The Cougar's Trade

by Holley Trent

  “I need you to help me,” Marta said without preface.

  “I’ll try if I can.” Miles settled onto a bench in front of the clinic and bent to scratch behind the ears of the stray cat rubbing up against her leg. Belle had said she should get used to that. If cats didn’t hiss and run away from Cougars—or people bearing their scents—they tried to cover those scents with their own. They’d fail, of course, but Miles couldn’t help but grin at the fact that she obviously had picked up the patented Foye scent. Perhaps that had been why Katrine’s nostrils had flared and her eyes had crossed when Miles had stepped into the vet’s office.

  “Prove to me you’re you first. I’ve never talked to you before,” Marta said.

  “Um…well, let’s see.”

  “Tell her you’ll welcome her burdens if she is brave enough to give them to you.”

  Miles thought it was an oddly formal thing to say, but she relayed it to Marta with slight paraphrasing.

  Marta sniffled on her end. “I need you to get my little boy, Travis.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” That worked?

  “Of course it did. Not everyone has forgotten the old ways. Those who are most steadfast in keeping the faith may be the least powerful among you.”

  Miles let out a slow breath and raked her hand through her hair. “Thanks for telling me in advance,” she muttered.

  “My little boy. His father had him for a while, but his father got killed overseas.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Can you get him? I don’t want to tell the social workers. I want to keep this just between us. No one’s tracking him. He’s not old enough for school yet.”

  “Where is he?”

  “You’ll get him?”

  “As soon as I possibly can, depending on where he is.”

  “His grandma can’t keep up with him. She’s bed-bound.”

  “Is she a Cougar, too?”

  “No, she doesn’t know anything about us. He was my mate, Miss Miles.”

  Miles ground the meat of her palm against her eyes and let out another breath. That meant the kid would shift after puberty. From what she’d gleaned from Ellery and Mason, a person could have a Cougar parent, but unless their parents were true mates, they wouldn’t be a shifter. “Was he Jamie’s father, too?” Jamie maybe had a couple of years to go before they needed to worry about her shifting, but none of the Foyes had been able to say for sure if she would.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is Travis?”

  “He’s in Texas. Just tell him Momma sent for him, and he’ll go.”

  “I can’t just take him from an old lady without a little more proof than that.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll call her. I told her I’d find someone. She’s waiting.”

  Miles rooted through her purse and found a pen. She depressed the plunger and turned over the scrap of paper the social worker had given her. “Tell me where to go. I’ll go before the Cougar gathering this weekend.” Assuming she could slip away from Hank. He would just have to get used to it. She had a job to do.

  Miles continued next to the diner, which she found patronized by a familiar collection of Cougars and a few mundanes whom she didn’t know well enough to assume were in on the secret.

  Tito swept her off her feet and gave her a crushing hug. “Hi, Miss Miles. I see our second-in-command hasn’t worried you into a premature grave just yet.”

  She tried to laugh but couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs.

  He set her down and rustled her hair, wearing the biggest grin she’d ever seen on a part-time cat.

  Odd. The only other male Cougar she’d seen with that much flexibility in his face was Darnell, and most of Darnell’s more notable expressions could be blamed on hangovers.

  “Don’t talk smack about my mate. I might take it personally.”

  “Hey, it’s good that you stand up for your man.”

  “If I don’t, who will?”

  “Not me,” Belle quipped with a wink on her way past with the coffeepot.

  Somehow, Miles doubted that. Belle was a Foye, and Cougars put the needs of their families over those of the glaring. She might have sighed while doing it, but if she really thought her brother was in the right, she’d probably speak up.

  “I just came by to see who’ll be showing up this weekend,” Miles said. “Ellery was having a hard time gathering a head count, and we needed to know if there’s going to be enough space for some…extras.”

  Some witches. Their coven gathering would overlap with the Cougar one. She wouldn’t dare say that out loud with so many open ears around.

  “Want me to put out an APB?” Tito asked. “Or I could have my ma do it. She has a mouth like a bullhorn.”

  “She’s just efficient in communicating is all.”

  Tito gave her a knowing nod and patted his belly. “Uh-huh. And I’m just efficient in eating.”

  She sighed. “Oh Tito. If you see anyone, just have them call Woodworks. I don’t want anyone saying they weren’t invited. There’s no excuse for folks not to know what’s going on.”

  “Hank know you’re here?”

  She shrugged. “Hank’ll get over it if he doesn’t.”

  “Heh-heh. Spoken like a true Segundita.”

  “You just made that up. There’s no such title.”

  “Come on, I’m not stupid. The saying is behind every great man is a great woman, but I think the truth is more like behind every cabrón who can’t get his shit together is a woman who makes everyone think he can.”

  She chuckled. “You can’t compliment me at Hank’s expense, Tito. Anything he’s gotten done, he’s done on his own. I imagine he’s half as efficient with me as a mate. I’m just a happy tagalong.”

