by Ardy Kelly
The small boy bowed.
“He’s young but he loves theatrics,” Troy assured. “I don’t know where he gets it from.”
He clapped his hands again. “Places, people. Let’s get through this quick. If I stay out in the sun too long, I’ll freckle.”
In between humming the “Wedding March,” Troy shouted words of encouragement. “It’s a processional, not a funeral march. And bridesmaids, straighten that line.”
After giving notes, he had them do it again. Finally, he threw up his hands. “They say bad rehearsal, good show. So, I guess you’re going to be great tomorrow. And Diana, just because you’re wearing a veil doesn’t mean you don’t have to do anything about those eyebrows.”
As the others fled, Constance gave Troy a little hug. “Your wife must be a very lucky woman.”
He laughed. “She wouldn’t be lucky in love, poor thing! Now, excuse me. I’ve got to get the maintenance crew painting the brown grass green.”
Most of the ranch showed up for the luncheon, making it resemble a family reunion more than a family affair.
A wall of grills sizzled with various cuts of meat. Cruise ship-style buffet tables overflowed with assorted salads, vegetables, and desserts. Beer and wine flowed freely.
While the Morehouses rested in the shade of a large tree, David joined the crowd. Juggling plates for Abagail and Beatrice, he quickly filled them before halfway through the line.
Diana tapped him on the shoulder. “Need any help?”
He nodded. “I’m a better cook than I am a waiter.” He gazed down the row of food. “I may need a wheelbarrow. They asked for a little of everything.”
Diana grabbed two more plates. “Then a little of everything is what they’ll get.” She dropped a dollop of potato salad on her plates.
“I thought you were skipping the reception after the wedding to save money,” David said. “Isn’t this a little over the top?”
Diana shook her head. “It was never about the money. There’s an old tradition that wolves fast for twenty-four hours before the mating bite. Since the full moon is tomorrow, this will be the last meal I can have as a single woman.”
He laughed. “You’re such an old-fashioned, traditional wolf.”
Diana shrugged. “They say ravenous wolves make better lovers.” She leaned into her brother. “And it’s supposed to increase fertility.”
“Does he really bite you?”
“Yep.” She demonstrated the process on a pickle. “He’s got to draw blood.”
“I think I’m losing my appetite.”
She laughed. “You and your squeamish stomach.”
David attempted to glance at his watch without upending the plates. “Any idea how long this will last?”
“Why? Got a hot date?”
David smiled. “Maybe.”
Lionel stepped behind Diana, wrapping his arms around the bride/mate-to-be. “How’s everything?”
“David’s got a date tonight,” Diana said.
“Who’s the lucky wolf?”
“It’s not a wolf,” David explained. “It’s the sheriff.”
Diana and Lionel exchanged a look. “Sheriff Chet?” Diana asked.
When David nodded, Lionel sighed. “That might not be the best move.”
“Yeah,” Diana agreed. “He doesn’t know what we are.”
“I’m not going to say anything,” David explained.
Lionel shook his head. “After Diana’s stunt last night—”
She interrupted him by clearing her throat.
“I meant, after Diana’s bachelorette party,” Lionel continued. “We’re all keeping a low profile in town. Mack is insisting on it.”
“What am I insisting on?” The leader of Lone Wolves Ranch held out his hand to David. “I’m Mack.”
Though only five foot eight, David had never felt as self-conscious of his height as he had this weekend. Mack was even taller than Lionel’s beefy groomsmen, and had a dimple Henry Cavill would be jealous of.
“I’m David.” He balanced the plates precariously on his arm while he shook the larger man’s hand. “Brother of the bride.”
“He’s got a date with Sheriff Chet tonight,” Diana explained.
Mack rubbed his chin. “That might be a problem. I realize you’re not a member of the pack, and don’t have to follow my rules, but I’d appreciate if you’d cancel it. We don’t want to get too familiar with the local law enforcement. Sheriff Chet is fairly new, and he’s left us alone. No point making him curious.”
David sighed. Family duty was weighing heavily on him this weekend. Much as he wanted to see Chet, he wasn’t brave enough to piss off the pack’s alpha. He nodded his head. “I’ll have to call him and make up an excuse.”
“Tell him you’re ill,” Diana said.
Mack shook his head. “Once you start lying, it soon spirals out of control. That’s why I never lie.”
“And that’s why you’re single,” Diana added.
“You can use the landline in the staff office,” Mack offered before walking away. He stopped and turned back. “Coming?”
“Right now?” David asked.
“No time like the present.”
Diana handed her plates to Lionel, and grabbed David’s. “We’ll deliver these. It’s time Lionel met the trunk of the family tree.”
David followed Mack, jogging occasionally to keep pace with the larger man’s stride.
“I was told this is your first time on the ranch,” Mack said. “Why did you wait so long?”
“I’m the non-shifter twin.”
“You’re supernatural enough to visit Lone Wolves Ranch.”
“You’ve got more than just shifters here?”
Mack laughed. “No. But we’ve got more than wolf-shifters.”
David shrugged. “Well, I’m only slightly supernatural.”
