Dire Wolf Mates - Chapter 101: Chapter 101

“No pets on the premises,” the manager of the Merry Time Motel barked at Gwendolyn as she emerged from her room at nine o’clock the next morning.
Mr. Jacobs was about sixty years old, if she had to guess, and he had on the same dirty coverall he seemed to wear every single day as he slithered past her. He was dragging two large trash bags towards the dumpster in the back, or so she assumed, and though Gwen had heard him, she had no idea what he was talking about.
“Pets?” she asked dumbly.
“Yeah. No pets. That monster dog you got has to go. Got three complaints this morning, folks scared walking by here last night,” he grunted, not bothering to look at her.
“Monster dog? And why were people walking here if this is the last unit and you are the only one who has the key to the dumpster gate?” she called back, not at all surprised he ignored her.
She tucked her still damp curls behind her ears. Crap. She was gonna be late. Gwen had no time for the strange man’s delusions. Pop was getting the results back on his latest round of tests, and she needed to be there with him. She grabbed her phone, checking the app to see how long before her car would arrive.
Another two minutes. Ooh. Maybe she would have time to run to the vending machine. Gwen had forgotten to run to the all night dollar store on 3rd Street last night. They had all sorts of snack bars and things real cheap, which was basically all she could afford, and she’d eaten her last granola bar last night.
Thank goodness for Lucy’s kindness yesterday. That burger had been the best thing she’d eaten all month. Who knew brie and fig jam were amazing when paired with applewood smoked bacon, and two grilled ground brisket patties with caramelized onions on top? Yep, that Brock was a certified genius in the kitchen.
Living with little to no budget meant she’d been surviving on twenty-five cent packages of instant ramen noodles and granola bars from that same dollar store for the last two months. A girl could live on less, she supposed.
Ever since, she had gotten Pop into the assisted care facility. She’d gotten kicked out of the apartment they had leased and sold off every single thing they had worth anything to pay for his treatment, care, and residence. Pop didn’t have very long. Another six months or so, the doctors had said, and Gwen was determined to work her fingers to the bone to ensure he had the best care for every single minute of those six months.
Her heart squeezed in her chest as she pictured life without her Pop, and a tear came tumbling down her cheek. Stupid tears. She hated crybabies, but this was hard, and she was left all alone to deal with it.
Gwendolyn loved her Pop more than anyone on earth and she was so sad to think of him being gone, let alone to have to face the big bad world alone without him in it. The wind rustled the yellow and red leaves on the scraggly looking trees behind the motel and Gwen pulled the old cardigan she had on tighter around her body.
She wore black jeans and sneakers, and a plain charcoal t-shirt with Pop’s soft gray sweater on top. Fall was unpredictable in Blue Valley, but that was typical of all New Jersey. Hot one day, frigid the next. Today promised to be temperate with a high of sixty-nine degrees.
She snorted at that and rolled her eyes at her lameness. Somewhere inside of Gwendolyn lived a 12-year-old boy, she was sure of it. Her sense of humor certainly supported the theory.
The blast of a horn had her looking up to see a red SUV with the license plate DWM394W. Yep. It was her ride. She clicked the little checkmark on the U-drive app that told whoever needed to know she’d been picked up, and Gwendolyn walked to the passenger seat.
“Morning, Gwendolyn,” a familiar voice said as a big hand beat her to the door handle.
Gwendolyn startled, a hand on her chest as she turned to find bright, familiar green eyes locked on hers. It was him. Weylin. The sexy hot bartender from last night. What was he doing here?
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured, opening the door.
“No, it’s my fault. Um, I’m just naturally jumpy. What are you doing here?” she blurted, hating to sound ungrateful.
“Picking you up. You ordered a car from U-drive, right?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Then that’s why I am here. I drive for them sometimes,” he said.
But that was odd, right? Didn’t he co-own Serious Moonlight? She was almost certain Kelly had mentioned all the sexy members of the DWMC all had a piece of the pie.
“Oh, I see. Sorry, I just thought you were part owner in the bar⁠—”
“I am that, too, but anyway, er, what are you doing here?” he asked as he seated himself in the driver’s side, waiting until she buckled her seat belt before pulling out into traffic.
Gwen didn’t want anyone to know her living situation. Shame and pride warred within her, but maybe she could play it off like she’d spent the night there with someone.
Like who? A man! Sure. She could just tell Hottie McHotterson that she’d shacked up with some rando on her way home. As if doing that was better than admitting to being poor, somehow.
