Tony looked up, and though he had to know he was in danger of imminent attack, he grinned and continued to grin as his hand came up to press Livvy's head against his chest. He never took his eyes off Brad.
The enraged wolf screamed and lunged, but Brad was back in control. Barely. He managed a nod of recognition, and though his feet felt weighted with lead, he was able to turn and retrace his steps to the garage. The automatic closer hinged to the top of the door was all that prevented him from slamming it shut behind him.
Back hunched with hands propped against the wall to the side of the door for support, his shoulders rose and fell with each cleansing breath. He was shaken not only by the jealousy, but his lack of control over it. Only twice before had his wolf come so close to the surface while he was in human form. In both cases he had allowed it, encouraged it, but only because lives were at stake. No, not lives, life. Livvy's life.
He'd never felt that kind of possessive rage before. When they were younger, no one would have dared dispute his claim to Livvy. He was Boss Seaward's son and while he wasn't known to be as wild or as brutal as his brother, Cho, he did have a fierce reputation for holding his own in a challenge. Physical prowess was the only power that was respected among the rogues he'd grown up with, and he'd proved himself over and over until one night when no more proof was needed and the challenges stopped.
He'd felt jealousy before, but only at a distance. When she'd broken up with him, he'd thought about the possibility of her seeing other men. He'd known she was sleeping with Terrence fucking Harkness, but never saw them together, never saw the bastard touch her. He'd kept his distance and so avoided the reality.
Brad pushed up from the wall as soon as he heard the doorknob turn. He turned away and walked toward his desk as the door opened. He needed to put distance between him and whoever came through.
"Hey," Tony greeted, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Brad answered too shortly to be believable. To cover, he lied. "I just got off the phone with a client who's refusing to pay is all." He continued to shuffle through papers on the desk as if he was searching for one in particular.
"That's a relief, 'cause you looked fucking pissed coming through that door. For a minute there I thought you were coming after me. Wouldn't want this pretty face all mashed up."
"Then wipe that shitty grin off your face, asshole, before I wipe it off for you," Brad thought. He shook his head and said aloud, "Nah, I was headed over to check on something, but, um, didn't want to interrupt."
"Thanks." Tony followed it with a laugh that made Brad crush the papers in his hand. "I thought I'd done something wrong, like maybe there was something..."
Brad cut him off. "Damn it, Tony, let it go, will ya?" And then, like some outside force took over his mouth, he said, "She looked like she was upset. Did she say why?"
"Something about making a mistake. I wasn't really listening. You know how women are. They cry over the damndest things, but you know me, always ready with a shoulder to cry on, especially if they look like Livvy."
Unfortunately, Brad did know Tony, and normally he liked the wolver. Good looking and silver tongued, the guy was a player among the local female population, but to Brad's knowledge, Tony didn't make promises he never intended to keep. The women he hooked up with, both human and wolver, were looking for a good time and he gave it to them, though he'd probably broken a few wishful hearts along the way. Those good times didn't have to end up in bed, but usually did. The thought added fuel to Brad's fire.
He picked up a pencil and made useless marks on a bill as an excuse for not looking up. It was rude, but it was better than tearing the guy's head off.
Oblivious to the danger, Tony went on. "Nothing like a friendly back rub to get things started. I'm guessing she got dumped by the weasel. That wolver's a fucking fool if you ask me. You don't turn your back on a piece like Livvy Dawson." The pencil in Brad's hand snapped. "You sure you're all right?" Tony asked.
The urge to rearrange Tony's face with his fist was almost overwhelming.
"Fine." The word snapped like the pencil. "Is there something you need? Because I'm kind of busy here."
"Oh, right, sorry. Pop sent me over to check out that Ram you got out back. We're looking for a grille."
"You've found one, and it's cherry. You want it now or will tomorrow morning be okay?" If he clenched his teeth much tighter, they would start to crack.
"Tomorrow works just fine for me. I'm takin' the rest of the day off." Tony laughed like he'd won a bet. "I got a date with a pretty little female to put up some Christmas decorations."
