“Mmm?”
“You’re supposed to be warming this up, ya know? Not grilling it all over again.” Lock motioned her aside so he could pull the oven door open.
“I used to follow my Uncle Cally around when he’d come over to fix Ma’s plumbing and by the time I was thirteen, I had a regular summer job with his company.”
“Now this Uncle Cally, is he an actual uncle or simply one of the many males your mother had around for breeding purposes while you were growing up?”
Lock bolted up so fast, his head slammed into the stove. “Mom!”
Perplexed, his mother studied him while he rubbed the back of his head. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“Me? You can’t ask Gwen a question like that.”
Alla sighed in exasperation. His mother had often told Lock that he was much too polite to ever be a true intellectual. “But this is a Pride we’re discussing, Lachlan. They don’t keep males around except for protection and breeding purposes.”
“Mom!”
“Any Breeding Males we had around the house,” Gwen calmly cut in, “were never called uncle. Ma always thought that was creepy.”
“I have to agree with her,” Alla muttered, again ignoring the glare from her son.
“My Uncle Cally is one of Ma’s brothers.”
“Half-brother?” Lock asked.
Gwen scowled but he knew it was to keep from laughing. “Shut up.”
Brody walked into the kitchen, happily clapping his hands together. “Dinner ready?”
“Mom burned the meat. Again.”
Alla glared at her husband rather than her son. “If you wanted a housesow, you should have married one!”
“I didn’t say anything!” Brody argued, pointing a damning finger at Lock. “It was the boy!”
“But you were thinking it,” she accused. “Now, I’m going to take Gwen into the living room and you two can work out dinner.” She smiled at Gwen. “You’ll stay for dinner, of course.”
“Okay,” Gwen said easily, surprising Lock.
Alla walked to the refrigerator and Gwen stepped out of her way. The kitchen had always been too small for a family of four bears, but Lock wondered if Gwen was feeling a little overwhelmed. She was only about five-eight. His mother was six-four and had the sturdy hips and shoulders of a true breeding sow. Lock could never think of a time as a child when his mother didn’t make him feel safe. Because who’d be crazed enough to try and get near him when his mother was around?
“I have iced tea, dear. Or beer?”
“Maybe a saucer of milk?”
Gwen and Alla looked over at Lock and he immediately pointed at his father. “It was him,” he lied.
His father, oblivious as always, held up a menu from the stack they kept on hand in one of the cupboards. “How about Chinese food? They deliver and have those wonderful family-style meals to feed four. So I’ll order eight of those.”
Gwen was kind of amazed. A mother with several degrees and a prestigious position at an Ivy League college did not ensure that she’d be any less embarrassing to her child than a mother who became a nurse through night school. Gwen knew this when Alla launched into her “unfortunate changes in my vagina after the birth of Lachlan” discussion.
Lock had to put his big glass of milk down for that one, his head buried in his hands. The parts of his face not covered by his long fingers turned a lovely shade of crimson. Gwen had nail polish that matched that color perfectly.
“Was it his giant kumquat head?” Gwen asked, thoroughly enjoying every second of Lock’s misery.
“No. It was his shoulders. He’s always had very large shoulders. I mean look at him. Even as a baby they were freakishly long.”
“Freakishly?” Lock snapped.
“They stretched me right out.”
“Mom!”
Brody shrugged and reached for more moo goo gai pork. “I didn’t mind.”
“Dad!”
“Well, darling, you were always quite large, so it made things a little easier for both of us when it came to sex.”
“Mom!”
Alla shook her head. “I don’t know what happened to you, Lachlan MacRyrie.” She turned to Gwen. “I’ve always insisted on being quite open about human bodies when talking to my children. There’s no shame in a woman’s body. And like everything else in the world, it ages. So while you still have the exquisite body you’ve been blessed with, Gwen dear, and that prebirth vagina—enjoy it.”
“Is there any way to get you to stop?” Lock begged.
