by Abby Knox
“Fine, let’s go,” he said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
And then he texted C one more time.
Chapter 7
Chas, 9:45 a.m.
She knew she could call a car before even thinking about checking her text messages, but she was just too tempted to address the double digits on the little red dot.
So, of course, she tapped it.
Messages from Rosemary were at the top of the list.
You look like you’re having fun. Just be warned, Gavin is not like us. You know that, right? He’s like Ash.
And then, two minutes later: You are expected at the house in the Garden District in the morning, so please check in. And be careful.
And then again: Seriously tho, I just heard you were hell-bent on losing your virginity tonight. Jeebus. OK, but do you have BC? Condom?
OK, girl, do what you want, but just remember, watch out for those claws.
I am not your mama, but do you know what you’re doing? Not because he might hurt you, but you might, I don’t know, eat him alive.
OK, I don’t mean eat him alive in that sense. I mean, literally take a bite out of him. You’re still young and wild and you don’t know how to control it when you get emotional. Just because tonight’s not a new moon doesn’t mean the panther won’t come out. Like when you’re drunk and horny, your mom and dad told you about that, right?
Actually, they had not. And it was no surprise to Chas that her parents had not schooled her on this little detail about her sexuality. Purity Ball dads were not that forthcoming about empowering their daughters, shapeshifters or non-shapeshifters.
She read on. More texts from Rosemary. Give it up, girl. Sheesh.
You do know that cats are unpredictable. Until you learn how to control it you probably shouldn’t be doing it at all with a person who doesn’t know what he’s getting into.
OK, listen. I feel responsible. Mama told me to watch out for you and I should have had you back at the mansion in lock-down about two hours ago. Please text me asap.
Finally. Rosemary sure had gotten uptight in this bridezilla phase of hers. She typed back and sent:
I’m OK. Trying to find a ride back to the mansion.
And then, she took a deep breath and tapped on the name G.
If she thought Rosemary was long-winded, she had nothing on this guy.
She read them all in order after she’d made her way over to a bench along Freret, a park bench for which she was exceedingly grateful. Her feet were finally starting to hurt. She had to scroll up quite a ways to get to his first message.
If she wasn’t already falling for the guy, she was falling flat on her face with her heart outside her body with his very first text to her.
Hey, this is Gavin. Friend of Ash. I heard you were a bridesmaid. I think you’re cute. I got your number from…well I’m not gonna throw any of your friends under the bus. And then a wink emoji.
About five minutes later, the second text.
Hey, I saw you dancing on the table. Do you need a ride home?
Sweet.
I sent you that drink, which maybe I should not have done. I’m the big dummy in the corner with the long brown hair and the beard, but I’m way less scary than I look.
Chas smiled dumbly at her phone and scrolled down. She was vaguely aware of dancing at Bobby’s last night and having drinks. So many drinks. Too many. God, she smelled coffee and beignets coming from somewhere.
Press on, girl.
The next one was interesting. It had been sent two hours after the first one. All it said was:
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have no idea. You’re perfect. If I’m not there when you wake up, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I wanted to wake you with breakfast in bed. Just know that. I had to leave. I feel like a jerk, but trust me when I say it’s better that I left. You’ll understand later. I know my place is a hovel compared to what you might be used to, but please, whatever you do, don’t leave.
Why had she left? Hadn’t she known as soon as she’d woken up that she should stay and wait for him? Should she go back now?
Then the next one, which was a couple of hours later, shortly after she’d woken up:
Hey, it’s me. I feel like a jackass. I’m not totally sure what happened, but I need to see you so we can sort this out. Please stay wherever you are. Are you at my place? Let me know.
Note to self: always have a charger with you, at all times, when you are out raising hell with your cousins in New Orleans.
She looked up and stretched her neck from side to side, which was stiff from staring at her phone. It was then that she saw the loud, black, classic GTO that she was pretty sure belonged to Rosemary’s fiancé.
Holy shit!
She forgot about her aching feet and her exhausted body and pounding head. She tossed her ridiculous heels to the curb and sprinted after the car, calling Ash’s name.
It was no use. He didn’t see her and didn’t hear her. But people on the street were definitely seeing and hearing, and staring at her like she was some kind of a freak making a scene. Which, technically, she was.
She calmed herself down enough to attempt to call for a car to get her somewhere. Anywhere. As her hand moved over the screen, another text message from Gavin popped up. Reading it, she knew from his words he was the one she wanted. Not just for another night. But for life.
And then, just as hunger, thirst and her pounding headache were about to conspire to buckle her knees right there on the sidewalk, she heard a set of tires screech, followed by a familiar female voice.
“Chas! Oh my god, what are the chances! where have you been!”
It was her cousin, the soon-to-be-bride, Rosemary.
Chapter 8
Gavin
“My, my, my. What a sparse little wedding party you have brought into my home this morning, Ashton. And where is this mysterious celebrity chef friend of yours?”
Betsy DuChamps sipped her mimosa, her face bright eyed and perfectly painted.
Gavin glanced over at Ashton, who shot him a look.
