LUELLE'S MATE (Shifters of the Bulgarian Bloodline Book 4)

by Dalia Wright

  He sat down at the small desk in the corner and put pen to paper.

  Catherine,

  You’re right. I should have told you before. I know that nothing I can say here can make that right and that hurts more than I can say.

  The assault happened on a mission. We had a new guy and I never liked him. Not even when I first met him. There was just something...off there. Anyway, there was a woman in the town. A prostitute. He’d been visiting her, but one night he was drunk and he decided that he shouldn’t have to pay. I heard her scream and saw that he was threatening her with his gun.

  I lost my temper and beat him up. She ran, so it was my word against his, and he had the injuries. So I was out. I shouldn’t have done it, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t do it again.

  I should have told you.

  I can’t marry you for the money. Not when I’m in love with you. I hope you find a way to have your freedom.

  Love,

  Scott

  He slid the note under her bedroom door and walked away. The butler spoke to him, but the expression on Scott’s face must have warned the man that Scott wasn’t in the mood.

  “Family emergency,” Scott lied in order to get past the camera crews and Catherine’s parents. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

  Chapter Nine:

  His own parents had been surprised to see him turn up on their doorstep in the middle of the night, but they hadn’t asked questions. He’d been working from before sunup to well after sundown since he got home. If he ran on about 4 hours of sleep, he was too tired to be tormented by her memory.

  He couldn’t do anything about how often he saw her in his dreams though. He woke up reaching for her more often than not and he never bothered to try to go back to sleep after those dreams. He either took a cold shower or went out to work.

  He knew that Linda was worried about him, but he’d heard his father advise her to let Scott work through it. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to have to explain. He only wanted to find a way to get through the pain.

  He was mucking out stalls, up to his ankles in stuff he didn’t really want to mention when he heard the door open. He glanced up and dropped the shovel.

  “Hi,” Catherine said softly, her eyes on the ground at first.

  “What...what are you doing here?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes scanning his work worn jeans and his sweaty chest. He remembered her kissing her way down his body, murmuring how much she loved the way he felt and he had to catch his breath.

  “I came to find out if you really meant what you said in your letter.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. You can verify it with military records--”

  “Not that,” she said. “I hired someone and they confirmed your story. Turns out that you should have been dishonorably discharged. But they processed it differently due to your distinguished career.”

  He nodded, wondering what she’d meant. Catherine stepped a little closer.

  “I mean the part about loving me.”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I think I’ve been in love with you since your speech about money back in the gazebo.”

  She smiled, her expression brightening so fast that he was struck speechless by her beauty. He wanted to touch her, but he was filthy. She didn’t seem to mind. She stretched up and put her arms around his neck, kissing him. He kept his hands to himself, but he took the kiss deeper, feeling her moan against his mouth.

  “God, darlin’, I’ve missed you so damn bad,” he said against her lips.

  “Will you marry me?” she asked, pulling back.

  “Hell yeah, get in the truck.”

  Catherine laughed joyously. “You might want to take a shower first.”

  “Yeah, and I probably should introduce you to my folks before we go on down to town hall.”

  She looped her arm through his and they walked to the farmhouse. Linda was on the front porch and Scott waved.

  “Mom,” he said, “This is Catherine Cargill.”

  Linda swept her with a glance. The girl was lovely and she was dressed well. And she was leaning against Scott who was shirtless and sweating. Linda was a rancher's wife, so she knew exactly what her son smelled like after a morning of mucking out stalls. Catherine was smiling up at him, looking for all the world like Scott was dressed in his best and clean as a whistle.

  “Come in,” Linda said warmly.

  Scott headed upstairs for the shower, leaving his mother and Catherine to talk. He wasn’t worried, but he didn’t linger either. His hair was still wet when he jogged back down the stairs. Catherine was sitting at the kitchen table laughing. His mother was laughing too, but she hurriedly tried to sweep the photo album off the table before Scott saw it.

  He sighed resignedly. “Get it all out of the way,” he said. “I’m planning to marry her as soon as we’re done here, so she might as well know the worst there is.”

  Catherine grinned. “You were an adorable little cowboy.”

  He grinned back and they looked over the photo album together.

  Of course, they couldn’t get married right away. The license had to be applied for and there was a short waiting period. It didn’t really matter. Catherine loved the ranch. She worked almost as hard as Scott had when he was trying to forget her, but she did it because she loved the work.

  She was good at it too. She had good instincts with animals and she’d done some research on crops. She talked Eric into planting some soybeans. The market for them was enormous, according to her.

  Scott had known that his parents would like Catherine, but she admitted that she’d been terrified of them. Her own parents were furious with her, texting and calling so frequently that she’d shut her phone off for good the day after she’d arrived.

  The next Monday, they went to town hall and said their vows in front of his parents. Scott had been worried that Catherine would be disappointed, but she had smiled.

  “Everyone I care about will be there. What more could I want?”