“Eat your food and stop whining, Lachlan. It’s not attractive.”
Brody’s head lifted and he leaned back in his chair, staring off through the living room and into the front room. Their house was like one long building, everything linear. It fit them so well.
After a few moments the front door opened and Brody grinned. “Well, look who’s here.”
Three young children ran in, screaming. Brody stood and held his arms open, allowing the children to crash into him. He didn’t budge an inch.
“Mom?” She walked into the room and Gwen immediately saw the resemblance between brother and sister. She doubted Lock and his sister had many “You two are related?” moments like Gwen and Mitch did.
“Hello, dear. What are you doing here so late?”
“I came to pick up the…” Her words faded away when she saw Gwen sitting at the table. Her nostrils twitched and flared and her eyes immediately went to her children, her body tensing.
“Stop it, Iona,” Alla warned while she put more honey chicken with cashews on her plate. The woman had an appetite like Mitch and Brendon put together.
“Iona, this is Gwen O’Neill,” Lock said. “Gwen, this is my sister Iona MacRyrie-Phillips.” There certainly was a lot of hyphenating in this family.
“Hi.”
Her gaze examined Gwen carefully before she finally replied, “Hello.”
“She’s our plumber,” Brody said with an interesting amount of cheer. He returned to his chair and sat, pulling one of the children, a girl, onto his lap.
“Inviting plumbers to dinner now?” the sow asked.
Relaxing back in her chair, Gwen replied, “I’m so good at what I do, I always get a meal afterward. And sometimes, flowers.”
Lock choked on his milk while Brody agreed, “She did an excellent job, dear. We have a new water heater now. A waterless water heater. I plan to examine it tomorrow.”
“No!” his entire family said, making him jump.
Even the granddaughter on his lap looked up into his face and said with the solemn wisdom of a four-year-old, “Don’t, Grandpa.”
“This is a really nice table,” Gwen said after Iona and Alla went into the kitchen to retrieve old family flatware for one of Iona’s exclusive doctor-only parties. And yeah, Lock specifically did not mention to Gwen that his sister was one of those evil “organ thieves.” Not with the evening going so well and all.
Gwen tapped the table. “Where did you get it?” She leaned down to examine the underside. “Was it expensive?”
Lock glanced at his father who quickly shrugged and muttered, “I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t say anything about what?” Gwen asked.
“Why are you asking about the table?” Lock demanded, wondering what she was up to.
“Because it’s nice and one day I’ll need furniture.”
Brody sat up. “Well, then—”
“Dad.”
Gwen glanced back and forth between them. “What?”
“Nothing,” Lock said. “The table was made for my parents,” which wasn’t a lie.
“Oh.” She pouted a little. “This would probably be out of my price range then.”
Brody threw his napkin down. “Yes, but—”
“Dad,” Lock cut in again, scowling in warning at his father.
Gwen watched them closely. “What is wrong with you two?”
The MacRyrie men gave identical shrugs and a
nswered together, “Nothing.”
Gwen said good-bye to the MacRyries, giving them her personal cell phone number in case they had any problems with their new heater. As she walked back to her truck, Lock walked beside her.
“I’m sorry we kept you out so late,” he said.
“No problem. I had a really good time.”
“Sure you don’t want me to follow you back to the city?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Right. I don’t know how I survived this long without you shadowing me.”
Gwen unlocked her truck door and pulled it open.
“So, Gwen…you want to go out sometime?”
And there it was.
She faced him, the open truck cab to her back. He had his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the bushes behind her head. He was shy and adorable and wouldn’t last ten seconds with her or her family. Sure, in a physical fight and if they snuck up on him, startling him into a violent reaction, he could take Gwen’s uncles and Mitch. But in the verbal duels that represented O’Neill get-togethers? Not two seconds. He got weird when she asked questions about his parents’ dining table and couldn’t even look her in the eye when he asked her out.