Ashton replied, “He rolled in late last night from a TV shoot in Seoul. He’s jet lagged AF. I gave him the day off.”
Betsy arched an eyebrow. “AF?”
Rosemary entered the room looking as fresh as a daisy. “It means ‘as fuck,’ mother. The chef is jet lagged as fuck. We excused him from the brunch.”
Betsy scoffed at her daughter’s rough language. “And what about your cousin, GiGi? And Chastity? Don’t tell me they’ve all caught the jet lag as well?”
Rosemary sighed as she plopped down in her dining chair next to Ash. “No, Mama. I believe what they all caught is a raging party last night and they ain’t coming to your ill-timed brunchy-brunch.”
Betsy now raised both eyebrows at her daughter. “Is that so? Well, in my day, when one is invited to participate in activities surrounding a family wedding in which a person is directly involved, one makes a point to—”
Rosemary grunted through a mouthful of breakfast ham and eggs. “Mama! Nobody wants a lesson in wedding etiquette. We’re all quite hungover. Those of us that are feeling human enough to be in this room under your god-awfully bright chandeliers would just like to eat in silence, OK?”
Gavin downed his glass of water from the crystal goblet in front of him, wondering what kind of a nightmare future mother-in-law would plan a wedding party brunch the morning after a bachelor/bachelorette party.
If Chastity’s own mother was anything like this woman, he was in for a rough road ahead.
At least he felt a little less hungover with a belly full of food.
“You must be the tattoo artist I’ve heard so much about. Ashton sure does have some colorful friends, I must say.”
“Mama…”
Gavin looked up and met Betsy’s eye. “Yes, ma’am. I own my own business. Howlin’ G’s Tattoos & Junk on Freret. Come in anytime, I won’t even charge you. Much.”
Rosemary snorted. Ash had to stare straight down at his plate to keep from making eye contact with Gavin.
Betsy did not seem to register what he had said and instead pointed to the wrinkled brown bag and mug of coffee next to his plate.
“Not every day a man brings his own food when invited to a meal at the DuChamps estate,” she purred.
Gavin nodded. “I know this looks strange, but it’s for a girl. A woman. I, uh, heard she liked this particular kind of coffee. Ash asked me to pick it up for her.”
“And who might that be?” Betsy asked.
Rosemary, always one to cut through the crap, replied. “Come on, people. It’s Chastity. He’s looking for Chastity. She’s in the guest wing, sleeping it off.”
Betsy sighed in relief. “Well, thank god for that. Her mother and daddy were not very enthused about her attending a bachelorette party last night. I gave them my word that she would be safe with us and that you all were just going out dancing for a little while with the girls. Chastity would have her usual room, of course, the one that automatically locks from the outside. She’s a devil child, that one. Can’t have her sneaking out without her older cousins to watch over her. Gavin, you may leave the coffee and that brown sack of whatever here with Lety. She’ll see that it gets to our niece.”
Rosemary snorted again. “That’s right. Dancing. With girls. 100 percent with the girls. All night. Dancing so lively she’s still plumb tuckered out since I brought her home ’round midnight. Right, fellas?”
Gavin was glancing between Betsy and Rosemary, trying to pick up on whatever it was that was being communicated. Then Rosemary caught his eye and mouthed, “Guest wing.” Then her eyes darted to his left.
Gavin wasn’t the brightest of men, but this, he understood.
He stood up and excused himself. “Ma’am. Thank you for the brunch. It’s been a pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
Gavin did not give himself time to wait for a response from Rosemary’s mom, but instead picked up the bag of pastries and the mug of coffee and made his way as quickly as possible to the guest wing of the mansion.
Out in the hallway, he found her scent again and followed it to a long, ornate hallway with a series of doors. Lucky for him, all the doors were open except one. He scanned the area. No one was around. He knocked on the door as his heart nearly busted out of his chest in anticipation. He was going to meet her, finally. Again.
There was no answer. He tried the knob, but the door was locked.
The key. Of course.
With shaking hands, Gavin took out the mysterious key from his wallet. She had, at some point, given this to him so he could come and spring her from her gilded prison.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
There she was, sound asleep on a bed three times the size of his paltry little twin bed. He had found her.
After making sure the door locked behind him, Gavin set the bag of beignets and the mug of coffee down on the night table. And then he just watched her sleep.
Her dark hair was splayed out over the pillow as she slept on her side. A satin sheet was draped over the curve of her hip. Her breast was nearly spilling out of the top of her dress. The little hint of sequins that he saw triggered another memory, this time of her dancing on the bar. He smiled. His girl was a fun girl, but if she ever did that again, the wolf would be carrying her home over his shoulder, caveman-style. Nobody else was ever going to try to have a good time with his drunk-ass girl as long as he had something to say about it.
Even after a night of partying like it was 1999, this girl looked like an angel. He wanted desperately to touch her, but he did not dare do that to her while she was passed out or asleep.
He watched her for several minutes, until she started to stir awake. Bleary-eyed and unaware of his presence, Chastity rolled over and instinctively grabbed her phone. She muttered to herself, “Any more texts from the mystery man?”
