by Ardy Kelly
Dominic loosened his grip but didn’t let go. “Relax. We’re just playing. We’re mates.”
“I’m David’s mate,” Chet answered. “And the father of his cubs.”
Dominic dropped his arms, but rather than moving back, he slid sideways and leaned toward Chet. Taking a deep breath, he sneered. “You’re no shifter. All I smell is blond.”
“If you want to keep smelling, you’ll leave now.”
Dominic raised his hands. “Fine. But don’t pretend those cubs aren’t mine.” He walked to the door, never taking his glare off Chet. “And I’m going to prove it.”
As soon as Dominic left, Chet locked the door. “Are you okay?”
David nodded erratically and Chet pulled him close for a warm embrace. He nestled his nose in Chet’s chest, taking comfort in the familiar smell. The sheriff’s heart was beating as quickly as his own, and he realized the calm exterior was a professional mask.
“I’ve never been hugged by someone holding a gun.” David stepped back. “What the hell are you doing carrying that thing around?”
Chet holstered the gun under his jacket. “I knew a wolf lived across the hall. I can’t shift to protect you, but I can shoot.” He pulled a new dryer belt out of his pocket. “Let’s not do this again, okay? I’m just a back-country sheriff. We’re not used to all this urban excitement.”
David nodded. “Neither am I.”
Chet knelt in front of the dryer. “So, he’s the father?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” David replied. “It’s bad enough I slept with him. I don’t want him having anything to do with this child.”
“So you don’t want him and his partner raising the kids?”
“No.” The answer was definitive. “Those two are rage-aholics. They’re constantly fighting, and sometimes it gets physical.”
“Well, if you do put the kids up for adoption, he might have some rights.”
“He’s not getting a hold of my baby,” David snapped. Surprised at his own vehemence, he picked up the broken belt. “I’m sure I can find a better home.”
Chet reached up, wrapping an arm around David’s waist. “I’d like to help you with that.”
He placed his hand over Chet’s. “You sure? I come with a lot of baggage, and I’m not talking about the luggage.”
Chet rubbed David’s belly. “I’m here for you and your baggage.”
A shouting match erupted from Dominic’s apartment.
David bit his lip. “Let’s go home.”
A door slam brought Chet to the peephole. “He just left. We should wait.” He gave David a reassuring hug. “You haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Are there any restaurants that deliver?”
“You really are a back-country sheriff. Everybody delivers. Delivery is an industry here.”
“You order while I fix the dryer. Then we’ll eat, pack, and go home.”
David’s craving for pickled ginger narrowed the selection down to sushi restaurants.
“Can you eat raw fish when you’re pregnant?” Chet asked.
“You really take the fun out of cravings,” David replied. They settled on a selection of cooked fish and tempura.
Once the order was placed, David pulled a chair into the hall, and watched Chet wrestle the belt around the dryer’s drum. After screwing the panels back in place and a press of a button, the dryer hummed to life.
“You’re amazing,” David gushed.
“It’s just a belt.”
“No, I mean you fix dryers, you build houses, you save people from next-door neighbors. You can do everything.”
“I can’t cook.”
“I’m sure you could learn if you wanted to.”
“I haven’t got time. I have to finish our home before the twins arrive.”
David froze. “What?”
“What ‘what’?”
“You said ‘twins.’”
Chet busied himself replacing the screwdriver in the toolbox. “Did I?”
“Yes. You definitely did. Are there any other surprises you’re keeping from me?” David paused. “And do I want to know them?”
“No other surprises that I know of. I was waiting for the doctor to verify it was twins.”
“You mean the veterinarian student?”
“We know a real shifter doctor if we need one.”
“For all we know, Dr. Kai could be a proctologist.”
Chapter 12
The monthly family dinner was a tradition with the Morehouse women. At least for those who had sired the requisite twins.
A creeping dread had overtaken Constance as the night approached. They would make polite comments about the “blessing” and then dismiss the topic and Joshua from their minds.
David would be the center of their conversations from now on. She didn’t expect that to go well.
This evening, Constance was going to the mansion on the hill with something other than a bottle of wine or bouquet of white roses.
She brought a fierce need to protect her children. And her grandchildren.
Maybe that tiny strain of wolf had finally broken free. Abagail and Beatrice were not a physical threat. But Constance was realizing the power of emotional threats.
As predicted, there was little interest in Joshua. Abagail didn’t even bother looking at the picture on Constance’s phone. “No need.” She waved it away. “Without my reading glasses, it will just be a blob.”
The soup was served—a chicken concoction that had been the traditional first course for so long, no one ever asked whether it had a name. It was just “the soup.”
We are creatures of habit, she thought. There was never any doubt what would be served. Roast beef during spring and summer. Roast lamb during fall and winter. No salads. No starches. Even the vegetables were only decorative. We eat like wolves. The gold cutlery was less an expression of wealth than a concession to the fact Morehouse women couldn’t hold silver without their hands breaking out in an ugly rash.