“Thanks, Lock, but no.” See? Much better to let him down now, then crush him later when he got attached to the unattachable. “It’s nothing personal, though,” she added.
He laughed, now looking her in the eyes. “Yeah, being turned down for a date is always not personal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Not really.” But he was smiling and there didn’t seem to be any bitterness or anger. She appreciated that and, to her way of thinking, it said a lot about him as a man.
“I had a great time tonight. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”
“Okay.”
Hmm. Maybe he was taking it too well. Couldn’t he even put up a little fight for her? Jeez. She was glad she hadn’t wasted her time.
She got into her truck, and Lock closed the door for her. He leaned into the open window, looking around at everything, as curious as his father, if not as grabby about it.
Gwen started the truck and put on her seat belt.
“You’ve got the check, right?”
“Yup. Thanks.” She adored prompt payers.
“Okay. See ya.”
“Yeah.” She turned her head to say good-bye and then his mouth was there, on hers.
It was…strange. His lips…they…uh…she didn’t know. But as strange as his lips felt on hers, they also felt wonderful. Amazing wonderful. And instead of pulling back, horrified by the awkward moment or freaked out by his strange lips, she ended up kissing him back. She leaned into that kiss, her mouth opening under his, tongue pressing inside until she felt inundated with the taste of Chinese honey chicken.
She released the steering wheel, her hands reaching out for him, and that’s when he stepped back. His eyes were closed and his tongue swiped his lips, as if he were still savoring the taste of her.
When he looked at her again, he said, “Night.”
And walked off!
Gwen watched him, moving from a slow burn to a nice, frothy rage as he left her sitting there in her running truck.
Again! He’d left her again! This time was worse than the last, too, because she was awake and fully aware he was leaving her!
You turned him down for the date, her rational cat side reminded her. And her human side told her cat side to shut the fuck up!
“Bears,” she growled. “Tricky, eating-out-of-trashcan Jersey bears! I hate all of them!”
She slammed the truck into reverse and tore out of the MacRyries’ driveway, promising herself never to return no matter how much she liked his parents or what a great kisser Lock MacRyrie was.
Never. Again!
Lock walked up to his parents’ house, the sweet taste of Gwen still on his lips.
It had been a long time since he’d felt like this about a woman. A long time since something had caught his interest other than food or survival. And he liked it. He liked feeling something other than hunger or dread, panic or calm, anger or absolutely nothing. For the first time in years he felt warm from the inside out and he loved it. Wanted more of it.
He wanted more of Gwen O’Neill.
She wouldn’t be easy to get, though. Like a cat staring at him from a hundred-foot tree, Gwen kept herself safe from outsiders, only the chosen allowed in to her world.
But Lock was nothing if not persistent. He had pulled ancient trees out by the roots to get to a beehive, and battled full-blood grizzlies to get the best spot in a salmon-filled Alaskan river. So if Gwen thought she could motion him out of her life with a wave of her hand and an “It’s not you, it’s me,” she was dead wrong.
“Nicely handled, son,” his father praised as Lock stepped into the house, the old man patting him on the shoulder as he passed.
Lock smiled in return, feeling surprisingly pleased with himself. “Thanks, Dad.”
Niles, exhausted to his bones, rubbed his forehead and glared across the boardroom table. They’d all been arguing for the last three hours and he’d just hit his wall.
As he slammed his hand on the table, every predator eye locked on him. It was a disturbing sight, but one he’d gotten used to over the years since he’d joined the Board. “We can’t keep having this same argument. Nor can we ignore how things are changing.”
The ancient matriarch of the Llewellyn Pride, Matilda, tapped her claws against the table. She was so old, she couldn’t retract them anymore. “What are you suggesting, Van Holtz?”
“You know what I’m suggesting, and I’m tired of talking. Do we do this…or not?”
“Do we have much of a choice?”
“Not anymore.”
