Were Me Out: Shift Happens Book Four

by Robyn Peterman

  Quickly wiping my mouth clean, I endeavored to take back the upper hand. “I’m about to have a hissy fit with a tail on it. What in the hell were you thinking by confessing to my dad?”

  “Did he tell you what I said?” Junior asked hopefully.

  “Of course he didn’t,” I shouted. “That would be unethical, you asshat.”

  Junior pondered that information while I pondered Junior. He was all kinds of beautiful—dark brown messy hair, full kissable lips, cheekbones that could cut glass, an ass that could cause whiplash and a body that belonged in sex dreams. And his eyes…crystal green that turned to icy blue when he was attracted to something—or someone.

  Much to my not so secret delight they were as icy blue as they could get at the moment.

  “Want me to tell you?” he asked quietly, rocking back and forth on his feet.

  Letting my head drop to my chest, I knew I was going to say yes. I was going to say yes to hearing him out and I was ultimately going to say yes to everything he wanted from me. I knew Junior was a player and I also knew I was head over heels in love with the jack hole. My need to do bodily harm to all other women who looked at him—much less touched him, was just the tip of the iceberg where he was concerned.

  However, he was still going to have to work a little harder for it.

  “Yes. I want to talk,” I said as he jerked back in shocked surprise, which quickly turned to amazed delight.

  “Now normally a gal saying she wants to talk scares the living bejesus out of me, but I am so good with this,” Junior announced loud enough for my mom, dad and brother to hear.

  Of course the fact that all three of their noses were pressed up against the kitchen window as they spied on us helped tremendously with their eavesdropping.

  That was easy enough to remedy…

  “Did you know that Caleb likes to wear dresses?” I asked with a quick wink to Junior and a small head nod to the spies.

  “Really?” he replied with a grin. “I always knew that boy was into mini skirts, but I was unaware that he liked wearing them.”

  “Yep,” I continued gleefully, moving Junior away from the house so we could get a running start when Caleb—who was now cursing a blue streak—came tearing out of the house to refute his dress wearing ways. “He also likes to model thongs and boob tubes. He stole all of mine.”

  “You have boob tubes?” Junior asked in all seriousness. He stopped dead in his tracks and bent over at the waist completely forgetting the game we were playing.

  “No, I don’t have boob tubes,” I whisper-hissed as I began to quickly disrobe. We were going to have to shift to outrun my brother. Of course Junior’s eyes bugged out of his head and his knees buckled…

  “I’m gonna die here,” he said on a long groan.

  “What the ever lovin’ hell is wrong with you?” I snapped.

  “Sandy, I have wanted to see you naked my entire life. But I’m thinking in front of your parents—especially after what I told your dad—is a really bad idea,” Junior gasped out as the normally large bulge in his jeans grew painfully larger.

  “We are not having sex, you dorkwad,” I shouted, staring up at the cloudless blue sky so I didn’t gape in awe at the impressive package in his pants. “We’re gonna shift and run like hell because I’d bet all the biscuits in Georgia that Caleb is on his way out here to rip our asses.”

  “Right,” Junior said, not removing a single piece of his clothing and still watching me with undisguised rabid interest.

  “You’ve seen me naked before, Junior. We’re freakin’ Werewolves. We get naked all the time.”

  “In large groups,” he countered.

  “Yes. And?”

  “That’s not sexual,” he protested as he adjusted himself in his jeans and winced in pain.

  “Neither is this,” I insisted, but halted my strip show before he saw all my goodies.

  “Whatever you say,” he choked out, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

  With an enormous eye roll and a quick glance back to the house where I saw my parents wide eyed and laughing, I stomped over to Junior. “We need to shift and run. Caleb is not gonna take kindly to his new fashion MO.”

  “Baby, I can kick Caleb’s ass to Alabama and back. He knows this and I know this. So unless you want me to make you see Jesus with your folks in the audience, I’d suggest you get dressed. Not that I want you to—at all. But my Johnson might not perform up to par with your dad observing my performance. Just sayin’.”