If the phone hadn't rung, Brad would have killed him.
Chapter 11
Olivia felt like twice the fool, first losing it like that in front of Brad, and then sobbing into Tony Carmichael's chest like a five-year-old who'd dropped her ice cream cone.
When she'd broken up with Terrence, she'd been hurt, but that was her pride and not her heart. She'd been in love with the idea of Terrence Harkness and not with the wolver himself.
Breaking up with Brad had hurt, but she thought it was for the best. She'd loved him, but love wasn't enough to make their differences work. She wanted a life in the city. Brad wanted Gilead. His time and attention were focused on building the business, and on proving his worth to the pack. She wanted the freedom Brad had grown up with. She wanted independence from the structure and expectations of the Gilead pack. Months later when she met Terrence, she thought she'd found what she was looking for.
But if breaking up with Brad had been so right, why did finding those stupid underpants make her feel like her heart had been ripped from her chest?
It was only pride that kept her from falling apart in front of him, and that pride crumbled to dust by the time she reached the warehouse. Tears filled her eyes, blurred her vision, and finally poured down her cheeks. She'd made a mistake, a horrible one, and there was no fixing it. The damage was done.
Tony Carmichael was standing by her car when she came out of the warehouse carrying the last of the cartons. Good looking in a sigh worthy way, he was two or three years older than Brad. When she was in high school, he was way too old and wouldn't have given a teenaged girl the time of day. She knew who he was, all the girls did, but she didn't know him well.
"Hey now, what's all this about, huh? Here, let me get those for you."
Olivia was embarrassed, and tried wiping away her tears, but it did no good. The floodgates were open and there was no stopping them. His sympathy didn't help.
"Who made a pretty thing like you cry, and what can we do to make it better."
She'd looked longingly past him to the garage where Brad had probably gone back to pulling apart another stupid car. "I've done it to myself and there's nothing anyone can do about it."
"Now, now, you don't know that. Maybe there is. Come tell Uncle Tony all about it." Somehow, she'd ended up in his arms and telling him God only knew what.
"Broken heart?" he asked as he stroked her back.
Could your heart break from knowing you'd broken someone else's? Obviously it could or she wouldn't feel so shattered by a stupid piece of underwear. She nodded against his chest.
Tony's body stiffened, and for a moment, Olivia thought what sympathy he had might be withdrawn, but then he pulled her to him again and stroked her hair.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that, love. Sometimes broken hearts can be mended." He chuckled softly as if he knew a secret that she did not. "Sometimes all it takes is the right tool and the right guy using it."
Uh-oh. Olivia suddenly realized that she might have made yet another mistake. She tried to pull away, but he held her in place with his hands at her shoulders.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I'm not looking for...I'm not ready for..." The way she felt, she'd never be looking or ready.
"I know you aren't and I'm not looking, either. I have a feeling you'd only break my heart, too. I'm just a sucker for a pretty girl in tea
rs is all." Tony laughed again. "Though if you ever change your mind, I'd be willing to take my chances. I just mean that sometimes these things have a way of working out. Dry your eyes and give me a smile. You don't want other people seeing you like this." He wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "That's better. Now, where are you headed with all this stuff?"
She told him and he nodded.
"Big job for one person. I tell you what, I've got a couple of things to take care of and then I'll be up to give you a hand." He laughed again at her hesitancy. "Just friends. I promise."
"Okay then." She bobbed her head. "And thank you."
"You're welcome, and if you happen to run into the Mate, tell her I did my good deed for the day."
That made her laugh. "Why? Is she keeping count?"
"Let's just say I'm not known for good deeds."
"Then I'll be sure to tell her." She held out her hand. "By the way, I'm..."
"Livvy Dawson. Everybody knows who you are."
"I don't know if that's a good thing."
"Don't worry, it is. And it's about to get better." He winked at her. "Just trust your Uncle Tony."
