by Amy Pennza
Haley let out a huff of laughter.
Remy looked up, then gave her a self-deprecating grin. “I thought I was in good shape. Then I tried hanging out with a three year old.”
Haley straightened. “In your defense, Posey isn’t your typical three year old.”
“You’ve got that right.” He met the little girl’s gaze. “Nothing typical about you, is there, Posey Wosey?”
The red curls bounced as Posey shook her head enthusiastically. “Nope!”
Haley laughed again. “Where are Lily and Dom?”
“Baby doctor. They drove into Champlain this morning.” His gaze grew distant, and for a second he seemed tense—like he was concentrating hard on something. Then his expression cleared and he gave his head a little shake. “Dom says they’re in the waiting room now.” The distant look turned to bemusement. “Huh. My range must be improving. Normally, I can’t communicate with Dom this far away.”
“That has to cut down on your cell phone bill.”
“It’s convenient.”
“Max is okay with Lily seeing a human doctor?” As a rule, werewolves weren’t supposed to seek medical treatment in the outside world. As Haley understood it, subtle differences in their blood raised red flags on human medical tests. Besides, the species had Healers who could mend wounds and tend to the injured.
Remy lifted Posey into his arms and balanced her on his hip, making pink tulle poof around his body. “It’s just an ultrasound. Our pack Healer has an old machine. Dom insisted on getting a state-of-the-art test.”
A light bulb went off in Haley’s head. “He’s nervous about another pregnancy.” Who could blame him? Werewolves had a hard enough time producing one child. It was almost unheard of for a mated pair to have two. When they did, there was usually a big age gap between their offspring. Yet Lily was pregnant again just three years after Posey.
Remy’s ready smile slipped a little, and he put a protective palm on the back of Posey’s head. He shot Haley a meaningful look over the red curls. “Yeah, but we’re keeping that decidedly on the down low. Especially in front of speed racer here.”
The little girl nestled into his shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth. One black high-top swung gently in the air.
Haley blanched. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No worries, chère,” he said quickly, his Québécois accent peeking through his usual smooth English. “I get why Dom’s”—he glanced at Posey’s head—“apprehensive, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Another baby is a good thing.”
Posey lifted her head. “Baby!”
Remy beamed at her. “That’s right. You’re going to have a baby brother. What do you think about that?”
She grinned, still kicking her leg back and forth. Then she pointed a chubby finger down the hall and said, “Snack!”
Remy looked at Haley with raised eyebrows. “Well, it seems the boss lady has spoken.”
Haley smiled. “She’s certainly dressed for it.”
“Snack!” Posey yelled, jabbing her finger down the hall. “SNACK!”
Remy gave her an affronted look. “Watch it, girl. If you’re mean I’m not cutting your sandwich into dinosaur shapes.” He threw his head back and let out a deep roar.
The little girl giggled, then reached up and patted his cheek. “T-Wex.”
“You got it.” He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers.
Oh my. Haley had to restrain herself from clasping her hands under her chin and sighing. If the female half of the werewolf community could see this, the species’ population problem might get solved overnight. “Aching ovaries” was an understatement. What was it about a big, powerful male being sweet with a baby that made the evils of the world fall away and everything seem perfect and good?
It didn’t hurt that Remy was a heartthrob and former ladies’ man. Emphasis on former. Whatever his past romantic exploits, they were firmly behind him. As a mated male, he only had eyes for Sophie . . . and the occasional mischievous redheaded toddler.
He met Haley’s gaze. “Whatcha got there?”
“Huh?” She shook her head to clear the estrogen fog. “I mean, what?”
“The papers.” He used his chin to gesture toward the hand she held at her side.
She looked at the invitations. “Oh. Nothing.” She stuck the papers behind her back.
Remy raised a blond eyebrow. “Haley. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘you can’t bullshit a bullshitter’?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mean to brag, but I’m probably the most accomplished bullshitter in the territory. Possibly the species.”
She sighed. “Fine. But it’s dumb.”
“Also an expert on that subject.”
That made a smile tug at her mouth, which helped tamp down the tightness that threatened to return to her chest. “I wanted to have a party for my twenty-first birthday. Not for presents or anything. Just to . . .” She groped for the right words. “So the guys might get to know me better.” Heat scorched her cheeks.
Understanding lit Remy’s green gaze. “You want them to give you a chance.”
She let her shoulders slump. “Yeah.” Wow, she was lame. Hearing it out loud made everything worse. Now Remy would make a sympathetic sound and tell her to stop trying so hard. That there was no reason to rush into a relationship or a mating. She had her whole life ahead of her. Dating should be the last thing on her mind. As her well-meaning foster mother told her, there was “no need to be boy crazy” and actively searching for love just made her “look desperate.”
But Remy didn’t say any of those things. His gaze remained steady, and his voice was soft when he said, “It’s okay to want, you know.”
“Want?” What did he mean?
His smile was gentle. “Want. Desire. Yearn.” He tipped his head toward Posey. “Whether it’s the whole marriage and baby thing or just a date, it’s okay to want.”
