“Of course I did. Now your brothers and those bitches of theirs—”
“Momma.”
“—are on their way home, probably to collect your little girl.”
“Ain’t holding her against her will. She can leave if she wants to.”
“Does she?”
“Don’t know. She’s recovering from a wound she got during the fight. I need you to take out the stitches.”
Pauline frowned. “Darlin’ boy, I know you can take out stitches.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Eggie shrugged, punched his fists into the front pockets of his jeans. “She’s delicate. I got these big hands.”
“If she’s a Lewis, she probably don’t mind those big hands.”
“Momma.”
“Calm yourself.” She walked up the steps, swinging her favorite rifle off her shoulder and handing it to Eggie. “I’ll take care of your little gal. You head to the house and get the food I have for you two. It’s in the pantry—the last place your father will look until he gets real hungry.”
“You sure you’ll be all right?”
Pauline stood on the same step as her six-four son, looking him right in the eyes. “What do you think, boy?”
Darla woke up while the stitches were removed from her neck, but she stayed still and quiet until the stitches were out and the bandage on.
“There ya go, darlin’ girl. All done.”
Surprised to hear a woman’s voice, Darla turned over, but she froze at the sight of a mammoth-sized She-wolf. Honestly, one of the biggest She-wolves she’d ever seen in her dang life.
“Pauline’s the name. The Smith boys’ momma. And you’re Darla.”
Say something! Don’t just sit there! It’s rude!
Darla nodded, although she immediately regretted that particular move. “Yes’m. Darla Mae Lewis.”
“The baby sister of those females lurking ’round my sons.” She stepped away from the bed, using a towel to wipe her hands.
The She-wolf was, in a word, hearty. About her son’s height, with shoulders nearly as wide, she reminded Darla more of a grizzly sow, but . . . stronger. How that was possible Darla didn’t know, since all she scented from the female was wolf.
The eye not covered by a patch was like Eggie’s, too. Wolf-yellow like she was about to shift, even when she wasn’t. Black hair with lots of grey reached her shoulders in a shaggy mess and she wore a sleeveless plaid shirt over loose-fitting and possibly ancient jeans. Work boots were on her enormous feet and she was missing a pinky on her right hand and her middle and forefinger on her left. Darla could be wrong but they looked bitten off. She also had a scar on the side of her neck like something had once taken hold of her there, but Darla had no doubt the woman was healthy as an ox and had every intention of living another three or four thousand years.
“Yes’m, I am.”
“How come I haven’t met you before?”
“I’ve been in San Francisco.”
“What the hell for?”
“Studying.” When the She-wolf stared at her, she added, “To be a pastry chef.”
“You have to study for that?”
“It helps.”
“As ya like,” she sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “You going to be sniffing ’round my boy, too?”
“I’m just on vacation to see my parents. I have no idea what happened last night or how we even got here so fast, but your son did protect me. I’m very grateful to—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Grateful, right. But you going to head back to Smithville as soon as your sisters get here?”
Darla hadn’t known her sisters were coming here but she shrugged. “I guess.”
“Huh. I see.”
Darla had the feeling she’d disappointed Eggie’s mother but she had no idea how. Then again, maybe it was best not to ask.
“Anyway,” Pauline went on, “that should be fine by morning. With my boys I’ve been puttin’ in and takin’ out stitches before most of them could walk. You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Miss Pauline.”
The She-wolf eyed Darla before grunting, “Huh.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out.
“All right then,” Darla said with a little laugh. Because if nothing else, at least she wasn’t the least bit bored.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eggie stared down at the She-wolf until her pretty brown eyes opened, blinking wide at the sight of him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Hungry? Oh. For food.” Yawning, she sat up and stretched. That’s when Eggie realized she’d put on one of his T-shirts . . . and not much else.
“You know,” she said, her smile bright, “I am hungry. Starving.”
“Good.” He had food. Hell, he had enough food for a small army.
He reached for Darla, slipping his arms under her legs and behind her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Picking you up.”
“I can walk, Egbert Ray.”
“You’re still recovering.”
“Says who?”
He lifted her up, held her tight in his arms. “I do.”
She stared at him for a bit until she raised her hand and pressed her forefinger against his forehead. “You know, you’ve got this thing so dang low, it practically touches your nose.”
“I’m trying to intimidate you into doing what I want . . . but you poking at me ain’t helpin’.”
She giggled, a sound he didn’t often hear that close to him and definitely not when he was the one causing it.
No, people didn’t giggle around Eggie. Or laugh. Or breathe too hard. Or make any sudden moves that might be construed as a threat. Nope. Not around Eggie.
But Darla did.
“Well,” she said, her finger stroking down to his nose, “if you’re gonna insist on carrying me, you better get movin’. I’m hungry!”
