by Terry Spear
Adrenaline surging, Paul and Allan raced across the family room and down the carpeted floor of the hallway between two of the bedrooms. From there, they crept toward the kitchen, where they’d heard Lori speaking.
The living room was all clear. Paul and Allan silently passed the guest bathroom and neared the entrance to the kitchen and breakfast nook, where they heard the clinking of silverware and dishes.
In place, Paul was about to peek around the doorjamb to determine the extent of the threat when Catherine shouted, “No, watch out!”
The crashing of porcelain against the tile floor spurred the men on. Paul’s heart was pounding triple time when he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, materializing out of the darkness in black clothes and black face paint, gun in hand.
Rose saw Paul first. She screamed and dropped the coffee mug she was holding. It crashed on the floor, splattering coffee everywhere.
Lori swung the broom she was holding and whacked Paul in the head with it while Catherine yelled in fright. Confused, Paul assessed the situation in the kitchen and found only the four women there. One broken plate. One broken coffee mug and coffee splashed everywhere. The delightful aroma of huckleberries and blackberries cooking and the scent of the spices Catherine was adding to jars for Rose’s gift shop filled the room. No armed hostage-takers anywhere.
Overwhelmed with relief, Paul quickly holstered his gun and tried to wrench the broom away from Lori before she could hit him again. This time she looked like she was dying to, just on principle for scaring her. When he couldn’t wrest the broom from her, he grabbed her shoulders instead, pressed her hard against the wall, and kissed her.
He’d been wanting to do that forever—since the last time they’d resolved an issue in this manner.
His chest pressed against her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra under the slinky tank top—and his internal thermostat turned even hotter. Her shorts were…short, showing off her shapely tanned legs, and her feet were bare. One scorching, sexy she-wolf package.
Unexpectedly, Lori twisted her body and swept her leg behind him, tripping him and effectively knocking him off balance. He pulled her down with him as he fell on his backside, and she landed on top, dropping the broom. He grinned at the way she’d outmaneuvered him. He’d forgotten about her martial-arts training.
“It’s me,” he said, just in case she hadn’t realized it.
“Jeez, Paul, you look like a bank robber!”
Lori was lying on top of him, not making a move to get up. His body immediately responded with ravenous hunger. He took advantage of the moment by flipping her onto her back and kissing her again. She smelled of lilacs, woman, and she-wolf, and tasted of honey as he licked the sticky sweetness off her lips.
She finally smiled a little against his mouth, about the same time as Catherine cleared her throat. As much as Paul didn’t want to move from their stimulating pose—and hoping he could quickly get his body under control—he eased off Lori and pulled her to her feet.
This was how he wanted to see her when he came home from missions.
Brows raised, Allan put his weapons away. “I was going to ask if the two of you needed my help…”
“This is why I didn’t want you and Paul to run with those boys any longer,” Catherine scolded, picking the broom up off the floor so she could sweep up the broken dishes, while Rose cleaned up the coffee splattered on the floor.
“The boys” Catherine was referring to were their wolf Navy SEAL teammates, none of whom had been boys for a very long time.
Frowning at them, Catherine tucked a dark blond curl behind her ear. Dressed in her favorite apron—lavender with “Hot and Spicy” embroidered on it, a gift from Paul and Allan for Mother’s Day this year—she was also wearing her mother-of-two-wayward-wolf-cubs look. “I told you I was busy and would see you later,” Catherine said reproachfully.
Lori’s gray-haired grandma, Emma, was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea and smiling. “Now, Catherine, don’t scold. Allan and Paul are such good boys.”
Still cleaning up the mess, Catherine snorted. “Running around in the jungle like that…” She turned to eye them. “Still practicing your stealth moves? You’re supposed to be on vacation.”
Paul had almost forgotten how he and Allan had taken a few years off Catherine’s life when they were young by practicing sneaking up on her, either as wolves or as future SEALs. The whole point was for her never to see them. Only she always did—because of her wolf senses—and they’d gotten scolded back then too.