The representatives of every major Pack, Pride, and Clan, as well as reps for nonsocial breeds, glanced at each other. After a much-too-long stretch of time, each nodded, silently giving their agreement.
Matilda was the last. She nodded, white-gold mane briefly covering her face.
“Good,” Niles said, signaling to his assistant. “Then we’re done.”
They rose to leave, one of Matilda’s nieces helping the old lioness out of the chair. But before she left, and after everyone else had, she focused still-sharp gold eyes on Niles. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Matilda, you just agreed—”
She waved one white claw. “I’m not talking about the decision that was made here, young Niles. I’m talking about your new hire.”
Oh. That. Well, he’d known there would be some uncomfortable with his choice, but that was too damn bad. “I was empowered by the Board to make those decisions. Without getting prior approval by you…or anyone.”
“You were. But be careful, poodle.” She made her slow way toward the door, her niece gripping her elbow. “That one’s predecessor…that didn’t end too well, now did it?”
“Perhaps,” Niles murmured, hiding his smile. Because as Niles’s father used to tell the story, it actually only ended badly for the Llewellyn Breeding Male who’d gotten in that one’s way.
“She’s going to be difficult,” his assistant reminded him once Matilda was gone.
“True. But there’s something to keep in mind…” Niles picked up his papers and shoved them into his briefcase “…the old bitch can’t live forever.”
His assistant looked at him with what Niles could only interpret as amusement mixed with pity. “Perhaps not, sir. But she’s clearly going to make her best effort.”
CHAPTER 9
With extreme care, Gwen pulled the sheet back until nothing blocked her from all six feet, four inches and 280 pounds of naked Mitch O’Neill Shaw. Raising her hands, she unleashed her claws. While her fingernails still sported Eagle colors, her claws sported the Steelers.
And her brother hated the Steelers.
Grinning, Gwen leaped straight into the air at the same time that Sissy Mae’s eyes opened, instantly growing round and huge as Gwen landed on he
r brother’s back with all her weight and slammed her front claws right into his ass.
“Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!”
Ignoring his howl of pain, Gwen quickly and efficiently dug her claws in and out of her brother’s ass cheeks until she was satisfied she’d left a proper—and memorable—pattern. Because if nothing else, he needed to learn that she wouldn’t tolerate him treating her like a child and talking down to her as he’d done the day before. Even more important—it was fun!
Impressed with her work, Gwen nimbly leaped off her brother’s back and strolled toward the hallway. She waited until she heard Mitch’s snarling rage only a few feet behind her before she grabbed the door and yanked it shut. The satisfying sound of Mitch running face-first into it would sit with her all day, and she couldn’t be happier.
The doorbell went off again and Lock glared at the clock next to his bed. Not even seven and someone dared to wake him up? Especially when he’d only gotten to bed a few short hours ago. Unacceptable.
Marching through his apartment, he snatched his front door open and ended up glaring at Ric, who grinned at him from behind five-hundred-dollar shades.
“Morning, Mr. Sunshine.” Ric held up a bakery bag. “I’ve brought treats to gently ease you into wakefulness.”
“Fuck off.” Lock slammed the door shut, engaged the industrial-strength security system he’d recently had installed, and went back to bed.
Thirty minutes later he smelled fresh coffee under his nose and bacon throughout his house. He opened his eyes and glared at the smiling face of Ulrich Van Holtz. “How did you get past my security system?”
“Security system?” The canine’s grin turned into a smirk, making Lock’s eye twitch. “Is that what they call it?”
“You’re annoying me.”
The smug canine eased the coffee under his nose again. “But doesn’t that smell delicious?” he crooned. “And I’m also going to make you my perfect French toast. All you have to do is ease your way out of bed. That’s it. Good boy.”
“Shut up.” Lock placed his feet on the floor and buried his face in his hands. After all these years, only Ric had discovered the perfect method to get Lock out of bed and reduce any early-morning maulings.
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