Yours, Mine and Howls: Werewolves in Love, Book 2

by Kinsey W. Holley

  Now, though, she wondered—why had he wanted to come?

  Barbed wire on wooden posts lined both sides of the gravel road. All they saw were dense clusters of trees and expanses of rock, grass and scrub brush. A pond sparkled in the distance. Shadows punctuated sunlight as they drove beneath trees whose branches met to form a canopy above the road.

  “I didn’t expect something this big,” she mused.

  “His father bought the first piece of property back in the fifties, and Cade’s been adding to it over the years. Remember how the Rocky Mountain Pack imploded?”

  “We can’t remember something that happened before we were born, Dec. How do you know so much about this?”

  He shrugged. “I thought it’d be useful to read up on the wolf, is all. Considering as how we’re staying with him a while—or longer.”

  Dylan snorted at or longer and gazed out the window, refusing to get drawn into the subject.

  Dec ignored the teen. “MacDougall’s parents were murdered while the family vacationed in Scotland.” His accent thickened as he spoke. “After the pack fell apart and the survivors left, no one bought the MacDougall land. Cade came back here fifteen years ago and started putting the place back together. He’s also bought a lot of property in town.”

  Dec fell silent, watching the scenery roll past with a faraway look in his bright green eyes.

  More trees, more grass, more scrub brush.

  More stomachache.

  She was about to ask Dec another question when they rounded a bend in the gravel road. A spectacular vista opened up.

  Mountains filled the horizon in the far distance, foothills in the near. Fields of green and gold, a couple of stables, neatly painted outbuildings, and several houses filled the foreground. The stables stood next to a section of fenced pasture about fifty yards away. Inside the fence stood the Icelandic horses Cade MacDougall bred, powerful little things with lavish manes and floppy foretops. She hoped MacDougall would let her ride.

  To the right, a prefabricated metal warehouse squatted among large wooden structures. Behind this group of buildings stretched more uncleared land. A small yard held a wooden play system and a trampoline.

  Directly in front of them stood a large house with cabins on either side and slightly behind it. The large two-story stone and timber structure looked like a cross between a Swiss chalet and something out of a western—cowboys and goatherds, maybe, or Heidi on horseback. The front door, arched with stone, soared into the second story, where windows sported balconies. The overall effect was both rugged and lovely.

  Her stomachache got a little worse.

  Cars and trucks and six or seven motorcycles sat in a graveled area. She grinned in spite of her nervous stomach. Rich or poor, urban or country, assimilated or feral, werewolves loved bikes.

  Seth pulled into the gravel lot. Everyone in the car gasped and winced as a woman’s piercing scream split the still, sunny air. Ally and Seth stared at each other. She knew they were both remembering Gracie’s death cry.

  The screamer, however, was quite alive. An older woman of ample proportions thundered down the front steps of the large house, heading for a late model Cadillac parked at the other end of the gravel lot. The old lady moved with impressive speed for one so large. Wolves came running from all directions to the center of the compound.

  The old woman slammed the door of the Cadillac and peeled out backwards in a squeal of tires and a spray of gravel, fishtailing as she threw the car into drive and roared out of the lot.

  The two wolves reached the porch just as Mrs. Palmer’s car disappeared in a cloud of gravel. Cade looked at his second in shock.

  “Goddamn. What is it with the nannies?”

  Upstairs, Becca began to cry.

  He turned back to look at the house, as if he’d find an answer there. “It’s not Becca. Mrs. Palmer loves her. Why I do keep getting nymphos, drunks and crazy women?”

  “Cade…”

  “I talked to her at lunchtime. She was fine. I would’ve known if she was upset about something.”

  If wolves possessed Fae talents, Cade’s would’ve been telepathy. While he couldn’t read minds per se, he had an uncanny gift for reading emotions. Mrs. Palmer had been just fine two hours ago.

  “Cade, they’re here,” Michael said. “Oh shit, she really is hot.”

  “Who?”

  “The female. The foster mother.”

