"I hear that more and more prides are goin' that direction," commented Justin, taking a pull from his bottle of beer. "It makes me happy to hear that our kind finally appears to be emergin' from the feudal era."
Daniel continued, "Things were okay for quite a few years. Stable. Then, a sabertooth shifter from California named Aaron Messerzahn and a few of his buddies rolled into Albuquerque about ten days ago. Rumor had it that they'd been kicked out of a pride in the San Diego area, and were looking for new territory. The members of the steering committee told everyone not to worry, that even if Messerzahn took over and established himself as Pride First, all it would mean was that our tithes would go to him and the new Pride Second, Third, and so forth. Lizbeth and other committee members were all unranked, so no one expected to have to fight a challenge duel or anything. They decided they weren't going to resist a takeover if that's what Messerzahn wanted. I'd just resigned from the committee because the restaurant had gotten way too busy after we got a bunch of publicity—" Daniel had to take a deep breath to calm himself. "It didn't matter. Messerzahn launched his takeover bid last Thursday. His guys showed up at the steering committee's homes in the middle of the night and just...murdered them. The only reason that Chris and I aren't dead right now is because our friend Lizbeth called me to warn me right as Messerzahn and his goons were kicking down her door. So, I was awake and ready—well, as ready as I could be—when the death squad showed up at my place."
He continued talking, telling Elle and Justin everything that had happened up to the point where they arrived on Margaret's doorstep.
Then he waited for Justin to condemn his cowardice in running away, instead of finding a way to fight and defeat Messerzahn, as Justin had defeated Katzenberg.
But Justin surprised him. "You did the right thing by making sure your nephew got to safety."
"But I should have found a way to save Lizbeth and the others!" Daniel protested. "You mentioned seeing replaying events in your head—well, that's all I can think about. I couldn't help them. I left them to die."
"They shot you. Twice," Margaret reminded him. "And broke your ribs. Were you in any shape to fight a duel against three heavily armed shifters after that?"
Daniel gritted his teeth, all-too-aware of Chris's wide-eyed stare. "I ran. I grabbed Junior here, and started heading for the one place no one would suspect a Langlais of going." He felt his face twisting in self-loathing.
"Hey there, hold on a sec," Justin said sharply. "When you're on a plane, what do the flight attendants tell you to do during every briefing?"
* * *
What the hell does flying have to do with anything? Daniel stared blankly at the other sabertooth shifter, trying to figure out Justin's point.
"Uh, put my seat in the upright position?" he guessed.
"Turn off your computer?" asked Chris, who'd been on a commercial flight exactly once in his life, when Daniel had taken him to Disneyland a couple of summers ago.
Margaret smiled and shook her head. "In an emergency, you're supposed to put your own oxygen mask on first, before you start helping others."
Daniel felt his face grow hot. Duh.
She patted his arm comfortingly. "The first time Justin asked me that question, I asked him what the heck stowing your tray table had to do with anything."
Chris snickered.
"All I'm tryin' to say here," Justin said, his tone patient, "Is that in a crisis, you gotta prioritize. Based on what you just told us, it seems to me that you had your priorities in the right order, Daniel: save yourself, save your nephew, and live to fight another day."
Daniel began to protest, but stopped when Justin raised his hand. "I'm not done. Do you want my advice?"
"Yeah. I'd appreciate your thoughts," Daniel replied.
"You're troubled by what happened—and believe me, I understand perfectly. So, use your time here on the ranch to figure out what you can, and more importantly, what you should do about the situation back home. Find a solution that you can live with."
Daniel gazed at the other man. There was pain in that weathered face, but it lay beneath a deep calm and peace. Justin had found a way to come to terms with his failure to protect his daughter.
Now, Daniel needed to do the same for himself. He just had no idea what he could do.
"So, Elle, knowing what you do about our relationship to Pete, are you okay with Chris and me staying here for a while longer?" Daniel asked Elle bluntly, and felt Margaret tense. He added, "I really appreciate all that Margaret's done for us, but now that I have a job, I could move if being here is going to cause problems with your family."
Chris frowned, like he always did whenever the topic of his father came up, but continued attacking the food on his plate. The mac-n-cheese had vanished, and so had most of the meat, leaving half of the coleslaw and a piece of cornbread.
Daniel found himself reaching for Margaret's hand, letting the tablecloth hide his gesture. "I'd hate to leave, but I know it isn't easy to forgive or forget the fact that my brother broke into Mark's house and attacked his mate."
Elle and Justin traded a long look, and Daniel saw the unspoken communication of a mated pair flash between them. Then Justin nodded.
Elle folded her hands and beamed at her sister and Justin. "But Daniel, you're not your brother, and his sins aren't yours. And I trust my sister's judgment. You're both welcome to stay here on the ranch as long as you like."
* * *
"So, tell me," whispered Elle with an impish smile. "How long have you two been sleeping together?"
"What?" Margaret glanced nervously at the door to the kitchen, mortified that Daniel or Justin might overhear.