“All right. All right. No need to snarl at me like a Doberman.”
Eggie carried Darla down the stairs and cut through the living room to get to the dining room.
“Oh!” Darla squeaked, her hand covering her mouth. “Um . . .”
Eggie stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh . . . nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I see you got furniture while I was asleep.”
“I couldn’t have you sittin’ on a barrel. Just seemed wrong for a lady. Momma said you wouldn’t care, but I asked one of my daddy’s sisters to send over some furniture from her mate’s store.”
“Ahhh. Yes. That explains it.”
Eggie looked at the big couch with the giant yellow and green flower pattern on it. “This doesn’t really say Egbert Ray Smith, does it?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, shook her head. He had a feeling she wasn’t disapproving as much as trying not to laugh at him.
“Not really,” she finally managed to answer. “I’d probably go with more solid colors for you. Darker reds and browns. Maybe a dark blue. But you know what,” she added. “Ain’t nothin’ here we can’t discreetly cover up.”
“It’s not like I’m ever here. Not sure it matters.”
“Trust me. It matters. Think about it—on those rare times you come home after months and months away . . . you walk through the door, throw on the light . . . and that couch is the first thing you see.”
Eggie nodded. “You know . . . my grandmomma made me a couple of quilts few years back. They’re in the upstairs closet.”
“Perfect. Because it won’t seem strange to your aunt that you’d put her Momma’s quilt on your couch. See? You can cover up dang near anything and never have to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Why would I worry about my aunt’s feelings? Actually. . . why would you? You don’t even know her.”
“Don’t have to know her. She was kind enough to rush furniture over here to her nephew and—”
“She charged me double on the shipping for the urgent delivery and no family discount on the furniture.”
; “Oh, really?” Darla briefly pursed her lips. “Well, if you’re gonna pay full price with your own kin, you’re gettin’ what you want. We’ll take this crap back tomorrow and exchange it.” She folded her arms across her chest, fingers tapping against her biceps. He had a feelin’ if she were standing, she’d be tapping her foot right now.
“You don’t have to be upset, Darla Mae.”
“Who says I’m upset? Just ’cause family’s not treatin’ family right. It’s not like I haven’t gone through that or anything,” she finished on a mutter. She looked up at him. “I’m still hungry, Egbert Ray.”
“Okay, okay. No need to snarl.”
Although Eggie did kind of like when she did.
Unlike that horrid furniture, the food was good. Of course, that food had been made by Eggie’s mother, Pauline Jessop of the Jessop Pack out of Alaska, which explained the She-wolf ’s size. Jessop wolves were known for their size and speed, only outsized by Arctic wolves, who were descended from Vikings. The Jessops also owned the lumber empire Jessop Mountain Timber, which meant Pauline Ann came from real money . . . and had probably trained several years as a lumberjack. It was required for all the Jessop Pack, male or female.
Sounded like a lot of work to Darla. She’d stick with managing bread dough, thank you very much.
Darla pushed the remainder of the macaroni and cheese toward Eggie.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve been eyeing it. You might as well finish it.”
“Have you had enough?”
“Eggie, I’ve had enough if I was three people. So go on.” But when he didn’t move fast enough for her, Darla helped him out by putting one of the steaks on his plate and followed that up with several big spoonfuls of the mac and cheese.
He studied his plate for several seconds before he looked at her. “You tryin’ to tell me something?”
“Yes. Now eat.”
While the wolf ate, Darla picked up her glass of sweet tea and looked around his kitchen. She had a feeling his mother had a lot to do with this room. It was nicely equipped and roomy. Maybe she used it when she needed extra space.
“So, Egbert Ray ... what do you do in the Marines?”
He stopped eating, his fork hovering by his mouth. His eyes focused on her and narrowed a little bit. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m a spy.”
He lowered his fork. “What?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m just sittin’ here pumping you for information. That’s what I do for the, um, Viet Cong.”
His fork hit the plate. “Do not joke about that, Darla Mae.”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Who’d believe that I would be helping the Viet Cong?”
“Everybody. They’re all paranoid right now, so I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you.”
“Nice Southern gals like me don’t spy.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I’m trying to get you to talk. It’s called a conversation, Egbert Ray.”
“I ain’t chatty.”
“Fine.” Darla pushed back her chair and picked up her plate and fork. She carried them to the sink and turned on the faucet. As she began to search for soap and a sponge, she realized that Eggie stood next to her, carefully placing his own dish and fork in the sink.
“I’ve never been to Vietnam,” he told her, his gaze out the window. “Never had a tour there.”
Nearly everyone that Darla knew who’d been in the military in the last ten years had spent some time in that war-torn country.
“But you’ve been somewhere, right?” She could tell by the scars, the way his body always seemed coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. This was not a man untouched by battle.
