There's Something About Werewolves: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 1

by Thalia Eames

  “No guns.” Garrett took another step forward. Something cold glinted in his eyes.

  “Jules, you don’t get all growly and snarly with weird-flickering eyes, do you?” Lennox kept Garrett and Ian in her sights.

  “Not since I cussed you out for taking my nacho bacon waffles off the menu.”

  Fair enough. Lennox nodded. “Then do me a favor. Take Nox to my place and stay there with him and Gran.” On second thought, in deference to the dangerous look on Garrett’s face, she added, “Leave the shotgun where it is.”

  Jules muttered a couple of choice expletives in response. If her friend and head cook hadn’t already dyed a blue streak into her hair, Lennox would swear she’d cursed it up. Satisfied Nox would be safe with Jules, Lennox spun him around. “Listen, go with my friend for now so I can straighten things out with Ian and your dad.”

  The boy hesitated, looking to his father. “Please,” Lennox said, gripping his shoulders tighter. “I promise you I’ll work things out for the better.”

  Nox smiled pure sunshine, kissed the tip of her nose, and trotted off to join Jules. Lennox waited until Jules’s truck pulled out onto the street and rolled by before she addressed the savages standing in the middle of her diner.

  She cleared her throat. “Listen up,” she said so everyone could hear. “You can all go back to minding your business.” A few folks grumbled, apparently enjoying the show. Ian’s crew stood at the ready. They’d fallen into place behind their leader. She’d always wondered about their allegiance to him, but LuPines was a small town and she figured their family histories bound them together. Now she had her doubts.

  “Ian’s crew too. Mind your business.”

  Faye spoke up. “Ian and Nox are our business.”

  Oh great. Our lady of contentiousness had joined in. This day had no intentions on relenting, did it? Lennox rubbed a hand over her face. She had a bad habit of doing that. She’d gotten it from Garrett. Good thing she’d also picked up the complementary habit of wearing smudge-proof mascara. Reformed tomboys didn’t keep their makeup on without a few tricks. Lennox had reinvented herself but she’d remained a tomboy deep down. Reflecting on her hard-won ladylike status calmed her a bit. When she spoke her voice held more menace than anger.

  “Don’t test me, Faye. I’ll snatch you bald and send you out to buy shampoo afterward.” Lennox aimed a Sith Lord glare the woman’s way. “Say you believe me.”

  The taller woman might as well have shouted hallelujah—she sure looked converted into a true believer. Faye looked at Ian. Their gazes held for a moment than Faye sidestepped behind him. Lennox sniffed. Faye better not have forgotten Lennox Averdeen kicked butt in high school. She’d been a track and field all-star, and she’d played the running back position on the boy’s football team. Hell, the varsity boy’s basketball coach had recruited her to play point guard but her dad made her choose one or the other. She’d picked football. Lennox didn’t mind getting physical. Folks didn’t flex on her without thinking on it real hard.

  “You.” Lennox pointed to Ian. “And you.” Her index finger landed on Garrett. “In my office. Now.”

  The moment she closed her office door Ian started in. “I know you don’t understand what’s going on but I had to step in.”

  “I accept,” Garrett cut him off.

  Ian nearly broke his neck in a double take. “Wha—?”

  Letting out a protracted sigh, Lennox flopped down in her chair and went for her mail. The “boys” needed a moment to calm down. Honestly, so did she. She grabbed the envelope on top of the pile, recognizing the logo immediately.

  With a flick of her letter opener, she sliced the short edge of the envelope and unfolded the contents. Milos Foods hadn’t given up on mass-producing her peach butter. They wanted to take it to market pretty badly. She scanned their latest offer. Yadda, yadda, amazing flavor, blah, blah, talk show circuit. Whoa. The number at the bottom of the page nearly made her eyes pop out. Scratch the “pretty bad”. The Milos folks had a serious hard-on for her recipe.

  No way would she sell. Not ever. But it felt good to have something she’d created in such high demand. She bopped in her chair and hummed, “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

  She almost forgot about the over abundance of machismo filling her office with testosterone and frustration. Not that either man would allow her to enjoy herself for too long.

