by E A Price
“I am in Texas,” he replied tightly.
He had informed both Linda and Thomas that he was leaving town for a couple of days, but perhaps his father hadn’t believed either of them.
“What the hell are you doing there?”
“Christine’s sister was in labor…”
“So?”
“Christine wanted to see her,” he explained with razor thin patience.
“Could she not go on her own?” spluttered his father.
Hell no, she could not. “She asked that I accompany her.”
“And you said yes?!”
“Obviously.”
Harold Sr. huffed and puffed. “Well, is the pup born yet?”
“Yes.”
“So come home!” he growled.
“I have responsibilities here.” Though at that moment, they didn’t want to see him and were probably pissed at him for punching their father.
“You mean Christine?” he sneered. “She’s a grown woman; she’ll be fine. Your job here is more important.”
“We are married…”
“Exactly – you’re married, you don’t have to waste your time trying to impress her.”
Harold gave up. He wasn’t going to waste his time trying to explain this to a man who saw his own marriage and wife as major inconveniences. How could he explain his need to be near Christine at all times, his desire to protect her against everything, his wish to be her hero? He wanted to be everything to Christine, but he just wasn’t sure how to go about it. Perhaps by not thumping her father…
“I will see you in a few days,” he grunted and hung up amid his father’s squawks of protest.
He signaled the bartender for another whiskey. She was also a wolf shifter, and he vaguely wondered if she was part of Christine’s old pack, or if she at least knew her.
“Hey there.”
Harold stiffened as a woman sat down on the stool next to him. She was human, with chocolate brown hair, green eyes, and a very slinky black dress. Was she lost?
Her glossy lips curled. “Buy me a drink?”
Was she actually hitting on him? He wasn’t the type who usually attracted women at first sight. His brothers were, but normally women took one look at his stern face and ‘bugger off’ expression and were instantly put off.
“I’m married,” he muttered.
“I won’t tell,” she cooed flirtatiously.
Harold stared at her for a couple of beats, watching as her smile flickered under his hard gaze. He supposed she was considered attractive, but like most females, the only thing she elicited from him was irritation. There was only one female he wanted to bat her eyelashes and flirt with him, and at that moment, it seemed unlikely she would again.
“I’m sure there is any amount of males in this bar who would be interested in you, I suggest you go and bother one of them.”
Indeed a glance around showed that a few males were glancing in their direction, admiring her shapely legs and her breasts that were threatening to spill out of her dress. Humph – she wasn’t a patch on Christine, and his wife didn’t need to flash her body to get attention. She had the sweetest smile that could make men weak at the knees – or at least it made him weak at the knees.
The bartender continued cleaning the same glass she had for five minutes, hanging on every word they said.
“Whiskey,” he snapped at her, and she jumped to attention.
“Honey,” purred the brunette.
She placed a hand on his leg, and he jerked away from her touch with a snarl. She flinched at the sound, but it didn’t seem to deter her.
“I already told you, I’m married.”
The woman pouted. “She prettier than me?”
He glared at the woman. “Infinitely. She’s beautiful.”
She was too – the moment he met her he was struck by her beauty. He considered her the most beautiful woman in the world – the only woman in the world to him, and part of him still couldn’t believe she was married to him.
For a moment it looked like the woman was going to argue, but she just shrugged and slipped off the stool. “Suit yourself.”
The bartender beamed at him as if he had just done something wonderful like run a marathon. “On the house,” she chirped with a wink.
Harold frowned but sipped at his drink, quietly stewing.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Ally?”
Christine hadn’t spoken to Ally in months. She was still a member of her family’s pack but had moved away to college, so her visits home were sporadic. She was surprised to get a call from her.
“Hey, Christy.”
“How are…”
“We’ll catch up later,” said Ally briskly. “I’m home and working part-time at the Regency while I’m setting up my jewelry studio.”
“Oh, how nice, I…”
“No time!” Christine rolled her eyes as Ally continued. “Look isn’t your guy called Harold Buchanan?”
“Yes,” breathed Christine, suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s kind of pale, blonde hair, staying in the penthouse suite?”
“Yes, yes, yes, what is it?” she demanded impatiently.
“Well, I just saw the sweetest thing…”
*
His wolf perked up, but Harold just scowled into his drink, oblivious to everything around him. Somebody sat down on the stool next to him, but it took him a few moments to realize who it was.
“You come here often?” she asked.
He jerked to look at Christine. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was free and wild. She was wearing a sweater that said ‘cowpoke,’ a pair of jeans and tennis shoes. Desire stirred.
“What are you doing here?”
Christine leaned closer, in a confidential manner. “Running away.”
He looked down at the suitcase at her feet.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “Things were just a little busy at home – there really are a ton of family members staying, and I thought maybe there might be room for me here.” She paused. “If that’s okay…”
“Of course,” he replied quickly. “Won’t your family be disappointed?” Not that he really cared.