  “Huh? Oh.” He’d been so dumbfounded at Mrs. Palmer’s getaway he hadn’t noticed the three wolves and a young woman with a centerfold body getting out of a Jeep Cherokee. The four new arrivals gazed in astonishment after the latest ex-nanny’s car.

  “No, can’t be,” he told Michael. “The female’s in her thirties. Shawn! Go help them with their luggage. I’ll be there in a minute.” He slapped Michael on the back. “You do the introductions. I have to go see to Becca.”

  “No, that’s her. I know that’s her,” Michael muttered as Cade headed back into the house.

  They huddled together by the Cherokee, choking on the dust stirred up by the departing Cadillac. A redheaded werewolf with a friendly grin trotted up.

  “Hey! Welcome to the ranch, we’ve been expecting y’all. ’Course, we weren’t expecting that.” He waved in the direction of the vanished Cadillac.

  “Dude, what happened? Who was that?”

  “Dylan!” Ally elbowed him. “That’s none of our business.”

  The amiable werewolf laughed. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Don’t ask Cade about it, though. I think we just lost another nanny. Anyway, my name’s Shawn.”

  Seth introduced himself and everyone else. When he got to Ally, Shawn looked her over with unabashed interest. “You’re the girl who lives with three wolves. I didn’t realize you’d had a pup yourself. Seth’s your cousin, right? So Declan’s your mate?”

  She understood his assumption, but the bluntness caught her off-guard.

  Dec put a hand on her shoulder. “She’s not mine, and she hasn’t had a pup. She looks this young naturally.”

  Shawn gaped. “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-one.”

  “Holy crap! You look eighteen!”

  “All right, Shawn, show some fucking tact.”

  The new voice belonged to a werewolf with beautiful yellow hair, more reminiscent of a lion’s mane than a wolf’s coat. The smile he gave them looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t wear it very often.

  “This is Michael Wargman, Cade’s lieutenant and the one who keeps the rest of us in line.” Shawn made the introductions all over again. “Michael, can you believe she’s never had a pup?”

  “Ally, I apologize for Shawn. There’s no filter between his brain and his mouth.” Shawn ducked as Michael took a swipe at the back of his head.

  She couldn’t help laughing, disarmed by the redhead’s humor and obvious lack of fear. “It’s all right. I get that reaction a lot.”

  Wargman looked nothing like his younger brother Nick, the Houston Alpha. He was taller, bigger and broader. The hard, sharp angles of his face combined with his bulk to give him an intimidating air.

  Shawn and Michael offered to help the guys unload the truck. Ally left them to it. She didn’t lift heavy loads in front of others.

  The wolves who’d come running earlier had dispersed. The little yard at the center of the compound was empty again, which suited her. She wanted to be alone for a few minutes.

  Her stomach unclenched a tiny bit.

  She couldn’t be sure they’d done the right thing until they met MacDougall, but simply arriving had already eliminated some of her tension. With any luck Dylan would soon settle in. Then she’d worry about her own future.

  Chapter Five

  He couldn’t imagine anything a four-year-old could do to make a woman of Mrs. Palmer’s age and experience go nuts like that. Becca was rambunctious, a bit spoiled and liked to take her clothes off. Mrs. Palmer knew all that. He asked if there’d been any wolves in the house. Be
cca and Sindri said no.

  If it were up to him, Sindri would be Becca’s permanent caretaker, as the brownie had been his and Carson’s. But Cade was a single wolf raising a daughter on a ranch full of wolves. While no one knew where Becca’s mother was, her maternal grandmother in Savannah had always wanted to raise her. Courts never took sons away from their fathers or their fathers’ packs, but single wolves often lost custody of their daughters. He had to find another nanny.

  And he had to get back to his guests. After assuring Baby Girl she hadn’t done anything wrong and he wasn’t angry, he tucked her back into bed, hoping she’d resume her interrupted nap.

  Shawn was showing the three wolves their rooms on the other side of the landing.

  “We were gonna put you all in these four rooms, but since Mrs. Palmer… Oh, wait, here’s Cade. Cade, this is Seth Guidry, Declan MacSorley, and, um…your nephew, Dylan Fontenot. He looks just like you, doesn’t he? Well, I guess I mean he looks just like Carson, you know?”