The pedigree of being a Morehouse was only a fancy word for “mutt.”
Once the courses had been cleared, and Abagail had exhausted the topic of her disappointment in the house cleaner, David’s name was brought up.
Her mother asked, “Has he shown interest in any of the wolf women?”
Constance shook her head. “I don’t expect him to. David is gay.”
Abagail slapped the table. “Absolutely not. He can’t be allowed to disgrace our name.”
“We can mate with wolfmen but two men mating are beyond the pale?”
“Wolfmen can pass. Two men can’t pass for anything other than what they are. We’ve never had a homosexual in our line.”
Constance placed her napkin on the table. “That isn’t factually true, is it? I seem to remember hearing something about Uncle Aaron’s love child.”
Abagail and Beatrice both stilled. “The wolves killed that child,” Beatrice said.
“Because it was an abomination,” Abagail added.
“I heard the boy was a recessive omega. They tried to turn him.”
Abagail lifted her chin. “These things are unfit for conversation.”
“I must disagree,” Constance insisted. “Because David is pregnant.”
The delicate port glass in Abagail’s hand shattered between her fingers.
Constance smiled. Grandmama’s wolf is close to the surface. She wondered how she had never seen this before. The Morehouses were a pack. A very territorial pack.
Beatrice was the first to find her voice. “But how, dear?”
“By having sex, Mother. With a man. Just like all of us did.”
“Constance,” Abagail scolded. “Need you be so crass? Are you going through the change?”
“I’m going through a change. My son is a non-shifting pregnant omega, and that puts him and his baby in danger. I need to find out everything I can.”
“You already know everything we know,” Beatrice said.
“Then I’ll need to sp
eak to Father’s family. How do I get in touch with them?”
Beatrice frowned. “They were from Oregon, as I remember.”
“You haven’t kept in touch?”
“They’re wolves, dear.”
Constance turned to Abagail. “Do you know anything?”
“Why would I know anything?”
“Because you’re a pack rat, Grandmama. You still have the family tax returns from 1915.”
The mention of taxes upset Abagail more than David’s pregnancy. “Mother never would have voted for Woodrow Wilson if she had known he’d add income taxes to the Constitution. Not that women had the right to vote that year.”
The only way to get past the apathy regarding her son’s plight was to play her ace. “Did you ever stop to think that David might deliver twins? This may be your last chance of saving the Morehouse line.”
The set of Abagail’s jaw turned from adversarial to hopeful. “All the wolves who wanted to court Beatrice had to fill out a form. It should be in one of the attic file cabinets.”
When she had what she needed, Constance wasted no time getting back to her car. Too determined to wait until she got home, she pulled the owner’s manual out of the glove compartment and followed the instructions to link her phone via Bluetooth. It was time to start taking advantage of some of the perks of living in the twenty-first century.
Her husband picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Raff. It’s Constance. Hold on a minute. I have to merge.” After a pause, she shouted into the windshield. “Can you hear me?”
“I think everyone can.”
“I need a favor. I want you to do that thing wolves do. Rubbing up against me so I’ll smell.”
“You hated that. Why do you want it now?”
“I’m driving up to my grandfather’s packlands, and I need to smell of wolf.”
“You are going into the Wolvenman packlands?” Raff was incredulous. “Alone?”
“David isn’t the first non-shifting omega in our family. I need to find out exactly what they did, and how it went wrong.”
“This is a bad idea. That side of your family doesn’t play well with others. Didn’t they banish your grandfather because he married a Morehouse?”
“That was a long time ago. Before the Morehouses had the reputation we have now. But, just to be safe, I’m driving up to the ranch tomorrow. I never thought I’d say this, but don’t shower. I’ll need to smell extra wolfy.”
Raff’s reply was curt. “No.”
“What?”
“You are not going there alone.”
“I may have been a bad mother before, but this time my son comes first.”
“Our son. I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll fly to Oregon together.” There was a long pause but Raff had made up his mind. “The silent treatment is not going to work this time.”
“I wasn’t giving you the silent treatment. I was changing lanes. What time will you pick me up tomorrow?”
“Well, since I don’t have to shower, I’ll be there early. I want to beat the morning rush hour.”
“I’ll book the plane tickets. And Raff…”
“What?”
“Thank you for coming along. I was hoping you’d want to.”
“You could have just asked.”
“Morehouse women aren’t known for depending on others. Is that wrong?”
“It depends. Are you proud of that fact?”
“Maybe I’ll bare my soul to you tomorrow. Right now I have to focus on the road.”
David watched in amazement as Chet folded a fitted sheet. He examined the flat, tight bundle as he put it away. “It hasn’t looked this good since it came out of the package.”
Chet chuckled. “If I had known you’d be so impressed, I would have taken you to a laundromat for our first date.” He wiped the lint off the dryer screen. “Need help packing?”
David scratched his head. “I’m not even sure where to start.”
“Just take what you need. We can hire movers for the rest.”
David’s brow furrowed. “Movers?”
“You don’t think it’s safe living across the hall from that guy, do you?”