It was her turn to smile, except she knew hers was rueful. “Yeah, well, most people tell me I’m too young to know what I want.”
“Ah, that’s the funny thing. Sometimes we don’t know what we want until we find it.”
With anyone else, she would have rolled her eyes. But in this case, his words made sense. If anyone was an expert on love, it was Remy Arsenault. And not just because he’d spent years as the species’ resident playboy. If anything, his reputation had nearly stopped him from finding happiness. Most people focused so much on his exterior they forgot to look deep enough to see the kind, caring male underneath.
But Sophie had. As Remy was fond of saying, she’d saved him just as much as he saved her.
He nodded toward the invitations again. “If you leave them with me, I’ll make sure everyone gets one.”
“You will?”
“Yup. I’ll see most of the guys later today for a training run.” A wicked light entered his eyes. “I’m making them scale the gorge.”
She winced. Steps from the Lodge’s back door, the gorge dropped a hundred feet to a trickle of a creek. A rope bridge made crossing fast and easy—except for the times the pack’s trainers forced recruits to climb down one side and up the other. The last time she did it, her muscles ached for a week.
She handed Remy the invitations. “Just do me a favor and pass them out before you torture everyone.”
“Good idea.”
A thought popped into her head. “And Remy?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t . . .” She cleared her throat. “Promise you won’t force anyone to come, okay?” Because he could. Dom might be Beta and second-in-command, but Remy was the default leader of the Hunters—the wolves who served and guarded the Alpha and his family. When he wasn’t looking after the pack’s finances, he trained the next generation of wolves who hoped to serve as Hunters someday. If he told the young males at the Lodge to attend her party, they would.
And that would just make everything worse.
Shuffling Posey in h
is arms a little, he rolled the invitations into a tube shape and stuffed them in his back pocket. “I won’t. I promise.”
She let her shoulders relax.
“We’re off to the kitchen,” he said. “Wanna join us for snack time? I make a fine dinosaur-shaped sandwich.”
Haley laughed. “Thanks, but no. I was just going up to my—”
“What’s going on out here?”
She and Remy turned at the sound of the deep, French-accented voice. The Alpha stood in an open doorway half a dozen steps down the hall.
Max’s expression softened when he saw Posey. In a flash, the forbidding Alpha disappeared. He strode to Remy and grasped Posey’s tiny black sneaker.
“And how are you, mon chou?” he asked the little girl.
Haley hid a smile. It would never not be weird to hear people call their loved ones a “cabbage.” As Dom would say, though, who could explain the French? It had taken her a while to get used to the slang.
And goodness knew she was hopeless any time Max went off on one of his lectures. He tended to switch to French when he was angry. He also tended to speak more quickly. When he combined the two, the best she could do was stand still and nod.
Considering how often she ended up on the receiving end of a scolding, it was a decent strategy.
He looked at her now. “It’s a good thing you’re here. I need to see you.”
Panic jumped into her throat. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”
Remy chuckled.
“It’s nothing bad,” Max said. He gave her a thoughtful look. “If anything, it’s more of a . . . project. One I think you might enjoy.”
Now why did that make her panic kick up another notch?
She swallowed. “I should probably point out I always hated group projects in school. Actually, I hated school in general.”
“Yes, I know,” Max said. “I still have your report cards.”
Yeah, and he’d given her hell each time her grades slipped below a C average. What good was being a badass supernatural creature if you had to worry about your GPA?
But Max didn’t see things that way. Whereas some Alphas believed in isolating their packs from the human world, he was all about integration. Most of the New York wolves had college degrees and regular jobs.
She glanced at Remy. She’d get no help there. He put up a good front, but underneath the charm and jokes was a sharp mind—and one he’d used to earn his master’s in accounting from Syracuse. As the pack’s CPA, he made sure the territory had enough wealth to last several centuries.
Max stepped back and swept an arm toward his office. “At least hear me out. As I said, I think you’ll enjoy this particular project.”
It was nice of him to couch it as a request, but they both knew it wasn’t. When the Alpha asked you to step into his office, it wasn’t really an ask situation.
It was an order.
She tickled Posey’s cheek, prompting a giggle from the little girl, then gave Remy a wave before turning and heading to Max’s office.
He murmured something to Remy behind her back, then followed, his long strides letting him easily catch up to her.
At the door, he motioned her in before closing the big double doors behind them.
“Let’s sit,” he said, already walking to his desk. In a blink, he was behind it.
A faint breeze tugged at her hair—the aftermath of him using his Gift to cross the room faster than even a supernatural eye could track.
He steadied himself with a hand on his desk. “Moved too fast that time,” he murmured. Then he lifted his gaze, his pale eyes meeting hers.
Apprehension zipped down her spine. For all his assurance she wasn’t in trouble, it was hard to feel at ease with the Alpha. It didn’t help that his “office” was more like a library—or maybe a throne room in a czar’s palace. According to Lizette, the inlaid floors and ornate woodwork weren’t really Max’s style. But it didn’t matter what Max liked. The room wasn’t built for comfort.