  Garrett sidestepped Ian. Walking over to her desk, he laid both palms on the wooden surface and leaned in. He watched the glint of the letter opener as it slashed another envelope. “You’d agree Ian is a fair man?”

  Lennox flicked her gaze up at him and back to the mail. “Very,” she said dryly. “And a good one too.”

  She hoped her demeanor gave off a bored vibe. In actuality her insides were aflutter. Everything about Garrett screamed sex. The blaze in his eyes, the cool woodsy scent of his cologne, his take-charge energy, it all drove her into panting heat. Lennox crossed her legs and stared at his big hands. He had such elegant fingers. The kind that could delve deep into a woman’s core and pleasure her bud all at once. Her nipples hardened. To hide the proof she dropped the letter opener and belligerently crossed her arms over her chest.

  Had she gone nuts? This man betrayed her love. He’d chosen someone else and left her behind. Plus, she had to think of Nox’s wellbeing. If she’d truly been named his godmother, she took the job seriously. Her mother had abandoned her and Nox’s mother had died. Lennox wanted to be there for him and give them both something they’d never had; the bond between mother and child. She didn’t have time to imagine being burned to erotic ashes by Garrett. But it would be nice, real nice, if she did.

  Completely unaware of her leg-humping daydreams, Garrett continued. “Then I accept Ian’s directive.” He growled deep in his throat. “The one directive to do with my son, that is.”

  “Why?” Lennox collected herself enough to ask.

  Ian leaned against the desk, facing away from her. “I’d like to know why you’re giving in so easily as well.”

  Ian looked absolutely delicious too, with his ass plumped up on her desk and his folded arms showing off the muscles through his shoulders. If Garrett didn’t want the job, she didn’t mind if Ian ripped her skirt off and—

  Seriously? As soon as she got them out of her office she’d go online and order something battery operated to take the edge off. Maybe she should get some of that KY Intense stuff too.

  Garrett gave her a long look, like he could read her mind. He shook his head before going on. “We’re all members of a certain fraternity. Our fraternity has rules I can’t avoid. I’ll prove to Ian my son is being raised well and in a manner that denies no part of his heritage. After that I’ll put this town in my rearview.”

  “Settled,” Ian said. Both men stood and clasped forearms.

  Not hardly. Lennox huffed loud enough to share her pique. She needed more assurance than a handshake and polite words. “Settled my ass.”

  Ian inclined his head and moistened his lower lip. “I could do that. Just holler. Or maybe holler during.”

  Garrett dropped his grip on Ian’s forearm. “You’re determined to fuck with me, aren’t you?”

  With a wicked chuckle, Ian asked, “What’s it got to do with you, Wolfman?”

  Lennox wouldn’t mind an answer to that question. Garrett tended to be protective of her, even though she took good care of herself. In college he’d been allowed to make fun of her tomboy ways but if others teased her, they did so at the risk of becoming victims of Garrett’s notorious practical jokes. And his pranks were preferable to his fists.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Lennox said. “No more beast wars when Nox is around. Agreed?” They nodded and she remembered to breathe. “Good. Get out.”

  Ian laughed on the way to the door but Garrett watched her for a minute too long. Somethin
g feral danced in his eyes. She shuddered. Seemingly shaken by her reaction, Garrett pushed off her desk and followed Ian to the door.

  “Wait. How did you guys do that thing with your eyes? What was that?”

  “We’ll tell you one day,” Ian said, without turning around. Garrett gruffed in agreement. The door closed with a soft swish.

  One. Two. Three. Lennox bit down on her fist and let loose a silent scream. Two billionaire bad boys had just run amuck through her diner. Ian actually qualified as a multi-millionaire but semantics didn’t matter. She might die from the stress. She imagined her biography ending with “Horniness the silent killer”. How could two men piss her off so bad while turning her on so much?

  A knock sent her into a skirt-straightening fury while she shoved her sexual frustration into a mental desk drawer. “C’mon,” she squeaked.

  In walked Garrett. The heat in the room ratcheted up higher. Holy hell, this man. Somebody save her. Former feelings and current arousal were trying to knock her out.

