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She looked out the window and watched Mystic River come to life as people headed into their jobs, opening their stores and offices and the like. Nora rather imagined there was a sameness and a rhythm that she would find comforting.
She was so absorbed in her musings that she failed to notice Hutch’s approach. She’d intended to order a coffee and one of those amazing scones from the day before and was happily surprised to find he had both in his hands. He set them down on the table before taking the seat opposite her. He stared at her, his expression moody.
There was no one else in the bakery, giving an odd intimacy to the situation. Odd in that they were sitting in front of the main window where anyone could see them, and yet it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Nora ate her scone and sipped her coffee, finding it hard to meet his eyes, but feeling the intensity of his stare as he watched her.
With as little warning as he’d given before joining her, he left the table, went to the door, locked it, and turned the sign from open to closed. He came back to the table, scooted her chair back, leaned down and scooped her up in one strong move. Walking her to the counter, he set her up on it so that her feet were dangling down, her knees parted slightly.
Hutch moved between her legs, as if that place belonged to him and him alone—and always had. He put a hand on either side of her and leaned against the counter. He sighed and hesitated before seeming to make up his mind about something. He regarded her intently, making it hard for her to breathe. Speaking or challenging him in any way was completely out of the question.
His right hand came up to cup the nape of her neck, while the other came up to brush the hair out of her face. Lowering his head, his mouth captured hers and arousal flashed through her system like a wildfire. The kiss wasn’t aggressive in the least. It was seductive, persuasive, engaging, and almost playful, and Nora couldn’t find it within herself to resist.
The tawdry romances she liked to read, telling herself it was part of her cover—described kisses as intoxicating. That was rubbish. Good scotch was intoxicating; good bourbon in a pinch, but not kisses. Kisses were—well, whatever they had once been, they were intoxicating now. She felt drugged and out of control.
Her lips parted of their own accord and his tongue surged in, taking command of her mouth, sliding over and around as his hand moved from her neck to tangle in her hair, angling her head to just where he wanted. There was no doubt as to who was in control, and it wasn’t her. She moaned and melted into him, her arms coming out to hold him close. How had she lived without his kisses? What would she do in the future without them?
She had no time for her little voice to break her reverie. Hutch lifted her up, carried her to the door, set her down, unlocked and opened the door, and then smacked her on the ass with enough sting so that she felt it and all but stumbled out the door.
“We’re having dinner at The Workshop at seven.” She started to protest, and he put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Be there.”
He closed the door behind her and left her reeling on the sidewalk. Not knowing what else to do, Nora headed back to The Refuge. This had become a major clusterfuck. What the hell was she going to do?
CHAPTER7
HUTCH
Closing the door, he flipped the sign back to open and retreated behind his counter. When he looked up, she was gone. What had possessed him to do that? He actually knew the answer. She was his fated mate, and he didn’t have time or patience for a long courtship. He needed to move things along.
Things with the resistance were moving forward and picking up speed. He needed Nora here, safe with him in Mystic River. He needed and wanted her at his side. He knew she was a novelist, but everything about Nora screamed warrior. He had no doubt she would join them in taking on the Shadow League. But did he want that? Was he willing to risk her life?
The rest of the day seemed to drag by at a snail’s pace. He wanted to see her again, kiss her again, and feel her respond to him. She was his fated mate and Hutch was pretty damn sure she knew it. So why was it she seemed to want to pull back? He fought back every instinct not to simply throw her down and claim her each time he saw her, but maybe a show of dominance was just what she needed. He wanted her marked, and if she wasn’t a clouded leopard, he wanted her transitioned. No, what he wanted was Nora. He wanted her every way a man could have a woman, and he meant to have her.
Finally, he was able to close the bakery and get the prep work done for the next morning. He ran upstairs to the apartment, grabbed a quick shower, and dressed. Dressing for a date in Alaska was different than most of the lower forty-eight—you had to be prepared for snow and ice. Hutch did the best he could, pressing a pair of clean, relatively new jeans, and pairing them with a soft, cashmere, V-neck sweater. That was about as good as it got.
He headed up to The Workshop, found a relatively quiet booth, and waited for Nora. Waited being the operative word. She was late, which seemed incongruous with her nature. She didn’t impress him as a woman who wasn’t aware of time passing. Maybe she’d gotten into a groove and the time had gotten away from her.
Hutch was just about to call Trudy, as he realized they had yet to exchange numbers, when he looked toward the door in response to feeling her enter the tavern. He stood up and waved, calling to her. He was glad to see the smile that crossed her face but had the distinct feeling she would have found him quickly. The Workshop might be crowded, but he was certain that little escaped Nora’s notice.
Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. “You’re late. I was just about to call Trudy. I realized I didn’t have your number, and you didn’t have mine.”
“I’m sorry about that. I got caught up in writing.”
She sat down but didn’t offer to give him the number to her cell. Curious. It was starting to feel like two steps forward, one step back. But, he supposed, that was still a net gain of one step forward.
“I’m inclined to have another burger. That was so good,” Nora said.
“In all honesty, Dash does a great job with the food. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything I didn’t love. Last night you got a regular burger, but if you’re going to go with a burger, get a ‘Dash Special.’ You can have the burger made of any kind of meat. I recommend the moose. The Dash Special involves smothering it with your favorite cheese—gorgonzola is always good—French fries, and coleslaw.”
Nora laughed. “That sounds disgusting.”
“I know, doesn’t it?” he chuckled. “But once you’ve had one, you’ll never go back.”
The waitress came over. Nora took a deep breath. “Hutch recommends the moose burger with the Dash Special.”
“Good choice,” said the girl. “I know it sounds gross, but they are so good. Do you want rings, tots, or more fries on the side?”
Nora looked at Hutch. “Tots for Nora, and I’ll have the same except with onion rings. Nora, what do you want to drink?”
She nodded to his tall glass. “That looks good.”