It was built to impress. Specifically, it served as a reflection of Max’s power in the North. When other alphas and their wolves visited the New York Territory, they needed to feel the weight of Max’s influence. To wolves, appearances were everything.
Haley bit back a sigh. For a species of supernatural creatures with kick-ass powers, werewolves could be such mean girls.
“Haley?”
She looked up. Max stood behind his desk, an expectant look on his face. Yeah, keeping the Alpha waiting was a bad idea. “Sorry,” she said, bustling forward. As she went, she couldn’t help looking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows along the room’s back wall. The forest stretched beyond it, the view outside even more impressive than the room itself.
When she reached the desk, Max waved her into one of the two visitor chairs. “Have a seat.”
Her stomach tightened. How many times had she heard those words before? Usually after she’d skipped class or failed to do her assigned chores around the Lodge.
Oh, and there was that one time she slugged Calvin Ketterby in the face for calling her “Haley the Giftless.”
Actually, that might have happened more than once.
She perched on the edge of the chair and put her hands in her lap. There. She was reserved. Respectful. Whatever Max had to say, she was fully prepared to hear it.
He sat and rested his hands lightly on the arms of his chair. For a moment, he regarded her in silence, his pale stare steady.
It was hard not to squirm under that stare. Instinct wouldn’t let her gaze directly into his eyes, as that would be a challenge to his authority.
Her wolf most certainly didn’t want to go there.
But he’d said she wasn’t in trouble—that he wanted to talk to her about a “project.”
Seriously, how bad could it be? It was probably something silly.
She offered him a tentative smile.
“So,” he said, “how do you feel about finding a husband?”
2
Haley’s smile froze. For a second, she wasn’t sure she heard Max correctly.
Because he’d just asked her how she felt about a husband.
Right?
A laugh built in her chest. He couldn’t have said that. Her hearing wasn’t as good as she thought. Maybe some of her latency still lingered. That would explain a lot of—
“Haley?” A hint of alarm entered Max’s expression. “Are you all right?”
She realized she was still smiling at him like an idiot. “Uh . . .” She cleared her throat and tried to arrange her features into something normal looking. “Sorry. It’s just that I thought you asked how I feel about finding a husband.”
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I did.” He leaned forward and snagged a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed before. “I received a letter from the mother of one of our past trainees.”
“His mother?”
Max kept his gaze on the paper. “He’s one of the latents Lizette Turned.” He glanced up. “So you have that in common.”
“In common?”
“The mother says here he’s been unable to find a mate despite making the Turn and developing a strong Gift. She says it’s been four years since he Turned.” He grunted and dropped his voice to a mutter. “It doesn’t help that they live in the Washington Territory.”
“Washington?”
Max looked up, a frown wrinkling his normally smooth forehead. Still holding the paper, he leaned back in his chair. “You’re repeating everything I say.”
“I am?” Shit, he was right. She shook herself. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with me?”
“I should think that would be obvious.” He waved the paper. “A mother wants her son mated. He’s struggling to find possible matches. You’re single and, if I’m not mistaken, looking.” At that, he raised an eyebrow. “Am I mistaken?”
Her cheeks heated, and she had to look down. His gaze was too discerning. Good
grief, did everyone in the Lodge know about her pitiful love life? She heard herself mumble, “I’m not desperate.”
“I didn’t say that, and I don’t think that.”
She dared a glance at him. “Other people do.” The rejections she’d experienced over the past hour roared back, and tears burned her throat. “It’s like I have the plague.”
There was a scraping sound, then Max’s jeans-covered legs appeared at the bottom of her vision. He leaned on the edge of the desk in front of her, and when he spoke his voice was as gentle as she’d ever heard it.
“You don’t have the plague, ma belle. Far from it. My territory is richer for having you in it.”
That brought her head up. “You mean it?” He’d always seemed so exasperated by her. Although, he seemed exasperated by a lot of the younger wolves.
His smile touched his eyes, which grew warmer despite their light color. “Of course I do. You . . .” He gestured, clearly searching for a word—something he usually did before using an English idiom. He snapped his fingers. “You keep me on my toes.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“It is. Especially for an Alpha.” He raised his eyebrows. “People in power need to be checked on occasion. Remy used to relish that role. Then he met Sophie and settled down. Someone had to take over the job of chief troublemaker.”
The affection in his voice was obvious, so she returned his smile. “Just so you know, he hasn’t entirely abandoned his trouble-making ways.”
“Believe me, I’m aware. He’s changed the background image on my laptop three times this week.”
“What did he change it to?”
“Minions memes. Every time.” He grimaced. “He also makes obnoxious videos autoplay when I log on. I had to carry the damn computer upstairs so Lizette could turn it off.”
Haley laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of the formidable Max hauling ass upstairs so his wife could fix his computer was too funny.
He chuckled with her. Then his expression grew serious, and his tone became reluctant. “I know you’ve struggled here. Struggled to make friends.”
“That’s not true.” She had plenty of friends.
“Besides Lizette, Remy, and the others.”
