SwitchBack: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Knightsbridge Canyon Series Book 1) (3 page)

“Better put something on that,” Mervin joked. “Or you’re gonna have rug-burn all over the side of your face.”

I snarled, “You oughta know. Doesn’t your new girlfriend like to drive?” Let him figure it out. “Amber, can you please get your smarmy sperm donor out of my sight?”

“Mervin. You’re not helping,” my sister carped as she pushed his sorry ass toward the door. “And you’re paying for half the repair.”

“Well. Ex-
cuse
me,” he called and headed out. “Take it easy, champ. You played a good game today.”

“Thanks, Dad!” J.R. called and waved goodbye. He turned back to me with a cute little pout and said, “I’m really sorry, Aunt Ash.”

“I know you are, sport.” I gritted my teeth, smiled and waved him off to clean up in his room. Then I turned to my sister.

“I really hate that guy.”

“Don’t you say that about my son!” she said with a grin.

“I wasn’t talking about – never mind.” I hobbled back into the chef’s grade kitchen.

“You know Mervin has always been a fan of yours,” Amber continued. “I have no idea why, but he likes you.”

“That’s just ’cause I’ve got all the looks of the woman he married but I don’t hate him as much as you do so he thinks he might get some from me sometime. And
I
don’t like
him
like I used to, before I wised up. That’s bound to make him a little insane.”

“Wow. You know, I’d forgotten you liked him back then. Maybe we should have swapped places when I was married instead of getting divorced. Then we would have both got what we wanted. He would have never known the difference.”

“Yeah. Right.” I laughed ruefully. “Like substituting a sow’s ear for a silk purse.”

Amber and I used to do a lot of self-swapping in high school, mostly just for grins, but every now and then, when one of us wanted to go out with a guy who asked, but the one he asked didn’t, we’d trade without him knowing.

After the first full moon of my sixteenth year, we didn’t play that game anymore. Amber still felt guilty it hadn’t been her on that fateful date, like it should’ve been. I was just thankful that if somebody had to die, it wasn’t me.

I’m sorry. Maybe being a wolf has made me callous, and Shane was an omega anyway.

Tell you about it later, I promise.

“I’m serious, Ash. I think we need to report this email to the police.”

“Elle
is
the police,” I said as I grabbed ice cubes from the freezer and stuck them in a plastic bag. A few pieces ended up on the floor. My sister glanced over at me, wondering if I was going to take care of it. I’d get to it, but if it wasn’t soon enough, I knew she’d be pissed off. She was already frowning at the floor where the ice was melting.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Amber! I’ll get it!” I said and took a moment to wipe the puddle of water off the floor. Then I stuck the ice-filled bag to my head. Sometimes I hated being a twin.

“And she’s right. I am the police.” Elle kissed her on the cheek as she went past.

“You used to be the police. But then you took a job with the city,” Amber reminded her, all syrupy-like.

“So, maybe I’m out of practice, but I’m still the city attorney. That’s gotta count for something.” She cocked her head and winked at me. “I’ve got connections. And a gun.”

“Yeah! That’s gotta count for something,” I echoed and stage-winked right back at her.

Elle was very much a cards-to-the-chest kind of gal, but she could be real amusing when she let her sense of humor show. Amber, on the other hand, had a tendency toward taking things
way
too seriously.

“Still.” Amber sniffed at us. She hates any ganging up, unless she does the ganging.

“Still.” Elle drew my sister out and did a quick waltz with her around the room.

“Still,” she re-echoed, “I think if it happens again, we need to report it.”

“I’ll report it right now, if that makes you feel better,” Elle said. Then she started getting handsy with Amber.

“Um, guys? Can you just…take it somewhere else?” I asked, ever so humbly.

They stopped and looked condescendingly at me.

“What? You homophobic or something?” Elle pulled my sister into a twirl and then dipped her.

“No,” I said. Then under my breath as I walked away, “Just envious.”

It was true. Total sister-envy, ’cause she had the life. She had the house. She had the child, whom I adored, and the dog that I liked as well. And she had the tall, dark, and handsome S.O., only not so tall and handsome as I imagined, the kind I wished I could come home to each night.

