Hope smiled when she thought of Jolie and her antics. But this latest nonsense about being Jolie’s girlfriend? Well, that was too preposterous. It amazed her that anyone would believe that. And yet they all had, even Godfrey and Andre.
She blinked hard several times to ensure her prosthetic eye was snug, and then gazed at herself curiously. People didn’t blink an eye when they imagined me with her.
Quickly she turned away from the mirror. Hope didn’t want to imagine it either.
“So, where do you sleep, runt?” Jolie muttered to herself, “Come on, hound. Outside with you.” Tadpole followed her out onto the porch where she looked around for his sleeping blanket.
“Where the hell is—Oh no.” Her eyes locked with his brazen beady ones. “Please don’t tell me you sleep with her. Ugh.”
With a shudder she stomped back into the cabin, the dog at her heels. His tail wagged endlessly as he rushed to overtake her and lead the parade to his bed in the corner of Hope’s room.
“Good.” Hope appeared behind them resplendent in flannel pajamas. “We’re all accounted for.” She scrambled onto the tall bed and shuffled over to the side farther away from Jolie. “Can you get the light?”
Jolie nodded dumbly and flipped the switch. Under cover of darkness she pulled off her sweatpants but left on her underwear, and crawled in beside Hope. She lay beside her as stiff as Tutankhamen and stared fixedly at the wooden ceiling beams. Hope fluffed, and flipped, and finally got comfortable.
“G’night,” she mumbled, shifting onto her side, her back to Jolie, and drifted off to sleep effortlessly. Jolie still lay at attention, eyes wide open. How could Hope do that? Just sleep? As if this was the most normal thing in the world. Jolie was mystified. Hope smelled nice. Of strawberries. No biting.
Hope’s belly was about ready to pop with cubs. Big, and round, and alabaster. It looked delicious. Then suddenly they were there!
Everywhere, black, furry little werecubs, toddling on two legs every which way. Jolie had to catch them, had to round them up before they hurt themselves. But they increased speed. No longer wobbling, they took off in all directions, giggling and squealing. No matter how fast she ran, or how many of the wriggling, squiggling little varmints she swooped into her arms, another dozen ran through or around her legs.
She was running in circles trying to catch them, like a sheepdog trying to herd them up, like a tired old sheepdog trying to…a sheepdog…
dog…Woof!
Her eyes flew open. I was sleeping?
Hope was sitting straight up in bed beside her, glaring at her. Even Tadpole sat bolt upright, both ears quivering on full alert.
“What?” Jolie asked, struggling to sit, trying to piece together her dream world with Hope’s accusing stare.
“You awoke with a ‘woof,’” Hope said.
“I did not.” Jolie was incredibly offended. “I do not bark.”
“You’ve been scrabbling around in this bed for over ten minutes. You look like Tadpole when he dreams he’s chasing rabbits. Then you went ‘woof.’” Hope continued to glare. “You know, for a project manager and the vice president of a global software house, you have the stupidest dreams ever.”
“I can’t help what I dream,” Jolie defended herself hotly. “I’m stressed.”
Hope settled back down. “What are you stressed about, the presentation tomorrow, or should I say today?” She checked the bedside clock. It was after one in the morning.
“No.” I’m stressed because I want to lick you all over.
“Is it just general stress, then?”
Jolie wished Hope would just let it go and fall back to sleep. Then she could slip from the room and run herself ragged in the woods until dawn. Anything to relieve this tension in her gut.
“Yeah. General stress. Let’s try and catch some sleep. I’ll promise not to chase rabbits,” Jolie grumbled and turned away.
Hope regarded the broad back thoughtfully. It felt good to sleep in its lee. It made her feel sheltered and secure. Hadn’t she fallen into a deep sleep the minute her head hit the pillow? Usually she lay awake for hours fretting about life and death and mortal coils, and how close she might be to the end of hers. In daylight hours and in doctors’ waiting rooms she could rationalize the whole universe away, cordially and calmly. But alone in the dark she became a little girl again, afraid of the hereafter, the great beyond, feeling small and inconsequential in her own lost life.