  Shawn stopped, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped back, not looking at Cade’s face. Shawn had grown up in the pack with Cade and Carson. He knew how much finding his nephew meant to Cade.

  Trying like hell to keep his voice steady, Cade shook the teenager’s hand. “Dylan. I’m very glad to meet you, son. I wish Carson had had the chance. I want you to think of this place as your home as long as you’re here.”

  “I’m…thank you. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet my— Your brother too. Sir. Thank you for inviting us.” The pup’s emotions were a noisy riot of confusion, reluctance and fear. Dismayed, Cade was searching for words to put him at ease when Dylan’s face suddenly lit up. “Your house is awesome!”

  Cade laughed. “It is, isn’t it? Your grandfather built it, but I’ve added a lot to it.”

  He shook hands with Seth Guidry, who appeared outwardly calm but was nervous as hell on the inside, even a little afraid.

  The third wolf, a tall, dark haired beta, grinned at him with a familiarity that grated on Cade. There was something inexplicably smart-assed about his glee. Cade couldn’t trust anyone who liked him so damned much at first sight. When the wolf shook Cade’s hand, he held it a little too tightly for a little too long.

  “’Tis a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. MacDougall,” said the wolf in a light Irish brogue. “We’ve all been looking forward to it. Haven’t we, lad?” The beta elbowed Dylan in the ribs. The teenager curled his lip and made an annoyed sound. The Irishwolf just laughed.

  Presumptuous asshole. Cade pointedly returned his attention to his nephew.

  “Where’s Ms. Kendall, and who’s the girl I saw down by the car? Is she your girlfriend?”

  Behind him, Shawn snorted. Guidry and the Irishwolf looked uncomfortable. The teenager blushed almost purple.

  “I don’t— She’s not— I mean…”

  “I don’t mind if you brought an extra guest, son,” Cade hastily reassured him. “We’ve got plenty of room. She can stay with you if you want.” The pup had excellent taste in females.

  Shawn shouted with laughter. “That’s not a teenager! That’s Ally! She’s thirty-fucking-one, and she’s never had a pup!”

  Cade gaped at his wolf in astonishment. “That’s the foster mother?”

  The Irishwolf—Cade couldn’t remember his name—piped up. “Shawn here mentioned you may have a nanny shortage. Our Ally’s wonderful with small monsters, and they love her.”

  “That’s interesting,” Cade snapped. “Shawn, finish showing the wolves around while I talk to Michael.”

  Michael hung up the phone in Cade’s office when Cade walked in, slamming the door behind him.

  “I really thought she would work,” Michael said with a dejected air. “She wasn’t a nympho, a thief or a drunk.”

  “Mrs. Legget wasn’t a thief. She was a kleptomaniac. And now Mrs. Palmer’s crazy.” Cade collapsed into one of the guest chairs.

  “You want your chair back?”

  “No, I want my day back. I want to rewind and start over.” Taking a cigarillo out of the wooden case on his desk, he lit it up and tipped his chair back.

  “Shit. What now?” groaned Michael.

  Cade smoking indoors indicated a bad day.

  He took a long drag. “I’m wondering if I made a mistake.”

  “You don’t make mistakes.”

  “Watch it, wolf. I’m serious. This could be a problem.”

  “We’ll hire another nanny, Cade. Sindri can handle things ’til we do.”

  “That’s not the problem. The female outside? You were right, that’s Dylan’s cousin, his foster mother.”

  Michael leered. “I know. Great tits and ass. She’s as tasty as any of the nannies were.”

  A sexy young female on a ranch full of single wolves was an invitation for disaster. He’d had to fire two nannies before instructing the service to send someone older and unattractive. One had had a drinking problem, the next had sticky fingers, and now Mrs. Palmer had flipped out. Five nannies, and Becca was barely four.

  “How ’bout we try—?”

  “No more hot nannies, Michael.”

  The blond wolf sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. So the foster mom’s got a smoking bod. What’s the problem?”

  “I made your little brother a deal about the three of them—the uncle, the foster mother, the weird fucking roommate.”

