Free Silver Wolf Clan by Tera Shanley Page A

drove back into town. First thing was first. He walked to a flower shop a few blocks away from the apartment. He hadn’t ever been on a bring-flowers-to-the-front-door kind of date, and ended up spending way too long in the flower shop trying to find something Morgan would like. Then at the last minute, he veered into a local grocer, picked up wine for him and Morgan and a bottle of sparkling grape juice for Lana.
    In his apartment, showered and having shaved, he messed with his hair until, after a few minutes, he gave up and ran his hands back and forth through it. Messy look as usual, then. He pulled on jeans and a red thermal, long sleeved shirt. With flowers and drinks in hand, he headed to the address she’d given him.
    The drive from the apartment was only fifteen minutes, and as he pulled up and looked around the neighborhood, Wolf grew agitated. A single woman and child would not be safe here. Barely checked instincts screamed for him to get Morgan and the kid out of there. The house across the street had bars across the windows and two huge pit bulls guarding the front, barely kept in the yard by a deteriorating, lop-sided gate. He slid out of the truck, and the dogs went crazy. One bright eyed look and a menacing growl from him quieted them down fast enough. The yards were overgrown, except for Morgan’s, and every house was in desperate need of repair and new paint. He opened a wire-fence gate across the pathway, went through, and it screeched closed behind him. Maybe he was at the wrong house. He knocked, and Morgan came to the door, a dishtowel in her hand, Lana right behind her.
    “Hi, Grey,” she said shyly. “Come on in.”
    He held out the newspaper-wrapped pink tulips, which she accepted and thanked him for and smelled right away.
    “I tried to grow tulips last year in the front flower bed because they are my favorite. I think Lana and I over watered the bulbs, though, because they never came up.”
    A vision of her and Lana watering the plants with the little pink watering pail by the door and patiently waiting for them to bloom warmed him. He scooted past her into the small entryway, relieved he’d taken the extra time picking out the right flowers. The smile that clung to her lips as she looked at them made the effort worth it.
    “Lana, this is Grey,” Morgan said. “You might not remember him, but he is our friend.”
    Grey leaned down and offered his hand. Lana stared at him curiously. “Your eyes look funny.” She placed her petite palm in his.
    “They’re magic,” he said with a smile and a shake of her hand. That seemed a good enough explanation, because she giggled and hugged the back of Morgan’s legs.
    “Come on into the kitchen,” Morgan told him. “You can put the wine in the refrigerator. I’m almost done with dinner, if you want to hang out with me in there.”
    Black and white photos of Marianna and Lana lined the walls. He paused and looked at the woman’s face and waited for any feeling of recognition. He’d never seen her alive. The frozen, terrified face of his memory contrasted with the happy woman in the photos.
    Morgan disappeared around a walled-in stairway, and he hurried to catch up. When he came into the kitchen, Lana was already scurrying into a seat at the table in front of a pink plastic bowl of macaroni and cheese.
    “She couldn’t wait for dinner,” Morgan said with a smile for the toddler. “I think she’s on a growth spurt, the way she’s been eating lately.”
    “Yeah, I know the feeling, kiddo. I eat a lot too.”
    He pulled a chair from the small eat-in kitchen set and relaxed beside the girl while Morgan finished cooking. Lana had inherited her mother and aunt’s dark hair, and she stared back at him with earnest, gray eyes.
    “So,” Grey said, searching for something to talk about. Small talk had never been his thing. “What do you do for fun?”
    “Besides boxing classes?” Morgan asked with a saucy grin as she turned a dial on the