by Jessica Sims
“Uh huh. Well, don’t say I never give you anything.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “I’m off to find someplace with air conditioning. Let me know if you reconsider.” With a smile, my sister saunters away and leaves me in the flip house.
I stare at the empty house around me. In addition to fixing the air conditioner, I now need to fix two walls. Fuck. So much for painting tomorrow. I’m too angry to think about it right now anyhow. Angry, and jealous.
And helpless. Fucking helpless.
The woman I love - the woman carrying my child - is seeing other men. She wants someone else to be the father to our child.
It should be me.
With a last, despairing look at the house, I fling my tools into my toolbox and head out. Instead of heading home, though, I take a drive in the opposite direction. Home is filled with Gracie, and Buck, and the rest of the pack. I head someplace else, someplace that I’ve been saving. Someplace that no one knows about but me.
Twenty minutes later, I open the wrought iron gate and drive down the long, winding gravel driveway. The house is there, just as I left it, and I get out and head for the front door. I have the key on my keyring; it’s my house.
Or rather, it’s the house I bought hoping I could bring a family into it.
Since I flip houses, I can see a gem in the rough, and this house came to me not long after that one and only night with Savannah. It was more expensive than my usual purchase, but I didn’t intend to flip this one. A two story farmhouse with fifty acres, I bought it despite the foundation issues and the clear work that needed to be done on the 1970s styled house. Now, months later, I’ve purchased additional land from a neighbor, bringing the total land to 250 acres and the house has been completely revamped. It’s gorgeous inside. I’ve poured buckets of blood, sweat and tears into this place, imagining Savannah in it.
And she won’t even talk to me.
I walk through the house, my steps slow, my heart aching. I don’t need to turn the lights on to know that the walls are a delicate blue because she mentioned once that blue was her favorite color. Or the bathroom upstairs has a claw-footed tub since she mentioned she likes taking long, hot baths. Or that there’s a nursery upstairs next to the master bedroom, just waiting for our baby.
None of it matters.
I flip the keys in my hand, thoughtful, and then turn and drive back to town.
Chapter 9
SAVANNAH
“Whose keys are these?” I ask. There’s an unfamiliar keyring on my desk with three keys on it and a small red carabiner and a tag. No name, no nothing but an address written down on the tag itself.
“Hmm?” Ryder types away at her computer from her desk, barely glancing over at me. “Hey, do you think we should have more practice Q&A sessions for the primordials? I worry they’re not going to be able to handle themselves in public.”
I hold the keys up to my nose and sniff them, trying to place a scent, but metal doesn’t hold smells all that well, and the only scent I get from it is metal. “We can,” I say absently, then hold up the keys. “These yours? I came in for work and they were on my desk.”
She finally glances over at me. “What? Nope, not mine.”
Sara comes out of the back room, no doubt switching movies on the DVD player that sees constant use with the Primordials around. I hold the keys up. “These yours?”
An uneasy look crosses Sara’s face. “No?”
“Whose are they?” It’s clear she knows something.
“Connor left them on your desk. He says it’s yours.”
A wealth of emotion moves through me. Connor was here…and deliberately avoided me? I’m surprised at how much that hurts. “What’s mine? What do these keys go to?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. You should probably talk to him about it.” Sara gestures at the door. “Ramsey’s waiting for me, so I need to go.”
“Thanks,” I tell her softly and then toss the keys aside on my desk. I’m not sure what to make of the gift. The only thing listed is an address. Connor’s address? I sit down and get to work, determined not to think about the keys.
Naturally, they’re on my mind all night. I’m distracted as I work the night shift, and even the normal babysitting issues with the Primordials doesn’t take my mind off of Connor and his strange gift. Things are slow on the night shift, and since Marie’s now working for Beau as his assistant, I’m full-time at the agency and permanently night-shift until Bath or Sara want to switch…and I don’t see that happening. The night shift is quiet, but that means there’s a lot of time to think.