Yeah. Right. Soooo believable. Ugh.
She looked down at herself and snorted. So sexy. Ugh. Gwendolyn was hardly a femme fatale and certainly not a girl who rented motel rooms with strange men. She mulled it over for a minute before settling on the truth.
“I’m, well, actually, I am staying here for a while just until I can afford someplace else,” she said, pride stinging her eyes.
She waited for him to judge her or criticize, but he didn’t. Weylin just nodded and drove, his glittering emerald eyes on the road. My oh my, but he was handsome.
“So why are you here, Weylin, um, what was your last name?” she asked, uncertain if he’d introduced himself last night.
“Scott, it’s Weylin Scott. And you are Gwendolyn?”
“Hoffer. Gwen to my friends.”
“I like that. Can I call you Gwen?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
She mulled it over, getting the distinct impression he was asking for something else. Without any red flags or warning bells ringing in her head, Gwen nodded.
“You can. After all, I think it’s only fair since we’ll be working together.”
“Good. Friends then, huh?” he asked, and pursed his lips.
Lord, help me, she thought and hid the sudden urge to fan herself.
He had the most kissable lips she had ever seen, and the fact he had actually kissed her was something she could not wrap her head around. Gwen didn’t exactly garner that kind of attention from men.
Well, that was not entirely true. She had her share of admirers, but they usually gave up once they heard her hangups about sex. As in, she wasn’t putting out for just anyone.
Where was she again? Oh yeah. Weylin’s lips. They were a reddish pink against his pale skin, plump and softer than they appeared. After all, she had firsthand knowledge, she thought with a blush. Surprising they were so soft, she mused. Not that she went around collecting info on boys’ lips or anything. But there was just something about him she found positively intriguing.
“You have the right address?” she asked.
Weylin nodded and tapped the screen on the console of the SUV to show the GPS. He had Hope Springs typed in and they were about thirty-minutes out.
“So, who’s at Hope Springs? Your Pop, right? He okay?” he asked, then blanched when she stiffened. “I’m sorry. I should not have asked you that. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s just new, you know? Yes, Pop is here, and they are making him comfortable. It’s about all they can do now. He has dementia, and it seems to be advancing. With his osteoporosis, the chances of him falling and getting hurt were too great to keep him home, though I tried for a long time to manage that way.”
“Is there no other family to help?” he asked softly.
“Just me. My parents left when I was about six, and I didn’t even know I had a grandfather. He came down to social services the second he heard about me. Bundled me up, carted me home, and took care of me.”
“Gwen, you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” he replied, giving her an out.
“I don’t mind. I mean, this is my reality.”
“I appreciate that, but it’s okay to need a break from reality now and then, you know? I’m sure he would want you to take care of yourself, too. From what you’ve said, he sounds like a good man.”
“Yeah, he is the best.”
Weylin reached over and patted her leg, the brief, platonic contact left tendrils of awareness racing through her, and her breath caught. Of course, her stomach chose that exact moment to go off like a bullhorn, growling loudly in the cab of the SUV. She bit her lip to hide her embarrassment.
“You hungry? I got snacks,” Weylin informed her.
He leaned over to open the glove compartment where a small basket filled with trail mix, protein bars, and little bags of cheese crackers sat.
“Help yourself. There’s a water right here, too,” he murmured and nudged the armrest where an unopened bottle sat.
“Sorry. I didn’t have time for breakfast,” she said.
It wasn’t exactly a lie. The whole truth was, she ran out of snacks. But this looked good. Oh well. A girl had to eat. Gwendolyn grabbed the trail mix and opened it.
Ooh, this was good stuff, she mused, eyeing the slivers of almonds, peanuts, craisins, and the little dark chocolate chunks with delight. She ate some and offered the bag to Weylin, who smiled and said thanks before snagging a handful.
He chewed with his mouth closed, which was a huge plus in her book, made small talk, and sang along with the radio. He had a nice, pleasant voice, and he knew the words to her favorite Bon Jovi songs, a must if you lived in New Jersey, and Gwen was a Jersey girl through and through.
The minutes sped by, and she found herself relaxing in his company. It was easy with him, for some reason. The interior of the SUV smelled like something woodsy and masculine, his cologne perhaps. She’d never smelled anything like it before. Pop had liked Old Spice, and she was allergic to most other scents. But not this one. This one was just fine, she mused and breathed in another gulp.