by Edith DuBois
“Well, let’s see, Franklin Jonas Ashley. The last time we had one of our beer-on-the-porch chats, you asked me if you could leave Savage Valley to become a bona fide veterinarian. You said, ‘Bo, I’ll stay in state. Please let me go. Please, please, please, Bo.’”
“Let’s not exaggerate.”
“‘This is what I want, Bo. This is who I am,’ you said. It was all very dramatic and moving. I drank wine and ate chocolates all night.”
Franklin snorted. “You gotta be careful with that kinda stuff, Bo.” He slapped his flat belly and shot a pointed look over his shoulder. “You don’t want to start getting all soft on us.” When he turned back around, something rapped him on the back of his head. “Ouch!” He glared at Bo who watched him with a steady eye and then resumed his whittling on the pinewood.
“Always respect your elders.”
Franklin rubbed his head. “I didn’t even come here to ask you for anything. Well, except maybe some advice, but seeing as I’ve now witnessed your true nature and your barbaric, heathen side, not to mention the brunt end of your stick there, I’m not so sure anymore.”
Bo narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t come here to ask permission to leave again?”
“It worked out, didn’t it? I did what I said I was going to do. And when I finished, I came back, didn’t I? And now Savage Valley has one of the most renowned veterinary clinics in the state of Colorado. I’d say that falls into the realm of ‘overall betterment of the town, its people, its creatures, and its land,’ wouldn’t you?”
“Could be,” Bo answered circumspectly.
“Hmmph.” Franklin watched the setting sun for a while longer as Bo continued to whittle. Parts of the sky had faded to a silvery lavender, and Franklin watched a hawk dive down fast to snatch up some unsuspecting critter from the ground. “So,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “what did your father say about the lions?”
“Never wear a meat dress around ’em.”
Franklin shook his head, chuckling, and then took another swig. “You are full of crap, Bo.” He ignored the little disappointment he felt that Bo wouldn’t tell him, but Bo had never been one to mix his dealings with the lions and the bears.
“Where are your brothers tonight?”
“Thomas went to Catdaddy’s. To see Letty,” he added hastily, thinking Bo might not approve of the bear-shifters loitering around the honky-tonk after recent events. “You know…her cough.”
“Yes, and Elias?”
“Elias is at home, sleeping. He’s been on call.”
“All right. So tell me, what sort of advice can I give you that you’re too embarrassed to ask for from your brothers?” Bohagande Young was never was one to beat around the bush.
“I’ve asked someone to dinner, a woman—”
“Whew! We were starting to worry about ya there, sonny.”
“If you’d let me finish…”
“My apologies. Go on.”
“I was about to say, I’ve asked a woman I just met to dinner. I wanted to know if there was anything…er, you know, for us bear-shifters…that I should know…um, before.”
“So you’re a virgin?”
“Well, no…I mean, I wouldn’t…it’s just…you know, I have…” he sputtered. “I have experiences, but I…” He glared at his beer bottle, clamping his mouth shut, knowing he could easily dig himself into a deep hole if he didn’t stop.
Bo laughed behind him. “Franklin, the Scrupulous Bear.” He laughed harder. “The next New York Times best-selling children’s book. It’ll be illustrated and everything. We’ll make millions.”
Franklin quickly downed the rest of his beer. “Thanks for the beer, Bo,” he said stiffly, rising from the porch step. “Be seeing you around and have a good evening.”
He moved away from the porch, but Bo’s sharp voice stopped him. “Stop right there.”
A chill ran up Franklin’s back. There was a note, low and terrible, in Bo’s voice. It made his blood freeze, and with hunched shoulders he turned back to face the Shoshone elder. Bo rose from his stool and walked down the porch to look Franklin square in the eye.
After a long, contemplative look, Bo said, “Make damn sure.”
“What—”
“Whoever she is, make damn sure.”
“Of course,” he said, blanching at the thought of bonding himself to a woman who didn’t, in her heart, want to be with him and his brothers. It was the most miserable existence he could imagine. “I would never shift in front of her. No, not unless…” He liked Michelle all right, but he stopped himself, not wanting to think past anything besides their dinner on Friday.
“That’s not what I mean.”
Franklin frowned. “What else is there?”
“Don’t you think there’s a reason you’ve yet to…ah, how to put this delicately…fuck anyone?”
Franklin cringed at the callous term but didn’t comment.
“You and I both know that wouldn’t lead to anything particularly disastrous,” Bo continued. “The bears aren’t like the mountain lions, which you well know. For some reason, when your ancestors were cursed, the magic decided to let you choose your mates. In my opinion, I think the lions got the better end of the deal. They bump into their mate, squirt her with some musk, and then bam, they mate her. Simple. Clear cut.
“But with the bears, you have the whole real-world dating thing. Women like to be wooed and courted. They need to feel special because when they decide to love someone, it’s intimate, and it’s private, and it’s personal. Add on top of that bear-shifting and the more-than-one-husband thing, it can get pretty difficult for you to find someone. I get that. But still, your brothers have managed to get out there in the dating scene.”
