Racing Home (Dirt Track Dogs Book 3) (Paranormal Wolf-Shifter Romance) by P. Jameson Page B

about his little blond angel.

Chapter Seven
     
    Annie flipped through the channels on the TV one more time. Dinner had come and gone, and the crew had left for the night with the promise to return bright and early in the morning.
    And Blister still hadn’t shown.
    Maybe he’d changed his mind.
    She checked her phone in case he’d tried to call, but there was nothing.
    Clicking the TV off, she went to the kitchen to clean up. She put away the cold bowl of chili she’d left out for him, and loaded the dishwasher, all the while trying not to be disappointed. He was always in the wind. Drake had said it was normal, and she was beginning to see the truth in that.
    Sighing, she flipped off the lights and headed upstairs.
    A voice stopped her. It came through the laundry room and it was muffled by her brand new back door, but there was no mistaking whose it was. Creeping closer to the door, Annie held her breath as she listened. Blister sang a melody, his deep voice smooth. She didn’t recognize the song, but the notes slid along her skin like cool satin. It wasn’t a beautiful sound. It was more than that. Soulful, resonating within her to hit some unknown chord around her heart.
    Her hand flew to her chest, hoping to still the thunderous beat.
    She couldn’t move from her spot. She didn’t want to do anything to make it stop. His voice was like a soothing blanket on a cold night. Closing her eyes, she imagined it wrapping around her, cocooning her in his world. A world where she wasn’t alone and never would be again.
    She smiled in spite of herself.
    Blister was beautiful. And it had nothing to do with what he was on the outside. It was all about who he was. Who he really was. He was devoted to his friends, but it was more than that. He even cared for people who weren’t his friends. Like her. Though she hoped that status had changed by now. He cared enough to see that she had help fixing her house.
    It meant more to her than he’d ever know.
    The song ended and Annie let her gaze slide open. She waited, but he didn’t knock. Faint humming sounded from behind the door, and she knew he must be just sitting on the porch.
    Carefully, she eased the backdoor open. He heard of course, but he didn’t make a move to go. He was perched on the bottom step, his elbows resting on the top one, his head tipped to the sky.
    Annie followed his gaze up. It was a full moon and the clear sky left it acting as a spotlight for the world below.
    “What are you doing?” She whispered, not wanting to completely break the trance he was in.
    “Talking to the moon,” he mumbled.
    “How long have you been out here?”
    “A while.”
    Annie sat on the step next to him, still watching the orb in the sky. She had to admit it was hypnotic. Especially with the sounds of night. Crickets sang. Tree frogs croaked. The wind whistled. But none of them had a prettier song than Blister’s.
    “What did he say, the moon?”
    “Nothing. He never talks back.”
    “Bummer. I was hoping I could take up this practice of talking to the moon. You know, for the lonely nights.”
    Silence stretched between them, but the sounds around them made it less awkward.
    “I was just sitting here thinking, and then I realized how late it was and I figured you’d be going to bed.” His voice was soft again, like it was when they were cooking. She loved that voice. She liked to imagine he only used it with her. And it was a valid assumption because until today, she’d never heard it.
    “I assumed you’d changed your mind.”
    He shook his head, rising to stand. “I’d better get to bed. Morning comes early for Renner and his crew. And there’s no sleeping through their racket.”
    The idea of him running off to the shelter so soon made her sad.
    “Do you um, want to eat first? I can warm up the chili real quick.”
    “I’m good. I’ll have it tomorrow.”
    Her shoulders slumped, but she managed a grin.
    He gave a nod, and turned to go.
    “Wait.