Her initial struggles with Jolie had actually been invigorating.
They had rooted her back into a work routine. She could see that now.
In fact, she had enjoyed getting the upper hand in their little office power struggles. It built her confidence again. And in time she had come to notice something else lying just under Jolie’s abrasiveness. The simplest things made Jolie Garoul happy, like a pastry in the morning, or fresh coffee partway through a manic day when there was barely time to draw breath. At first she was recalcitrant, but Hope persisted, until it became apparent that Jolie was simply not used to registering, never mind catering for her own needs. So slowly, over several weeks, Hope had begun to look after those needs for her clumsy, awkward boss.
Snuggling under the covers, Hope mulled over the complex, yet strangely childish woman beside her. She probed the soft welt in her lower lip with her tongue. She liked Jolie and felt that Jolie liked her back, and also in a particular way. Jolie had become so raw and energized since they arrived at Little Dip. She was definitely more subdued, more controlled in the city. It was as if her city-slick veneer was wearing away out here in the mountains, and her true needs and wants were surfacing. Were they the kind of needs Hope would also want to look after?
The rumor that they were a couple—Hope was bemused at the thought of being Jolie’s lover. Did she like the idea? And was she even ready for that type of interest? She knew she was still hesitant about reclaiming that part of herself. And even if she did, did she want to reclaim it with Jolie Garoul?
While she would be the first to admit Jolie was gorgeous to look at, there were more than enough “peculiarities” to warn her off. Deep down she knew Jolie would be more than a handful, and Hope knew for certain she didn’t have that sort of energy to give away. The cancer had depleted her on so many levels. Her confidence was at an alltime low, but slowly rebuilding itself through her successes at work.
Hope was still very unsure about her attractiveness and her private life. Finding a girlfriend, dating, having fun and even sex again all seemed insurmountable obstacles. She was safe and cozy in her circle of friends. Was she ready to venture out further? She didn’t think so.
Common sense dictated she wait a little longer, go a little slower. Her libido, however, at least where Jolie Garoul was concerned, seemed to be in one hell of a hurry.
About an hour later, Hope surfaced from sleep to find her nose pushed against the side of Jolie’s breast. Jolie was now flat out on her back, hands flung above her head, hair draped across the pillow. Hope had wormed in under her arm and settled there, safe and warm and perfectly content. She should move away, but didn’t. This felt like the right place to be. Her eyelids fluttered, and she fell back into a deep, restful sleep.
Soon after that, Jolie felt pressure on her bladder, then her belly, then her side. She slowly awoke, looking straight up into Tadpole’s deeply dismayed eyes. He sat in the middle of the bed right between Jolie and Hope, as tightly as he could wedge.
Jolie next became aware of Hope’s soft hair brushing her throat.
Her arm lay heavily over Jolie’s rib cage just beneath her breasts. And a leg had slithered across Jolie’s thigh, pinning her to the mattress in a delicious act of claiming. A huge grin crossed Jolie’s face, despite the little dog’s disgusted stare.
See? Suck it up, Rathole. Told you she was mine.
The financial review came right after Andre’s CEO report, to be followed by his business development update, which would end today’s meeting. Financial reports were
second nature to Jolie. She ate, drank, and slept these figures in her Portland life. Today, however, it was the financial plan for the upcoming year that had her anxious.
Andre had already given his honeyed spiel about expansion and a new directive to engage with other old European families. Acutely conscious of Hope being in the room, he had not labeled the other wolven clans as such. Rather he had called them potential partners.
Technology made the world smaller, he had stated. Jolie agreed with him that it made perfect sense for some of their common ancestral knowledge to become globally available to other packs and vice versa.
Hope sat and listened to the possible work situation for the company far into the future, and it excited her. Ambereye, Inc. already had a hit game on the market—Wolfbane: Firstborn. Hope had only seen fragments of it in test and development. It was marketed at teenagers and seemed to allow them to take on the persona of a werewolf and learn how to survive and pass as human in a modern city setting. She thought it was an intriguing idea. On a weird level, she was never quite sure if it was designed to allow kids to imagine they were monsters or if it was supposed to teach them how to behave in a more civil and humane manner out on the streets. She wondered what the next game idea was going to be and why Andre had to sell it to the board.