  Belle gave a dismissive flick of her hand and rolled her eyes. “Right, and so is Ellery, whom half the shifters in town are afraid of.”

  “Well, she’s a witch.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not why they’re afraid of her. She’s got balls as big as Mason’s.” Belle shuddered. “Figuratively speaking.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t claim the same.”

  “No, but people do respect you, and on your own, apart from Hank.”

  “I would hope they would respect him, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he deserves it. I think he’s given up a lot to make other people happy.” Giving up music couldn’t have been voluntary. There was no way a man with his persistence wouldn’t have it in his adult life if something hadn’t gone down.

  Belle leaned in and whispered, “He has, but is he making you happy?”

  “He’s trying. That counts for something.”

  “You’re so stinkin’ optimistic that you make my teeth hurt. Just be careful.”

  “You don’t trust your own brother to figure things out?”

  “Sean isn’t doing so well, right?” Belle squeezed Miles’s hands. “Look, Hank’s very intelligent, so I know he will figure it out. I just don’t want him to freeze your heart and break it before he does. The glaring needs you. I’d hate for him to be the reason you withdraw.”

  “I’m his mate.”

  “I wish that meant more nowadays.”

  Belle pulled away, leaving Miles a bit off-kilter, as Tiny emerged from the men’s room straightening his big belt buckle.

  “Hey, hey!” he said, spotting Miles. “The princess is here.”

  She laughed off her building nerves and shook her head. “Princess? That’s a new one.”

  “That’s what Hank calls you.”

  “Does he? That’s news to me.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t be sure if it was meant in flattering terms. After their night together, she might have thought it was a compliment, but with what Belle had said, she couldn’t be sure. Hank was nothing if not inscrutable.

  “Segundita wanted to make sure everyone knew about the meeting,” Tito said.

  “Can I bring anything?” Tiny asked. “Glenda
usually has a couple of sides of beef for us, but I might be able to get my hands on a pig.”

  Tito pushed up a bushy eyebrow. “A whole pig?”

  “Yup. Big one, too. Perk of working for a meat packer. Sometimes our bonuses have hooves and freezer burn.”

  Miles gave her chin a contemplative rub. “We could barbecue it. Carolina-style. Someone would have to set up a pit.”

  “If it has to do with food, Sean will figure it out.” Belle thrust the diner’s cordless phone toward Miles. “Speaking of brothers of mine, one of them wants to talk to you,” she said flatly.

  “No need bothering to ask which one, I guess.”

  “Yeah, don’t bother.”

  Miles climbed up onto a stool and took the phone. “What’d you do, stick a homing device on me?”

  Hank chuckled on his end over the sound of whirring machinery. He had to have been in the woodshop. Damn, how she loved hearing him laugh.

  “Would you mind so much if I did? It would take my stress level down a few pegs, that’s for sure.”

  “You seem to have no problem finding me.”

  “Nah, I just tried the most likely places first. You didn’t answer your cell.”

  “Didn’t ring.” She pulled it out of her purse, and the moment she held it up, the missed call notification popped onto the screen. She cringed. “I guess I need to change service providers. I must be walking in and out of non-service areas.”

  “We can stick you on the Foye family plan. You should be fine, assuming you don’t send more than ten thousand text messages in a month.”

  “Don’t worry, the only people I send text messages to are Ellery and Hannah.”

  “Hannah is why I called, Miles.”

  “No chance of you just wanting to hear my voice, huh?” The words sounded a little pitiful, but she couldn’t help wanting what she wanted. It amazed her that Mason could be so communicative regarding his affection toward Ellery, and Hank—having grown up in the same household—was so vastly different.

  He let out a long breath. “Miles…”

  “Never mind. What’s wrong with Hannah?”

  “It’s not urgent, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Maybe you and Ellery can talk her down from the ledge she’s on.”

  “Literal ledge?” Miles gripped the edge of the counter, preparing to stand.

  “No. Emotional, I guess. Obviously, Sean’s concerned. He’s going to run out of time, and she won’t even let him have a conversation with her.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “No rush, just think about it, okay? See if you can talk to her tonight. Mom managed to get her out of the house today, and she has her out doing ranch chores with Jamie.”

  “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

  “No hurry. I should be home when you get here, though.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  He chuckled again, and a hot surge rushed to her cheeks. That deep, dark sound always reminded her that of all the things he was, he was a man. A sexual creature who could curl her toes with a mere touch…and break her heart with just a word.

  “Why do you automatically assume something’s wrong?”

  “I’m not a worrier by nature, but I guess the tendency has been rubbing off on me lately.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  She sighed. “You’re mistaken.”

  “How so? I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. That’s why I’m going home to get some sleep before I accidentally lop off a finger on the jigsaw or something.”

  Miles cut her gaze left and right to check that no one was listening or watching. Even whispering, the Cougars in the vicinity could probably hear every word she said—and probably some of Hank’s, too—but she couldn’t keep holding her tongue. Not if they were going to get anywhere. Belle was right. He wasn’t psychic and he was never going to change his behavior just because she wanted him to. He needed to be told…just like he had to be told how to pleasure her.