Let’s face it, she had it all. And what did I have? A lot of frequent flyer miles, fab trips, upgraded hotel rooms, and free spa treatments.

Okay, maybe I didn’t have it so bad.

“Move your legs. You’re in the way,” Amber said.

I scooted over to give her access, wincing.

“You know, when J.R. tells me he's bored, I usually send him out to play,” Amber said, matching pink socks and folding polka-dot underwear.

“Are you crazy? Don’t you know? Suburban neighborhoods are incredibly dangerous!” I made a face at her, only semi-mock-horrified.

“Ashlee, this is Knightsbridge, not Oakland. And J.R.’s a smart kid. Besides, he knows not to go far, and we have a Neighborhood Watch program.”

“Yeah, after that email, it’s the neighbors I’m going to be watching,” I ran my hand along the dust-free blinds and peeked out the window of the laundry room, squinting into the morning light. See, I thought: even the dust knows not to mess with Amber.

“Go walk around the neighborhood. Play Auntie Security. The fresh air will do you good.” She looked at me, chagrined. “Oh my God! I sounded just like Mom.”

 “Yes you did.”

“Did someone call me?”

I blanched when I heard my mother’s voice coming from the heavens. “Not exactly,” I muttered.

“What?” Amber asked, uncertain.

“I think I’ll go take that walk.” I hopped to the floor, much to my butt cheek’s dismay. Then I hobbled downstairs and out the front door.

“Leave the door unlocked. I don’t have a key!” I called out behind me, and then wondered if I should have yelled so loud. I mean, Amber and Elle lived in a fairly safe neighborhood, but in places like this, there were always older kids and crimes of opportunity.

“On second thought, I’ll take the spare!” I yelled, and grabbed it out of its hidey-hole, sticking it in my shoulder bag.

“Good idea,” my sister called back, as I locked the door behind me and turned to greet the day.

Ugh, I thought. It’s much too bright out here. What the hell is that hot thing doing up in the sky at nine a.m.?

I grabbed the Donna Karan sunglasses I’d nicked from Amber out of my bag and took a big inhale of the grassy-sweet smell of cow manure. I could still feel the residue of my dead mother’s presence and I hurried away, keen to escape from the force of nature that is her spirit. Ghosts naturally retain more power when they are near a symbiotic frequency of shared experiences, an exorcist once told me.

Are you wondering why I was talking to an exorcist? Um…

When people get together, shared desires often manifest visitations from the other side. Put enough people’s concentration on one thing and a thought can achieve critical mass; hence the number of Elvis sightings, no doubt.

Amber and Elle lived in a burb-district on the edge of Knightsbridge proper. Directly behind their house, placed at the east end of the development, rose steep hills and a deep cut that led up into Knightsbridge Canyon. To the north and south sides of their subdivision were open acres where the valley began a gentle rolling into a land of almond orchards, horse stables and dairy farms. When we were younger, we actually got milk from one of those dairies, but not anymore. It was cheaper to buy from the grocery store, and safer, so they said.

I liked it better back then. Waah.

With determination in hand and a fresh pack of slim clove cigars – I didn’t want Amber to know that I still smoked sometimes, but hey, it was better than tobacco – I headed down the road toward an in-town walking trail. With the pain in my ass, I wasn't ready for any serious hiking.

The path near my sister’s home was paved, and it bordered the rows upon rows of similarly styled homes with precisely varied color schemes that housed the upwardly mobile middle class of Knightsbridge’s finest. I wondered just how similar and precisely varied the lives of those who lived in them were as I stretched my legs. I stripped off the extra sweater I’d woken up with this morning, leaving myself braless in a tank top and sweats, and I seriously hoped that I didn’t run into anyone I knew since I hadn’t shaved my pits in a few days.

In contrast to my home in San Francisco where fog was typical, I aimed to soak up the dry San Joaquin sun as I made the rounds. There weren’t many people out as it was a bit winter-nippy, but not so bad that you could see your breath, maybe fifty. I continued around the corner away from the house. Before I knew it I’d reached a large park with four baseball diamonds and decided that this was about as good a time as any to light up.