Eggie scratched his forehead before facing her. “I’m in what they’re about to start calling the Unit.”
“Oh!” She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“You don’t know what that is, do you?”
“Do I need to?” When he rolled his eyes, she quickly added, “Look, I don’t believe in all this war and fightin’. As a matter of fact . . . I’m a pacifist.”
Eggie stared at her. “How can you be a predator and a pacifist?”
“It’s possible.”
“Do you still hunt down your own meat?”
“I’m a pacifist, Eggie Ray. I didn’t say I was a vegetarian.”
“A vege-what?”
“Forget it.” She motioned him away from the sink. “Go on and get the rest of the bowls and things. I’ll do the dishes.”
“You should be resting.”
“Do not annoy me, Eggie Ray.”
“Thought you were a pacifist—ow! What was that for?” he demanded while rubbing his ankle.
“Gettin’ on my nerves. Now do as I tell ya and don’t even think about arguing with me.”
He lowered his leg. “You sure are a pushy pacifist.”
Darla grinned. “Because I’m also a feminist.”
Eggie’s head tipped to the side, reminding her a little of a dog hearing a weird noise. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? Do you actually believe that women are treated fairly in this society?”
“No. But you’re a She-wolf.”
“So?”
“So no wolf is ever going to tell you that you can’t do something unless he really hopes to get his throat torn out.”
And what really annoyed her was that he was right, but that wasn’t the point. “That’s true, but I’m thinking about all women.”
“But you’re a She-wolf.”
“I know what I am, Eggie.”
“Then I don’t see the point.”
“You know what?” she snapped. “We’re done talking about this.”
“You were the one who said you wanted a conversation.”
“Well I changed my mind!”
“No need to yell, Darla Mae. I’m standing right here.”
She let out a heavy sigh and again faced the sink. “Get the rest of the dishes,” she ordered.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to make you mad.”
Startled, Darla looked at Eggie. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“Lord, no, Eggie. Annoyed? A bit. But not mad. When I’m mad . . . you can really tell.”
“Is it worse than . . . this?”
“This?” Darla laughed and patted Eggie on the arm. “This is nothing.”
His brow lowered but he didn’t look angry this time. Just confused. “Really?”
“Egbert Ray,” she laughed, again focusing on the dishes, “you are just the cutest thing!”
His confused frown worsened. “Really?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Darla had no idea what woke her up.
She knew she was safe and her body nearly healed. She just had a little bit of a headache that started at the base of her skull. But other than that . . .
And yet, she knew she’d woken up for a reason.
Slipping out of bed, Darla made her way downstairs. As she passed the dining room, she glanced into the kitchen and she could see through the big windows and onto the porch. She stopped and spun around, staring at the wolf standing on his porch. He just stood there, staring out into the trees that surrounded his little house.
She walked to the door and eased it open, stepped outside.
“Eggie?”
He glanced at her. “You should be in bed.”
“So should you.”
“Just keeping watch.”
She stepped closer. “Have you been out here all night?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Darla sighed. “You’re such a protector.”
“I am?”
“Of course you are. But we’re safe here. You said so yourself.”
“Couldn’t hurt to have a little extra—”
“Lord!” She grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the backdoor. “Come on.”
“Where?”
&nb
sp; “You need sleep. You’ve been up for hours.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be. Not when you’re home.”
She managed to drag him through the house and up the stairs, but as soon as she got to the bedroom he was letting her use, he froze in his tracks.
Darla squealed a little when Eggie brought her up short. She realized he’d only been letting her drag him through the house.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded. She wanted to go back to bed.
“Why am I going in there?”
“So you can get some sleep.”
“But where will you sleep?”
Darla released Eggie so she could put her hands on her hips. “Tell me you are kidding.”
Of course he wasn’t kidding. He couldn’t . . . sleep with her.
Because when she said “sleep” what she really meant was “sex,” right? Because that’s what he meant when he said he was sleeping with a woman. That they were fucking.
“We’re both adults, Eggie,” she reasoned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Lord help me,” she muttered. “Can we just get some sleep, please?”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“I can just sleep on—”
“That ugly couch? No. Besides, you drool even a little on that couch, something tells me your aunt is not going to let you exchange it.”
“I don’t drool.”
“And there are no beds in the other two rooms.”
“Because every time my brothers would fight with your sisters, they’d come here to sleep. If they think they’ll have to sleep on the floor, they stay away.”
“Then where else are we going to sleep?”
“It wouldn’t be right.”
She studied him for a moment. “You do understand I’m not talking about having sex with you?”
“You’re not?”
Darla gasped and slapped at his arm. It kind of hurt.
“No, I am not!”
“You don’t have to yell.”
“Clearly I do if you think that’s what I want from you.”
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