  “Look, Elle, I know you don’t want me here but I’m stuck for a while.” He raked the sexy scruff on his chin. “I’m pissed off and I’m frustrated. I’m going to help out in the kitchen since you’re short with Jules gone.” He grinned in that crooked way of his. She slammed her knees together and tried not to wince.

  “Thank you for that, by the way. I couldn’t figure out how to get Nox out of here without fighting for it. I don’t want my son to see that side of me.”

  She chewed the inside of her lip to give herself a second. “You’re welcome, but I don’t think you cooking in my kitchen is a good idea.”

  “You don’t want me in your kitchen?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Elle—”

  “Stop calling me that. Lennox or Leni. Those are your options.”

  He rubbed a thumb over his lips and studied the ceiling. Garrett didn’t do the eye-rolling thing but she’d definitely annoyed him.

  “Lennox,” he said slowly, as though it took everything in him to remain civil. “I can’t go back to the movie set because I don’t want to be too far from Nox. You know cooking breakfast calms me down. And you also know how out of control I can get. I’m on the verge of loosing it. I need this.”

  So what if he did? Her life used to revolve around Garrett Anderson, or Anderson G. Westlake, or Captain Ass Jack, or whatever he called himself. It stopped here. She’d wanted certain things from him, his love being one of them. He hadn’t bothered to take care of her needs.

  “Too bad, Garrett. Stay out of my kitchen.” She dismissed him, returning her attention to the mail.

  She never saw it coming. He yanked her out of her chair and slammed her into his body. Heat flared up her entire front side.

  “Garrett.” She whispered his name in a combination of pant and plea.

  “Here’s the problem.” His arm locked around her waist. “I’m a Molotov cocktail of emotions right now, Elle. And you’re more beautiful than I remember, and you smell so ridiculously good.” The tip of his nose grazed her neck. She shuddered in response.

  He hugged her tighter. The hard length of his arousal pressed into her belly and her body pulsed. She bit her lip to keep a rising moan from betraying her feelings. “Dammit, Elle, I care for you. And it’s been too long since I…”

  He stroked her hip. It felt so good, so right. If he didn’t stop, she wouldn’t survive. Clearly they’d both taken celibacy beyond the limits of their self-control. It’d be so easy to take comfort in each other, to satisfy each other’s needs, and pretend the inevitable fallout didn’t matter.

  Garrett buried his face in her neck. As his words whispered across her earlobe, the sensation raised goose bumps along her skin. “I don’t know whether to curl up in this chair and hold you.” He slapped the headrest, sending her chair spinning. “Or bend you over this desk and,” he paused, rocking his body into hers, “do other things…”

  Lennox whimpered. Yes, please do what you said. Please, Garrett. Those words didn’t get past her lips.

  “So,” Garrett said, “it’s best if I walk out of this office, get in your kitchen, and cook as many pancakes and omelets as your costumers want to eat. Don’t you think?”

  The breath caught in her throat. “Go, Garrett. Cook wherever you want. Just leave, okay? Leave.”

  The door closed seconds later. Lennox collapsed onto the floor. She pressed her forehead to the edge of her desk, trying to quiet the uproar in her mind. Every moment she spent with Garrett made things worse. She could handle her one-way lust for him. She’d gotten used to being the second lead in the romantic comedy of life. The one who got left with unrequited love. But knowing Garrett wanted her too brought her dreams back to life. If he lusted after her, then he might learn to love her. Attraction was where it started, right?

  Sure, nut bucket, a perfectly reasonable conclusion if you’re into self-flagellation. If she allowed herself to believe she had any chance with him, he’d destroy her again. And this time she doubted she’d get back up after the fall.

  Chapter Four

  There had to be a name for threatening a woman with sex in order to get into her kitchen. Something other than ass backwards, preferably without a five- to ten-year prison sentence attached. Garrett doubted it though. No such lunacy existed outside of his special brand of crazy.

  He leaned against the corkboard in the small hallway outside Lennox’s office, and tapped a rhythm on the wall with the flats of his fists. Similar to the adage about chewing gum, Garrett couldn’t walk and berate himself at the same time. Muttering, “Idiot,” under his breath until the colossally stupid side of him got the message, took concentrated effort.

