fix it every time?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“Because we need it,” she answered with an indignant huff.

I grinned. “I meant, why don’t you replace it? Or hire a professional to fix it?”

“Bonnie won’t come off the money. She thinks it’s got another couple of years left in it and that there is no point in paying someone to do what I can do myself,” Megan explained, venom lacing each word.

“Bonnie? I thought you were the owner,” I asked, thoroughly confused.

Her shoulders slumped. “I am, but right now, it’s tied up in a trust, and Bonnie is the trustee. I own it, but she controls everything, including the purse strings.”

“For how long?”

“Until I turn 25 in three months and four days,” she said with a sigh. “God, I can’t wait. The day the papers are signed, she is out of here and out of my life for good.”  

Laying fresh paper towels over her wet hand, I frowned. “Is your relationship with your mother really that bad?”

Her eyes lifted to mine and widened as if she just realized that she was participating in an actual conversation.

“You can talk to me, Megan,” I said and turned off the water.

While she dried her hand, I went to the wall next to the grill and collected the first aid kit. We met at the prep station, where I carefully applied antibiotic ointment and wrapped her hand in sterile gauze.

“Thanks,” she said when I finished and started back toward the dishwasher.

I caught up to her and turned her around, my hands resting on her hips. “Put the tools away. That thing is done. I’ll have a new one in here before you open tomorrow.”

“I can’t let you do that, Adam,” she objected.

“I didn’t ask,” I said, releasing her and collecting the dish racks from the floor, then laying them on top of the dishwasher. “If accepting it as a gift is too difficult, you can pay me back after you take over the restaurant. You said it yourself, you need a dishwasher, and you can’t keep killing yourself to keep this monstrosity working. Bonnie won’t let you buy one, so we’ll go around her, and I’ll buy it.”

Megan turned to face me, worry in her eyes. “And what exactly do I tell her? She’s going to want to know where it came from.”

“Tell her the truth. Tell her you got a loan. Tell her you saved up your own money for it. You can tell her whatever you want, as long as it didn’t come from the restaurant’s funds; it’s none of her business.” I took her uninjured hand. “Come on. Let me walk you to your car.”

She grinned up at me, and my heart rolled in my chest. “How about you walk me to my door instead? I live upstairs,” she said as she led me out the back door.