  Michael frowned. “A deal?”

  “I told Nick I’d look after the girl and the two other wolves. Let them stay as long as they want. In return he recognizes my pack.”

  “You didn’t tell me you’d given them an open invitation.”

  Cade shrugged as he took another drag. “Getting Houston’s recognition is worth some inconvenience. Nick should’ve said something about the female, though.”

  Michael shook his shaggy blond head, looking incredulous. “Damn, Cade. A woman we’ve never met, who looks like that, hanging around as long as she wants? After all the shit with the nannies?”

  Cade leveled a gaze at his second while he took another drag on the cigarillo. Just because he chastised himself for an error in judgment didn’t mean his wolf could do it. His tone was mild but tinged with iron as he drawled, “Last I heard, Michael, I was the Alpha and this was my home. I just figured I could decide who gets to visit and for how long. No one told me I had to put it up for a vote. Who’s on the committee?”

  Their gazes locked for a minute. Michael looked away first, as was proper. And safe. He exhaled. “Point made, point taken.”

  Neither of them spoke for a minute.

  “Where the hell is she, anyway?”

  Michael glanced outside and shrugged. “She’s wandering around the yard, looking lost and luscious.”

  “Close the window, it’s getting hot outside.”

  The phone rang as he stood.

  “Oh, look,” grunted his second, still seated at Cade’s desk. “It’s Seattle calling.”

  Cade grinned. “I’d take it myself, but I have to play host again.” He turned to go.

  “Hey, wait.” Michael paused with his hand on the phone. “Listen. If this all blows up in your face, do I get to say I told you so?”

  “No. But if you’re good, I’ll let you clean up the mess.”

  Chapter Six

  So Cade MacDougall and Michal Wargman were assholes.

  She didn’t find it flattering that they found her sexy. Lots of guys found her sexy. It wasn’t the compliment she’d imagined it would be when she was young. Whatever their opinion of her appearance, they didn’t want her here.

  Crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders, she told herself it didn’t matter. She wasn’t staying. Her numerous friends in Sugar Land would welcome her home. If she could go home, which she couldn’t, because she’d beaten a guy half to death. She could explain why she’d done it. But how she’d managed to beat the crap out of a guy twice her size…that was a tough one.

  Butch up, Dead Girl. It’s just a couple of jerks for a cou
ple of weeks.

  Her back to the house, she listened as Cade MacDougall left his office, walked across a hardwood floor and opened the front door. She couldn’t turn around until he was close enough for a normal human to hear him. It gave her time to tamp down the lonely fear and dismay she’d carried inside all the way from Texas.

  By the time a mellow baritone said, “Miss Kendall?” she’d relaxed and pasted on her best coolly polite smile.

  She turned. The most beautiful wolf she’d ever seen flashed a smile of his own—raffish, supremely self-assured—and Ally forgot to breathe.

  For a split second, she feared she might reach up to run her fingers through his loose curls, jet-black like Dylan’s. His closely trimmed beard matched his hair. His eyes were crystal green (like Dylan’s), with lashes way too thick for a big tough werewolf (like Dylan’s). His mouth was full and sensual. (She’d never thought about Dylan’s mouth. She refused to start now.)

  The wolf could really rock a pair of jeans. A tattoo on his well-developed right biceps peeked out from his polo sleeve. And the way his white collar framed the top of his chest, highlighting the hollow of his throat…

  You’re pathetic, she sneered to herself. If she hadn’t recently sworn off men for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t be hyperventilating like a virgin in a locker room.

  “Miss Kendall?” he repeated, probably accustomed to rendering women mute. “I’m Cade MacDougall. Welcome to my home.” He spoke in a slow, sexy drawl. Her hand retained his heat after he let go.

  “Thank you. Please call me Ally.” Hey, she was speaking normally. You go, you tough little freak of nature, you. As soon as she thought it, her mind went blank again.

  He waited, apparently expecting her to say something else. After an agonizing second or two, he cleared his throat and said, “I apologize for the confusion earlier. I’d intended to greet you all myself.”