Were Me Out: Shift Happens Book Four

by Robyn Peterman

  “I’m going to my folks’ house,” I told her with a quick hug. Then I made a run for it while everyone was focused on the hooker pile trying to untangle themselves from the lunch meat. At least they were now separated from my man meat.

  O.M.G. It was time for me to leave. I was now using Junior’s terminology for his dangly parts.

  “You’re going to need to grow up, my friend,” Essie called after me.

  “I will,” I promised with a grateful wave. “Tomorrow.”

  “Junior came to church and confessed all of his sins to me,” my dad said turning a slight shade paler than his normally healthy robust color.

  My stomach roiled and I wanted shrivel up and disappear. I’d clearly chosen the wrong hideout. First I had to see Junior with other women. Now I had to hear about it? That stupid Werewolf was in for a ton of butt-hurt when I saw him again.

  My parents’ enormous kitchen had just shrunk to dollhouse size. Had Junior lost his mind? I couldn’t get away from the dorky sexy bane of my existence even when he wasn’t present. Was that his game? Was he infiltrating my life from all sides? Of course confessing to my father wasn’t going to win him a bunch of points…

  “Sweet Hell on earth,” I choked out and dropped to the floor in front of my mom’s immaculate Tupperware cabinet. I stared hard at the ceramic tile under my knees and had an internal debate about how to proceed with this particular conversation. Wait. How in the ever lovin’ hell did my mom keep the floor so clean? Stop. Focus. Deal with the matter at hand—don’t obsess about your mother’s superior cleaning skills.

  “That must have been, umm…pornographic.”

  Closing my eyes and counting to ten so I didn’t call Junior a name that would get my mouth washed out with soap, I tried to gather myself. Making eye contact with my dad was out of the question. I was a thirty year old, grown woman, but I felt like a teenager at the moment. Having no clue if my male parental figure was pissed or amused, I studied the grain of the pitted cherry wood cabinet and wondered if it would be odd if I crawled out of the kitchen on my hands and knees.

  My dad was the father of six wild boys and one very good girl. He was used to everything that went with that, but this was another thing altogether.

  “Yes, well, his confession was interesting, to say the least,” he commented dryly.

  The silence was loaded and long—so I filled it. A bad habit of mine developed early in life. Didn’t serve me well in my youth and probably wasn’t going to serve me well in the present.

  Whatever.

  “So, ummm…what exactly did he say?” I asked as I began rearranging my mother’s anally neat Tupperware and tried to appear calm and unaffected.

  “Can’t really tell you, darling. That would be unethical.”

  “Right,” I mumbled and began counting all the meticulously stacked lids. There were twenty-four.

  My dad took his job as pastor very seriously. He was a good man and I adored him—as did everyone in Hung, Georgia. Half of his congregation was human and had no clue he spent a great deal of his free time all furry and fanged while running through the woods with my mother.

  We were a well-kept secret. Shifters had lived among humans for centuries. The less humans knew, the safer we were. My mom and dad had impressed on us all our lives how important living in secrecy was—especially my mom.

  My mom was the love of my dad’s life and his mate. My mom was all kinds of awesome and had more Tupperware than anyone I knew. I wanted a love like they had…real and true. I was pretty damn sure that my mom didn’t check my dad’s collar for lipstick that wasn’t her own.

  “However,” my dad added thoughtfully with a slight grin—or maybe it was a grimace, I couldn’t tell from my hunched over position on the floor. “Junior did seem to have a tremendous amount of impure thoughts about you.”

  “Is he a dumbass?” I shouted, jumping to my feet.

  “Debatable,” my dad replied with a chuckle.

  “You think this is funny?” I demanded, standing up to my full five foot ten but still had to look up to my six foot four father. “He’s trying to ruin my life. I don’t find that even the least bit humorous.”

  “How exactly did you come to that conclusion, Sandy?” he asked, taking a seat at the large oak kitchen table and resting his chin on steepled fingers.