  They left the courthouse arm in arm and ran right into her father.

  “Where have you been?” Andrew asked angrily.

  “With me,” Scott said, standing just slightly in front of Catherine.

  “Why haven’t you answered your phone?” Andrew continued.

  Catherine raised her chin and pushed out from behind Scott. “I didn’t want to talk to you. You should be happy. I got married.”

  Her mother approached in time to hear that last sentence. She sighed. “More things to reshoot. At least you’ve gotten the legal issues out of the way, I guess.”

  “Thanks for the congratulations,” Scott said dryly.

  “And I’d like that transfer,” Catherine said. Her voice only wavered slightly. Scott put his hand on the small of her back. She’d chosen a pretty floral print sundress that he couldn’t wait to get off of her. “Right now. I know you can do it from your phone.”

  “Why so impatient?” Andrew asked. “You’re not...”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not pregnant. But there are some things I want. And now that I’ve given you what you want, I think I deserve them.”

  “I am happy that you saw sense,” Mavis said. “One little assault charge doesn't matter much.”

  “It ended my entire career,” Scott said tightly.

  “But now you’re rich,” Mavis answered with a knowing smile. “I’m sure you figured that out for yourself.”

  Catherine’s phone beeped. Money had appeared in the joint account her parents had set up for her. A few presses of the buttons and the money disappeared again. Andrew stared at her.

  “Where--”

  Catherine smiled. “We had a contract,” she reminded him. “The money was going to an account that you had no access to.”

  Color flooded Andrew Cargill’s cheeks, but he didn’t speak.

  “Fine,” Mavis said, obviously displeased. They’d never thought that Catherine would set up an account that they couldn’t
access. Especially before they could put a freeze on the joint account. “Let’s go over the wedding--”

  “No,” Catherine said easily.

  Everyone stared at her. Even Scott. He’d figured he was stuck in that reality show.

  “What?” he asked.

  She looked up at him. “You don’t want to do that show do you?”

  “God, no!” he said firmly.

  “Good. Then, sorry, we’re not doing it.” She watched as her father tried to figure out what to say. “You should have gotten a contract.”

  Eric, who was standing behind Scott and Catherine, laughed. Andrew Cargill turned his glare on him.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

  “My new daughter’s a real spitfire,” Eric said proudly. “Now, you’re not gettin’ what you want, so maybe you could get out of our way. We’ve got a ranch to run.”

  Chapter Ten:

  Catherine stretched and rolled over. Scott was already getting dressed, or trying to. It was still dark.

  “You’re already up?” she asked unnecessarily.

  “Yeah,” he said, going over to kiss her on the cheek. “Thought I’d put in a few hours on the house before I hit the fields.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him back down into the bed with her. “Not yet.”

  Scott laughed and kissed the side of her neck, deliberately tickling her. She squealed and pushed against his chest. He let her gain the upper hand for the pleasure of having her on top of him.

  They’d been married for three months and, other than the stuff that got under every couple’s skin, he knew it wouldn’t have mattered if he married her after a month or after ten years. Catherine Cargill...now Catherine Lawson, was his soul mate.

  She raised her arms in victory and then kissed him on the cheek. “If you’re going to the house, I’m going too,” she said when she’d untangled herself from the sheets that had wrapped her up in their wrestling match.

  “You could get a few hours of sleep,” he said. “They’re working on the roof today, but they won’t start for a little longer.”

  In addition to building their own house at the other end of the ranch, Catherine had started repairs on the farmhouse. The roof, the siding, some new appliances and other things that had fallen through the cracks with the weight of larger repairs over their heads.

  Eric and Linda had tried to protest, but Catherine had asked for a share in the ranch. That had surprised them, but she explained that she wanted to buy half of it for herself and for Scott so that she’d have something to call her own. In return, she’d help bring things up to date since she wasn’t exactly the greatest at raising crops.

  She was selling herself short, but it had worked in the end. Scott pulled a jacket on. The fall weather was chilly until the fog burned off in the morning sunshine. He put his arm around Catherine’s shoulders and they walked to the frame of what would be their house in a few more months.

  “It’s coming along so well,” she said. She helped most days, but she hadn’t seen the latest additions. “So this is the porch?”

  “Yeah. It’s gonna run the length of the house,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Plenty of room for a porch swing and some rocking chairs for our old age.”

  She bit her lip. She had news and she wasn’t exactly sure how he’d take it.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, sensitive as always to the changes in her expression.

  “Nothing,” Catherine said quickly. “So...with rockers and a porch swing, do you think there’d be room for a baby swing?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure we could--” Scott stopped, realization dawning. He stared at her for so long that she was chewing her nails before he managed to put words into a sentence. “A baby?”

  She nodded. “I know that we didn’t exactly plan this, but you know, we haven’t been quite as careful as we could have been and--”

  Scott wrapped his arms around her and spun her in a circle. Then he set her gently back to her feet, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

  She laughed in relief. “I was afraid you’d be mad.”