“Hope?” She glanced up from her minute taking to see Andre looking over at her. “Would you mind if we had a few moments, just the family?” he asked almost apologetically.
“No, not at all.” She rose to leave, wondering what the mystery was. But she could do with a cup of coffee, so an unscheduled break was welcome.
Andre waited until the door closed quietly behind her before turning to the long table. “We debated the Lykous proposal last year. And we need to decide now if it’s a go for Jolie to draw up a diagnostic on the overall investment and return. Can we put this to a vote, Aunt Marie?”
“We can, Andre, but it’s a moot point. The pack elders have all agreed to accept an amalgamation of coded information with the Lykous clan. Over time we want to build a global depository of all the wolven families’ traditions, culture, and knowledge. This is a good starting point with our Greek cousins. They are as ancient as we are, if not more so. But for propriety’s sake we will put it to the vote. All in favor?” Every hand rose. She winked at a beaming Andre.
They concluded the meeting not long after that. Coffee and sandwiches followed, and soon Jolie and Hope were wandering up the trail to their cabin, relaxed that the first day’s work was over and had gone well.
Neither had mentioned their start to the day. Hope had finally roused to find herself entangled with Jolie’s long limbs. She had merely removed Tadpole and stretched, as if waking up wrapped around Jolie Garoul was an everyday, natural occurrence. Jolie had lain still, pretending to still be asleep for decorum’s sake. Until Hope slapped her on the belly.
“Come on, snooze-hound. It’s the big day. Up and at ’em.” Another playful belly poke to make sure her bed companion was fully awake and Hope was off, grabbing the bathroom first.
Jolie slid from the bed with burning ears and flushed cheeks. Hope obviously didn’t understand how torturous her easygoing actions were, or how close she danced to a dangerous precipice. Self-control was strangling Jolie; the sooner this weekend was done with, the better.
She could cope better in the city, gain distance, and maybe ask Andre to take Hope back as his assistant again. It might be better for both of them.
Now, after the triumph of the opening meeting, Jolie felt once again the miraculous high of working so seamlessly alongside Hope.
They were so good together as a team, and it saddened her that her own preposterous wants were eventually going to destroy this new experience for her. Why couldn’t she just get it right for once? Why did her bestial craving to claim Hope have to ruin everything? Jolie was slipping into a deep pool of self-loathing.
They were halfway to the cabin when a breathless Paulie jogged hurriedly down the track toward them. He skidded to a halt in the shale.
“I was just coming to find you. Oh, Hope, I’m so sorry—”
“What’s up?” Jolie was immediately alert.
“What is it?” Likewise Hope was concerned.
“It’s Tadpole,” Paulie gulped. “I was playing ball with him on the front porch and threw it too far. He took off into the woods after it, and I swear—I can’t find him. It’s like he disappeared.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They split up and spent nearly an hour checking the immediate vicinity for the little dog. Hope was becoming more and more distraught as each bush and tree root failed to produce a timorous Tadpole. Jolie, too, was getting concerned. Neither she nor Paulie, even with their wolven senses, could pick up his pampered, city-dog scent.
The cousins quietly discussed this anomaly as Hope investigated the vegetation on the other side of the cabin.
“Has the little bugger gone underground? Down a hole or something?” Jolie cursed out loud, exasperated that this wasn’t turning into a quick fix. Paulie looked over, startled.
“He’s not that bad. I like him. He’s just suffering a little jealousy because Hope likes you.”
“She does?” Jolie’s ears pricked up at that.
“Looks like he’s not the only one,” Paulie muttered, continuing to scour the ground. “This is near where he was last seen. Look, there’s his ball. It’s as if something else distracted him and he wandered off—”
“What do you mean? How do you know she likes me? Did the runt confide in you, Doctor Dolittle? All stretched out on his little therapy blankie?” Jolie snorted. Then realizing she genuinely did want this information, she continued more cordially. “Seriously. Hope likes me? How do you know?”