  Crap. That was his I’m gonna lay a few unwanted truths on you position.

  “Because he’s a man hooker,” I informed my dad in my outdoor voice.

  “And?”

  “And I just used the word man and hooker in a sentence. I think that should explain it,” I huffed and plopped myself down in the chair next to him.

  “Your use of the English language is amazing, considering you have two Master’s degrees and a doctorate. However, I do find your description of our Alpha interesting,” he said with a raised brow and a barely suppressed smile.

  “My unhealthy amount of education taught me to be succinct. Man hooker is the quickest way to make my point about our Alpha,” I told him, trying not to grin. Unfortunately talking about Junior always made me grin.

  “You sure about that?” my dad asked.

  “About what? My unhealthy amount of somewhat useless degrees or the fact that Junior is loose in the morals department?”

  “The loose part.”

  “Well, if you want to know if I’ve actually witnessed it, then no. However, his reputation is well known across several states.”

  I let my head fall to the table in defeat. Why did I have to be obsessed with the one guy who everyone else wanted—and had already had?

  “Can’t people change?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I stated with conviction—desperately wanting to be wrong.

  “But you changed,” Dad said, playing with a swan shaped napkin that my mother had meticulously folded.

  For the life of me I couldn’t make a swan out of a napkin, but I was an outstanding arm wrestler and could hack into even the most protected of government websites. Screw the swans. A person couldn’t be good at everything.

  “Dad, I changed on the outside—not the inside,” I reminded him.

  I’d been a large teenager, to put it kindly. My shift had come unnaturally late and my body did all sorts of horrible and embarrassing things during puberty—the worst was that my delayed shifting ability had caused a tremendous weight gain. It was a rare phenomenon in the Werewolf world, but leave it to me to be blessed with the one in a million malady.

  “True, but before your first shift you were withdrawn and shy. After, you were a confident young woman who could give her crazy ass brothers a run for their money in the wrestling department,” he noted with a grin.

  “Dad, you just said ass,” I informed him, trying to change the direction of the conversation—I wasn’t fond of discussing my large days.

  “Yes I did,” he replied with a grin and a shrug. “And it fits—even a pastor can say a bad word now and then when referring to your brothers. All I’m saying is you might want to give the boy a chance. Not saying you have to mate with him—just hear him out.”

  “Wait a second,” I said as my blood began to boil. “Are you saying I changed because I lost weight? That I’m a better person skinny?”

  My dad shook his head and chuckled. “You, my child, are beautiful at any weight and I mean that. A person’s body is just that—a body. I’m simply saying behaviors can occur due to reasons—external and internal.”

  “Why does it feel like you’re saying much more than you’re saying?” I asked, closing my eyes and wishing I’d just gone to my own house.

  “Because I am. Now it’s your job to figure out what I mean,” he replied planting a kiss on the top of my head.

  “I have to grow up?”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  “I was going to do that tomorrow,” I told him, opening one eye and peeking over at him.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said as he grabbed an apple and started out of the kitchen. “G
o talk to your mom. She might be able to shed some light on a few things.”

  “Cryptic much?” I muttered under my breath only to hear my dad laugh as he made his way down the hall. Werewolf hearing was outstanding, but I was pretty sure my dad could even hear my thoughts.

  Crap.

  I was going to pull up my big girl panties—or thong, to be more accurate—and I was going to grow up.

  But first I was going to talk to my mom.

  Chapter Three

  “Hi sweetie,” Mom said with a delighted smile as she put down her knitting and patted the cushion next to her.

  I glanced at the fluffy white hat she’d been working on and sighed—another skill I didn’t have. Most things domestic weren’t in my repertoire, but I could nail a moving target with a knife with my eyes closed. I could also shut down a major city’s electrical system with a few quick swipes on my keyboard.

  “To what do I owe this lovely visit?” she asked as she planted a big mom-kiss on my cheek.