She laughed again, feeling not better, but more in control. "Does that line really work?"
"Of course," he said with another charming wink. "But with you, I actually mean it."
Once she was far enough out of sight of Brad's, she pulled the car over. As Tony pointed out, she didn't want people to see her with a tear stained face. The Mate had given her a job to do and she was going to do it with a smile even if it killed her. Stubborn and prideful came in handy sometimes.
She rolled down the window in the hope that the cold air would clear her eyes before she continued on. She felt like a dog with her head hanging out to catch the wind and hoped to God no one saw her. The embarrassing incident with Tony was enough for one day. She didn't need another.
Now that the tears had passed, the stop gave her time to think about her overreaction to the panties. It made no sense. Her dreams of Brad were merely a subconscious wish to turn back the clock and erase the mistakes she'd made. Breaking up with Brad was not one of those mistakes. Too much time had passed. They were two different people who wanted two different things.
It made much more sense when she remembered it was her month. She was coming into season, the twice yearly estrus that urged every female to mate and bear young. It was natural that she become emotional over past lovers, wasn't it? Frustratingly, the thought of Terrence brought no emotion at all. She had no special memories or regrets when it came to him.
It was memories of Brad that needed to be released. Her emotional outburst had been cathartic, really, a psychological cleansing of the past. All that mattered was getting on with her list of tasks and leaving Gilead and its memories behind.
When the puffy redness subsided and with renewed determination, Olivia drove on to the flagpole Roger Wilson had erected years ago. The mulched circle of ground that surrounded it would be covered in petunias to compliment the flag that would fly from its highpoint come spring. In winter, the pole and ground were bare. It was the perfect spot for the grand finale of her Christmas lighting plans.
Pulling the boxes from the car, Olivia realized it was probably too late in the day to start hanging. It was going to take more than a couple of hours and nightfall came early. After she opened the plastic crates, she was sure of it. They were jammed full of snarled wires and bulbs that would need to be sorted before she could begin. Rather than pack it all away again, she decided to detangle what she could while there was still light. While she worked, she could think about where the other lights could be hung.
Truth be told, she didn't want to go home where her mother would take one look at her and ask what was wrong.
She was halfway through the first box when the Wilson's front door opened and Didi emerged wearing knee high boots with four inch heels, skintight jeans, and a fleece lined bomber-type jacket over a thinly woven turtleneck sweater. It was the first time Olivia had ever seen the woman in a top that wasn't open in a deep vee to show off her cleavage. As she drew closer, Olivia realized that the clingy fabric of the turtleneck gave the same impression as the vee. Leave it to Didi to find a way to cover up completely and still look like everyman's wet dream.
Rumors flew about the sexy wolver's past. Olivia didn't remember it. At the time, she was too young to pay much attention, but Gilead being Gilead, she'd heard the stories about Didi Haines running off with some high rolling wolver in a gold Cadillac. Unlike most who left the pack for parts unknown, Didi came back to Gilead where, the more uncharitable gossips claimed, she spent her time plotting to sink her claws into Roger Wilson.
In any other neighborhood, Roger would have been considered solidly middle class. By Gilead standards, he was rich. Didi, gold digger that she was purported to be, had chased after Roger for years and finally landed him. She'd popped out three pups in three consecutive years with no lasting damage done to her curvaceous figure.
Olivia wondered if Didi's enviable figure was the real reason the gossip continued. She felt a twinge of jealousy herself every time she saw the female.
The three pups followed Didi out. They were dressed in identical iridescent blue snowsuits that were so overfilled with puffy stuff, they looked like three inflated balls bouncing down the steps behind their mother. Squat little legs almost invisible in the bulk of the snow pants, they continued to bounce across the yard, squealing and laughing when they overbalanced and toppled to the ground. They'd roll in the snow, struggle to their feet, and bounce again. It was a great game and pretty much impossible to be hurt by the falls, surrounded as they were with padding.
Olivia laughed with a touch of envy at their antics. "They're adorable," she called as Didi approached.