“Look. He’s rolled about here. I can see some ginger hairs. And I can scent him, but not clearly.”
“That’s because he’s rolled in raccoon dung. Smelly little weasel. As if he didn’t stink enough. No wonder he’s so hard to sniff out.”
Jolie scowled at Tadpole’s deviousness and bad hygiene, then turned her attention back to Paulie. “Seriously. Hope likes me?”
“If you paid more attention, you’d see what I mean.” Paulie sighed.
“Dogs are very simplistic animals. They operate on a need-to-know basis. Hope was his universe, until you came along with your wolfie smells and sly mating rituals. He’s not stupid, you know.”
“What sly mating rituals?”
Now Paulie snorted and refused to answer. He turned back to the cabin, Jolie clipping his heels.
“Hey. What sly mating rituals?”
“Any luck?” Hope walked up to meet them, a picture of distress.
Paulie and Jolie shook their heads.
“Oh.” Hope kept walking, straight into Jolie’s arms, and clung to her. Jolie was shocked but quickly enveloped her in a hug.
“Oh, Jolie.” Hope sniffled into Jolie’s shirt buttons. “I can’t bear to think of him out there, all alone and frightened.”
Jolie tightened her arms and found herself crooning reassuringly.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find him if I have to rip this whole valley apart.”
Over Hope’s bent head Paulie raised his eyebrows at her mockingly.
“Those sly mating moves,” he murmured in a voice soft enough that only Jolie’s keen hearing could pick it up.
“Okay, listen up, team.” Jolie called the Garoul search party to attention. Any of the family with spare time had volunteered to help look for Tadpole. She stood on the top porch step and addressed them all with crisp military precision, as if she were organizing the last stand at the Alamo.
“Marie and Connie, take the logging road as far as Big Jack, searching east and west of the track. Leone and Patrice, you take from the parking lot to Leaper’s Bluff. I know it’s a long shot, but he might have tried to head back to the Jeep. Andre and Angelique, the central compound and surrounding area up to the Bluff and hook up with Claude, who’s on the eastern rim.
Paulie, you take from Connie’s workshop to the Portland turn-off, and I’ll go in the opposite direction toward the Lost Creek road sign. Okay? Any questions?”
“Where will I look?” Hope asked, moving forward. Jolie turned and tenderly cupped her shoulder.
“I need someone to stay here in case he comes back. It’s getting dark and he’ll be thinking of heading home soon,” she lied through her teeth. “Godfrey will help you make one last sweep around the cabin before nightfall.”
What she really wanted was Hope tucked away so the rest of them could transform into werewolves and get on with it. Several wolven could cover most of this valley in a couple of hours. Godfrey understood this, and he would stay with Hope as they waited for the searchers to return. To be honest, none of them, bar Hope, thought there’d be much chance of finding the little dog in one piece. He was a walking pretzel for most of the residents of this forest.
Hope nodded quietly and stood back. Jolie turned back to the search team. “Okay. He’s a small, ginger mongrel, yea big, and he smells like raccoon poo—”
“He does not smell like raccoon poo,” Hope blurted out, hurt and indignant. Jolie reached over and stroked her arm.
“In this instance he does, sweetheart,” she said, surprising herself with the endearment that fell so naturally from her lips. She didn’t want Hope to think she was taking a cheap shot at her missing pup. “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”
“Here’s a picture.” Hope offered up the screensaver of her cell phone. Jolie handed it over and the Garoul clan gathered around it to look at their search objective. There was silence.
Finally, Marie managed, “My, he’s a handsome chap, isn’t he?” This was enthusiastically supported with nods and incoherent affirmations before they all broke up and headed off to their allotted areas.
“Jolie?”
Hope’s call held her back.
“Will you be okay?” Jolie asked anxiously. Hope seemed so upset.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” Hope reached for her hands. “I know the odds are against him out there. But thank you for trying so hard. He’s everything to me. When I got home from the hospital he just lay down beside me and rested his head on my hip as I cried, and he never moved until I was done.”
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