Christine shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m sorry that I hit your father.”
He had been mulling over what happened – the whiskey helped with the mulling. He was sorry he lost control, but he was of the opinion that her father could only be improved by smacks to the face. Plus, he was sorry if he caused Christine any hurt.
“He deserved it.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “but when my family insults you, you restrain yourself.”
“You mean your grandmother? There’s a difference – I’m not certain I could take her. She looks like a biter.”
Harold chuckled.
“I saw Cissy and baby Brandy.”
“Brandy?”
“Yep, Brandy. Inside joke between her and her mate – nobody understands it but them. I think it’s cute. Maybe it’s the baby making it cute.”
He grunted and tapped his fingers on his glass. “I told you I am not seeing other women…”
Christine placed her hand on his. “I know, and I believe you – I don’t know why my father said that. He didn’t get that idea from me if that’s what you think.”
His lips quirked. “They think I am a monster.”
She rolled her eyes. “I reckon they’re feeling guilty about the marriage. They’ll get over it.”
“By our third child perhaps?”
“Brandy certainly is cute,” she murmured and then blushed in embarrassment.
They would have children one day, though he doubted either of them were ready yet. It was still very early in their marriage, and honestly, Harold wasn’t ready to share his wife with anyone yet.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you at the hospital,” she said. “I was just…”
“It’s okay,” he muttered.
“No,” she explained, “I
was just worried for you.”
His eyebrows rose. “You were?”
“I didn’t want my old pack to do anything crazy like challenge you. I didn’t want you to get hurt – that’s why I told you to leave. That’s the only reason I told you to leave.”
“You needn’t have worried.”
Christine beamed and then frowned. “I know. I should have come with you, but I wanted to be there for Cissy and Brandy. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I do,” she insisted. “You’re my mate – and mates come first.”
His heart swelled. He curled a lock of her voluminous hair between his fingers.
“I’m hungry. Shall we go to dinner?”
A quick dinner, and then back to his room – no, their room. Because there was a strong urge within him to peel her out of her clothes and take her over and over.
“That would be nice.” She pulled at a thread from the hem of her sweatshirt. “Perhaps I should change.”
“No need. You look beautiful.” She always looked beautiful, whether it was in a worn sweatshirt or an enormous wedding gown, she was by far the loveliest creature he had ever seen.
A dull flush of pleasure spread over her pale skin, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“Thank you. Now come on, I am dying for a steak.”
Harold shook his head. “Am I to take it that a visit to a steakhouse is on the cards?”
Christine twinkled and pulled out a broad Texas twang. “Honey, you already know me too well.”
He laughed and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around his lovely little mate.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Patrice, Harold’s receptionist, was eager to usher Christine past her, and Christine nodded gratefully. She hitched her picnic basket a little higher and made her way towards Harold’s office.
They stayed in Texas for a few days, during which she was able to spend a lot of time with her sister and her new niece, and Harold was able to spend some time at her old pack’s business, checking into what they were doing with his pack’s investment. Her dad resented him even more for it, but Harold knew what he was doing. Christine considered that her dad could learn a few things from her husband. She had enjoyed seeing her sister and the baby, but what pleased her, even more, was that she was able to see more of Harold than at home. Sadly, it couldn’t last long, and it was time to go home. Harold suggested she may wish to stay in Texas for a few extra days, but she could tell he was not keen on the idea, and knowing that Harold wanted her with him delighted her no end.
Her parents convinced themselves Harold was dragging her away – they were sure he was an unreasonable ogre – but Christine was sick of them and their attitude. She was also annoyed that Roark kept showing up at her parents’ house. Given that the last time they talked he was throwing insults and the last time they saw each other he tried to molest her, she didn’t want to see or talk to him. It was better that she stay completely away from Roark – he was kind of starting to scare her.
It pissed her off that her father was slow to kick Roark’s ass to the curb as well. Her dad was actually trying to encourage her to talk to him. She didn’t know who upset her more. No, she did - it was definitely her father.
She and Harold were muddling along, and she felt affection for him – the last thing they needed was her parents ruining that. Course, when Harold got back he had a lot of work to catch up on, so she barely saw him for days. Which was why she was going to make time with him.
“Hey, Linda!” she called, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach.
She had no reason to be nervous – jeez, she was just going to visit her husband, but she couldn’t help it.
Linda beamed and rose to her feet. “Mrs. Buchanan, what a pleasure.”
“Christy, please. Is my husband here?”
Linda took in the picnic basket, and her smile seemed to brighten even more. “In his office and long overdue for a break and some lunch.”
Linda barged into Harold’s office without any of the hesitancy that was currently assailing Christine.
“Mr. Buchanan?”
“I’m busy,” growled Harold, “no interrupt…”
He stopped on seeing Christine peeking past Linda.