  “But Caleb just said he kicked your ass in high school,” I informed him ignoring the fact that he called his man part a Johnson. The cool spring breeze made goose bumps pop up all over my exposed skin—or maybe it was the way Junior was staring holes at my cleavage.

  “That was high school and I was doing something I probably shouldn’t have been doing,” he replied easily as he picked up my shirt and gently put it over my head.

  “About that…” I said and then paused.

  “What about it?” he asked, making such intensely direct eye contact I had to look away.

  “Well, umm…is that something we need to discuss?” I mumbled as I yanked on my mini skirt and stepped back into my super cute wedges.

  I was certain I was more embarrassed and confused than I ever had been in my thirty years. Getting back the upper hand was now impossible. It didn’t even matter that Junior was still clad in hostas.

  Shit.

  “You didn’t know?” he asked, in complete disbelief.

  “Umm…no. Was I supposed to?”

  Junior paced back and forth while his brain worked a mile a minute. The puzzle was starting to come together, but I was terrified to be the one who guessed the entire picture without all the odd shaped pieces in place.

  “You really didn’t know I hung out in your parent’s bushes for a couple of years?” he asked quietly, stopping in front of me and tilting my chin up so I had to meet his beautiful eyes.

  His touch sent zings of excitement all through me and my goodies itched to come out and play. What was happening here?

  “I didn’t know,” I whispered, getting lost in his gaze.

  “Then yes. That’s something we definitely need to talk about. My place or yours?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

  “I was thinking someplace public,” I said, trying to look away.

  He was having none of that and held my chin firm.

  “I was planning on taking apart a computer from the early nineties and putting it back together,” he said casually, dangling a carrot in front of me that he knew I couldn’t resist.

  “You have a PC from the nineties?” I asked, getting ridiculously excited.

  “I do.”

  “With an upgraded motherboard?” I asked, speaking geek.

  “If it’s not upgraded now that mother humpin’ board will be by the time we get through with it,” he informed me with a grin that set my panties on fire.

  Holy hell, I almost had an orgasm—Junior’s nice ass, his massive brain and an upgraded motherboard? Life did not get much better.

  “Will you let me dismantle and restore it?” I asked knowing that was a long shot. Junior was as much of a tech nerd as I was. It was like asking a caffeine addict to watch someone drink the last cup of coffee in the world.

  “Will you wear that mini skirt?” he bargained.

  “I’ll wear a boob tube,” I shot back, upping the ante.

  Boob tubes were gross, but a motherboard was a motherboard.

  “Deal,” he shouted as he picked me up and spun me around.

  “I have to go to Essie’s first to try on my dress,” I squealed as he put me down and buried his nose on my curls.

  “Works for me,” he said still grinning from ear to ear. “Be at my place at eight. I’ll even order Juju’s pizza and kiss the sauce off your lips.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, buster. You’ve got some major explaining to do,” I warned him as I imagined his lips on mine.


  My smile was bigger than his.

  “See you at eight, beautiful girl,” he called over his shoulder as he loped down my driveway whistling a happy tune.

  I was so screwed…in more ways than one.

  Chapter Five

  “I have a weird question,” I announced as I twirled around Essie and Hank’s den in my gorgeous, strapless, rose-colored bridesmaid dress.

  “Weirder than Dwayne?” Essie inquired with a raised brow. She halted my spinning and adjusted the bottom of my dress.

  I paused for a moment and wondered if Essie was asking a trick question. Dwayne was weird, but he was wonderfully weird—as in three hundred year old gay vampire with eight adopted, sexually ambiguous, Were Cow daughters weird. Weird as in he bought a Hummer just so he could legitimately say the word hummer in polite company. He was also to die for gorgeous, Essie’s BFF, and quickly becoming one of mine as well.

  “Possibly,” I admitted with a giggle. “Speaking of, where is he?”

  “I’m in the bathroom and I’m not coming out,” Dwayne shouted. “Ever.”

  I glanced over at the closed bathroom door and squinted at it. Dwayne was always the center of attention—very unlike him to hide out when the gals were gathered. We were trying on dresses for goodness sake. It was his favorite hobby.

  “Umm…” I said with a questioning glance to Dima and Essie.

