Protecting Their Home (To Love And Defend Book 4)

by Daniella Starre

“Just think. Two more wedding cakes. Two more sets of wedding gifts. It’ll be great.”

  He gaped at her, jaw dropped. “Are you insane?”

  She giggled and then sighed. “I was trying to get you to smile.”

  Grayson rolled his eyes and forced a smile.

  “Ugh. Try again. You’re just parting your lips. Not like that! You’ll frighten everyone away. Don’t bare your teeth. See? Like this?” She smiled winningly.

  Grayson hadn’t tried the first time, but he had the second and third, and now, he burst out laughing.

  “There. See? You can smile.” Olivia reached over and patted his hand.

  He hadn’t realized when he had placed them on the table again. Her hand was warm, her skin soft and soothing.

  Maybe it was because a woman hadn’t touched him like this or looked at him like that in so long, but his cock was stirring. The reaction started him, and immediately, he felt so ashamed that he lost his erection as quickly as it had grown.

  She withdrew her hand and dropped her gaze to the table. “Ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”

  Grayson just sat there, confused, embarrassed, shocked. Yes, Olivia was beautiful. That she was willing to do this for the sake of his pack, for the sake of his city, astonished him. She was a werewolf of high character. Why wasn’t she already married?

  Olivia cleared her throat. “I’m so glad you asked!” she gushed, giving him a sarcastic smirk. “I’m a fashion designer. Life in Toledo was getting to me a little. It wasn’t so much Toledo as the werewolves. The guys. The pack is fine there. I have some great friends in it, but… Maybe I’m not meant to find love. Not everyone is, right? Some people are supposed to be single.” She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Or are meant to marry for the sake of peace instead of love. Am I right?”

  “You don’t have to tell me—”

  “I was kissed for the first time when I was seven. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen. I—”

  “Olivia!”

  “Yes?” she asked. She might’ve pulled of her innocent tone if she didn’t smirk like a she-devil.

  “You’re killing me. I really don’t need to know all of this.”

  “You do. You can’t just have any werewolf be your alpha female, right? You need to know who I am. Your werewolves will need to accept me. Otherwise, this will all be for naught. No one will believe that you aren’t still weak. If we can’t sell this as a loving, committed relationship, even though it won’t be one, than we may as well never married in the first place. No one will accept it, and it won’t serve as the deterrent it’s supposed to be.”

  “Fair enough,” he muttered. “But you sex life is none of my concern.”

  She lifted her eyebrows, clearly thinking about something, but didn’t give a response.

  “I met Patty randomly on the streets after not long after I graduated from college. I have a Masters in business. I have a car company. It’s fully staffed by werewolves and werewolves only. Immediately, there was a spark, but I ignored it. She pursued me, not the other way around. I can’t tell you the number of times she asked me out, and I told her no.”

  “Why didn’t you say yes from the start?”

  Good question. If only he had. Then, he would’ve had a lot more time with his Patty before she had died.

  “I was struggling. Juggling starting my own business and becoming alpha. My father…. He… died from a freak car accident. He had been driving home from visiting my mom for a cancer treatment. Two weeks later, she died too.”

  “We really do need more werewolf scientists,” she murmured.

  “Who do you know who had cancer?”

  “One of my friends, her mom. Thankfully, she’s been in remission for years and years now, but not everyone is so lucky.”

  “Human, werewolf, doesn’t matter so long as a cure is found.” Grayson swallowed past a lump in his throat.

  She pushed his glass toward him.

  He grinned, lifted it in cheers, and drank some. Olivia did too.

  “After I said yes, it wasn’t only a month later that I proposed. We eloped and had a decade together.”

  “I’m glad you had that long,” she murmured.

  “I wish it had been longer.” He clenched his glass tightly between his hands, so tightly he feared it would break. Olivia wouldn’t want to hear that. He needed to remember who he was speaking with. She was just so damn easy to talk to. He hadn’t talked about Patty like this to anyone, not since before she had died.

  “So, you like women who don’t take no for an answer,” Olivia said lightly. “Noted. Tell me more about her. Was she the most beautiful werewolf you ever saw?”

  He hesitated. “Of course she was. She was driven, successful, a pioneer. She started a clinic for the homeless. I hadn’t been easy for her because she was a werewolf and most of the homeless were humans.”

  Olivia lifted her eyebrows in dismay. “Only most?” she croaked.

  He grimaced. “All of them,” he admitted. “I never would allow one of my werewolves to be homeless. What kind of an alpha do you take me for?”

  “I was going to say,” she murmured, “that I didn’t think you would.”

  He smiled, remembering how grim and determined Patty had been to make her clinic work. “She definitely didn’t take failure lightly. Patty ended up having to hire an entire human staff in order to get the homeless people to trust her. That she was able to run that clinic as well as she did was nothing short of amazing.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  “She was. She really, really was.”

  Olivia grimaced and threw up her hands. “I can’t compete with that. When I tell you what I do, you’ll roll your eyes.”