Chapter 9
Chas
It was only about an hour of sleep, but it was still nice to wake up in her special room at the mansion. The four-poster bed, comfortable mattress. And miracle of miracles, she smelled coffee and pastries, as always.
She rolled over and opened her eyes, feeling around for her phone on the night table. Grabbing it up, she muttered to herself as she checked for any more texts from Gavin.
She decided it was time to text him back.
“I feel exactly the same. I’m at Rosemary’s. You have the key. Come find me. I can’t unlock it. My relatives are psycho.”
About two tenths of a second after she hit “send,” there was the sound of an alert.
Wait a second.
Her heart leaped into her throat and she sat straight up in bed, wide awake.
She looked across the room. He was there. Sitting at the foot of her bed. The brown-eyed, long-haired god whom she’d evidently slept with last night — this morning — had been watching her sleep. And by god, yes, he did have a beard.
“It’s you!”
He smiled. Oh, sweet Moses, that was a smile. He was a hulking man whose arm muscles were busting out of his burn-out T-shirt, with the best-looking grin she’d ever seen. It was the only face she ever wanted to wake up to again.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Gavin.”
Chapter 10
Gavin
It wasn’t the best opening line. Or, more accurately, re-opening line. They had already done the deed, after all, and were well acquainted with each other, even if each of their memories weren’t totally clear.
But she must have been OK with that, because the next second she was climbing on top of him and kissing his mouth like they were long-lost lovers newly reunited.
Which, he guessed, they technically were.
Gavin closed his eyes as she kissed him, and everything came flooding back.
Gavin had helped her down from the bar where she’d been dancing, when Bobby was angrily yelling at her to get down.
She said something like, “Hey handsome, I’m gonna be straight with you. I’m a virgin and I don’t wanna be a virgin anymore. You in or you out?”
He stammered, “Uh… yep! Same!”
She laughed and looked him up and down. “Nice try, beefcake. But you get points for trying to make me feel better. Listen, if I don’t escape my cousins now, I will turn into a pumpkin at midnight and my uncle will lock me up tight as a drum after that.”
In minutes they had been up the street and he was showing her the inside of his tattoo parlor. Manny was closing up and looked surly as usual. He did not seem impressed by Chastity, nor by Gavin, come to think of it. Eventually Manny disappeared into the back room, presumably to take care of some last-minute chores and to clock out before hitting the alley where his car was parked. Gavin and Chastity sat in the parlor and talked for a good long while. She had thanked him for springing her from the watchful eyes of her cousins. They talked about careers and about how she had none. She wanted to be an illustrator, but her daddy wanted to send her to an all-girl Bible college to keep her on the “straight and narrow.” She showed him her blog, where she’d posted incredible works of art in charcoal, pencil, acrylics, all forms of media. She told him her life story as a sheltered Southern debutante; he told her his story about growing up being homeschooled by Ash’s mother Charlene, from middle school until the age of 17.
Eventually, they had come around to the subject of their supernatural conditions. As they were both drunk, they had no inhibitions about it. He remembered both of them being so excited to learn this about each other—that she was a shapeshifting wildcat and he was a shapeshifting wolf—and then they had kissed for the first time. It had been instant fireworks. And they both knew it. And then, they had decided to get matching tattoos. How he had managed to do one on his own hip, he’d never know. At that point, Manny had popped his head out of the backroom and said something, but Gavin didn’t remember what it was. He did have other pressing
issues, such as pressing his lips against Chastity’s.
After the tattoos were finished, they’d gone up the street and he showed her the inside of his shabby walk-up apartment above the Pho Palace.
If Gavin had been thinking ahead, he would have ordered some takeout from that place as a precaution. Best hangover cure in the world was an extra-hot bowl of pho.
He remembered taking off his shirt and boots on the way up the stairs to his apartment, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why his drunk ass did a lot of things.
And after that, it was a blur of lips, and damp, sweaty skin. Breasts. The smell of her hair. Thrusting in and out. His hands climbing up her legs and taking hold of her ass, careful not to rub the bandage off her tattoo. And then, the shift. Both of them had shifted. He to his wolf. Her to her cat…a wildcat, to be specific.
Gavin came crashing back to reality. He was here, with her, in broad daylight, in this beautiful room. His head was clear, and she was still into him. And judging by her response to his last text, she was into him just as much as he was into her.
Now it was time to get way into her. Again.
But first, she needed to eat something. “You must be starving. Eat.” He gestured to the night table.
Her eyes went wide. “That was from you? You’re amazing and also psychic!”
He smiled. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because I got home so late that Lety didn’t bring me breakfast. She always brings me coffee and beignets at 7 a.m. She’s been doing it since I was a child, every time I would come to visit. But this time I missed it. But I didn’t truly miss it because you brought it to me!”
Gavin shushed her and urged her to eat. Inside, he was elated. His instincts on how to take care of his girl had been correct. He was all ready to wait for her to drink her coffee and eat her breakfast, but Chastity only wanted one thing.