Dinner had ended, and the two men were busy rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, if the sounds of running water and clinking plates were any indication.
Chris had been sent down to the basement to put the empty bottles and can in the recycling bin stored there. Once a month, Elle put the bin in the back of her truck and drove it to the nearest recycling center, which was located over an hour's drive away. Chris had also been instructed to dig out one of the quart containers of vanilla ice cream buried in the big freezers and bring it back upstairs with him.
The two sisters were pulling coffee cups and dessert plates out of the sideboard in preparation for enjoying the deep-dish apple pie that Justin and Elle had picked up at Annabeth's bakery on their way back to the ranch.
Elle rolled her eyes. "C'mon Maggie. I'd have to be blind not to notice the sparks flying between you and that gorgeous silver sabertooth. And I can smell him all over you, and you all over him."
"No secrets in a shifter family, huh?" Margaret realized that she was smiling.
"Nope, none," Elle agreed. "So, dish."
"I'm torn," Margaret confessed. "He's amazing, and um, a great kisser. But Mark and Caitlyn were really upset when they found out that Daniel is Pete's brother. And my girls aren't too happy about it, either."
Elle sighed and shook her head with a wry expression. "I remember how Mark almost had a coronary when he caught Justin and me kissing. He has a thing about sabertooth shifters. It's annoying but understandable, I suppose."
"I just don't want to make trouble," Margaret said. "Or more trouble, in any case."
Elle put down the stack of saucers she was holding, and folded her arms. "Mark's a big boy, and old enough to handle things he doesn't like," she said firmly. "If you and Daniel have something good going, don't worry about Mark's hurt feelings. He'll get over it."
Margaret known that she wouldn't be able to keep her fling with Daniel a secret from her sister, but Elle's reaction took her by surprise. She had fully expected Elle to lecture her about how inappropriate it was to get involved with Pete Langlais' brother. Instead, it sounded like her older sister was actually encouraging the relationship!
Was I hoping for an excuse to continue holding Daniel at arm's length? Why does the prospect of mating him sound so wonderful and so completely
terrifying, all at the same time?
"But—" Margaret began to protest.
"Maggie," Elle cut her off, sounding exasperated. "I've seen you living your life for your kids and our B&B business for years now. You came back to Bearpaw Ridge and helped me save this ranch when I thought I might lose it—your idea of using our spare rooms and houses as holiday rentals kept us afloat through the worst of it. And I know we all take you for granted a lot of the time, but you've more than earned the right to do whatever makes you happy. And Daniel makes you happy, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Margaret replied without thinking. It was true, but she reminded herself that she'd only known him since Friday. She added, "But this whole thing is moving so fast, and my bear keeps telling me that he's the one...I'm trying to act like a responsible grown-up, but I swear that he makes me feel like I'm sixteen again, with a huge crush on the most popular boy in school."
Elle stared at her in shock. "You mean your bear has picked Daniel as a possible mate?"
Margaret nodded. "And from what Daniel told me last night, it sounds like maybe his cat is inclining that way, too." She stared down at the pile of dessert forks on the table. "I'm not sure what to do, Elle."
"Oh, Maggie." Elle turned and gave her a hug. "It's scary, isn't it? After Ashton died...if it hadn't been for the boys, I'm not sure I would have been able to keep going. And when I met Justin and realized how badly he might hurt me if we got too involved...well, you were the one who told him not to let me push him away."
Margaret nodded. She'd seen how quickly Elle had fallen for Justin, and how devastated she had been when she thought he was leaving her. Her sister understood what Margaret was going through in a way that no one else could.
"I'm falling for Daniel, Elle," she said. "Fast. Scary fast. And right now, I just need some time to figure things out."
Chapter Twenty-Nine – Call of Duty
"Hey, chef! Someone here to see you!" Antonio, one of the line cooks, shouted.
With dinner service over, the kitchen staff had turned up the music in the Bearpaw Springs Resort kitchen. A boom box perched on one of the counters was blaring out Latin American pop hits while all of the stainless-steel counters were being wiped down and sanitized, the floors mopped, and all of the used utensils and kitchenware ran through the dishwasher.
Frowning, Daniel looked up from the stove top he was scrubbing. Executive chef or not, he always pitched in to help clean the kitchen after lunch and dinner services. It was good for staff morale, and it gave him the opportunity to make sure that the food preparation areas were spotless before the next meal service began.
It was after 9:00 p.m., and he wasn't expecting any visitors, especially not at his place of work. If someone had come by this late to talk to him, it probably wasn't good news.
"Don't worry, chef, I'll finish up here," Rafael, the sous-chef, volunteered cheerfully.
He was a clean-cut young Latino man, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties, with an easy smile and a collection of tattoos that rivaled Daniel's. He was also a jaguar shifter, and some sort of relative to Eddy Ornelas. The rest of the kitchen crew were all Ordinaries.
"Thanks, man, I owe you one," Daniel said gratefully.