"On their good days," Didi laughed, and then her hand went to her chest.
"Oh my glory, Livvy, uh, Olivia Dawson, is that you?"
"Hey, Didi, or is it Deirdra now?"
"Didi it is and always will be. I was Deirdra for a while once, but it never did fit. Emma, honey, you keep an eye on your brothers while Mama visits," she called to the largest of the puffballs.
"I'm beginning to think Olivia doesn't fit either." Olivia looked at the strings of lights. "I hope you don't mind. The Mate said I could use the electrical outlet at the flagpole. I thought I'd use the flagpole, too, if you and Roger are willing."
"Sounds good to me." Didi was already pulling a wad of wire and bulbs from the open crate. She poked her chin at her bouncing offspring. "As long as they're happy, I can give you a hand," she offered, sounding strangely eager, but then stopped her detangling. "Unless you don't want my help."
"Why wouldn't I want your help?"
"Well... you know," Didi hedged and huffed. "Oh hell. With your big job and rich boyfriend 'n all, I just figured you might, you know, think I was too tacky."
"I never thought you were tacky." Flamboyant maybe, glitzy, glamorous even. Terrence would have found her tacky, but Olivia never had. "I always thought you added a little sparkle to the place."
"When you were a cub, maybe, but the last time you were here..." Didi let the sentence trail off.
The last time Olivia was here, Terrence was, too.
"Was I really that bad?" Olivia asked, but of course, she was. On her infrequent visits, all she'd talked about was her life in the city and the backwardness of Gilead. On her last visit home, she'd avoided her neighbors altogether, knowing what Terrence's opinion would be.
Didi tried to be nice about it. "I don't know, now, do I? I haven't seen you in years, but folks talk and, well," she ended lamely with a shrug.
Her comment made Olivia think of the pile of furniture back at Brad's. Folks talk all right, and by tomorrow night, all of Gilead would have something new to talk about. That's about how long it would take for word to spread. Brad had figured out she was broke, and her father knew it, too. If Daddy knew, then Mama would know, and Mama, bless her, never co
uld keep a secret from her sister. Olivia hadn't been home more than a few days and her secret was out.
Livvy Dawson had fallen from her high horse and come back to Gilead with her tail curled between her legs. The only way to avoid being talked about behind her back was to beat them to it and admit it aloud. She blew out her breath in a whistling sigh, and sucked in another.
"Didi, it's more like the other way around. There is no big job. I lost it, and the boyfriend went with it. I had to sell my car because I couldn't make the payments. Everything I own is piled in Brad Seaward's garage and believe me, it's not a very big pile." She pointed to the blue monstrosity. "That's what I'm driving now."
"Oh my God." Didi covered her giggle with her hand. "I thought that was some old junker from Brad's yard that you were using to haul this stuff around." She peered more closely at the car. "Hey, isn't that the car I saw up on Route 42? Oh, honey, that was you? Brad said I should have stopped and now I'm sorry I didn't. You poor thing. Everyone said he was a weasely bastard." She wrapped her arms around Olivia, almost strangling her with the string of colored lights. When she pulled away, she was smiling. "Well, at least you had the good sense to come home, and from what I heard, losing that wolver you were running with is no great loss anyway. Welcome back," she said without a hint of maliciousness.
Olivia's return hug was quick, but filled with emotion. "Thanks, Didi. You have no idea how much that means."
"Oh, honey, don't thank me. We girls gotta stick together. Like they say, been there, done that." She bumped Olivia's hip with her own and gave her a wink. "Now let's get these strings to workin' before one of the minis starts hollerin' they're hungry or has to pee."
They stood together, side by side, untangling the strings of multi-colored bulbs. Didi chatted about her pups, and Roger, and anything else that came to mind. Her eyes crossed when she held a particularly wicked wad up in front of her face, trying to figure out where to start. She made Olivia laugh.
Shifter's Magic (The Wolvers Book 8) Page 12