  I cuddled closer and let her sweet scent wash over me. My mom’s den was feminine and frilly—all floral, lace and smooshy. During my childhood, I’d spent hundreds of hours in this very room basking in her kind and loving presence. Peach, faded rose, and cream were the colors that calmed my soul, along with my mother’s musical voice.

  “Dad said I should talk with you.”

  “Oh dear, were you discussing the birds and the bees?” she asked with a scrunched nose and a giggle.

  “Umm…no. I’m thirty. I know about the birds and the bees.”

  “Thank goodness for that. His explanation to the boys had to be greatly amended. I’d hate to hear what misinformation he would impart to his daughter,” she replied easily as she played with my hair.

  We sat in comfortable silence, but because it was my habit, I filled it.

  “Did you really know that dad was the one?” I asked, tilting my head so she gave all my blonde curls equal time.

  “I did,” she said. “However, I made him work for it.”

  “What?” I asked sitting up and gaping at her in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

  She stood and tucked her knitting into the box decoupaged with elementary school drawings from my brothers and myself. Her smile was secretive and I was dying to hear her thoughts. She made her way back to me, sat down and took both my hands in hers.

  “Your dad was a wild one,” she started as I laughed in disbelief.

  “I call bullsh…honkey,” I snorted, quickly swallowing the four-letter word that had almost escaped my lips.

  “It’s true,” she said with a smirk. “And I’ve heard the word bullshit before, not that I love you saying it. However, I’ll give you a pass. He was quite the ladies’ man and even though I knew he was mine, I made him suffer a bit.”

  “Dad was a player?” I asked, still shocked.

  It wasn’t that my dad was unattractive—he was gorgeous like most Werewolves. It’s just that he was my dad. My dad the pastor. WTH?

  “All Werewolves are sexual beings,” she said with a grin. “You should know that.”

  “Yesssss,” I agreed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to banish the thought of my mom and my dad in a compromising position of any kind. I was a grown woman, but no one I knew wanted to have a visual of their parents doing the nasty. Ever.

  “Your father was no different. He’s a bit older than me and it took him a little longer than it took me to figure out we were meant for each other.”

  “But I thought Werewolves always knew their mate on sight. It’s like boom. Done deal. How did you know and he didn’t?” I asked perplexed.

  “Women are quicker than men sometimes,” she explained with a raised brow and a laugh. “A Werewolf in his prime is a horny little sucker. It often takes them a bit of time to figure out the obvious.”

  “I think the figuring out the obvious lasts forever,” I said with an eye roll. “And please never say horny little sucker in reference to Dad again.”

  “Noted,” she promised, trying to bite back her grin. “Why do you ask?”

  Hmmm, how much to tell her? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Junior thought we were mates. Everyone knew he thought that—he’d taken out a damn ad in the Shifter Gazette.

  Maybe I should just lay it all out. I wasn’t doing too well working it out on my own.

  “So, umm…”

  “Mom,” Caleb, the youngest of my brother’s called out. “Freakin’ Junior is in the bushes again. Dang fool positioned his ass right in the middle of the hostas you just made me divide and replant. If he kills them I’m gonna make him eat them.

  “Wait. What?” I shouted. Junior was in the bushes? He was supposed to be at the Piggly Wiggly fighting off sandwich meat skanks.

  “Should I kick his ass like I used to in high school?” Caleb inquired, rounding the door into my mom’s den.

  “You kicked his ass in high school?” I asked getting more and more confused.

  “Sure did,” Caleb said with a grin as all six foot five of my craziest brother ambled into the room. He was carrying an extra large pizza box from Juju’s Pizzeria with only one slice left.

  Juju was a Rabbit shifter and made the best pizza known to man and Shifter. It was so damn good that every Wolf in the tristate area had voluntarily given up eating rabbit in their animal form. No one would take the risk of accidentally eating Juju. No one.

  “Why’d you kick his ass in high school?” I demanded.

  Caleb simply rolled his eyes, snorted and went back to eating.