Paul glanced around the kitchen, trying to figure out what the women were up to. They’d had buttermilk biscuits and honey… He licked his lips, still tasting the sweetness on his mouth after kissing Lori. A stack of paper was sitting on the table. It looked to be some project Catherine was in charge of, as usual. And she’d been making jams and the like for Rose’s shop.
Movement behind them in the dim hallway made Paul and Allan whip around to see Michael Anderson wearing only jeans as he strolled into the kitchen, his red hair mussed and his hazel-green eyes wide at seeing Paul and Allan. “When did you two get in?”
Michael was the brother-in-law of their SEAL team leader, Hunter Greymere. Neither Michael nor his sister, Tessa, had been born as lupus garous. Yet they both had been drawn to seek out wolves—Michael painting them, Tessa photographing them. Then Hunter had gotten involved with Tessa, and everything had changed.
“We got in just a little bit ago. Hell, we didn’t know you were going to be here. Didn’t you hear all the racket in here?” Paul stepped forward and shook Michael’s hand.
“Heavy sleeper,” Michael said, looking a little sheepish.
Paul remembered that the Bigfork Festival of the Arts had been last weekend on the shore of Flathead Lake. “Was your work at the art festival?”
“Yeah. Catherine and Rose had a booth showcasing their homemade salsas and jellies. Emma displayed a lot of her Native American beaded jewelry, belts, and moccasins. And they invited me to showcase my artwork too. I stayed the week and painted a new picture for the…” Michael glanced at the women, then cleared his throat.
“For a special auction for a charitable cause. Then at the festival, one of the galleries put some of my paintings on display. I also brought some new paintings for Rose’s gift shop. I’ve got a flight out to Portland this afternoon. I’m going to drop by and see Tessa and Hunter first, then I’m leaving for Brazil for another showing.”
“Brazil.” Paul was a little surprised that Michael would be leaving the States, but figured he would have someone from Hunter’s pack watching over him. Newly turned wolves always had a shadow from the pack. “Are you doing well with your paintings?”
“Can’t complain. They’re still winning awards and selling well,” Michael said. “Get lots of dates.” He grinned.
Same old Michael. Charming. Talented.
“Doing all right controlling your wolf half?” Paul asked. This was the first time he’d seen Michael on his own, without a wolf chaperoning him—one who had either been born a wolf or who had been turned years earlier. For newer wolves, the call of the full moon could still wreak havoc with their control.
“Been doing great. Thanks for asking,” Michael said, sounding proud of the fact.
Still, Paul thought it was way too soon to let Michael out on his own. Paul was just glad everyone in his wolf pack had been born that way. New wolves could be real trouble.
“If we don’t see you before you leave, give Tessa a hug for us, will you?” Paul asked.
Allan said, “Yeah, and good luck with your exhibits.”
“Thanks. Who would ever have thought I’d have the opportunity to paint wolves that weren’t exactly all wolf? Hey, would you be up to shifting so that I can catch you on canvas?”
Paul smiled and shook his head. “Not this time.” The thought of lying around for hours while Michae
l painted him didn’t appeal.
Michael looked inquiringly at Allan.
“Not me,” Allan quickly said.
Diversion over, Paul thought Allan would explain to his mother why they’d donned face paint, armed themselves to the max, and silently slipped into her home, ready for a fight. Instead, Allan said, “Come on, Paul. We’ll come back later when the situation is less…hostile.” He glanced at Lori. “Or…something.”
Lori was wearing a small smirk, her dark hair curling about her shoulders, her dark brown eyes smiling at Paul, and he sure got the impression that she would hang around during his visit this time. He hoped he’d helped to change her mind if she had any notion of leaving again.
He and Allan had left the house and were making their way along the road to Paul’s SUV when Paul asked, “So what was that all about?”
“I could ask you the same question. I…didn’t know you had a thing for Lori. I mean, I used to think you were interested in her, but the two of you never went anywhere with it.” Allan waited for an explanation, but Paul didn’t offer one. “Did it seem to you that the ladies were hiding something?” Allan asked.