“You’ve got shifter blood. That’s all you need.” Inside the guardhouse, Mack pointed at a desk. “You can use the phone there.”
David sat and dialed the number, feeling awkward knowing Mack could hear every word.
Chet answered on the third ring. “Hello David.”
“Are you psychic? How did you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess. Are things wrapping up?”
David swallowed. “Actually, I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. A family obligation I didn’t know about.”
Mack smiled at the non-lie.
After a silence, Chet asked, “Tomorrow night?”
“Can’t,” David replied too quickly. He hadn’t expected the sheriff to offer alternative plans. Has he never been stood up before? “It looks like it’s not going to work out. Sorry.”
There was another long silence. “You have my number. Give me a call next time you visit,” he said.
When he added, “If you can,” David felt as if Chet knew exactly what was going on.
Diana intercepted them as they walked back to the festivities.
“Lionel is going to drive the relatives back to the inn,” she said.
“I can do that,” David replied.
“No, you’re staying on the ranch until the sheriff finishes his shift. The last thing we need is for you running into him tonight.”
“The Morehouses are all right with Lionel as the driver?”
“I told them I needed to get you alone to meet some of my friends. Female friends.”
David laughed. “They would have hitchhiked back to make that happen.”
The next morning, David awoke at the ranch nursing a slight hangover. Though the mating tradition instructed wolves to refrain from eating before the full moon, it hadn’t mentioned anything about drinking. The twins had stayed up most of the night, and when he awoke, there were a dozen empty wine bottles stacked in the kitchen.
The bride-to-be was setting up the coffeemaker. “Good morning, brother.”
“Why are you so cheery?”
“It’s my wolf metabolism,” she said. “We’re
not as prone to hangovers.”
He pointed to the bottles. “Did we really drink that much?”
“As if. We finished off the opened wine from the party.” She set a cup of coffee down in front of him. “Barely a glass in each one. Good thing, too. You’re a total lightweight. You passed out way before I was done. I could hardly get any sleep with your snoring.”
“Don’t blame me for your wolf hearing,” he replied.
David finished his coffee and drove back to the Welcome Inn. The chatter inside stopped the moment he entered. The matriarchs were seated around the dining room table, breakfast spread out in front of them, with a smile on each of their faces.
David stared, unable to recall a time Abagail and Beatrice had ever looked happy.
“Did you have a good time?” Constance asked.
Abagail dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Make any new friends?”
“Don’t let her bite you, dear. It could be fatal,” Beatrice warned.
David cleared his throat. “I’m just going to pop upstairs.”
“Hurry,” Constance said. “There’s only an hour before it’s time to leave. You can tell us all about the evening on the ride up.”
The wedding drew a crowd of onlookers curious to watch the human mating ritual.
Mack was among them. He had been invited but declined when he learned of the dress code. “Me wearing a wool suit? You won’t find this wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
His Aunt Helen stood next to him, unimpressed by the ceremony. “These are the famous Morehouses? Don’t know what all the fuss is about.” She scanned the guests. “Which one is Abagail?”
“Front row. The one about to snooze off.”
Helen gave a short cackle. “I was told she was a beauty in her day. Don’t see what all the fuss was about. Just looks like an old woman to me. No one would guess we’re the same age.”
“You could pass for her daughter.”
“You mean granddaughter.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Mack replied. There were some topics you didn’t debate with Helen. If you weren’t sure which ones, you didn’t debate her at all.
“Your Uncle Jon was crazy for her,” she added. “Made a fool of himself. Embarrassed the family so bad he had to settle for me as his mate.”
Mack noticed his aunt’s steely gaze was locked on the frail, old Morehouse woman. “Uncle Jon didn’t settle for you. He loved you.”
“Maybe.” She turned her back on the wedding. “But in all the years we were together, he never said a word against her. That’s not natural. Sometimes you just need to hear your mate complain about his exes. Otherwise you feel like second place.”
Helen turned to take one last look. “Wish he could see the old bat now.”
Constance felt uncomfortable. She couldn’t blame it on the weather. The Sierra temperature was perfect, with a gentle breeze that made Diana’s ringlets dance in a charming way when she lifted her veil.
The unease couldn’t be blamed on family drama, either. A silent truce had settled over the participants. Whether real or imagined, everyone seemed to get along.
Constance could even ignore the crowd of looky-loos that stood by the tree line.
The ceremony was the source of her restlessness. Constance was not used to being relegated to observer. Why did fathers of the bride get to walk their daughters down the aisle, while the mothers were expected to sit quietly? Women do all the work, and men show up at the last minute to take the bow. I’d like to see one of these males give birth!
Much as she tried to stoke the resentment, her mind was preoccupied with something else.
Constance was having an emotion.
She believed she had rid herself of them at her brother’s funeral. Simple feelings were perfectly acceptable. Feelings could be reasoned with. Strong emotions defied logic.
Today her precious baby was getting married, and no feeling was big enough to handle it. A tear slid down her cheek.
Beatrice passed her a handkerchief. “I knew my little girl was still inside you, buried underneath your steely exterior.”