“Sorry, I know you’re busy,” Christine said.
“No, no, it’s fine,” he reassured her.
He came around the desk to face her and Linda diplomatically slipped out of the room.
“I thought you’d be too busy to go out, so I brought a picnic.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” he said slowly.
Christine placed the basket on the floor. “It’s my pleasure; I haven’t seen much of you.”
Harold frowned and he reached out to cup her cheek; she pressed herself into his touch. They had not been intimate since they returned from Texas and she missed it. Perhaps their time away had spoiled her – Harold had been able to devote a lot more time to her, and now she was back to falling asleep and waking up on her own in a large, cold bed.
“I am sorry about that.”
“It’s okay, I understand.” Which she did, it just didn’t make the cold and lonely nights and days any easier. She shrugged and started pulling out the picnic. She had brought a rug and loads of food. Harold smiled as she set everything out on the floor – this was the closest she was probably ever going to get to a real picnic with her husband and she wanted to enjoy it.
“I’m just a little bored,” she said as they settled on the ground, “and still a little peeved about missing out on those jobs.”
Harold grunted and dove into the roast beef sandwiches. “Have you been searching for more job opportunities?”
“Yes, but no one seems to want to hire me,” she chuckled without much mirth. Every time she found something suitable, she discovered that the job had already been filled or was no longer available. She either had terrible luck, or it was a darn conspiracy.
He gave her a thoughtful look, told her that he liked her roast beef and horseradish sandwiches and then suggested, “Perhaps you could volunteer. There’s a complex in the compound for older wolves no longer able to live on their own.”
Christine finished chewing and considered that. Over the years she had often visited the older members of her old pack with her mother – often doing their shopping, helping them clean and reading to them. She had honestly enjoyed helping them. She hadn’t considered doing the same for her new pack – they didn’t seem like the kind of wolves who would admit to needing help.
“You think they’d want my help?”
He gave her an indulgent look. “I doubt they would refuse it.”
They wouldn’t dare she thought in amusement. Who on earth would wish to risk Harold’s wrath?
“Yeah, maybe I could. That’s a really good idea.”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he teased, and she giggled.
“No, seriously, I love that idea. One of the nice things about my old pack was that everyone knew everyone – but then we were a much smaller pack. I’d really enjoy getting to know my new pack members more.”
He nodded in approval. “One day you will be their alpha female, I would like them to get to know you, too.”
Christine placed a hand on her cheek. “Oh, don’t remind me – that’s a terrifying thought.”
“Nonsense,” he dismissed gruffly, “I’ve no doubt you will be a wonderful alpha female.”
Christine beamed at him. Though considering she was following in Marie and Marguerite’s footsteps, the bar may not be set that high.
“I’ve always thought our pack needed a stronger alpha female,” he said.
“Stronger than your grandmother?” she snorted. “Because seriously, I think she could get through to the final round of Mr. Universe and not bat an eyelid.”
Harold snickered. “Not that kind of strength. Our pack needs someone strong but much more nurturing.”
“Oh, I’m not su
re how strong I am.” She bit her lip, considering whether to tell him, but ultimately decided she didn’t want any secrets. “Earlier today I caught Esther trying to crush up prenatal vitamins and put them in my orange juice.”
“What?!” His face danced with fury.
“Yep. I couldn’t even bring myself to yell at her, because I know she’s only doing it because she’s terrified of your grandmother. Who is a psycho - by the way.”
“Yes, I agree with that,” he muttered in annoyance. “I will speak to Grandmother again, but as for Esther…”
Christine squeezed his hand. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s just worried about her eight grandchildren.”
“She has eight grandchildren?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know?”
Harold shrugged. “I believe her daughter left the pack at a young age to mate with a bear shifter. I do not know more than that.”
“Well, apparently they rely on Esther to send them money. Esther told me that while her daughter and her mate are happy, their business isn’t doing very well at the moment. Apparently, they run a trailer park, and it’s not been doing very well, and they’re saving up for college for their eldest and… What?” He was smiling at her.
Christine inhaled softly as he leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss. “What was that for?” she murmured, licking her lips in delight.
“This is why,” he said in a low, husky voice, “I know you will make a wonderful alpha female. Because you care. Do you think my grandmother has any idea about Esther’s daughter or her grandchildren? Or if she does, do you think she gives a damn about them?”
“Well…”
“You are special, Christine.”
She blushed in pleasure. “I think you’re pretty special, too.”
He huffed, and Christine moved to wrap herself around him, ignoring the fact that she managed to kneel in the potato salad. She sat on his lap and kissed him thoroughly.
“I’m serious,” she murmured. “You’re special to me.”
“My Christine,” he breathed against her.
“Why not Christy?” she whispered as he nuzzled her neck, the picnic completely forgotten.
“Hmmm?”
“Everyone else calls me Christy – but you don’t like it.”