A chill crawled up David’s spine as he pulled luggage from the hall closet. “No. Not safe at all.”
Within the hour, they had filled the bags. Chet noticed that kitchen items took precedence over clothing. When Chet mentioned it, David replied, “I can’t trust movers to pack this right.”
After sticking a piece of black tape over the peephole in Dominic’s front door, the couple loaded their luggage in the elevator.
David watched the city lights dim in the car’s side mirror as they crossed the Bay Bridge, wondering whether he would ever return. And pondering why he didn’t particularly care.
The chirp of a cell phone broke the moment. Diana’s name flashed on the device.
Before he could say hello, she asked, “Where are you?”
“Driving back from San Francisco. What’s up?”
“Everyone is wondering where you disappeared to.”
Rather than pretend not to eavesdrop, Chet replied, “We’ll be at the ranch tomorrow. And we need to talk to Mack.”
“We?” Diana asked.
“Yes,” David enunciated. “We are worried the sperm donor might be a problem.”
“Tell me,” Diana said. “Is it awkward knowing your boyfriend saw your sister naked?”
“It was awkward way before he was my boyfriend.”
She laughed. “I’ll let Mack know. Give my love to Chet.” She hung up, cackling.
David shoved his phone in his jacket. “I guess the vacation is officially over.”
“Good,” Chet replied. “Now we can talk about marriage.”
“Chet—”
“They only let shifters and their families inside the ranch,” he explained. “I can’t be there for you if we aren’t a couple.”
“Then we’ll have Doctor Rob meet us in Timber Crossing.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Chet said. “We’ll tell them we’re engaged. As the babies’ future parent, I have a right to be with you.” Taking his eyes from the road for a second, Chet gave David a sideways glance. “You can handle ‘engaged,’ can’t you?”
“Engaged is good,” David agreed. “We can decide if it’s true later.”
Chet shook his head. “I’ve never met someone so risk averse. We need to be convincing. Can you do that?”
David sighed. “Sure. But we’d better spend the night at your place so you can suit up in the morning. The uniform will give your words more authority.”
“Good idea.”
“And promise you won’t draw the gun tomorrow if things go south.”
“Can’t promise anything,” Chet replied. “Now, what was on that list of things you need to know about me?”
“You said you were raised by your aunt. What happened to your parents?”
“Died in a plane crash when I was two. I don’t remember them, so I don’t miss them. Though right now I wish there was someone who could fill me in on the family tree. I’m the last of my line.”
“I’d recommend avoiding DNA testing,” David offered. “Shifters are afraid the government will use it to track down supernaturals.”
They chatted easily about their favorite meals, movies, and music. They agreed on dream vacation destinations and lazy weekend activities. The conversation flowed freely until David suddenly grew silent.
Chet didn’t need a vortex to know David was building up the courage before speaking again. He kept quiet, hoping the silence would goad him into speaking.
“If…if I were to take your offer,” David stammered out, “to live with you…is it still good even if we’re not…mated or anything?”
Chet’s eyebrows grew together. “Of course.”
“What do you charge for rent?”
“I’m not going to charge you rent.”
“Well, I should pay something. I c
an help you build.”
“I don’t think you should be working with construction materials. Most of them warn that California found they cause cancer.”
David let out a frustrated sigh. “There must be something I can do. I can’t stay with Trisha while I grow a basketball in my belly…or two. And at the ranch, I don’t know what’s worse: my dad’s disapproval or Troy’s…enthusiasm.”
Chet barked a laugh. “Enthusiasm is one word for it.”
“How long do you think it would take to finish the house? I mean, if we hired people. I can help pay.”
“A month, if we hustled.” He patted David on the leg. “And you still owe me those kitchen plans.”
David closed his eyes, recalling the space. The gentle vibration of the ride and low hum of the engine took its toll, and he was asleep before he even chose a cabinet finish.
Bounced awake by the uneven gravel driveway, David opened his eyes just as Chet parked. “Why did you let me sleep?”
“You’re going to need your energy tonight.” Chet held up his phone. “Just got a text from Kai. We both have a clean bill of health.”
“What are we waiting for?” David jumped out of the car.
While Chet unlocked the door, David asked, “Would you…no, never mind.”
Chet held the door open for him. “Never mind what? Is tonight bad?”
“No. I was just wondering…”
Chet’s face lit up. “Do you have a little fantasy?”
David blushed. “Maybe…if you don’t mind…would you wear the uniform?”
“Give me one minute.” Chet dashed for the bedroom.
David set his bag in the corner and took off his jacket. He was debating removing more clothes when Chet shouted, “Police!”
Turning, he asked, “What seems to be the problem, Officer?”
“Had reports of home invasions in the area.” Chet crossed the room. “I’m going to have to frisk you.”
“And if I resist?”
“I don’t think you will. Not the way I do it.” He spun David around. “Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”
“You don’t have any walls in this place.”
“Smart ass.” Chet moved David to the front door. “Spread ’em.”