  My brothers ate more than an army of humans. I had no clue how my mom kept any food in the house when we were growing up. Caleb was in a top secret Shifter unit in the military and was home on leave. I would hazard a guess that my parents’ food bill was sky high lately.

  “Lookin’ good, Butthole,” he greeted me with his typical brotherly endearment and a grin.

  “Thank you, Lardass,” I replied with a nod and my own grin.

  “I really don’t think kicking your Alpha’s ass is a good idea, Caleb,” Mom told him ignoring our nicknames for each other.

  “Point,” he agreed, shrugged and dug into his last slice of pizza.

  “So Butthole, what do you want me to do about your boyfriend lurking in the bushes?” Caleb asked with his slice hanging midair.

  “He’s not my boyfriend and is that Juju’s pizza?” I asked ignoring the bizarre fact that Junior had apparently been hiding in my parents bushes on and off since high school.

  “It is,” Caleb said warily, trying to shove the entire piece in his mouth before I could ask for a bite.

  “If you don’t share, I’ll kick your lard loser ass,” I threatened.

  “Enough with the names,” Mom said with an exasperated sigh. She tried to bite back her inappropriate grin at our juvenile behavior, but failed.

  We were rude…but we were fun.

  “Sorry, I meant just lardass—not lard loser ass. My bad,” I amended and snatched the rest of the slice from his hands.

  Running behind my mother for protection, I squealed with delight as I bit into the last piece of Juju’s pizza. Besting Caleb was difficult. I was quite proud of myself.

  “Can she do that?” he whined as he watched in agony while I enjoyed the gooey goodness.

  “Pretty sure she can. After all it is Juju’s pizza we’re talking about,” Mom replied with a laugh.

  “Dangit, this is the last time I try to help you people out around here,” Caleb complained. “Whatever, I have another one in the kitchen anyway.”

  “You left a Juju’s pizza unguarded with dad in the house?” I asked, shocked.

  My dad had very few addictions, but Juju’s pizza was one of them. If I had to guess, Caleb’s second extra-large pizza was long gone.

  “Shitfire!” Caleb shouted as his eyes grew wide in horror. “Dad’s home? It would be bad manners if I had to kick his ass—not to mention dangerous. He has a mean right hook for a man of God.” My brother tore out o
f the room like a bat out of Hell.

  I swallowed my delicious pizza as I watched my brother haul ass to the kitchen. My brain was spinning with questions, but did I really want the answers? I was planning on growing up tomorrow—not today.

  Crap.

  “So, umm…Junior’s been hiding in the bushes since high school?” I asked.

  “Well, not full time. He had to go to school and home to eat back then,” Mom said casually as she fluffed pillows and rearranged the knickknacks on the coffee table.

  “Why?”

  “I suppose you’ll have to ask him that,” she said with a little smile and shrug.

  “I suppose I will,” I mumbled as I picked up my purse and wandered back down the hallway.

  If Junior was still in the bushes, I would kick his ass. Not because he was hiding in foliage, but because he was making me have to rethink.

  Thinking was hard enough. Rethinking sucked.

  Chapter Four

  “You wanna explain yourself?” I asked, startling the daylights out of a very guilty looking Junior.

  He’d been hunkered down in the hostas just as Caleb had said and he was a mess. I winced as I took in how much damage he’d done to my mom’s flowerbed. Junior was a walking, talking menace with more muscles than anyone should be allowed to have.

  “Umm…no?” he replied as he stood up and attempted to look authoritative with long green leaves stuck in his hair and attached to his clothes.

  He looked stupid—albeit stupidly hot—even with plant life sprouting from his head.

  “Wrong answer,” I said with my hands on my hips, trying hard not to laugh.

  Pretty much everything the idiot did charmed me—including the destructive stalking part.

  I obviously needed my head examined.

  “You have pizza on your lip,” he politely informed me, pointing to his own lip to help me out.

  Balls, I’d bet my entire savings account that not one of the busty brunettes at the Piggly Wiggly ever had pizza sauce on her perfectly glossed lips.