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As Clay loped off to take care of those nasty mutts for me, I circled to the front of the station and took a seat on a raised monument displaying--according to the plaque--the first train engine used by Alaska Railroad. There I was, out in the open, where Clay couldn't see me--a perfect lure for the mutts. Clay would follow the trail for a while, then pretend to lose it. With him out of sight, at least one of the watching mutts was sure to break cover and come after me.
Clay hated the part about using me as bait. I had to admit that even I couldn't help thinking, Gawd, not this old trick again. But it worked, again and again.
Give mutts the choice between attacking Clay and attacking Clay's mate, and they'll pick me every time. It's not only easier; it's going to hurt him more. Even if they can rise above that cowardly temptation, there's one temptation they can't fight--the siren's allure of my incredible hotness. Okay, the siren's allure of my incredibly hot bitch-in-heat scent.
I'd been sitting there only about five minutes when a man walked around the train station and headed toward me. I inhaled, but the wind was going the wrong way. He fit Reese's description, though--early thirties, big and brawny, short brown hair and a square face.
My first thought was, Oh, shit, Clay's supposed to grab him before he gets to me. My second thought was, No problem, I can take him. My third, as he got closer, was, Um, probably... And my fourth, when he was near enough to smell, circled back to that initial Oh, shit. He was human.
Apparently, my incredible hotness proved alluring to more than just werewolves these days. Or Alaska had a shortage of single women.
"Hey there," he said. "You look cold sitting up there, all alone."
I smiled--civil, nothing more. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Come inside and wait. I'll buy you a coffee."
Espresso, I was sure. "Thanks, but my husband will be here in a minute."
His gaze dropped to my hand, covered in a glove. Then he studied me. Whatever look a married woman is supposed to have, apparently I lacked it, because he stepped closer.
"How about lunch? There's a great diner just up the hill. Nice and warm."
"I'm fine. Really. Where I come from, this is a pleasant spring day."
"And where's that?"
Damn, I'd walked right into that conversation-prolonger.
"Canada. Anyway, I'll just wait--Oh, hold on. My phone's vibrating."
I answered, talking to silence. "Sure, and where's that?" Pause. Laugh. "Okay, then." Pause. "Yep, I'll be right there."
As I hung up, I slid off the wall. "That was my husband. He needs me to check out something he wants to buy." I rolled my eyes. "Men."
"Where is he?" the man asked.
"Over there." I waved at a collection of buildings, and hoped one of them was a store. Then I started out.
"
Why don't I give you a lift?"
"I'm fine."
"It's a long walk."
Clay's piercing whistle cut through the howling wind. That was his signal that the mutts had taken the bait and that he needed his backup in place.
"Sorry, I really have to--" I tried stepping around the man, but he blocked me.
"I'll give you a lift."
"Thanks, but I'm fine."
Another sidestep, another block, this one moving into my personal space, making the hair on my neck bristle. I shifted back.
"I'm fine," I said, my tone taking on an edge.