  A pair of teenage girls strutted past him, doing pouty imitations of seductive. Garrett scrubbed a hand over his chin. He’d been the lady’s love kind of guy his entire life. As a youngster he’d taken advantage. As a married man he’d been amused. As a widower who’d just gotten turned on for the first time in a decade—and who felt guilty as hell about it—the attention annoyed him. He mock-growled at the girls. They squeaked, giggling as they ran for the safety of the ladies’ room.

  He felt better. Time for a dose of truth, he hadn’t been trying to get into Lennox’s kitchen. He’d been trying to stay out from under her skirt.

  When did his tomboy start wearing high-heeled Mary Janes and ’50s-style outfits with flared skirts that showed off killer calves and an amazing ass? Garrett refused to think about how magnificent she’d been when she’d decided to protect Nox. He adored her more for that. She’d taken control and gotten his son away from the company of wolves without being asked. And she’d looked hella sexy doing it. He almost went back into her office. Instead he grabbed his own collar and yanked himself toward the kitchen.

  All his life he’d had a mantra and he lived by it: You’re born once, die once, and marry once—because you love only once. In his heart and mind he’d always be married. There’d be no other loves. Wolves mated for life. No matter how tempting, he couldn’t give Lennox the life she deserved.

  Garrett pushed through the swinging stainless steel door. Not more than five inches inside the kitchen, the fry cook flattened his toes on a mad dash for a smoking appliance.

  “Mi scusi,” the kid said in Italian. “Your toes are okay?” He flipped open the commercial waffle iron. A blackened mess greeted him.

  “My toes’ll live,” Garrett said, covering his nose. Burnt waffles weren’t the most appetizing smell. “You look like you need a hand.”

  “The black steam is no good, hey?” The young fry cook shook his head.

  Searching the open shelving, Garrett found a stack of paper diner hats. He considered putting one on, thought about his image, and tossed the hats back were he’d found them. Without protest, the fry cook handed him an apron.

  “Smoke is never a good sign when it comes to breakfast,”
Garrett said, nodding his thanks. “You might want to check those eggs.”

  A laugh and a dive for the flattop preceded an introduction. “I’m Paolo. Lennox said it’s okay?”

  “I had to arm wrestle her for it but, yeah, I’ll help you out.”

  Paolo turned from the flattop with a spatula. He pantomimed thank you with his hands tented in prayer. “You any good?”

  “I taught your boss.”

  Paolo reached through the pass through, grabbed something, and tossed a menu to Garrett, Frisbee style. “You’re in good shape then.”

  Garrett caught the flying plastic between his palms. Flipping through the glossy pages, he took in the Peach Pit’s offerings. Omelets and pancakes dominated the menu. His specialties.

  “Let’s do this,” Paolo said.

  “Let’s do it.” Garrett started his prep work.

  “If you give me a minute, I’ll show you the recipes.” Paolo put a plate of sunny-side up eggs and tofu in the window.

  “Vegetarian not vegan.” Garrett heard the words within his soul, spoken by a smoky voice with a hint of amusement and a whole lot of sass. He braced himself for the oncoming barrage of emotions. A flounce of green sari teased the edge of his eyesight. Tina. The scent of jasmine enveloped him. Ghostly whispers of her had returned again. As though she hadn’t chosen giving birth and sacrificing her own life for Nox’s. As though she hadn’t closed her eyes that last time and left him. His wife never drifted farther away than the length of his memories. But she’d never be close enough to him again.

  Tina’s death had hollowed him out inside. She’d taken the breath, the pulse, of his life with her into the afterlife. All he had left was his love for Nox and the echoes of a happiness long gone.

  “Look up,” Paolo shouted.

  Garrett caught the latest missile in one hand. The cylinder fit snugly against his palm. “Paolo,” he said, “don’t make me break you out of the habit of throwing things at me.”

  The younger man looked sheepish and busied himself. Garrett examined the dark blue tin. The paint had worn off where the lid fit onto the base. Before he could take a closer look the container jerked out of his grasp. Lennox took it in two hands and whipped it across the kitchen to Paolo. He caught it with an oof.