by P. Jameson
“What are you doing coming in here and getting me in trouble.”
His lips tilted up in that small way of his, but it was his eyes that let her know he was smiling deep and wide on the inside.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“Yeah, Eagan’s all talk.”
“Heard that,” Eagan called back from the front.
“Meant for you to.”
He grumbled out a reply about irresponsible newly-mates, and Gash pulled her toward the storage closet.
When they were shut in, he said, “I’m here because you sent me a kiss through the camera.”
“Oh.”
“But see, I can’t kiss you back through the camera.”
“Ah.”
“So, I had to come and give it to you in person.”
Bailey nodded. “Yes, that makes perfect sense.”
Gash ran his thumb gently along her full bottom lip. “This mouth… it needs kissed frequently. So when you send me a pouty little thing through the camera… what am I to do with that? Huh, mate?”
Bailey pretended to think about it. “Lemme see… march down the hall, barge in here like a bull, give my boss the what-for, and kiss me breathless?”
His eyes went all fiery, the way they do when she’s done something that has his cat reacting. “Exactly.”
His mouth came down on her smile, pulling her in with the ferocity of his kiss. Bailey melted against him with a moan, letting her softness mold against his solid chest. She was so damn happy.
This time, her mama was wrong. She didn’t need to be anyone but herself to find a male of worth that wanted her. And all she’d had to do to keep him, was love him. Which came so easy, it was almost second nature. No, it was instinctual. She was made to love Gash, and she’d spend the rest of her life making sure he knew it.
Gash ended the kiss with a growl as he nipped her lip with his teeth. Bailey grinned up at him.
“How’s the little tiger?” he whispered, his sexy gaze turning soft and private.
Her hand went to her belly to cradle a baby bump that didn’t quite exist yet. “Good. Still wiggling like an itty bitty worm.”
“I scent him strong now.”
Bailey nodded. “It might be a she, you know.”
“Right,” he murmured. “What should we call him until we know?”
“Little tiger is just fine, I think. But then… he could be a lion or a jag. Or both, like you.”
“Mmm,” Gash mused. “Maybe we should call him bubble.”
“Bubble?”
“Yeah, ‘cause he’s going to be living in a fucking bubble until he’s a teen. Not taking any chances with my young.”
Bailey laughed. “You’re still calling him a him.”
“So are you.”
She frowned. “Ooh, you’re right.”
“Five minutes is up,” Eagan called through the door. “Getchur ass back to work.”
Bailey laughed, pressing her forehead to Gash’s while his hands roamed her ass. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, Bailey.” His voice was rough. “So much those words aren’t enough. I can’t believe this is my life. My life.”
His little confessions always melted her heart to a puddle. “Believe it,” she whispered.
“And I love you too, little bubble,” he gruffed, letting his hand slide down to tenderly cradle her belly.
Bailey kissed her man’s cheek, letting another happy sound bubble up from her throat.
Sometimes the road to happiness is a bumpy bitch, but it’s worth it when you finally reach your destination. Bailey wasn’t afraid of the bumps anymore. Grab a four-wheeler and ride that thing whoopin’ and hollerin’ to the end. The good stuff happened along the way, all mixed in with the bad stuff. There was never one without the other.
Or as Doc might say, in her wise tone, the road to happiness is always under construction.
Namaste.
***
The phone in Gash’s office rang just as he was leaving to meet the guys in the kitchen for a beer. It was ringing straight from the caller since nobody was manning the front desk.
He stood by the door, letting it ring twice more to see if anyone else picked up. No luck.
Sighing, he lifted the receiver to his ear and tried to sound professional. “Lake Haven Lodge, Gash speaking.”
“Good. Just the person I was looking for.” Rigor’s voice echoed across the line like he was calling from a metal box. “What the hell did you do to your brother, man? He can’t shift. None of the cats can. I mean, what the hell kind of shit did you get into up there, Gash?”
“I told you I’d take him out of commission. I did. We’re done. Why are you calling here?”
“I… I just… wanted to tell you, I’m dealing with Aaron Redman myself.”
“Good.”
“And you and me… we’re even.”
“Yeah.”
“And… I don’t want to ever see you around here again. Got it?”
“Got it. And, you know, same goes for you. Come around the Ouachitas and you’ll suffer like the Alley Cats do. Understand?”
“Completely,” Rigor rumbled out.
Gash felt another measure of relief pile onto his shoulders. Fear was sometimes the best defense. Rigor being afraid of Ouachita was just another benefit of taking Felix out of play.
“And Rigor…”
“Yeah?”
“Remember what I said about changing your life for the better. If ever you had a chance, it’s now.”
The line was silent for a beat.
“Yeah,” Rigor murmured. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a nice life, Gash.”
And then the call disconnected.
Gash set the phone back in the cradle and stared at it. The conversation with Rigor felt like another nail in the coffin of his old life. He was well and truly done with the shadow clan, with the human mob, with the Junkyard Dogs and the Alley Cats. It was goodbye to the part of his life that led him here, to the place he belonged.
Turning, he strolled down the hall to the kitchen. Some straggler guests were still having dinner in the dining room and as he passed, he gave them a friendly salute. Pushing through to the kitchen, he saw the party had started without him.
Renner, Eagan, Magic, and Owyn leaned against the counter, each nursing a half full bottle of brew while Ryan and Mason bounced pennies off the counter trying to make them land in a red cup.
“Hey, Gash,” Renner drawled. “Thought maybe you’d gotten lost looking for the kitchen and found it in Bailey’s mouth. Underneath her tongue maybe?”
The others snickered, but really, it was bad as far as jokes go. A smile tweaked Gash’s lips as he reached in the cooler for a beer. Renner, damn lightweight.