I know nonsmokers look at those of us who have a puff in the morning like we’re crazy, but to a smoker the act has the same effect as meditation. Besides, it was nice to not be so distracted by all the other scents that the wolf inside me had access to in its catalog. There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re sniffing your way through the neighborhood on two feet. News flash: most smells are disgusting, even the nice ones, if your nose is sensitive enough.

“Ahem.” I heard a voice behind me and turned. There, staring at me with the most beautiful blue eyes, was the one guy I was most worried about having to face again: my ex-boyfriend and former star of the Spartans football team, Will Stenfield. Six foot two and stocky, without an ounce of fat on him, he still had the prettiest eyelashes you ever did see. I won’t even talk about the abs.

Anyone who doesn’t believe God has a sense of humor just ain’t paying attention.

“Got another clove, or aren’t you willing to share?” he asked as I stared at him, speechless. I realized he was just as breathtaking as I remembered. I’d tried to forget. Hell if I would let him know, though.

“You know, that buzz cut really works for you,” I deadpanned, bracing my smoking arm with the other one under the elbow. Hey, he’d caught me off guard and it was the first thing that popped into my head.

“Really? Ya think? ’Cause your sister just calls me cue-ball.” He grinned and my knees went weak.

“At least she’s consistent. She called you cue-ball when we were growing up too.”

“And
you
haven’t called at all, Ash. Now, why is that?” Will picked the clove right out of my hands, took a drag, and then handed it back. I stared at the moist filter, thinking of the other places I remembered those lips being. A shudder moved through me for a moment, and then I came back.

“Poor cell plan?” I cracked.

No, the truth is, Will was my first crush and longtime on-again-off-again boyfriend from way back. During an
off
phase, I made the mistake of going out on a pity date with one of my sister’s castoffs, Shane Macdonald.

Will and I got to be even more
off
when the guy ended up dead.

Dad sent me away for my junior year to a private boarding school because of the small-town hoopla and what it did to me. Most thought I was shattered over Shane’s death the night of our date. Some suspected I was pregnant. Trust me, I was not.

In fact, after the full moon fiasco that set off my first transformation, I was still too messed up to be interested in anyone. When I came back for my senior year, Will and I danced around but never really got back to where we had been. I knew even then that I wouldn’t be staying in Knightsbridge, and he was a small-town boy all the way, always intending to take over the family landscaping business. I remembered a lot of tension when I left.

I guess Will got over it, because he was talking to me now.

“I waited, you know.” He said it with a serious look on his face. I believed him, but back then I was running away, and Will, well, he was just part of what I’d left behind.

“It was never about you,” I told him. It’s amazing how much can be said with so few words when you have that connection like Will and I did.

Do?

Maybe.

“I know.” He smiled. “Can I at least get a hug? I read all your magazine stories about those fancy places.”

Straight to a writer’s heart that went, so I obliged. Hell, I did more than oblige. When he opened up his arms, I buried my face in his ratty old sweat-stained lawn-jockey t-shirt, smelling of musk and dead leaves, old wounds and memories.

“So, what are you doing back in town?” Will asked a few moments later as he gently escaped from my clinging embrace and returned to the lawnmower he’d been pushing down the walk.

“Oh, you know. Just slumming.” I grinned. Despite it being what, five or six years? I’d come back for the summer after high school and seen him a few times then, but not seriously. Now, it was like no time had passed at all. He was still a redneck and maybe somewhere inside me, I was still a redneck’s girl.

California version, of course. We don’t drawl. We do drink beer and drive pickup trucks.

I’d heard Will had taken over the family landscaping business when his father semi-retired with a back injury, and more often than not came home smelling of tree sap, grass and loam. It was woodsy, a little nutty and always made my head spin.

“You doing Parks and Recreation now?” I asked as I watched him load the mower into the trailer he had hitched to his Chevy pickup.

“That and everything else under the sun. You know, Ash, if you’re not too busy, why don’t you slum with me for awhile?” He cocked his head. “Let’s go hang out. Talk about old times.”

“I don’t know,” I told him. The pain pill was wearing off and I had no idea how I was going to hobble over to the truck, let alone get up into it. “I kinda had a little surgery.”