  “Mad?” Scott looked down at her, framing her beautiful face with his hands. “I love kids. And I love you. Seems natural to me.”

  “It’s kind of fast,” Catherine ventured.

  “That’s just how we do things,” Scott said, kissing her until she flung her arms around him.

  The sun came up to their east, but neither of them noticed it. They were too busy planning the life they couldn’t wait to lead. A life of their own with no secrets and no restrictions.

  *** THE END ***

  Working for the Billionaire Shifter

  Elaine Young

  Chapter One

  Melina felt something hard hit her face. She grimaced as her eyes opened, and she looked around for what could have hit her. A quick glance to the ground answered her question – pretzels. Melina looked around for the one who had thrown them. Yes, there she was: Melina’s roommate, Nichole.

  Nichole’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you even still asleep? God, you’re fucking useless,” she muttered.

  Like I don’t already know that. Melina thought as she felt guilt tug at the pit of her stomach. She knew she was useless to everyone around her. The only reason Nichole had taken her in was because she’d been where Melina was, but after six months of not getting a job, Nichole was getting fed up. Not that I’m not. Melina hated the fact that she couldn’t help pay the rent. And now, here she was sitting on the couch – well, she had been sleeping, because Nichole had found someone better. Melina was leeching off them and she knew it. She hardly ate, she didn’t watch TV, she didn’t use much water unless it was to clean the house. But no matter how much she kept the place clean, she still wasn’t contributing to the rent when it needed to get paid.

  Nichole stood, snapping Melina away from her moment of self-loathing. She didn’t say a word as she headed for the door, picking up her purse along the way. Probably off to work. Because she, unlike Melina, had a job. Melina rolled off the couch and stretched her arms above her head. That was when she saw it: The newspaper, left open at classifieds. Defeat rushed through her body, quickly taking over. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Nichole didn’t realize that Melina spent the whole day looking for jobs. She just thought Melina was lazy and not trying to find work, so she left the newspaper open. She even went as far as to circle some of the potentials.

  Melina made her way over to the paper and stared down at it. Her cheeks flushed a hot red as she stared at the pictures that accompanied the ads. A breast popping out, the women wearing close to nothing. Nichole hadn’t circled jobs for Melina, she’s circled personal ads. That selfish… Melina couldn’t even form a sentence; she was so angry. Still, the defeat she had felt before came crashing back. Maybe that’s my only choice, she thought, looking down at the ads. She flipped through them. Some were just for pictures of her feet- would that really be so bad? Wouldn’t it be worth it if it meant she could help pay the bills?

  “You won’t succeed there. You’ll just wind up on the streets; you’ll just end up a whore.”

  Her mother’s words ingrained into her. Melina took a deep breath. That had been the last conversation she’d had with her mother before moving out to New York. She had always wanted to – it had been her dream since she was a little girl, and her mother hadn’t supported it. But she didn’t care, she was going to make it. At least that’s what she’d thought a few months ago. Mom might have been right, she thought, though she would never confess it to anyone other than herself. She flipped through the newspaper, looking for anything. Hell, at this point she might even take something a little less… professional. There was no shame in being an escort, right? As long as it pays the bills damn well, she thought.

  She knew that she was going to have to start doing whatever it took to be able to pay rent, but the longer she could put off that kind of work, the better. She stopped at the actual cla
ssifieds to see what was there. Even if it was just a little bit of work for a weekend, or walking a dog- everything counted, right?

  Wanted: Live-in caretaker.

  Melina’s head tilted to the left. That was a possibility, right? She was already a live-in house keeper, kinda. She just wasn’t getting paid for it.

  Must be willing to live in. Looking for someone to keep house clean, I am a single man who works often, which means you will have the house to yourself a lot. Will be expecting dinners to be made. Please email or call for details.

  Melina bit her lip as she reread the ad. It wasn’t ideal and she knew that. I mean, she’d be staying at some random man’s house, but wasn’t it better than sending random men pictures of her feet? Probably. I can always email and see what he says. If he seems off during the emails I won’t reply. And if everything sounds alright then I can just go there and see how it goes. If I give it a shot that doesn’t mean I can’t back out. At this point she needed to try and she knew it. So, she grabbed her computer and typed out an email, sending it to the address that was listed in the classifieds. Now I just have to hope this isn’t some kind of prank someone is playing on a friend. I mean really, who used the newspaper for these kinds of things in this day and age? Not that anyone could trust the online ads any more than they could trust the ones in the newspaper. It didn’t take long for her to get a reply to the ad. Her heart skipped a beat as she read it.

  Hi Melina,

  It’s nice to hear from you about my ad. You sound like a very interesting woman. It seems I was born just a few towns over from where you used to live! Would you like to meet for coffee sometime so we can discuss details, and meet in person before making anything official? How would this evening work? Around 6:00 at the Molson Café? Let me know if something else would work better.