“Naw, Bailey’s at yoga. I can’t go there.”
“Aw, yes,” Owyn nodded. “The sacred weekly yoga meeting.”
“I know it. Know it well.” Magic swigged from his bottle. “‘There shall be no sex right now,’” he said in an authoritative mocking tone, wagging his finger the entire time. “‘I need to meet the girls for yoga.’”
“Damn,” Eagan muttered. “You get that too?”
Ryan raised one hand high while eyeing his next penny shot. “Me too. ‘Yoga this, yoga that. Yoga is good for the body and mind. You should try it sometime.’ Big hell no to that. I’ll stick with lifting weights.”
Gash chuckled, remembering his own yoga experience. Except he didn’t regret a goddamn minute of it. Later, Bailey had even showed him that ass-in-the-air move. It was called the dolphin or some shit. And yes, he’d totally taken advantage of her experience holding the form, and fucked her like that.
Yoga had his total and complete support. Yoga for president. Yoga for life.
“Dude. Yoga is awesome,” Mason said, tossing Gash a pointed stare.
Gash tipped his bottle in agreement. “Respect the yoga.”
“Oh, yeah,” Magic said, eyeing Mason. “I forgot you d
o that shit too.”
“Damn straight,” he murmured, lining up another shot.
The guys exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to mock Mason to the ends of the earth. With a nod, they gathered around him, forming a circle, palms upward, middle finger and thumb making a ring.
“Ohmmmmm,” they hummed in unison, unable to keep it up for long before they burst into raucous laughter.
Mason nodded, a wry smile on his face. “Aw, yeah. Laugh it up boys. But the yoga gods shine on me. I’ve seen the light and I’ll never stop yoga-ing the hell out of life. Nama-fucking-ste.”
This just made them laugh harder, Ryan spewing beer out his nose.
Gash settled, taking another gulp of his drink. “He ain’t wrong though.”
Eagan squinted through tears. “Huh? What are you talking about? You into yoga too?”
“Say it ain’t so,” Owyn murmured, sobering.
Gash raised a daring eyebrow. “You ever watched ‘em?”
All the guys went quiet, their laughter drying up like a puddle in the Sahara. Mason chuckled, abandoning the pennies game altogether.
“You mean… like… watch the girls while they do yoga?” Magic asked.
Gash grinned slowly.
“No. No, I haven’t.” Magic frowned, turning to Eagan. “Have you?”
A crease formed between Eagan’s eyebrows. “No. Renner? Owyn? Ry?”
The cats just frowned at one another like the idea had never occurred to them.
“Well,” Gash said, bringing the bottle to his lips. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve seen it.”
They stared, slack-jawed, until their beer drenched minds caught up. Then it was, who could get out the door and down the hall to the spa fastest. Mason and Gash followed behind at a slower pace, knowing full well the guys would stall once they reached the glass wall separating the studio from the spa.
Strolling in, the seasoned yoga veterans, laughed out loud at the gaping mouths drooling at the window.
“Oh. Damn.” Owyn murmured. “I mean, I knew she could move like that. But I didn’t know why she could move like that.”
Each male’s gaze followed their mate as they twisted and pretzel-ed through the routine.
“Holy shit,” Eagan murmured, angling his head for a better view.
“Holy yoga,” Renner corrected, his nose inches from the glass.
Ryan brushed a hand over his chin. No doubt checking for drool. “Methinks we have not been taking proper advantage of this yoga thing.”
Mason crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, and let out a knowing cackle. “Told you, assholes.”
Gash’s gaze was riveted on Bailey as she bent and twisted in obscene ways that made him dizzy with desire. And even now, with his mind chin deep in the carnality gutter, he was so overtaken with gratitude his fucking chest hurt.
Bailey—and he assumed the other mates as well—moved into the boner-generating dolphin pose, and Mason strolled away, whistling a victory.
“Yoga for president,” Gash murmured, holding his fist out for a bump.
Magic hit it. “Goddamn. Got my vote.”
“Namaste,” they said in unison.
And then toasted it with a raising of their beers.
*****
For information on new releases, exclusive excerpts, and giveaways, sign up for P. Jameson’s Newsletter HERE. Or visit her website at www.pjamesonbooks.blogspot.com
*****
Other books by P. Jameson
Ouachita Mountain Shifters
A Mate’s Wish (Holiday Prequel)
Deliciously Mated (Book 1)
Ouachita Mated (Book 2)
Merrily Mated (Book 3)
Secretly Mated (Book 4)
Shadow Mated (Book 5)
Dirt Track Dogs
Racing the Alpha (Book 1)
Racing the Beast (Book 2)
Racing Home (Book 3)
Racing Hard (Book 4)
Racing Destiny (Book 5)
Home for the Holidays (Book 6)
Ozark Mountain Shifters
A Mate’s Denial (Book 1)
A Mate’s Sacrifice (Book 2)
A Mate’s Revenge (Book 3)
A Mate’s Submission (Book 4)
Sci-fi Fantasy Romance
Starwalker (Amazon)
*****
About the Author
P. Jameson likes to spend her time daydreaming, and then rearranging those dreams into heartstring-pulling stories of trial and triumph. Paranormal is her jam, so you’re sure to find said stories full of hot alpha males of the supernatural variety. She lives next door to the great Ozark Mountains with her husband and kids, who provide her with plenty of writing fodder.
For more information about P. Jameson and future stories, visit www.pjamesonbooks.blogspot.com or find her on Facebook. To sign up for P. Jameson’s newsletter and receive updates on book releases go HEREor copy and paste the following link into your browser:eepurl.com/3s00L
