Read Online Temptation (Journal of the Wolves of Spruce Hollow) by Tarrah Betts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tarrah Betts
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just as my father had done.
There was no way I’d let his dream die.
My parents had made an odd pair and it was almost laughable that my father had managed to woo my beautiful, delicate, French blooded mother in the first place and then drag her back here to the seclusion of Spruce Hollow. My mother had looked like she belonged in a salon, getting a pedicure, while reading a high fashion, magazine.
They met one day, during a visit to the big city. My father had gone with several unmated Weres for a long weekend of drinking and debauchery and apparently he had caught sight of my mother as he and the other guys were in the hotel parking lot, getting into my Dad’s truck.
I guess he saw her on the sidewalk, walking by and that was it. My dad told me something about her had completely bowled him over and that he just had to know her. He said his senses were humming with the scent and sight of her.
“My father jumped over the parking barrier and followed her for six blocks, just watching her and committing her delectable scent to memory so he would then be able to find her again, anywhere in the city, but he didn’t need to because he physically followed her all the way back to her apartment building.
My dad stalked her for days, following her around, learning about her and her habits. He knew she was human and human/Were mate pairings were inherently difficult in the beginning stages because the human doesn’t feel the connection to the extent that the Were does.
Humans tended to develop their feelings over time, whereas Weres would be on fire with lust and longing for their mate.
It was overwhelming for the human and difficult to control for the Were.
Eventually, my dad got fed up of waiting around and managed to bump into my mother “by accident” as she was carrying groceries home in the rain one day. He zipped right in front of her on the sidewalk. She didn’t even have time to see him and she crashed right into him, sending groceries flying everywhere.
My father, ever the gallant hero (snicker) accepted her repeated apologies of “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there. Are you sure you’re okay?” and helped her pick up all the groceries and walked her back to her apartment. When they got there, she invited him in to dry off and the rest is history. They were married within six months and I arrived almost 9 months to the day later.”
I had a lot of great memories of my dad but my most favorite ones were of the times we used to spend together at the auto body shop.
I remembered going to work with my father from the time I was a little kid. He would wake me up early in the morning, his baritone voice booming as he came into my bedroom.
“Roaney Baloney, do you want to come to work with me today?” he’d say and I would jump off my bed and launch myself at him and whoop out an enthusiastic “Yes!! Can we go right now?”
Then he’d laugh and sling me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry me downstairs to eat breakfast with him.
I loved the auto body shop; it was more than the business I now owned. It was a tangible piece of my father and the only physical part of him that I had left.
From the pungent smells of gas and oil to the touch of cold, hard steel, my father was present everywhere in the shop and had taught me everything I knew about cars.
I could change out tie rod ends by myself by the time I was ten years old.
Thinking about my father was like picking at a bloody scab. I missed him every single day since the day he’d died. I thought the sun rose and set on him when I was a kid.
I still did. He was an honorable man and a wonderful father.
When he died in a car accident, I was only twelve years old and had just come into my wolf form. I lacked proper emotional discipline and was overwhelmed by the changes in my body because twelve years old is much too young to have your Were gene activate.
But my father was a Were, as was my grandfather and great grandfather.
There was no way I’d let his dream die.
My parents had made an odd pair and it was almost laughable that my father had managed to woo my beautiful, delicate, French blooded mother in the first place and then drag her back here to the seclusion of Spruce Hollow. My mother had looked like she belonged in a salon, getting a pedicure, while reading a high fashion, magazine.
They met one day, during a visit to the big city. My father had gone with several unmated Weres for a long weekend of drinking and debauchery and apparently he had caught sight of my mother as he and the other guys were in the hotel parking lot, getting into my Dad’s truck.
I guess he saw her on the sidewalk, walking by and that was it. My dad told me something about her had completely bowled him over and that he just had to know her. He said his senses were humming with the scent and sight of her.
“My father jumped over the parking barrier and followed her for six blocks, just watching her and committing her delectable scent to memory so he would then be able to find her again, anywhere in the city, but he didn’t need to because he physically followed her all the way back to her apartment building.
My dad stalked her for days, following her around, learning about her and her habits. He knew she was human and human/Were mate pairings were inherently difficult in the beginning stages because the human doesn’t feel the connection to the extent that the Were does.
Humans tended to develop their feelings over time, whereas Weres would be on fire with lust and longing for their mate.
It was overwhelming for the human and difficult to control for the Were.
Eventually, my dad got fed up of waiting around and managed to bump into my mother “by accident” as she was carrying groceries home in the rain one day. He zipped right in front of her on the sidewalk. She didn’t even have time to see him and she crashed right into him, sending groceries flying everywhere.
My father, ever the gallant hero (snicker) accepted her repeated apologies of “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you there. Are you sure you’re okay?” and helped her pick up all the groceries and walked her back to her apartment. When they got there, she invited him in to dry off and the rest is history. They were married within six months and I arrived almost 9 months to the day later.”
I had a lot of great memories of my dad but my most favorite ones were of the times we used to spend together at the auto body shop.
I remembered going to work with my father from the time I was a little kid. He would wake me up early in the morning, his baritone voice booming as he came into my bedroom.
“Roaney Baloney, do you want to come to work with me today?” he’d say and I would jump off my bed and launch myself at him and whoop out an enthusiastic “Yes!! Can we go right now?”
Then he’d laugh and sling me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry me downstairs to eat breakfast with him.
I loved the auto body shop; it was more than the business I now owned. It was a tangible piece of my father and the only physical part of him that I had left.
From the pungent smells of gas and oil to the touch of cold, hard steel, my father was present everywhere in the shop and had taught me everything I knew about cars.
I could change out tie rod ends by myself by the time I was ten years old.
Thinking about my father was like picking at a bloody scab. I missed him every single day since the day he’d died. I thought the sun rose and set on him when I was a kid.
I still did. He was an honorable man and a wonderful father.
When he died in a car accident, I was only twelve years old and had just come into my wolf form. I lacked proper emotional discipline and was overwhelmed by the changes in my body because twelve years old is much too young to have your Were gene activate.
But my father was a Were, as was my grandfather and great grandfather.
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