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CHAPTER ONE
“I tell you, Joey, we’re turning into cranky old men, and we’re not even thirty-five,” Leonard Benoit said to his twin. His big hands were expertly shaping a small block of maple with a fine-bladed knife.
“Speak for yourself, Lenny,” Joe returned as he let tiny curls fall between his feet from his antler. “I’m still having myself a good time.” His muscular hands held his little etching blade with surprising delicacy as he concentrated on carving the tiny eyes of a miniature wolf.
Leonard dusted wood chips off his burly thighs and looked pityingly at his brother. They were fraternal twins but they shared the same high cheekbones, broad faces, and big noses of their Métis forebears—the French voyageurs and Native Americans who had intermarried when America was the New World. They looked astonishingly alike.
Their dark brown hair waved in the same way, although Len kept his closely cropped while Joe had allowed his to grow to his shoulders and tucked it into a bun at the back of his head Salish-style. Their massive frames and long limbs attested to their bear-shifter heritage.
“Look at us,” Len said, “Sitting around whittling and carving on a Saturday night. We had a beer with dinner, wiped up the kitchen, and came out here to play with our tools like two toothless old men.”
Joe’s pleasant face managed a momentary unhappiness. “I’m still pretty tired out from all the ruckus last weekend,” he said mildly. “So we like things shipshape. So we like to make stuff.” He squinted slightly at the little figure in his hand and adjusted the flow of fur with a deft stroke of his knife blade. “It’s not too late to go into Hanover and have a beer,” he reminded Lenny.
Len snorted. “We could. But we won’t. And it’s not because of the wedding last weekend either. We’ll just sit here till the light fades, then turn on the halogens and work until ten or so. Then we’ll sweep up and you’ll go home and I’ll go to bed.”
Joe frowned again. “It’s a pretty good life,” he protested. “We’ve got our own houses. We have nice trucks. We can go hunting and fishing and trapping whenever we want. Have to admit I don’t feel much like hellraising these days, but a man’s gotta grow up. It’s not the same as growing old,” he said obstinately.
“We have houses that are polished to a fare thee well. And for what? So we can have a nest for our mates. And here we set, broody and lonesome, shining them up but never bringing home a bride.” Len’s normally upbeat voice was disgusted.
“What we need is mates like Will and Jack’s women,” Len went on. “Martha and Hannah are just about the most luscious ladies I’ve ever seen.” He whistled. “Lovelier even than Doug’s Maddie, and that’s saying something.”
“Better not let our cousins hear you drooling over their mates,” Joey advised his twin. His voice was deadly earnest.
“Not drooling,” Len said comfortably. “I like Martha, Hannah, and Maddie. But they are mated and married up and I don’t chase mated females. Specially not females mated to kin.” He shook his dark head in a strong negative that definitively dismissed his cousin’s brides.
Joey nodded gloomily. “Say that again. All the women we know, if they aren’t married up already, they’re kin.”
“What we need is incomers if we don’t want to marry girls that smell like our sisters.” Len resumed his whittling.
“We don’t have any sisters,” Joe protested. “There’s only the two of us brothers.”
“And yet all our cousins smell like sisters, and all the women hereabouts are cousins.” Len reminded him.
“Benoits been living in Kittitas County for a long time, marrying up and intermarrying. Most folks around here are related to Jacques Benoit and the Salish Woman, same as us. Plenty of bear in French Town and around here that means we’re kinfolk. No shame in it.” Joe’s voice quietly became more stubborn.
“No shame, unless we let it waste our lives, Joe boy. I’m telling you, we need to go a hunting if we want to find us some wives before we just shrivel up and grow old alone.” Len held his carving up to the light.
“You know that online mating thing didn’t turn out too well for us,” Joe reminded his twin. “None of those city women were what I would call keepers.” He too went back to his wolf.
“Dougie says we should have been on the dating sites instead of mating sites,” Len pointed out.
“Didn’t want dates. We wanted mates.” Joe said setting his big square jaw.