  “Do you recall that he cut a deal with Hank and Junior’s mom about her dress?” Essie whispered.

  “I can hear you,” Dwayne yelled.

  “Yep, I know,” Essie replied, trying not to laugh. “I just thought it would be it more appropriate to speak quietly considering how heinous the problem is.”

  “Roger that,” Dwayne bellowed. “I appreciate your candor. This is more devastating than the time I had dinner with Catherine the Great. I passed out from the stench of her four point three inches of lead based makeup, not to mention the body odor. Did you know she was very fond of horses?”

  “That’s a rumor,” Essie countered with a groan of disgust. “It’s been debunked. She died of a stroke, not fornicating with a horse.”

  “I call stallion poop on that,” Dwayne called out gleefully, clearly forgetting for a brief second why he’d locked himself in the bathroom. “However, I did see all of her penis and vagina shaped furniture. It was fabulously disgusting and frighteningly life-like—well, the penises were. I couldn’t tell you about the va-jay-jays since I’ve never really been up close and personal with one. I cut my finger on a sharp wiener. Got a terrible infection, which by the way is almost impossible for a Vampyre, because none of those bastards bathed. Everything was filthy—they ate with their hands and did God only knows what else. Sweet Jesus Hesus Christ, I’m so glad to be living in a more sanitary age now.”

  Dima, Essie and I stood silently gaping at the closed door. Dwayne could render even the most talkative mute.

  “Is he serious?” Dima mouthed.

  Dima was the Dragon Queen and new to our neck of the woods. She still had trouble discerning if Dwayne was telling the truth most of the time.

  But he was.

  Essie shrugged and let her head fall back on her shoulders. Yanking us to the far side of the room, she whispered so quietly I had to lean in to hear. “Just don’t get him started on King Henry the Eight’s bathroom habits or Napoleon’s tiny man package. You’ll have to go to therapy after those horror stories.”

  “I can still hear you,” Dwayne yelled. “And Bonaparte’s trouser schnauzer was so minuscule you needed a magnifying glass to see it.”

  “Dwayne, come out of that bathroom right now or I’ll get Granny from of the kitchen to yank your dead ass out of there,” Essie threatened. “And I’m stealing trouser schnauzer.”

  “You can have it,” Dwayne muttered morosely as he opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out. “It’s just not fair.”

  “What’s not fair?” Dima asked.

  “Look at you,” he whined. “You with all your red hair, big boobies and sexy gown. You put all Dragons to shame. Little Miss Blondie Super Model over there looks so hot I’d consider changing teams,” he said referring to me.

  “What about me?” Essie demanded with a laugh as she traipsed across the room in her exquisite off the shoulder designer wedding gown. The creamy sheath hugged her perfect figure to perfection. Hank’s eyes were going to bug right out of his head when he saw her.

  “Puh-leeeese,” Dwayne griped. “I want to be you. And clearly I love you or I wouldn’t be locked in the bathroom wearing a froofy piece of history that belongs in a burn barrel in Hell.”

  “I’m so lost,” Dima said, trying to pull Dwayne out of the bathroom.

  It didn’t work.

  Dima, like all Dragons had unimaginable strength, but Dwayne was a Vampyre in a hideous dress. Dwayne’s vanity would trump any Shifter’s strength no matter how magical.

  “He cut a deal to save Essie,” I told Dima as she again tried to yank Dwayne out into the open.

  Again, no luck.

  “Explain,” Dima said to the immovable and pouting Dwayne.

  “It was a clusterfuck in the making,” Dwayne announced in a loud stage whisper. “Essie agreed to wear Hank’s mother’s wedding dress so she didn’t get her ass kicked.”

  “Umm, no,” Essie corrected him. “You got into my freakin’ head and suggested I offer to wear her dress so I didn’t get my ass kicked.”

  “Semantics,” Dwayne sniffed.

  “Wait,” Dima said, mystified. “Why would your future mother-in-law want to kick your ass?”

  “Oh my hell,” I mumbled with a laugh and a shudder. “You haven’t met Sadie Wilson yet. She’s…well, she’s, umm…”

  “A ball busting piece of work and I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Essie said, saving me from a far worse and possibly more accurate description.