And I keep thinking about those keys.
When we close the doors to the agency at three AM, I drive my carload of Primordials back home and send them off to spend time with the others. The Primordials are all bunking in our old rooms, squeezed into as many folding beds as possible until we figure out a permanent solution for them. I drop my charges off, pick up a few meat wrappers from the floor, and head back upstairs to my room, completely lost in thought.
I wash my face and change into my pajamas, and lie down to sleep, but I keep thinking of Connor and the last time I saw him. Marie’s picnic, over a month ago. Connor’s hair had been shaggy and he’d worn a tight, dark blue t-shirt that showed off his perfect shoulders and abdomen. He’d hovered over me while I ate, and when it was time to shift, he’d helped me take my clothing off.
It had been the last time I’d shifted comfortably, I think. Now I’m getting into the third trimester and Dr. Lamb suggests holding off on shifting until the baby’s born.
Babies. I have to remember the plural. Babies.
We’d gotten along pretty well that day, for a bit. I’d ran by myself in the woods for a bit, enjoying the freedom of my feline body. Then, Connor had tailed me and changed back to human form, and told me I needed to head back to the picnic, because I was going to wear myself out.
And that had gotten on my last nerve. I’d ignored him, hot on a fresh bit of game. He’d immediately changed back to wolf form, scared my game away, and then continued to hound me until I returned to the picnic.
We’d had a blowout fight and he’d thrown that whole ‘if the baby’s a wolf he’ll be in the Anderson pack’ thing and I’d lost my shit. I’d blocked him from my phone after telling him I never wanted to see him again.
Did pregnancy hormones play a bit of a factor into things? Probably. Had a picked a fight? Maybe.
Did it matter? Not really.
I keep trying to forgive Connor and I keep coming up to mental roadblocks. So it’s absolutely for the best that we both move on.
As I lie in bed, though, I pick up my phone. I’ve gotten a few texts since I last checked, and my heart skips a happy beat at the sight of UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Hey! It’s Craig. Looking forward to seeing you this weekend.
My excited heartbeat slows. Of course it’s Craig texting me and not Connor. Connor doesn’t have this number. Craig’s the one I need to concentrate on. He’d be a good dad. He’s a cougar, with a stable job. He’s been around the block at his age and just wants a mate and a family. On paper, he’s perfect. I should be thrilled.
Thrilled.
I swallow hard, wondering why I stupidly feel close to tears. Instead of texting Craig a happy message back, though, I do a search online for Connor’s phone number. I find it and text a message. Hey. It’s Sav. You left your keys?
I put my phone on the nightstand and close my eyes, trying to will myself to go to sleep. It’s nearly four in the morning, and I shouldn’t expect a response—
The phone buzzes against the nightstand.
I snatch it up and peer at the screen. It’s Connor. He’s up at this hour? Or was he waiting for me to contact him?
Connor: Savannah. Hi. Yeah. I left those for you.
Sav: But…why? What are they for?
Connor: It’s for a house. The address is on the tag.
I frown at my phone. Even though I know it’s a bad idea, I type in, It sounds lik
e we need to talk. Do we need to talk in person?
Connor: I would love to talk in person.
My heart gives a traitorous flutter.
When? I send.
Connor: Tomorrow? How about coffee? Sbux?
Starbucks seems like a pretty easy place to dash in and out of. Let’s meet at the one close to work. Ten AM okay?
Connor: Let’s make it eleven. You need sleep.
I grit my teeth and resist the urge to text back a don’t tell me what to do. Instead, I send back a quick K and fling my phone on the bedside nightstand.
I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m one part scared, two parts excited. I shouldn’t be.
I go to sleep hugging my pillow and wondering what I’m going to wear that still fits over my pregnant belly and doesn’t look like ‘mom’ clothing.