  She cleared her throat and whispered, “If you think my concern for you ends at the point where you’re out of the range of my vision, you’re wrong.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “It’s not about have to. It’s about want to. That point seems to have been going over your head from the day you traded for me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Of course he didn’t. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let her gaze focus on the bin of utensils behind the counter. “Do you care about me?”

  “Yes. You shouldn’t have to ask.”

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t.”

  “Are you saying I’m not doing enough? I’m trying to take care of you the best way I can while giving you space, and you have no idea how hard that is.”

  “Which part, Hank?”

  “The space part. I’m biologically programmed not to let you out of my sight, especially not right now, but I have to do it.”

  “So, you grant me my freedom begrudgingly? Would you prefer to lock me up at your mother’s house again?”

  “No! Fuck. I’m not communicating this very well. When you come back, come—can you come find me? I’ll be at my house.”

  “Don’t wait up for me. If you need to sleep—”

  “I’ll be awake. Just come find me. Please?”

  Belle moved in front of her, eyebrows raised in question.

  Miles dropped her hand from her nose’s bridge and gave her head a small shake. “Do you want some lunch?” she asked Hank.

  “I could eat, I guess.”

  “See you in a bit.” She disconnected and handed the phone to Belle. Covering her face with her hands, she let out a quiet groan.

  “The hardest things bring the greatest rewards,” Lola said. The goddess’s fortune cookie admonition didn’t do much to squelch Miles’s anxiety.

  Dealing with the Cougars’ glaring issues were one thing. Given the nature of her profession, Miles had gotten used to occasional chaos and disorder. She rolled with it, surfed it the best she could, and usually came out unscathed on the other end. But…that was predictable unpredictability. There was nothing easy to guess about Hank. Apparently, she needed to be told what to do as much as he did.

  “What does he want to eat?” Belle thumped her order pad against her palm.

  “I have no idea.”

  She had no idea of much of anything, as far as he was concerned, and she didn’t like feeling so scared. She’d lost so much in her life already, and she didn’t want to lose the one chance she had at cracking him. Now was the time for them both to lay out their expectations, before they became too set in their ways. Before it was too late to shape what could be something wonderful.

  “I think you do,” Belle said, her gaze soft.

  “He’s not picky. I’m not even sure if he looks at what he’s eating.”

  “Maybe…give him something he can’t ignore?”

  Can’t ignore. Miles drummed her fingers on the countertop and nodded.

  Perhaps that advice would serve her in many parts of her life.

  “Give me the spiciest thing you’ve got on the menu. We’ll see how he likes that.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Through his living room window, Hank watched Miles make her way from Mom’s truck carrying a white plastic bag in one hand and a couple of empty laundry baskets in the other. He jogged around and opened the side door, relieving her of some of her load.

  “When I got ready to wash my clothes yesterday, I couldn’t find a basket,” she said before he could ask about them.

  He cringed and set the baskets on top of the counter. “Sorry. I usually just wad everything up and carry it straight to the washer.”

  But he also left his dirty clothes festering in the washer basin until he had a full load. There was probably a better way of going about domestic chores, and she certainly wouldn’t want to mingle her delicate things with his filthy laundry.

  “And that’s okay,” she said.
“I just need to be able to sort.”

  “I’m not so great with the household stuff. You’d think I would have paid a little more attention to how Mom did things.” He shrugged. “I guess I had my head in my ass.”

  “I’m sure you were busy with your activities.”

  “We all were. That’s no excuse, though.”

  “Isn’t it?” She canted her head to the side coyly. “According to your mother, it takes at least two hours of practice per night for a young man to become proficient enough in classical guitar to be asked to be a guest in the state philharmonic. Also according to your mother, she didn’t mind the chores because she wanted so badly for you to get off this ranch. And you wanted that, too, didn’t you?”

  Shit. He put his head back and swore at the ceiling. “I don’t know how that even came up in a conversation for you, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “I happened onto your music things when I was looking for snacks.”

  “And you decided to go snooping from there? I guess that’s turning into a habit for you.”

  She set the bag on the counter and pushed down the sides to reveal a couple of Styrofoam takeout containers. A few tendrils of red sauce spilled over the side of the square one. He drew in a long inhalation and let the aromatic notes register. Rich and spicy. Garlic. Onion. Peppers. So many fucking peppers.

  “Call it snooping, if you want. I was curious, so I asked some questions.”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “You wouldn’t have told me everything. You have a habit of omitting the parts of a story that would make you sound interesting, and you are, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe I was interesting once. I don’t see the point of rehashing it now.”

  She bobbed her eyebrows in that if you say so way the women in his life were so adept at, and looked away. Not from shyness this time, but…annoyance?

  He pressed his palms against his eyes and rubbed, the aggregative sleep deprivation from the past year rendering him practically numb. He was processing almost everything in his life on a slight delay and hadn’t even been paying attention.

  “I won’t keep you from your nap.”