  “I can’t do it,” Dwayne wailed.

  He stepped out of the bathroom in the fluffiest, poofiest, most sequined horror show of a wedding dress ever made.

  “What the…?” Dima gasped and backed away.

  It was worse than my mother’s gown. The bell sleeves were the size of large watermelons and the bustle in the back looked like it could hide an army of a hundred. Dwayne was positively morose.

  “I can’t have that thing anywhere near my nuptials,” Essie shrieked. “It has it’s own zip code.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Dwayne wept as he crossed the room, knocking everything and everyone to the floor in his distress.

  Smashing glass and overturning furniture, Dwayne paced like a lunatic until Granny ran out of the kitchen and tackled his ass to the floor.

  “Get ahold of yourself, Bloodsucker. I cleaned this gaddurned place up for my messy granddaughter before you people got here,” Granny griped and then slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter. “What in the ever lovin’ hell are you wearin’ boy?”

  Granny, who bore an uncanny resemblance to a tiny Sophia Loren, got up and circled the yards and yards—or miles and miles, to be more accurate—of satin and sequins. She shook her head and whistled through her teeth. Poor Dwayne lay in a defeated puddle on the floor.

  “Granny, what are we gonna do?” Essie’s eyes were huge and her voice wavered.

  “Now I understand why he was in the bathroom,” Dima whispered to me.

  I gave her a quick nod, quickly dropped to the ground next to Dwayne and rubbed his bald head for comfort.

  “We’re going to pay Sadie Wilson a little visit,” Granny said while covertly snapping a picture of Dwayne with her cell phone.

  Granny and Dwayne were inseparable. When Granny got attacked by feral Werewolves and lay dying, Dwayne had turned her. Granny was now a Vampyre-Werewolf—the only one of her kind and a very big secret. Our Council—the embarrassingly named Werewolf Treaty Federation— otherwise known as WTF, would not take kindly to a hybrid like Granny.

  “Do we all have to go?” Essie inquired wi
th an expression of horror marring her lovely face.

  “Dang right we do,” Granny said. “This is gonna get fugly. Everybody got on her big girl panties?”

  “I’m wearing a thong,” Dwayne said pulling himself to his feet with effort—the dress had to weigh a hundred pounds.

  “Thongs are good,” Granny said with a terse nod. “Doubles as a slingshot in emergencies.”

  “Dear God, please let that visual leave my brain quickly,” Essie griped as she grabbed her purse and keys.

  I nodded my agreement and then froze. “Umm…I can’t go.”

  “Why not?” Dima asked, looking as unnerved as I did at the upcoming field trip.

  “Because Junior’s mother hates me,” I said, feeling my heart pounding in my throat.

  “Get in line,” Essie said. “Nobody’s good enough for her baby boys. Old Sadie’s gonna be your mother-in-law too, once you come to your senses about Junior. Best see her in a group rather than alone.”

  “Essie has a point,” Granny said. “Safety in numbers. Besides Dima can blow some fire if she gets too bitchy. Right Dima?”

  “You want me to kill her?” Dima asked with wide eyes and a terrified expression. “I mean, I just moved here. Killing Hank and Junior’s mom wouldn’t be the best way to fit in.”

  “Hell to the no,” Granny said with a guffaw. “Just singe her bald or remove an eyebrow.”

  “Roger that,” Dima squeaked, looking wildly uncomfortable.

  “Everybody change except for Dwayne,” Essie instructed. “Maybe if Sadie sees the atrocity she’ll come to her senses.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Granny said, helping all the girls change.

  “Ready?” Essie asked as she stepped into her Doc Martens and adjusted her shirt.

  “This is a very bad idea,” I said as I followed my crew out of Essie and Hank’s house.

  “Granny is full of those,” Dwayne said as he got into the only area of the Hummer that he would fit—the cargo section. “At least it will be less dangerous than the time I rode on the handle bars when Evel Knievel’s son Robbie jumped the Grand Canyon.”

  “Wait,” I said as we attempted to shove all of the dress into the car. “You were there? I don’t remember seeing you in that footage.”