“Yep?” Franklin answered when Bo shot him a pointed look. Franklin obviously wasn’t getting the point.
“You know…getting their freak on? Doing the dirty?”
“Okay.”
“Boning.”
“Yep. Yeah, I got it. Thanks.”
“But not you, Franklin. Why do you think that is?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t found the right woman yet, I guess.”
Bo grinned and thumped him hard on the shoulder. “Exactly. And that means, when you find her, you’re never gonna want to let her go. So you’d better make damn sure she’s the one before you go plundering for her pussy.”
* * * *
Michelle plunged the freshly scrubbed dish into soapy water, making a big slop of suds hit her square in the chest. “Motherfucker,” she growled under her breath.
“Oh my, is that any way for my great-niece to speak to my finest china?”
“Sorry, Aunt Agnes. I didn’t realize you’d made it home.” She didn’t take her attention away from the dishes in the sink, picking up a piece to continue her vigorous scrubbing. “And it wasn’t directed at your china, believe me.”
“Oh? What…or who is the intended quarry, may I ask?”
“I’m sure you can guess.”
Aunt Agnes pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from a cabinet on the opposite side of the sink and joined Michelle, rinsing each of the dishes handed to her. “Let me see…she’s in the house?”
“Warm.”
“She eats ketchup on her scrambled egg whites?”
“Warmer.”
“She went to the doctor this morning?”
“You’re getting really hot.”
“She is currently in bed with laryngitis?”
“You are on fire, Aunt Agnes.”
Aunt Agnes clicked her tongue as she set a plate in the drying rack. “She’s your sister. Surely you have a slight bit of sympathy for her.”
“Oh, trust me. I have plenty of sympathy. If I didn’t, her sorry ass—I mean butt—”
“Thank you, dear.”
“—would be all alone tonight while I enjoyed my date with Franklin Ashley.”
“Oh?” Aunt Agnes perked up at this fresh tidbit of gossip, never mind that it was abou
t her own niece, Michelle thought with an inward smile. “You have a date with one of the Ashleys? You’d better watch your back. There’s a lot of unmarried women in this town that would just as soon gouge your eyes out for a chance with one of the Ashley brothers.”
“Well, you’re wasting your breath because I have to cancel.”
“Oh no.”
“Exactly. When Marina came home from the doctor…Dr. Thomas Ashley, actually. Franklin’s brother?”
Aunt Agnes nodded in confirmation.
“All she did was hold up a notepad with the words I have laryngitis and a little frowney face on it.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you have to cancel your date, does it? It’ll only be a couple hours. She can live through that without you, can’t she? And I’ll only be gone for a few hours as well.”
Michelle sighed. Technically, the answer to that question was yes. But the real question was could Michelle live through it.
Marina had come into her bedroom while Michelle tried on dresses for her date. Her younger sister wore a pair of onesie pajamas with little white puffs and rabbit ears on her feet. She’d sat on the edge of Michelle’s bed, watching her with big, sad eyes. At first Michelle hadn’t noticed as she eyed herself critically in the mirror.
She had on her favorite dress, a sea-green-colored silk Karl Lagerfeld confection, but looking at herself, she thought it might be a little too fancy for a date in Savage Valley. She had a less flashy, olive-green Anthropologie number hanging on her closet door. She held it in front of her body, and then pulled it away. Then she did it again. She held it in front and pulled it away, trying to get a feel for which dress would be The One for her date. Unable to decide, she turned to her sister. “Which one do you think?” she asked, switching the dresses for her sister’s benefit.
Marina stared at her for a long moment, her big blue eyes wide and imploring. Then, slowly, tears began to gather in the bottom. Michelle let the dress dangle in her hands. “What is it?” she’d asked with obvious exasperation.
Her chin wobbling, Marina bent down to write something on her notepad. When she’d finished, she handed it over to Michelle. One of the tears had broken free and dripped down her cheek, catching the late afternoon sun in a most dramatic fashion. Michelle read what Marina wrote.
Dr. Ashley said it could get infected. It could ruin my vocal chords forever.
“I’ll make you some chicken soup before I go. Don’t worry. And I’ll pick up whatever medicine you need. You’ll be better in no time. You’re probably just stressed.” She rubbed a hand over Marina’s dark hair.
Marina shook her head and held her palm up. Michelle plopped the notepad back in it, resisting the urge to throw the damn thing in the trash bin. Marina scribbled something and held it up for Michelle to read.
Please don’t go tonight.
“Marina,” she said, shocked that her sister would even request such a thing. She hadn’t been asked on a date in over five years, much less gone on one. Every waking hour had been focused on Marina, on her career, on her music, on anything and everything that would help her sister find success as a country music singer. This break in Savage Valley was as much for Michelle as for Marina, and it hurt that her sister could ask such a thing from her. Although, truthfully, a small part of her brain been dreading something like this from the moment she’d agreed on the dinner with Dr. Ashley.
She turned from her sister, walking to the window, not wanting Marina to see the play of emotion across her features. She ran her hands over the silk of her gown. So many thoughts—usually easy to suppress—tore through her mind that she had difficulty finding her way through them.
