But meeting the good Doc had flipped his world upside down, and he wasn’t sure it was in a good way. Within twenty-four hours, he’d gone from cool and confident to hot and horny, unable to think straight. He wanted to strip her, flip her and fuck her and not necessarily in that order. But then there was that damn thing that was stopping him, his conscience. How could he make love with her, knowing she was lying to him? He was pretty sure that she wasn’t even Kalli Williams. Not that he needed to know the name of every woman he’d been with but when he had the Doc, he was going to make love to her hard and long. And he’d be damned if he’d do it not being able to call her by her real name when he sank deep inside her.
That settled it. There was no other option; he had to find out what she’d been keeping secret. No matter what it took, he needed to find out, deal with it and then get it together, so he could concentrate on finding the asshole who’d burnt down the club. And at this point, it wasn’t just about the club. One of Marcel’s wolves was dead, and they had no idea if it was even related. Kat was in hiding. There were too many loose ends. Unanswered questions and lies in the air.
Stomping into the bathroom, he flipped on a spigot. Tristan tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding that blanketed him as the hot spray of the shower danced on his skin. He planned to go back to his apartment and interrogate Kalli. He didn’t want to hurt her but the responsibility of the pack settled on his shoulders. The truth was coming, and he’d see it realized.
Chapter Twelve
As Tristan strode through the elevator, ready to tear into her, demanding an explanation, he stopped short. Candlelight? Garlic? Tomatoes? Shit. What did she do? And where the hell was Logan? The anger he’d spent the last three hours building was melted away within seconds as it dawned on him that she’d cooked him dinner. No one, aside from his mother, had cooked him dinner. Sure, many a woman had tried, but he’d always managed to avoid the experience, knowing full well what it represented: commitment, love, marriage. His jaw fell open as he walked toward the heavenly scent. No way. He rubbed his hand across his face in disbelief.
Shock would be the best word Tristan could use to describe the surreal situation he’d walked into. Fully anticipating questioning her until she spilled the truth, he found his mind going haywire, like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Logically, he knew he should tell her they needed to talk now, force the argument to happen. But the food…the wine…and where did all the candles come from? He owned candles? And what was she dressed in? Boy shorts and a camisole, covered with an apron? What kind of woman cooked in underwear? He smiled, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Kalli was bent over his stove languidly stirring a boiling pot. And yet again, the globes of her creamy ass beamed at him as the back of her apron rode up her back. The length of him immediately reacted at the sight of her. Of all the things he’d expected tonight, this was the very last thing he’d envisioned.
“Kalli?” He muttered, at a loss for words. “Where’s Logan?”
“Hi there. He left just a minute ago; said he knew you were in the building,” she explained, continuing to stir the pasta.
Tristan growled softly to himself, irritated that Logan had left her alone. He’d talk to him later.
“So, I hope you don’t mind but I thought I’d cook us dinner tonight. Kind of like a thank you for saving my ass from Alexandra. Nothing fancy.”
“Yeah, okay,” he responded, walking toward her as if he was caught in a magnetic ray.
Kalli stopped stirring for a minute to look at Tristan. She’d been thinking all afternoon about how to tell him everything about her past, the formula and most importantly, the stolen CLI. She was terrified of the kind of violence she’d grown up with, never knowing when her old Alpha would strike. Even if Tristan managed to control his anger, she considered the possibility that she’d lose his protection, that he would toss her out to the wolves…literally.
As her gaze fell upon him, she instinctually lowered her eyes, letting them roam down his chest to his feet and up again. She sighed and briefly closed her eyes, as her belly pooled with desire. Tristan looked incredibly sexy in his tight white t-shirt and loose jeans. She looked to his feet, which were clad in black military boots. In his left hand he carried a black motorcycle helmet, and she wondered what kind of bike he rode. Rolling her eyes in an effort to gain her own composure, she reasoned she didn’t care what kind of bike he had. She’d ride him, um, ride with him, any day of the week. She could feel her panties dampen at the thought. Clenching her thighs together, she prayed he wouldn’t know how wet she was from just looking at him. Get it together, Kalli. He’s going to know that instead of this wonderful dinner, you’d rather eat him right here, right now, she thought embarrassedly. He’s Alpha. He’ll know.
Kalli decided changing the subject was in order and looked back to the stove. She struggled to get her composure. “So yeah, I was going a little stir crazy being cooped up in here. Um, I mean not that your home isn’t beautiful. It’s really nice, warm and open feeling. I’ve never actually been to a penthouse before….you know, the kind where the elevator door just opens up into the apartment,” she rambled.
She knew things were about to come to a head and figured that maybe if she tried opening up a little about herself, just crack that steel door on her past, just a tiny bit, maybe he’d soften.
“I actually like to cook, but I’m all by myself, so I don’t ever really get to it. My mom,” her voice became softer at the memory, “she was Greek. She was a wonderful cook. Made all kinds of great stuff. She was really amazing. I wish I’d paid attention.”
“Where is she? Your mom?” Tristan asked, treading carefully, realizing that this was an in to his line of questioning.
“She’s dead. She died when I was only fourteen. It was really hard losing her. Dad’s gone too. Died when I was seventeen. I’ve got no family, well, blood related anyway.”
She stopped stirring the pasta and turned to grab the romaine lettuce that’d been drying on a paper towel. “I really work a lot. And I co-run a no-kill shelter, so whenever I get the time, I’m there. I consider the animals my family. I need them as much as they need me. I’d really love to have my own pets someday, but I spend too many crazy hours away from my apartment. And my apartment isn’t that great for animals anyway. It’s small, doesn’t have a yard, you know. Well, I guess I could do a cat, but it’s not fair to the animal if I’m not there.”
“Do you like horses?” Tristan sidled up to her, watching her chop the lettuce and toss it into a bowl. He wanted to discuss her parents, but he could tell she’d been on the verge of tears when she’d mentioned her mother dying. He figured if she started talking about her life, she’d continue to share with him what happened.
“Oh yeah, I love them. Of course, I never had any growing up, but I did do an equine rotation. By the way, I didn’t say anything at the time, but I’m really impressed that you funded the rehab center. It’s a terrific facility; helps so many horses. We should go there sometime and tour it. It’s funny, I know all about it, but because it’s so far outside the city, I just never get there.” Kalli stopped talking after suggesting plans for the future…a future with Tristan in it.
Tristan smiled, catching her slip. Before there was any kind of a future for them, he needed facts. He could tell she was trying, but he needed more. He needed honesty.