Chapter 10
CONNOR
I get to the coffee shop a half hour early just in case Savannah shows up a few minutes ahead of schedule. I scope out the best, quietest table in the place. I want nothing but perfection for my girl. Unfortunately, the best table is also occupied by a guy with a laptop. Fucker. I sit nearby and glare convincingly at him until he gets up and moves to a different table, and then I clean off the surface with a moist towelette. The chairs aren’t super comfortable, and one wobbles, so I switch it out for another. The sunlight is bright as it filters in through the blinds so I get up and adjust them a little.
Everything has to be perfect for when my girl gets here. Perfect.
I order one of every breakfast sandwich, cookie, bread, and muffin they have, and an iced coffee, a hot coffee, and a soy latte. I get extra napkins and steal the creamer jar from the stand so Savannah can have as much as she wants. I know she likes dairy. I…think. Fuck.
I drum my fingers on the table, staring at the front door. Waiting. The sunlight is still casting too much light on her chair, I think, so I move it a little to the left. I don’t want her to have to squint. When I’m satisfied it’s perfect - again - I look up.
And there she is.
The sight of Savannah always takes my damn breath away. She’s an absolute dream to look at, with that beautiful oval face, those dark eyes and that long fall of silky brown hair. She’s wearing a plain blue dress that tents around her belly, and I’m momentarily dumbstruck at how utterly gorgeous she is as she walks in. One hand is resting atop her rounded stomach as she scans the coffee shop for me, and I resist the urge to wave like an excited schoolgirl. I jerk to my feet, nearly upend the coffees I’ve bought for her, and pull her chair out.
She blinks at the spread I have on the table, then looks at me. “Is it just us?”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat,” I say, and my hands clench the back of the chair so hard I can feel the wood creak. Did I fuck this up somehow? When I sent her the key, I didn’t expect her to meet me. This is…well, fuck, it feels like a gift and I’ve got nothing to give in return.
“Oh,” she says softly. “So you ordered this for me?”
“I didn’t want you to have to wait at the counter,” I tell her as she sits, and push the chair in. God, she smells incredible. Like shampoo and cougar and a feminine hint of dewy skin. I want to lick every inch of her.
“I can order my own food,” she says, and there’s reproach in her tone.
Yeah, I’ve already fucked this up. Shit. “I know. I just—“
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t stay long.”
My heart feels as if it thuds to a stop. She’s not staying? “You got someone else to meet today? Maybe that new guy?” I can’t help the jealousy that spews out of me. That fucker wants to touch what’s mine. I want to pound his face in.
Savannah looks startled. A light flush crosses her pale cheeks. “I’m not meeting anyone. Even if I was, it’s none of your business.”
“I know it’s not. I’m just asking. I worry about you.”
An angry look crosses her face. “You’re being overbearing.”
I am. I can’t fucking help it, though. She’s got circles under her eyes and she looks thin despite her big belly. “Are you feeling okay?” I ask, and push a muffin toward her. “You want to eat? You should eat.”
Her nostrils flare and I can tell she’s getting pissed at me. She can be pissed as long as she eats something. “Connor,” she says in an irritated tone of voice.
“I know, I know. Comes with the territory.” I’m alpha of my pack now, and I’m still working on finding the balance between ‘overbearing asshole’ and ‘beta’.
“Right,” she says softly. She pulls out the keys and offers them to me. “You left these at the office.”
“I left them for you.” Just seeing them fills me with a wealth of emotion.
“What are they for?”
“It’s a house I bought. For us.” I force myself to shrug oh so casually. “There’s no ‘us’ so it’s yours now.”
She looks shocked. “Mine?”
“Yeah. I guess you can move in with one of your new boyfriends. Now, eat something. My kid’s probably hungry.” I search her neck for a mate mark, and feel an ugly stab of satisfaction when I don’t see one.
Anger crosses her face. “That’s the problem with you, Connor. You never ask. You just insist.”