“Yeah, it did.” They climbed into the SUV and drove off.
“They were being secretive,” Allan said.
“Yeah, I agree.” Paul recalled the guilty look Catherine had worn, which was why she’d turned her expression into a frown and immediately begun scolding them. Not that they hadn’t frightened her and the other women, but he was certain something more was going on. Rose’s mischievous expression indicated she knew what it was all about. He suspected it had something to do with Allan and him. Lori had worn a similar expression, once they were done kissing. Even Michael had seemed a little apprehensive—he had glanced at the women as if to get his cues.
“The last time they looked that guilty, they were contemplating marrying me off to Tara Baxter,” Allan said. “Mom thought if she could entice me to settle down with a mate, I wouldn’t want to tear off on these high-risk jobs any longer.” Allan glanced at Paul. “Maybe Mom is working on a mate prospect for you this time.”
That would be the day. Not only were there no other she-wolves their age in town besides Lori and Rose—well, and Tara—but Paul loved his job. Every assignment was completely different from the last, offering exhilarating, fulfilling, heart-thumping excitement. And it meant saving people who might not have a prayer otherwise.
“This place isn’t known to have a big wolf population—as in our lupus garou kind—female or otherwise. So who would she try to set me up with?” Paul asked, figuring Catherine wouldn’t attempt that with him.
“I was thinking of Lori, and then you went and kissed her.” Allan grinned at him. “Hell, I thought she would have used one of her more lethal martial-arts maneuvers on you, not taken you down and kissed you back. Have you been keeping in touch with her on the sly?”
“Me? Hell, no.”
Since she taught martial arts to the local kids and had a fourth-degree black belt in jujitsu, Paul wondered how Lori would fare if he and she were to do a little workout—when he was better prepared for her takedown maneuvers. Paul had to admit that even though he loved his job, he had wanted to see Lori again. Especially since for the last two years, she had been conspicuously absent whenever he was around. He told himself it was just because she was part of his pack and he wanted to know what was going on, but that wasn’t true. He had wanted to see her.
“So why did you kiss her?” Allan asked.
“To keep her from smacking me in the head with the broom for a second time. I couldn’t get it away from her without too much of a struggle. I figured a more subtle and different approach might work.”
Allan chuckled. “Subtle?”
Paul smiled.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lori scared like that before. When she hit you, I was glad you led the way. I wouldn’t have thought to kiss her, though. Maybe we should add that to our tactical maneuvers training.”
Paul chuckled as he pulled into the grocery store and parked. “What do you think about Michael coming here without a wolf chaperone?”
“Not something I would allow. Not yet. But Hunter must have trusted him.”
“I can just imagine all the trouble Michael could get into.” Paul considered Allan’s black face paint, the whites of his eyes bright in contrast. “I don’t know about me, but you sure as hell look scary.”
“We apply it so much on missions that I had forgotten we were wearing it in the civilized public.”
Darkness still enveloped the area, but the sun was just beginning to appear orange and gold behind the store.
They scrubbed off the face paint with wet wipes Paul kept in the backseat, then headed inside.
“You didn’t just kiss her because of the broom incident,” Allan said, not about to give up on the notion. “Just like she didn’t kiss you back to say she was sorry for smacking you.”
Amused that Allan was so curious, Paul grabbed a basket and began picking out some chicken and whatever else they needed for their stay. A couple of men nodded at them in greeting, seized a few snacks and a couple of bags of ice, paid, and headed out to a truck hauling a boat for early-morning fishing.
Paul was considering some choice cuts of steaks when a middle-aged man with longish sandy hair and a goatee stepped closer, eyeing the same ones. Paul grabbed a couple, then moved out of the man’s way.
A brunette and a blond smiled at Allan and Paul as they loaded up their grocery carts. He wondered if they thought he and Allan were someone else. He didn’t know the women, and they weren’t wolves.