Len shrugged. “I gotta better idea. Madeline has herself a gym just for women.”
“I know. Seems like that would be a poor way to make money, but Dougie says she’s right successful. Those city women must have a lot of time on their hands,” Joe marveled.
“Seems so. But I’ve seen those women. Every single one is ready for bear. Swear to God, Joe, big round tits and bigger, rounder asses. Tall, short, and medium. It’s like bear heaven in that place. I didn’t meet my mate, but I sure met a lot of friendly females in Portland. We could get lucky there—find ourselves good women like Hannah, and Martha and Maddie.”
“Huh. “Joe gave his brother’s words some thought. “We’ve talked some about hunting in the city. But we got no reason to go to Portland, let alone to a ladies’ gym.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Joey. Madeline is expanding her place. She’s going to build around the restaurant that’s beside her. Seems the guy runs it won’t move, and she’s already taken over the two stores that used to be between them. “
“Hmm,” said Joe.
“Dougie pointed out that her clients like the restaurant, and that if she put in a covered walkway behind, or through the restaurant, she could expand into the three units on the other side. Landlord was all for it.” Len sketched the setup with one big hand.
“So?” Joe was intrigued despite himself. He stopped carving to listen.
“So she needs a couple of guys who are good with their hands and with wood. She has this thing for cupboards that don’t look like cupboards.” Len grinned.
Joe chuckled. “Maddie, too? City women are purely a mystery of life.”
“Yeah, well, if she wants us to build her hidey-holes, we build her hidey-holes. I think we should see if we can find us a place to stay in Portland and do us some courting, Joe boy.”
* * *
“What do you mean Len and Joe want to bid on my reno?”
Douglas Enright leaned back in his chair and smiled at his fiancée. He admired her pretty face and sparkling hazel eyes. He glanced complacently at the big yellow diamond that graced her plump left hand. “They want to try looking for wives in Portland.”
Maddie chuckled. “Say it isn’t so.”
“You need carpenters and contractors and cabinetmakers you can trust. Lenny and Joey are good workers. And you certainly can trust them,” Doug told her.
“Have they done anything like this before?”
Doug laughed. “You still don’t understand hardscrabble life in the backwoods, my darling. Len and Joe work at Enright Lumber, just like most folks around Hanover do. But since the mill doesn’t operate at full tilt in the winter, they have side jobs. Just like most men up there do.”
“Oh.” Maddie picked up their empty plates and carried them over to the counter. “I knew Len made cabinets, but I need framers and a general contractor.”
“They’ve done that too. Lots of summer homes built in the Kittitas. Hard to get the building done with city labor. Joe and Len have a good reputation for putting up well-built houses with a high level of finish.” Doug leaned back and folded his arms across his broad chest like a man pleased with himself.
Madeline St. Clair looked suspiciously at Doug. He was looking happier these days, but she could read him like a book. His hard face was hiding something. Her heart lifted. Her bear was mischief making. She trusted him. He would never be involved in anything wicked or spiteful, but he was planning some prank unbefitting an officer and a gentleman.
&
nbsp; “They’re not staying here.” Her cheerful voice was firm even though it had a laugh in it. “And they can’t harass my staff or clientele. I’m not running a shifter matchmaking service.”
Doug’s twinkling blue eyes met his bride’s hazel ones guilelessly. He rubbed his big hands together. “They’ll need their own place to do their courting,” he agreed his deep voice level.
He stood up and his broad, six one frame overtopped Maddie by six inches and dominated her robust and opulent figure. He bent over her and kissed her deeply. When he lifted his head, her sleek red hair was disheveled and her cheeks were flushed.
“Let’s get an early night, sweetheart,” he suggested. “I have twenty-five wannabees to train for Homeland Security at zero eight hundred, and you’re opening the gym by yourself tomorrow at zero six hundred.”
“This is true. I’ll just wipe up in here, and you go have yourself a shave, handsome.” Maddie picked up the sponge.