He'd been on the job for two weeks now, and knew he was damned lucky to have inherited a first-class kitchen staff here at the Bearpaw Springs Resort. All of his guys, from Rafael down to Manuel the dishwasher, worked well together without any of the poisonous rivalries or grudges that Daniel had seen in other kitchens. Daniel's predecessor Tomás apparently knew how to find and hire good people.
Daniel tossed Rafael the scrubbing sponge he'd been using, rinsed his hands, and went out into the dining room to greet his unexpected guest.
The bottom dropped out of his stomach when he saw Mark Swanson standing in the middle of the deserted, darkened dining room with his arms crossed, looking grim as usual.
Shit. Did something bad happen?
"Mark," Daniel asked urgently as he strode over. "Is everything all right at the ranch? Is Chris okay? Margaret?"
Along with the other kids from the ranch, Chris had been taking the school bus to Bearpaw Ridge Elementary, located in town. Every morning, Ash and Steffi, who both worked from their home offices on the ranch, shuttled the kids down to the bus stop located on the side of the highway just past the ranch's gates, then picked everyone up again in the afternoons. Then the kids would either spend the remainder of the afternoon at the big yellow Victorian ranch house, where Elle provided snacks and supervised homework, or at Margaret's house, where they were greeted with warm, freshly-baked cookies and cold milk before they settled down to work on their assignments.
Mark blinked, apparently surprised by Daniel's question. "Yes, he's fine. Everyone's fine."
His greatest fear allayed, Daniel relaxed.
"Well, that's a relief," he said. If no one is hurt and the ranch hasn't burned down, then what the hell is he doing here? As politely as he could, he asked, "What can I do for you, Mark?"
"It's about Aunt Margaret," Mark said, his expression grim.
"I thought you said that she was okay."
His nightmares had abated since he'd started sharing Margaret's bed. There was something deeply soothing about falling asleep with an armful of cuddly, sweetly-scented woman that kept most of his usual nighttime horrors at bay...except for the recurring dream where Aaron Messerzahn and his men showed up at the ranch while Daniel was at work, and hurt Margaret and Chris.
Mark gave Daniel a slow, insulting assessment, starting with his work clogs, traveling up his checked pants and stained chef's whites, to the colorful bandanna wrapped around his head that kept the sweat from running into his eyes when the kitchen temperatures rivaled Death Valley in summer. "I'm worried about her, and I'm not the only one."
"Yeah?" Daniel crossed his arms. He could see where this conversation was heading, and it was pissing him off.
"Just how long were you planning on staying at the ranch? Or have you moved in permanently?" Mark demanded.
None of your fucking business, son. With a superhuman effort, Daniel bit back his retort.
By now, he'd learned enough about bear shifter hierarchy to ask, "Shouldn't I be having this conversation with Elle? Or Dane?"
Mark's scowl deepened. "My brother is away doing the autumn cattle drive in the high country, so I'm in charge of clan security right now."
Crap. "I see. And have I done something to make you think I'm a threat to your family?" Daniel fought to keep his tone neutral.
"I'm concerned about your intentions towards Aunt Margaret," Mark said, his hazel eyes boring into Daniel's.
Daniel held his gaze, refusing to look away. He said nothing. In his experience, when people barged in to offer their advice or opinions on shit that was none of their business, it was better just to let them say their piece, then ignore them.
Mark waited a beat, and when Daniel refused to take the bait, he bulled on grimly. "Everyone at the ranch knows that there's something going on between the two of you. I just want to make sure that you're not taking advantage of her."
Pretend that he's a line cook who's gotten too big for his britches, and not the bear shifter who shredded Pete in under thirty seconds.
Daniel raised his brows at the younger man.
"You do know that I'm paying rent to Margaret for her two upstairs rooms, right?" he asked in the same patient tone he used on Chris when his nephew had done something particularly boneheaded.
Apparently, Mark hadn't known that. Daniel saw the younger shifter's righteous indignation deflate a little.
He sighed and folded his arms, refusing to back down from Mark's intimidating glower. "So, I'd say it's up to her to decide how long Chris and I get to stay at her house."
He was annoyed enough by this attempt at intimidation that he decided not to tell Mark that he'd started looking at houses and properties for sale near the Swanson ranch, trying to find a place to call his own while still located close enoug
h to see Margaret every day.
Despite the dire circumstances that had driven him here, these past two weeks had been some of the best of Daniel's life. Chris seemed very happy with his new home and his new friends, Daniel liked his new job, and he loved coming home to the Grizzly Creek Ranch—and Margaret—every night. She still hadn't agreed to mate him, but other than that, being with her was a slice of heaven.
He had returned to her house late after his first day on the job...to find a Post-It note for him stuck to the front door.
D—Don't know if you've had dinner, but I put a plate in the fridge for you. Come up to bed whenever you're ready. XXOO, M.
He had stood and stared at that note for a long time, his emotions in turmoil. He wasn't used to having anyone try and take care of him. Taking care of the people in his life had been his job since his dad had died.
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