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head and slumped her shoulders. He hated to see her so dejected.

  “You aren’t happy with your job?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not that. I love it. I want to branch out and try something new, yes, but… When you compared running a clinic for homeless people versus a fashion blogger… There’s no comparison.”

  “People do need clothes. Werewolves more than most,” he deadpanned.

  That smile returned. “Do you always know what to say?”

  “Not even close. Not even a little bit.”

  “Hmm.”

  “How do you want to branch out?”

  “Oh, well, I actually haven’t ever told anyone about this, not even my friends, but I would love to start my own clothing line.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “Not enough money.” She bit her lower lip. “Being a blogger, I definitely could’ve gotten a second job. I could’ve found ways to make the start-up money. Instead, I have too much of a social life, either with friends or going out on dates with werewolf after werewolf.”

  “A social butterfly, huh?”

  “I prefer that to werewolf whore,” she muttered.

  He frowned, shocked. “Has someone called you that?”

  “No, but given how those guys—”

  “Just because some assholes can’t think with the head above their neck doesn’t make you a whore. You look amazing in that dress, but it’s not overly sexy. Even if it was, a guy should be able to control himself. Frankly, it’s frustrating as hell that some guys will be so disrespectful. Gives the rest of us a bad look.” He hesitated. “Have others made remarks or…”

  “Catcalls, comments when I’m walking down the street? Yes. A few ‘accidental bumps’? Gotten those too. A few guys haven’t gotten handsy during dates and I make them back off. I won’t tolerate anyone touching me if I don’t want to be touched.”

  “A fighter, huh?”

  “A regular warrior with a sewing needle,” she joked. She covered her mouth and yawned.

  “Getting tired?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I—”

  Her phone vibrated.

  She half-stood to remove it from her
phone, glanced at it, and frowned.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “Not really. Alexis had to leave.”

  Grayson rolled his eyes. “Your friend is a little obvious.”

  “Ya think?” Olivia asked with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I took a cab from your place to get to my apartment earlier. I can take another one now.”

  “Or you can sleep here,” Grayson offered before he even realized what he was saying. “I have a guest room. Rooms, actually.”

  Olivia blinked a few times, considered, and after a slight hesitation, nodded. “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

  Grayson made no move to stand up, but then again, neither did Olivia. Although the hour was late, and they were both tired, they spoke for another hour before Grayson brought her to one of the guests rooms. Saying goodnight was a little awkward, and he walked away swiftly. Why did he feel like he was a dog with his tail between his legs? This entire situation was beyond ridiculous. How could a marriage protect his home? Edward had to be wrong. There must be another way.

  But if he had to marry again, he might as well marry someone he could be friends with, and Olivia seemed to fit that bill at least.

  Chapter 8

  Olivia woke up the next morning, stretched, and yawned. How absurd. She was still tied even though she had slept… oh. Only five hours. Why had she woke up at six?

  The scent of sizzling bacon and eggs stirred her from the bed. She hadn’t clothes to change into, so she had slept in the nude. Now, she put her dress back on and followed her nose to the kitchen where Grayson was standing barefoot at the stove, cooking without a shirt on.

  For some stupid reason, she felt embarrassed, so she started to go.

  “I wasn’t sure what time you would be up,” Grayson said.

  “I’m not normally up this early.” She yawned.

  “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  “No.” She flushed. Usually, when a guy said something like that, the reason behind the lack of sleep as due to an activity that didn’t resemble talking unless moans and groans counted.

  Olivia sat down at the table to watch him cook.

  “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she confessed after a moment.

  “Why not?”

  “Ever since I moved to Detroit.”

  “Ah. The first incident was your first night, right?”

  “Hell of a welcome to the city,” she said dryly.

  “Detroit is an amazing city,” he protested.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “I can show you.”

  “You could, but maybe that would be better served after instead of before.”

  “You may be right.” Grayson continued to man the burners. “How do you like your bacon?”

  “Extra crispy.”

  “That’s my… That’s how I prefer them too.”

  “Great minds,” she murmured.

  She slid out of the chair, crossed over to the fridge, and removed a carton of orange juice. He directed her to the cups. She secured two and poured them both healthy amounts.

  As she was putting the orange juice away, she realized she hadn’t asked if he wanted some.

  “Um, hope you wanted oj,” she said.

  “I do. Don’t worry.”

  “Good.”

  They ate and talked some more, and Olivia opened up that she had been having nightmares about the assholes.

  “Sometimes, I kill them all, and I wouldn’t call those nightmares, but some of the others…”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, confused. Why was he apologizing?

  She picked another one, make that two slices of bacon from the stack piled on a plate in the middle of the table

  “I only just found out about them shortly before you came over to tell me. I… Edward was right. I’ve been distracted. I can’t seem to… I just… Right now isn’t a good time for me.”

  “Then again, is any time good for this kind of thing?” she countered.

  “Nope. You know… we could go out for the day. Get to know each other. Have you been to Detroit much?”

