SwitchBack: A Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Knightsbridge Canyon Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

album, one that he’d inherited from his dad. I still remember it playing from the work truck as Stenfield Landscaping groomed the school grounds when I was a kid. We both ended up loving the eighties music of our parents, I guess.
    Or maybe it was because Will was frozen in the past and I had no time to figure out “what’s a Bieber?”
    “Can we go by my old house?” I asked. “I want to see how much it’s changed.”
    “Um. Sure.” He hesitated, looking at me funny.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” Will laughed as he pulled out onto Walnut Avenue and over to the west side of town.
    “Tell me.”
    “Tell you what?”
    “Tell me.”
    “No.”
    “Weirdo.”
    “Freak.”
    “Fine.” I folded my arms and faked a sulk.
    When Amber and I were growing up, we lived on the good side of the bad side of town, a couple houses down from one of the retired mayors. His raised brick ranch-style sprawled out over a half-acre lot and held lemon trees we used to swipe fruit from during the summer. These weren’t the cute little things you get in grocery stores, the ones that look like they were made from plastic lemon molds. These lemons were frickin’ monsters, grapefruit-sized. I had no idea why. Anyway, we had this weird thing about sucking the juice from lemons after coating them with salt, kind of like our older brother Adam did with cold sliced potatoes and equally cold slabs of butter.
    Had to be there, I guess.
    Will drove us down Golden Boulevard, which used to be part of the old highway before they put the bypass through, and pulled into the parking lot of the Boxcar, an abandoned set of railroad cars that had been turned into a nice restaurant. I had worked there the summer I came home.
    For some, Knightsbridge was a college town, for others it was a great place to raise kids, but for single people, it seriously sucked. Just one more reason why I had taken the travel writer’s apprenticeship, seldom went back, and didn’t look people up.
    I know, thin, right? Bad memories, I guess I’ll admit to.
    “Remember this place?” he asked as we stared at the outside.
    “God, yes!” I’d spent that whole summer as the hostess greeter, since I was too young to carry alcohol and too new to serve food and get tips. I did help bus tables. Minimum wage, go me. “I met Palmer Courtland here and he tried to put a hand up my dress. You know, the guy from one of those daytime soaps where no one ever ages? I think he was seventy. Looked forty if he didn’t move his face.”
    “Come on, can you blame him?” Will waggled his eyebrows, mock-lasciviously. Or actually lasciviously. Made me feel all tingly.
    “Guess not, but I’m worldly and wise now. Back then…ew.” I laughed.
    “And what about that Sid guy who used to be the chef?”
    “Omigod! That’s right. He had such a filthy mouth,” I remembered. “If the customers only knew the way he talked about them! They would have just died.”
    “I think he knew it offended you and if I remember correctly, you told me it got even filthier, that is, until I had a chat with him.”
    “That was you? I never knew. That was sweet.” I lay flat on the bench seat, put my head in his lap and stuck my feet out the window, taking the pressure off my ass. “Remember when we all dressed up in white and played croquet in the park?”
    “I wasn’t there for that one, but I remember driving by. You looked adorable in white.”
    He was right. I did. I do. I smiled.
    “You’re still pretty adorable.”
    That made me sit up and look at him, searching his face.
    Will leaned over and put a peck on my forehead. I lifted my face and he kissed me for real this time. Very softly. My mouth parted involuntarily and his tongue flicked in and touched the tip of my own in an intimate caress.
    Was I really doing this?
    “Um. Is it hot in here, or is it me?” I asked as I moved away from him, opened the door and climbed out of the cab. Just down the road from the Boxcar was a place called the