Page 28 of Loan Wolf
“He owns a business,” Clara pointed out, barely refraining from adding that he was older than she was, and she was definitely not a kid anymore.
“He’s had a lot of help with it, though,” Patricia said reluctantly. “The Powells…”
Clara was outraged on his behalf. “Lots of places get startup loans,” she snapped. “It’s doing fine now.”
Patricia looked astonished by her defense. “It’s a bike shop, Clara. In Green Valley. I’m not trying to belittle him, I’m sure he’s worked very hard! But he’s not really going anywhere.”
“Not like me.”
“Is this about making principal of the company?” Patricia asked gently. “Everyone is very sure that you will.”
“I don’t want to be the principal,” Clara shouted. “I don’t even want to be a dancer! But everyone is so very sure that this is my destiny, because of my mother, my real mother, and maybe it’s not.”
Patricia winced and Clara felt terrible.
It wasn’t fair of her to yell at Patricia. Patricia hadn’t done anything but support Clara’s very clear wishes for her entire life, humoring her dedication to ballet from the age of five and acting as her real mother the whole time. Recognizing that only made Clara feel worse. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I…gotta go.”
She didn’t remember until she was unlocking her bike that she hadn’t grabbed her helmet from her bed, and by then, she didn’t care.
23
GABE
Gabe had the music loud again when he opened the shop the next morning, honestly hoping it would scare away any casual visitors. Sometimes tourists through the town would wander in like he was selling souvenirs. He had keychains and stickers by the counter to make some coin off of them, but they mostly wasted his time and asked annoying questions like do you have a restroom?
He didn’t notice that Clara had texted until he was finished assembling Raven and getting the chain tension right.
Clara here. Looking to hire your guide services.
A little later, she had texted:
Last chance! Leaving now!
And just a few minutes ago:
Your loss!
Gabe gnashed his teeth. Clara was more of a mess than he was, which was saying something, and he understood the urge to be reckless and stupid.
A little too well. He thumbed up his bike-tracking app with a sinking heart. He’d learned to trust his instincts, and it was telling him now that something was wrong.
It took him a moment to scan the pins, and when he found Daisy, Gabe swore so loudly that not even the music could cover it. A tourist walking down the street hurried their child past his door.
The pin was at the head of the Eagle Ridge trail. The one trail that he’d told Clara not to take alone.
That stupid, fool-headed little?—
Worry overwhelmed outrage and Gabe slammed his doors shut and started his truck up with a roar. He could head her off before she got to the worst curves, if he hurried.
He nearly backed up into Trevor outside of his shop. Trevor pounded on the back panel of his truck and then leaped back in alarm as Gabe put the truck in gear and took off with squealing tires. He didn’t have time to waste on picking another fight with one of Clara’s groupies.
He sped to Eagle Lake, his wolf whining in his head, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled off at the far end of the gravel pad that Gabe realized he hadn’t brought a bike. He wouldn’t be able to make it up the trail and meet her before she got to the most hazardous place…at least, not as a man.
Without really thinking about it, Gabe slammed the truck door shut and flowed out onto four paws. His shirt, already threadbare, split at every seam and exploded off of him. His jeans were sturdier material, and though they ripped, he had to turn and tear them off with his teeth when they hampered his attempt to break into a run.
Then, he was flying down the trail at top speed, his heart pounding in his chest and his ears pricked forward.
His hearing was keen enough to pick up the sounds of small animals in the underbrush, and the far-off highway sounded like a loud rumble. There was no breeze to speak of, but there was a hum of insects and frogs, and there—the sound he’d dreaded!—of tires on loose rock, the faint mechanical squeal of brakes. Clara wouldn’t know how to go into those hairpin turns, which path was safe, and which had crumbled in a big rainstorm recently, waiting for a careless biker to set it all loose. Gabe had blazed the trees, but it would be easy to miss if someone was concentrating on an unfamiliar bike.