Ten minutes later, Doug was back with his chin shining and his five o’clock shadow only a memory. Maddie’s eyes dilated at the sight of his big bare chest with its thick mat of curling black hair. She swayed over to him and picked up his dog tags.
“Have the military agreed to let you go?” she asked earnestly.
Doug nodded. “As soon as my Terminal Leave is up. And meanwhile I have liberty to teach at Homeland. Mind you, I don’t say they won’t try to make me a general or something to get me to change my mind.”
“But you won’t?” Maddie tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
“This gig suits me better.” He scooped her up in his muscular arms and carried her off.
* * *
“You bought this house?” Doug looked around in disbelief at the derelict living room Len had taken him into. “Just what was wrong with those rentals I sent you to, Lenny?”
Leonard Benoit shrugged his massive shoulders. “Jeez, Dougie,” he said. “Joey and me, we couldn’t live with neighbors right the other side of cardboard walls. And when we went outside onto that bitty little balcony, we could see right into the places opposite. Couch, dining table, folks eating dinner, bedrooms, the lot.” He sounded truly appalled.
“Joey and me, we decided maybe we could rent a house, but then we saw this place for sale. It’s a dump. But it’s solid. Needs new wiring, and a new roof, and a whole lot of other stuff, too, but we can do it while we’re living in it. We can sell it on down the road, make us a little profit.” Len looked around at the cracked plaster complacently.
Doug turned to survey the decrepit timber framed house. The broken windows were boarded up. The floors showed evidence of the fires that had been lit in the living and dining rooms. The plaster was falling off the ceiling and damp marked the walls. Rubbish lay in drifts in the corners. There was an unpleasant tang of stale urine and feces in the air.
Doug grunted. “This is a pretty rough part of town. Hope you bought low.”
“Very, very low. Bank was some glad to have a buyer. And if the neighbors come looking for trouble, we’ll have to show them some.” Len bared huge white teeth in a big red grin.
“I meant that flipping a house in this neighborhood might not be a good way to make a quick buck,” Doug warned his cousin.
Len whipped a computer printout out of his hip pocket and showed it to Doug. “No guarantees,” he said, “But in the last three years, as the fancy shops and condos have crept this way, every street west of this one has seen property values go up fifty, sixty percent. This street should be next. “
Doug made a noncommittal noise.
“My guess is that within two years, this street will be full of Yuppies—maybe sooner. No more whores on the corners, no more gangs in the warehouses, no more drug dealers any place,” Len predicted.
Doug clapped his cousin on his back and laughed. “Okay, you have a plan. And a realistic perspective on your new neighbors. But I don’t know how you plan to keep an eye on your investment from French Town for two or three years.”
Len lowered his head to whisper in Doug’s ear. “Thing is I got a cousin living right here in Portland. Figured he could swing by to look at the place. Of course, we’ve planned on putting in a good security system and new windows and doors. Get a good tenant if we have to. Don’t intend to make it easy for burglars.”
Doug shook his head at Len and looked up into his cousin’s stubborn face that was so like his own. “And just when do you plan to work on Maddie’s gym and look for a mate?”
“Maddie doesn’t need both Joey and me yet. We can’t do much for her until she’s roughed in and wired up. I’ll work on the house until she’s ready for finishing work.” Len held up a big hand. “Don’t you worry. Joey is going to keep an eye on her general contractor and trades. Anything slipshod and he’ll sort it out.”
“I figure that I’ll still have plenty of time to meet me some of those lovelies at the gym.” Len’s big face split into a wide grin.
“You’re drooling, Lenny.”
“Have to watch that. City girls likely don’t much go for salivating bear.”
CHAPTER TWO
Five years earlier...
The shabby apartment was illuminated only by the street lamps shining through the skimpy curtains provided by the landlord. A small, thin boy bumped first into a chair, and then the coffee table, as he wound his way through the small, dimly-lit living room.
