This wasn’t the destiny she’d imagined for herself. She was vanilla. Matt had called her “too bland” when he’d given her the divorce papers. He’d said she bored him, and that his life was so un-exciting, he couldn’t pretend to love her another day.
That had been her life, though. Boring but safe, and now look what had happened? Fate had just laughed. Fate had spun her 180 degrees in a tornado wind and was watching her try to find her way through unfamiliar territory.
But so what? Blaire grinned as she took a right at the rundown Hunter Cove Inn sign. Maybe her life was meant to have an adventure like this. Maybe her life had been bland before to prepare her for a man like Gentry, so she could appreciate him more. A relationship with him would never, ever be dull.
The radio was on low, but a song came on about belonging down below. It had a heavy drum beat, and the base was hitting hard. Blaire turned up the radio dial and laughed at the lyrics. The song was talking about a good girl gone bad. Well-played Fate.
She drove into town blaring it and sang with the chorus the second time around at the top of her lungs.
Eff you, Matt. No…fuck you, Matt. Yeah, that felt better.
Gentry had never once made her feel boring or like the color beige. He’d empowered her and been amused when she was sassy. That man had the devil in him in the form of a wolf, and maybe that was okay because, right now, Blaire felt like a dragon was growing inside of her, too.
She pulled in front of a coffee shop with a big front porch. On the porch were four rocking chairs situated around a wood burning stove that was steaming with heat. Sweet! She could read her dirty werewolf book and drink hot chocolate and actually vacation! No work.
She wished Gentry was here, so she could cuddle up in a blanket in the chair, slip her feet under his butt to keep them warm, and then sneak peeks at him whenever she wanted. Which was all the time. Something about that man held her attention.
The barista was nice to her in the coffee shop. She was probably human. Blaire was assuming the werewolves in this town were rude and hated strangers, so the nice people she met today would probably be humans like her.
Blaire collected her giant hot chocolate and dusted off the rocking chair closest to the flames, then sat down and opened her book to chapter one, clutching the hot cup to her chest to warm herself.
She had blasted through Chapter Four before she realized someone was sitting next to her. She was at a dirty part, so her cheeks flushed at being busted.
The woman grinned knowingly and gestured to Blaire’s book. “Do you read sex books in public often?”
“No, but I want to,” Blaire said cheekily.
“You know Gentry Striker?” the woman asked.
The smile fell from Blaire’s face so fast she felt her ears move. Werewolf? “Who wants to know?”
“It sounds like you just asked me if I was friend or foe,” the black-haired woman said, warming her hands by the fire.
“And?”
She slid Blaire a glance with her twinkling, black eyes. “Friend.” The woman was pretty, with a straight nose and smile lines on her face. She was in her early sixties perhaps, and silver streaked back from her temples in a striking way. “I’ve seen you before.”
“In town?”
“Nope.” She pointed to her temple. “In here. Been waiting on you to get here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There was a mix-up at the realtor’s office, right? Gentry was looking for a long-term renter, but he got you instead.”
Blaire sat straight up and settled her book carefully into her lap. “That was your doing?”
She dipped her chin once.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons, both for you and him. Mostly because Gentry needs someone to push him to his potential. And I’m guessing you need the same.”
It suddenly felt uncomfortably cold under the woman’s stare. “I should go.” Blaire stood to leave, but the woman said, “You have questions your man can’t answer.” She arched one delicate eyebrow. “I can.”
Blaire looked longingly at her car. She didn’t like how much this woman knew, but it was also seriously tempting to get some answers that she may never get from Gentry. Slowly, she sat back down and scanned the street. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.
“What kind of answers.”
“First, let me introduce myself.” The woman offered her hand. “I’m Odine.”
Pretty name. “I’m Blaire, but I have a feeling you already knew that,” she said, shaking the woman’s warm hand.
Odine smiled her answer, then flipped Blaire’s hand over and looked at her palm. She traced the big line that curved around her thumb. “Broken life line.” Her voice was thoughtful. Troubled perhaps.