The Werewolf Lawyer's Human Mate

2- The Lumberjack

Claire Dane’s POV

“Ugly…” Cruise’s voice echoes, and my reality dream begins…

My jaw slackens as I gape at my boyfriend and best friend, Daphne. They’re under the mistletoe, locking lips at her family’s Christmas party. The kiss is a bit too intimate to pass off as a holiday kiss…

Stomach already on the floor, I could only watch as my brain tried to understand what my eyes were seeing. Cruise is kissing another woman… Daphne, my best friend since college, is kissing a guy- Cruise- my boyfriend!

Huh. My boyfriend and my best friend.

Kissing.

No. Yes. Right in front of me.

Stiffly, I turn this way then that, then back at them, unsure of what to do. The roaring inside my head drowned out the holiday music around me. I am brought out of my- whatever state of mind I was in, when someone bumps into me drunkenly.

“Excuse me,” the drunk girl mutters and giggles as she is pulled away. Abigail. She has never been to one party, at least not one I had ever been to anyway. I don’t know her tolerance for alcohol either, and I am nobody’s keeper- not when I’m dealing with this. I barely notice as she’s dragged away by a boy from our group.

A sharp, hot sting of betrayal punches through me. I can feel it settling in my chest, heavy and sour, twisting with disbelief. The laughter of the party around me becomes muffled, distant, like I’m underwater. Everything else blurs except them.

My hands clench for a second before I pull them back and force a smile, the kind that feels brittle and too thin. Laughing uncomfortably, painfully, I step forward and jab my fingers into Cruise’s arm. It’s rougher than I intended, a little push that tears them apart.

They both spin to face me, their eyes wide, startled. Cruise’s mouth opens, probably to apologize or explain, and Daphne’s eyes widen too, a flicker of guilt?

Inside, a storm brews. Anger. Hurt. Shame. I want to scream, but I hear myself say, “Wow,” my voice shaking just enough to betray me, though I force a laugh. “Guess I missed the memo on Christmas surprises.”

Cruise opens his mouth again, but I cut him off with a small, bitter laugh. My throat burns, my vision blurring at the edges, not just from the wine but from my heart being shattered. I want to run. I want to throw up. I want to disappear and crawl into some corner where the world can’t see how completely broken I feel.

Turning, I disappear into the crowd with Daphne calling after me…

__

Hmm, toasty. I snuggle deeper into whatever it is, a smile of contentment on my face, smelling the heat. My father used to build the most awesome fires every time we took a mountain vacation. My brother and I always built a snowman even though we had no friends to come over and show off to, like when we were home…

“Dad.” The voice is strange, but I register it as a child’s, though not Casey’s or my own.

“Daddy,” I repeat, but then my eyes open.

Casey is dead, and my father and I are estranged. It’s a dream!

My eyes open wide, and I spot a ceiling, then a wooden staircase to my left. Right, I’m at the cottage with A- no, this isn’t the correct place. Frowning, I stare at the same yet different ceiling about me, then look down at myself. I’m covered under a blanket, by a fireplace!

Yanking myself up to a sitting position, I see I’m on a couch, but not the familiar couch from the cottage. And my heart rate sped up.

“Yummy yummy,” I hear behind me and spin around so quickly I fall off the couch and land on the floor heavily with an ‘oof’ sound. It’s the same voice from- oh, the voice had not been part of my dream, but a real child’s! My cheeks heated up because I had thought my father- never mind what I was thinking. Mentally, I shake myself free from the memory that plagued my unconscious mind. I hated Cruise, but I think I hate Daphne more. That betrayal felt worse than his.

“She’s up!” The voice belongs to a child. Peeping up, I see a boy of around eight, sitting at a table in the next room. Almost no wall separates the two rooms. The other, very obvious is the kitchen.

Memory falls into play... Snow! The snowstorm! These people saved me! Phone, surely they’ll have one, though most people come to these places to get away from it all.

“Ha-ha,” I mutter awkwardly and find my feet. Whoever he was talking to is not in my line of vision- a man, holding a frying pan, comes into my view, and I’m gut-punched. How is he so handsome?

“You’re up, you eat eggs?”

Even his voice is attractive.

About to refuse, my stomach protests then, and I nod. The handsome upper body disappears again, behind the tiny wall, while I fold the blanket, breathing a sigh of relief that my clothes are still on, even though my heavy jacket is not.

Are we alone, or are there others around? A woman, his wife. The child’s mother. Claire behave.

“Don’t panic, you're safe here,” the man says, and I hear the beating of an egg.

Less than a minute later, I join them in the kitchen, smiling shyly as I take the high chair next to the boy, flipping my hair behind my ears. “Hi,” I say to him, and he grins widely, his eyes not having left me since she shouted I was up.

“I’m Daniel,” he offers, and his beautiful smile almost blows me away at its perfection. His face is perfect. Small nose, tiny mouth, and baby teeth with one missing gap. His eyebrows were soft and cute, his cheeks were rosy pink, with a head full of neck-straight dark strands of hair. He’s in red Santa Claus-style long-sleeved pajamas.

He pushes a mug towards me. “Here you can have his. He’ll make another.”

Nodding, I pull the mug closer- hmm, hot chocolate tea. My absolute favorite at this time of year- only at Christmas time, I indulge in these sorts of treats. “I’m Claire, nice to meet you,” I offer, and he nods enthusiastically.

“That’s dad,” he goes on in his childlike prattle just as the man flips the egg, and I turn to him.

Dad is in Christmas-themed pajamas too… only his are stretched across a back so broad it probably counts as a load-bearing structure. He turns his head at just the right moment, just enough for me to catch the profile of a sharp jaw and dense, dark stubble covering his lower face. “Name’s Jeremy, Claire. Well done?”

What? Oh, the eggs. “Yes, please.” I sip the hot chocolate. So sweet and so good.

He gives a tiny nod, like he’s cataloging that piece of information for later use, then slides the egg onto a plate. “In case you were wondering, it was me who rescued you from the storm.”

And holy mother of all bad decisions… wow.

Tall, broad, and built like a lumberjack. Hair dark and slightly wavy, pushed back like he ran his fingers through it on the way to looking dangerous. Strong brows. Full lips. Straight nose and dark, intense eyes.

“Uh… thank you,” I manage, though my voice comes out a little strangled. “I-I don’t even remember much. Just… snow.”

Behave, Claire, this man is married! I am jealous of the woman who locked him down. No wonder she produced a child… I would have had several by now. Oh Lord, why am I thinking this way? Was I hit in the head? I have never been this attracted to anybody on sight!

His gaze flickers briefly, a mix of concern and calculation. “You were hypothermic. You shouldn’t have been out there alone.” He turns and busies himself breaking eggs into a ceramic bowl, turning to face us as he beats them.

“Well,” I mutter, wrapping my hands around the mug. “I wasn’t planning on being a human popsicle today.” Am I flirting with him right now?

Daniel giggles, and Jeremy’s mouth twitches, then he utters, “Yesterday. Eat.” He turns back around while I absorb this. I slept the entire night. Huh. It was even daylight when I- I shake my head. No, that was scary. I literally thought I was about to die- unless I did, and this is heaven.

Nah, if it were, Daniel would have been calling me mum, and he had not.

Oh God, how much damage did the cold do to my brain?