He stood shaking silently beside the couch and waited. The young woman who was sleeping there sat up and let her blanket fall to her waist. She put a maternal arm around the child’s quivering shoulders.
“Bad dream?” she asked softly.
The boy nodded. “Can I sleep with you, Erin?”
His sister hugged him and swung her feet off the couch. “That’s not such a good plan, sweetie. Let’s see if some milk will help.”
Erin Salter shoved her feet into her slippers and put her hands on Cord’s narrow shoulders feeling their tenseness. His bones poked into her palms. She moved him into the galley kitchen and took out the carton of milk. It was only half-full, she noted worriedly, but she poured some into a mug anyway and zapped it in the microwave.
“Come on, Cord,” she said softly, “We’ll sit at the table.”
Obediently the little boy climbed onto a chair and put his hands around the hot mug. He sipped and looked at the woman with uncertain blue eyes. His sister gazed back at him from kind hazel eyes. Her soft curves and gentle expression were mild and affectionate and he relaxed a little.
“Want to tell me about your dream?” Erin asked softly.
Cord shook his lint blond head and drank some more. He looked small, lost and adorable.
“Okay.” She put out a big hand to smooth his hair off his face, and ignored his automatic flinching. “Do you want peanut butter and crackers?”
Cord nodded but didn’t speak. While Erin was busy in the cupboard, another boy a little taller than the first, but just as thin, walked into the dining room and sat down across from his brother. His hair was a darker blond than his brother’s but lighter than his sister’s. Erin sighed when she saw him and placed the plate on the table between them.
“Hey, Hunter,” she said. “Did we wake you?” she asked softly.
He nodded and reached for a cracker.
“One each,” said Erin. “I’ll make two more.”
Cord looked suspiciously at his twin and made the other cracker disappear. Hunter kicked his brother under the table.
“Don’t kick your brother, Hunter,” Erin said automatically. “Apologize.”
She had to wait a long time for Hunter’s grudging, “Sorry, Cord.”
“Would you like some milk, too?” Erin asked Hunter.
Hunter nodded.
“What do you say?” Erin prompted.
“Thank you.”
Erin tried not to laugh. “Yes, please,” she corrected.
Hunter glared at her but she stood firm. “Yes, please,” he finally muttered. His blue eyes were cal
culating and defiant. When she set crackers and milk on the table and waited for his thanks, he stared at her with the same impudent expression.
She smiled and didn’t move her hands until his grouchy, “Thank you,” emerged from his sullen six-year-old lips.
“You’re welcome,” she responded with as pleasant a smile as she could muster.
Erin tried not to take any of the byplay personally. The twins had been through a lot, and she figured they had been dragged up any which way since her mother’s death. Please and thank you had apparently been given a miss.
Hunter was by any measure worse than Cord. Which made sense since he was the more dominant of the two boys. On the one hand, he was fiercely protective of his twin, and on the other, he stole his brother’s food and thumped him if he felt like it. Little barbarians, the pair of them, she thought wryly.
Erin pulled out another chair and sat watching the boys eat their midnight snack in the twilight of the unlit apartment. She didn’t want to rev them up by turning on the lights. And she didn’t want to feed them extra meals at two a.m. either.
In the three weeks since the social worker from Child Protective Services had asked her if she would take charge of her half-brothers—while their father was serving a prison sentence, she had only grown more worried about money. If they had gone into foster care, their foster family would have received a stipend. As family, Erin got no such payment.
She had already dipped into her meager savings to buy clothes for the boys. And now it appeared she would have dip again to supplement the grocery money. She tried not to let her money worries show to Cord and Hunter. They were just getting used to her and learning that three meals a day and a regular routine of school and home were standard issue.
But the truth was she was swimming in deep water without a life-jacket. Maybe she should have visited more after Mom had the twins, she mused. But the likelihood of running into her mother’s boyfriend had put her off. After Mom’s death three years ago, she had stopped going round altogether. As a result, the boys were virtual strangers to her—strangers with attitude.
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