“I’m not steely, Mother. I’m practical.”
“If you were practical, you would have brought a handkerchief,” Beatrice replied.
The short ceremony went off perfectly. The only hiccup was young Phillip. After the vows, the boy tugged on Lionel’s tux. “You forgot the biting part.”
“That’s tonight, pal,” Lionel replied. “During the full moon.”
Once David dropped the matriarchs off at the inn, he breathed a sigh of relief. There were limousines to take the Morehouse women home, leaving him the five-hour drive back to San Francisco as the first bit of solitude he had since arriving in Timber Crossing.
But first he had to get past the sheriff. Unfortunately, the man stood in the road, blocking his path.
David rolled his window down and Chet leaned on the car. “How did the wedding go?”
His face was so close to David’s, they could kiss without straining a muscle. He must be checking my breath for alcohol, David reasoned, despite the urge to lean into his lips.
“My sister is married, so I guess everything is okay.”
“Are your family obligations over?”
Family obligations. He couldn’t forget that Chet was forbidden fruit. “Almost all of them.”
“Almost?”
David nodded. “There’s always something.”
Chet stared into David’s eyes. “And you have to get right back? You can’t spend the night?”
“Have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I thought you said you work nights.”
Once you start lying… “Do I need a lawyer present before I answer any more questions?”
Chet raised an eyebrow. “Sorry. I guess I just want to know if it was something I said.”
“No, it’s not anything you said or did. The timing is just bad.”
Chet gave the roof of the car a pat. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call when you come back for a visit.”
David, not trusting his voice, just smiled before driving away.
He was barely past the town limit when the sound of a siren startled him. When he pulled over to the side, the sheriff’s car stopped behind him, and Chet climbed out of the driver’s seat.
The dynamite that had built up inside David from the family weekend was close to igniting.
I don’t need therapy to deal with conflict. The sheriff was showing his true colors, and it lit the fuse on his personal growth.
David jumped out of his car. “This is harassment. Just because I didn’t go on a date with you, you’re going to be a petty dick-head and give me a ticket?”
The sheriff’s face was an expressionless mask as he pointed to the back of David’s car. “No ticket. Just a warning. Your right brake light is out. Thought you’d want to know, considering how risk averse you are.” He tipped the brim of his hat, got in his car, and drove back to town.
David took a minute to bang his head against the steering wheel before heading home.
Chapter 3 - The Present
Raised voices and a slamming door woke David. The couple in the apartment across the hall repeated this behavior so often he could sleep through it.
Not anymore. Not since last weekend.
He sat up in bed, wincing at every protesting muscle as he tiptoed to the peephole. Peering through, he saw Dominic storming out.
David breathed a sigh of relief. What were the chances that, in all of San Francisco, he would have the one apartment with a shifter couple as neighbors? Based on the frequent domestic battles, they weren’t fated mates.
Avoiding them had become impossible once they learned he was a Morehouse. Dominic went out of his way to inform David he was an alpha wolf-shifter. And, he would add, David smelled delicious.
It was easy to rebuff the unwanted advances. He worked nights as a chef and his neighbors had day jobs. To be safe, David always scanned the hallway throu
gh the peephole before leaving his apartment to make sure they weren’t waiting at the elevator.
It had worked until the full moon on Friday night. Despite never shifting, he wasn’t immune to the effects of the lunar cycle. David often experienced a surge of energy and increased arousal at its zenith.
Increased? Last weekend was a tidal wave.
He tried lessening his libido himself, but nothing relieved his need.
When Dominic knocked on the door, using the excuse he smelled something burning, all resistance vanished. With his mate out of town, the alpha spent the weekend pounding David in every way.
“Maybe you’re more wolf than you think,” Dominic said. “This isn’t normal human desire.”
David knew he was nothing more than a shifter-celebrity-fuck for the neighbor, but his body couldn’t resist.
That made the situation so much worse.
But now it was Monday. Dominic was off to work, and David was off to ask his mother for money.
The rocking of the ferry to Sausalito never nauseated him before, but today it was making the thought of brunch unappetizing. “I’ll take an Uber home,” David mumbled, hoping the cause was seasickness rather than fear of a fight with Mother.
The sun was out when the boat docked. The warm inland breeze meant she would be sitting at the farthest table on the restaurant patio. As a regular customer, the waitstaff had learned no matter how busy the restaurant was to place as few people as possible near Mrs. Morehouse-Packman. Her generous tips were in direct proportion to her privacy.
Constance was sipping a mimosa and frowning at the couple several empty tables down when David arrived. He bent to kiss her on the cheek before taking his seat.
“Explain to me,” she insisted. “Why do people spend money on ripped jeans? Is the homeless look in fashion?”
“I think it’s about showing some skin.”
“It will ruin her tan line, unless she wants to look like a chessboard.” She took the menu from David’s hand before he could open it. “I’ve already ordered for you.”
David forced a smile, and prayed it wouldn’t be anything with hollandaise sauce. His stomach hadn’t settled since hitting dry land.