I’m about to insist that this bran muffin go into her mouth, but she’s practically trembling with anger. I narrow my eyes at her. This is more than just me making a jab about her seeing some other guy. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re always demanding! Telling me what to do! You never ask, you just plow ahead with what you want and it doesn’t matter what the rest of us want.” She gets to her feet. “You never let anything be my decision.”
“What are you talking about?” She’s crazy, right? I let her walk away from me instead of dragging her back to my den and deep-dicking the protests out of her.
“You push and you push,” she says, dropping the keys on the table next to the untouched food. “If I’m seeing someone else, it’s because it’s what I want, not what you want. Understand that?”
“I don’t see how any of this can be about what I want,” I say slowly. “Considering that you’re determined to cut me out of your life.”
Her nostrils flare with anger. “Take these back,” she says, pushing the keys at me. “I won’t take your hand-outs.”
“No,” I say, pushed beyond my limits. I get to my feet and gaze down at her. Even furious, Savannah Russell is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I want nothing more than to bury my face against her neck and mark her as mine. My fists clench against the need to touch her. “You want to cut me out of your life because that’s what you want? Fine. That’s yours.” I point at the keys.
“A house?” she cries.
“That’s right. I bought it thinking we’d have a family there. That’s on me. I assumed too much.”
“You always do,” she says bitterly.
Her words cut like a knife. Maybe I do. It’s the wolf in me that wants to protect his mate. I can’t help who I am. “Doesn’t mean you can’t take it for yourself. You can’t live with your cousins forever. Take the home and make a nice house for our kid, all right?” And I get up and walk away from the table, though it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Let Savannah think I’m walking away from her. She doesn’t have to know that this is all part of my plan. Because wolves are predators, but we’re cunning ones. One of the oldest wolf tricks? Abandoning the prey and then circling back when its guard is down.
And this particular wolf isn’t above pulling a sneaky move or two to get what he wants.
SAVANNAH
I drive home to the Russell house and stare at the keys one more time. A fricking house. Of all the ballsy things to do, Connor bought a house for me and the babies. I’m not going to take it, of course, but it’s just one more example of Connor acting and not bothering to ask.
I think that’s the root of the problem I ha
ve with him. Connor just does. He doesn’t stop to ask, he just does. He fucked me. He pushed himself into my life, assuming I’d want him to be the father of my child. Even today, he tried to force breakfast on me and then a house.
A fricking house.
I’m pissed about the keys but for some reason, I have them in my purse. I guess so I can throw them at Connor’s face the next time he pushes something on me.
A teeny tiny part of me feels ultra guilty. Like I’m the bad guy for not flinging myself in his arms and letting him play house with me and our baby.
It’s still early and I don’t feel like going to work just yet. I have the night shift and it’s not even noon. Plus, I’m starving. Maybe I should have eaten some of the stuff Connor had bought for me, but that felt like giving in, and I’m feeling a bit stubborn at the moment.
Back at the house, though, all is chaos. The moment I step inside, a naked Primordial streaks past, holding up a package of raw bacon. I stare as he scrambles up the stairs…and then four others chase after him, equally naked.
“Damn it,” Ellis says as he enters the room a few steps behind them, panting.
“Do I want to ask?”
“It started out as a shower and got weird from there,” Ellis says. He hauls himself upright and heads up the stairs, where the others are crashing around. In the living room, I can hear the wail of a siren on TV, and the sound of an action movie. Probably Terminator. They’ve watched that thing about fifty times this week.
I head for the kitchen, only to find the contents of the fridge strewn all over the floor, the door hanging open. Lily’s picking up half-eaten raw meat with a pair of tongs and a garbage bag.
So much for breakfast.
She cringes when there’s another crash upstairs, and then multiple men start shouting at each other.
“Goddamn it, you can’t eat that, Lir,” Ellis shouts from up above. “Give the soap to Bevan already! And you guys realize you don’t have to shower together, right? There’s enough hot water to go around.”