Three guys dressed in jeans, Western shirts, cowboy hats, and boots immediately caught Paul’s attention. Damn it to hell. When did those wolves end up back in the area? Dusty Cooper peeled off to talk to one of the women, his brother, Howard, and their constant companion, Jerome Huffman, observing. Omega wolves. Losers. Troublemakers. So much so that their own pack had chased them off, which essentially had saved their miserable hides.
Allan moved closer to Paul and said under his breath, “When the hell did they come back into the area?”
“Must have been recent or your mom would have told us.” Paul hadn’t seen the men in eons and was glad of it—the last time having been before their pack and an all-wolf pack contracted rabies and killed most of the members of the Cunningham pack.
“Dusty Cooper, I told you I’m not going out with you. So get it through your thick head,” the shorter of the two women said.
Paul and Allan watched the situation, both ready to defend the woman if she needed them to. It was a hazard of being SEALs and protective wolves, even if the woman was human and not part of their pack.
“You only say that because you’ve got your girlfriend with you and she doesn’t like me,” Dusty said, casting an irritated look at the other woman.
“Yeah.” The brunette folded her arms. “Because you can’t take no for an answer. Why don’t you go back to Somerville’s ranch and poke a cow. Leave Ellie alone.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Dusty said, using more of a growl now.
“Come on, Dusty. We’re attracting a crowd.” Howard jerked a thumb in Paul and Allan’s direction.
Dusty turned to look at them. Neither of them would hesitate to put the man in his place.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Dusty’s expression declared he was ready for a fight, either to impress his friends or to show the women he wouldn’t be pushed around.
“Nothing much,” Paul said.
Eyes narrowed, Dusty made a move toward him, but his brother seized his arm and said again, “Come on, Bro. We’ve got business to attend to, and you know Somerville will dock our pay if we get involved in another fight.”
Dusty turned back to the blond and said, “Later.”
Then the men headed to the
checkout counter, where Jerome pointed to a poster. Both Dusty and his brother glanced at it. All three men turned to stare at Paul and Allan. “Hell,” Dusty said, then he and his buddies paid for their things and headed out of the store.
“Them being here doesn’t bode well,” Paul said to Allan as they finished getting their groceries. The cowboys were in great shape, but the SEALs had combat training the ranch hands wouldn’t see coming if they got into a fight.
“I agree,” Allan said. “I really thought they’d left the area for good.”
When Paul and Allan reached the checkout counter, the pretty redheaded cashier smiled brightly at them. “My, my, everyone said the Somervilles’ ranch hands would have the SEALs eating their dust at the auction because they’d be bought up so fast, but…” The woman looked them up and down, appraising them both. “I’d say they’ll have a run for the money. I’ve never seen Dusty turn tail and leave when he’s hitting on a woman before either. He’s ticked off, to be certain.”
“Auction…?” Paul asked. He wondered how she even knew he was a SEAL. He didn’t remember this woman either. Lots of people moved in and out of the community all the time.
“Sure.” She motioned to a poster in the window featuring a lineup of ten men, including photos of Paul and Allan that Rose had taken when they were at the lake last year. They were wearing swimming trunks, their arms folded across their tan chests, their expressions gruff because Rose had insisted on taking the pictures. They hadn’t wanted her to, but Catherine had interceded to get them to agree. Neither could say no to Allan’s mother.
Now Paul realized they should have ensured that Rose didn’t take the pictures.
“It’s for a good cause. When Mike O’Keefe came home after losing both his legs to an IED explosion in the last conflict, the town went all out in refitting his home so that he can get in and out easier. He’s got a wife, a toddler, and a kindergartner, and they can use all the help they can get. Since you’re SEALs, I’m sure you understand. Anyway, the three guys on Somerville’s ranch were the top contenders for getting the biggest bids. Even I’ll be at the bidding. We sure hoped we could get that artist friend of yours to sign up too. But he said he had to fly off to a new exhibit.”
