“Don’t make me regret this.”
“Of course not.” She saluted him with two fingers and grinned. “Were-scouts’ honor.”
He frowned disapprovingly. “You were never in were-scouts. You can’t use them to back your promises.”
“Right you are.” The grin faded from her face. “But you know, if we’re going to get through the next few days without killing each other, I’d suggest we put a pause on our issues from the past. Pretend like we just met. I know nothing about you and you know nothing about me. Including, whether or not I was in were-scouts as a cub.”
Raking a hand through his unkempt hair, he rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s for the best.”
“Great.” Her hand shot out into the empty space between them. “I’m Anastasia Pavlosky. Editor, producer, and occasional writer for Lochness Broadcasting. Friends call me Stasia. Strangers call me Princess.”
He stared at her hand as if he’d rather slather it in diesel and light it on fire. But he surprised her by clasping his big hand over hers and squeezing. She gasped as a shock went up her skin and traveled down her spine.
“William Finley. Friends call me Billy. Auto-mechanic and small town boy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Billy,” she said, dropping his hand quickly. “We’ll start the interview process tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he echoed.
He watched her closely, but Stasia couldn’t read the expression on his face. She was too busy reeling from the excitement of her sudden success and the unsolicited feelings his touch had stirred inside her gut.
Despite their promises of putting a pause on the past, she wasn’t sure working with Billy was going to be as easy as all that. History had an awful way of repeating itself. She couldn’t let that happen.
She wouldn’t.
Chapter Six
Billy pulled in front of his childhood home and cut the engine. Green vinyl siding covered the ranch-style home and a circular white gravel driveway took up most of the front yard. A single pine tree stood encircled by the drive. It felt good to Billy to know that some things never changed. His parents may be gone, but the family house still stood. And now, his sister owned it.
He grabbed a plastic bag full of drinks and chips and wandered up to the door. A bass speaker shook the walls as music played somewhere deep inside. He let himself in and followed the familiar hallways toward the kitchen. Sunday lunches were a regular at the Finley house for family and friends alike. A time to unwind and forget your troubles. Just what he needed.
Straying into the kitchen, Billy came to a full stop and stared across the room, his jaw dropping. Speaking of troubles — Stasia Pavlosky sat perched upon his mother’s prized kitchen countertop, wearing a soft cotton white skirt and her alluring long legs crossed. She was laughing and chatting with his sister as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Her hair had been pulled off her slender neck into a high ponytail and glistening stones swung from her ears.
Again, he was suddenly reminded of how time had been good to her and just how little it took to make a red-blooded wolf’s pulse race. He couldn’t help but stare at her until she looked up and their eyes met across the room. Blood rushed to the tips of his ears and he tore his gaze away.
“Hi beautiful.” He plopped the bag on the counter and went to kiss his sister on the cheek.
A smile stretched across her face and she patted him softly on the back. “Glad you could make it. Stasia and I are making fish tacos for lunch. You’re going to love them.”
He tried to smother his disbelieving grin. Ashley had never been much of a cook. In fact, his mother had banned her from the kitchen when she was seventeen and declared her a hopeless case. Most of the time, he didn’t expect to eat much during her Sunday lunches. It was safer that way.
“Stasia.” He tilted his head stiffly in her direction.
She mimicked his posture. “Billy.”
It was as much conversation as he could take. Retreating to the dining table to plop down in a seat next to a lounging Garret, he willed his heartbeat to slow. Yes, he’d agreed yesterday to do the interview with Stasia and pretend like they didn’t have a history, but that was going to be impossible if she kept popping up in every aspect of his life. He just needed to close his eyes and picture that Chevy Chevelle sitting in his garage, and his blood pressure would begin to return to normal.
“Hey buddy, how about a game of darts?” Garret asked, dropping his feet from the nearby chair he’d been using as a footrest. “I’ve been practicing down at the bar. Might actually hit the board this time.”
Billy’s eyes snapped open and he grinned. A distraction away from the ladies was exactly what he needed. “Lead the way.”
They didn’t have far to travel. Ashley had replaced their parents’ old hutch and raggedy living room couch with a foosball table, air hockey, and a dart board. Billy fetched the darts and stood behind a line drawn with masking tape on the shaggy brown carpet. With one eye closed, he focused on the bullseye of the target and readied his dart.
“Ashley says you agreed to do an interview with Princess Stasia,” Garret said out of the blue, interrupting Billy’s concentration. He fiddled with the darts in his hand, his eyes glued to them. “I thought you weren’t going to do that. They’ve been turning away reporters down at the Mini
-Mart for weeks.”
Billy lowered his dart and ran a hand over his scraggly beard. “If I don’t do it, that woman will hound me forever. This way, I can tell her as little of the story as I want and then everyone will be satisfied and leave me alone.”