  “Just to visit Alexis. Been to a few clubs and bars but that’s it.”

  “That has to change,” he said firmly.

  She grinned and giggled. “Does it now?”

  “It does. If you’re going to do this, Detroit will be your home. Let’s see… I know exactly where we’ll go.”

  “Should I be scared?” she sked asked.

  “Not at all. Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Trust me. There’s a lot more to Detroit than just cars. Let me show you.”

  <<<>>>

  Grayson hadn’t acted the part of a tour guide in a long time, and he had forgotten how much he loved it. Olivia loved everything about the Detroit Institute of Arts. She didn’t rush through but took her time, examining each piece and asking his thoughts about them. She also was watching the people and would walk up to random people to tell them she loved their outfits. It amused Grayson to see her so at home already. People gravitated to her, complimenting her back, and it was easy to see why. She was a happy, beautiful woman. She made others feel good about themselves.

  Which made it all the more terrible that those fiends had assaulted and threatened her more than once. This would not, could not be tolerated. He would handle this however he had to. First, though, he wanted to make sure that Olivia truly wanted to be here. She hadn’t even had a chance to see the city yet. He did not want her to feel like she was trapped and stuck, forced to live here just for the sake of the pack. Her ties to Toledo didn’t seem to be that firm, but that didn’t mean that Detroit had to be her hometown.

  Afterward, they went to the Motown Museum. Again, Olivia had a blast. She would bounce around, dancing to the music, singing. She ever got a group of people to join in. She’d tried to get Grayson to sing too, but he protested.

  “I’m tone deaf.”

  “No one’s tone deaf,” she claimed. “You just need to practice. Come on. Try. For me?”

  Against his better judgement, he did try. Olivia did her best to maintain her smile, and she thanked him for singing, but he knew better. The group had moved on, but at least they hadn’t laughed like his friends had to tease him back in high school.

  “Practice won’t help me,” he told her.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure my first kisses weren’t the best. I like to think I’m a decent kisser now.” She rushed ahead to see the next exhibit.

  He trailed behind her. She loved that she seemed to embrace her sexuality, but where did that leave them? He wasn’t ready for that. Didn’t want that. It wasn’t until this moment that he was thinking about Patty. Until now, he had just been having fun. Now, the guilt was creeping back in. This was basically a date. He was dating the woman he was to marry. They wouldn’t have a real marriage, though. It wasn’t fair to trap Olivia like this. She deserved a man who could give her everything she wanted and satisfy her. He might be able to give her a lot of things, but he wouldn’t satisfy her sexually. He just couldn’t.

  Once they left, Grayson checked his watch. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. We can make it to The Whitney for their weekend brunch menu. You’ll love it.”

  The Whitney was probably the most popular restaurant to eat at, but Grayson was good friends with the management, and he was always given a table.

  “Would you like a mimosa or orange juice?” their waiter asked.

  “The mimosa here is amazing,” Grayson said.

  “Sounds good to me,” Olivia said. After the waiter walked away, she said, “I have no idea what to get. Everything sounds delicious.”

  “Everything is.”

  “I’m torn between the crab and tomato bisque and the strawberries in double cream.”

  “Get the strawberries. I always get the bisque. You can have som
e of mine.”

  “For the entrée, I really don’t know.” Olivia bit her lower lip.

  “Since we had eggs this morning, I’m going to get the French Toast Inspiration.”

  “You already had bacon.”

  “So? You can’t ever have too much bacon, and this is Applewood bacon.”

  “Oh, yes, that makes all the difference,” she teased. “You’re big into breakfast food.”

  “I am. My mom used to make pancakes, waffles, French toast, and omelets in that rotation every day.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Yes, but she never made us bacon. That was terrible.”

  “Ah, so you’re making up for lost time.”

  “Lost bacon,” he corrected, and they both laughed.

  He had his French toast, while she had the Lake Superior whitefish saute. When it came to ordering from the “just desserts” menu, Olivia looked like a kid in a toy store. They shared the white chocolate strawberry torte and flourless chocolate ugli cake.

  “Such a wonderful meal,” she said as they waited for the bill.

  “You can never go wrong here.”

  “Here…” She reached for her wallet.

  “My treat.”

  “But—”

  “You’re to be my future wife, right?”

  “Yes, but not exactly,” she murmured, a beautiful flush coloring her cheeks.

  “I can treat you now and again.”

  “Thank you.”

  He paid and gave the waiter a generous tip.

  She groaned as they left The Whitney. “I’m so full.”

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “We can walk along the Riverfront. Help burn calories. Unless you want to go back home? I mean, to my place?”

  “I’m always up for a walk.”

  He drove over, found a place to park, and opened her car door for her. Together, they walked for close to three hours, taking in the sights, people watching, talking, getting to know each other. Eventually, they decided to head back to his place.

  As they walked back to his car, he said, “One time, we’ll have to go to Belle Isle.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “You’ll love it. There’s an aquarium, conservatory, a golf course… Do you like golf? A beach, a nature center, so much to do and see.”