“It’s one date, Marina,” she said, not turning from the window, her voice low. “I want one night.” Even though she spoke the words, in her heart she knew Marina wouldn’t budge. She’d made up her mind. Still, if there had been any hope, it fled when Marina placed her notepad again in Michelle’s hand. Michelle dutifully read the words.
What if we lose everything? This is all we have.
Michelle didn’t want to think about that, but then Marina wrote another note, and Michelle looked down. A chill rippled through her body, for it seemed as if Marina had somehow snatched the thoughts straight from Michelle’s brain. The words had always been there, always threatening, always holding her hostage. They were as true for Michelle as they were for Marina.
I’m scared. I need you.
Michelle shoved past her sister, heading for her closet. With trembling fingers she unzipped her dress. She couldn’t speak. Even as a mute, her sister still managed to ransack anything good that came into Michelle’s life. If it didn’t involve Marina, then Michelle couldn’t have it. That was the rule.
After she put her jeans and T-shirt back on, she forced herself to look at Marina, sitting on the bed again but with a pillow hugged against her chest, watching Michelle with watery eyes. “I’m going to wash dishes. Leave me alone for a while.”
Marina’s lips trembled, but she nodded, and Michelle left her.
Now, after almost an hour of dish scrubbing and talking with Aunt Agnes, she realized the worst part of her night hadn’t even happened yet. She still had to call Franklin Ashley to cancel their date.
Chapter Three
Thomas knocked on the door, feeling foolish with the CorningWare dish full of chicken soup and the old, worn Yahtzee box in his hands. He’d never shown up at a woman’s house before, unannounced and hoping to stay for a while. A thrill raced through his blood, though, at the thought of seeing Michelle again.
He hadn’t seen her since that first day he’d met her at the barbecue. He hardly counted that, though. She’d said maybe ten words to him that day. Her bratty sister kept interrupting every time he tried to ask Michelle a question. He chuckled to himself.
Well, it was thanks to the self-centered younger sister that he now had an excellent excuse to make an impromptu visit to Agnes Bird’s home where he knew the lovely Michelle was staying, so he couldn’t be too annoyed with the country music starlet. He thought she probably didn’t know how to behave when she wasn’t in the spotlight. And she was young. Maybe she had time yet to learn some manners.
He heard a commotion inside at the sound of his knock, and after a moment, Mrs. Bird answered the door.
“Dr. Ashley,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “Come to check up on your patient?” She nodded at the soup.
“Yes, ma’am. I wanted to make sure she’s following orders. Absolutely no talking, complete vocal rest for at least three days.
“And I see you’ve brought some entertainment to ease the tedium of illness. Very wise.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bird.”
“Unfortunately, I’m just on my way out,” Agnes said, holding up her purse as proof. “I’ve got my weekly Wii bowling tournament with Rita Copely and Susan Pope, you see.”
“Ah, that is indeed most unfortunate.”
“I’m sure.” She chuckled, her lively blue eyes twinkling up at him. “Please come in.” She motioned him into the house, and as he entered, Michelle peeped her head out from the living room.
“Who is it, Aunt Agnes?” Her eyes popped open wide when she caught sight of Thomas in the doorway, and she disappeared back into the living room. He caught the flash of big fuzzy socks as she dove around the corner.
“Well,” Mrs. Bird chirped, “toodle-oo!” With that, she bobbed out the door.
From the living room, he heard some gunshots and explosions coming from the television. Before he could make it to the room, though, Michelle darted back out. She wore the most hideous pajamas he’d ever seen on a woman—too big and full of holes. Her shorts went down to her knees and looked a little too baggy, even for her generous hips, and on her feet were the socks he’d caught a glimpse of. They stretched up to mid shin and were an ugly ocher color.
“Hi,” she said, and he could hear the question in her voice.
He held up the soup as an answer. “Brought soup for your siste
r.” He grinned at her. “Pardon me for saying, but those are some ugly pajamas.”
“Well, how about you spend eleven out of twelve months on the road. Tell me what state your pajamas end up in.” She bit her lip, a small frown creasing her features. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She sighed. “It was kind of you…you know.” She took the soup from him. “It was nice of you to think of my sister.”
Leading him to the kitchen, his nose registered the scent of something delectable wafting through the air, making him laugh. “Looks like my services aren’t required,” he said, watching her place his measly CorningWare dish on the counter next to a great big pot of boiling chicken soup. “I have to admit, yours smells much better than mine.” He sniffed again, catching hints of bay leaves, celery, and possibly lavender mixed in with the hearty, potent smell of chicken broth.
“No, no. Thank you. We love chicken soup. We’ll eat every bite.” She pulled it out of his hands when he made a move to take it back. “Paws off.” She picked up a wooden spoon and waved it at him in a threatening manner. “Now, what else did you bring?”
He laughed at the fierce picture she made with her long dark hair tumbling across her shoulders in a wild, tangled mess, her big brown eyes burning brightly up at him in a teasing manner, and her absurd pajamas. She was damn beautiful. His cock realized it at the same time his mind did because he felt himself growing tight and hard in the groinal region. He held up the red box in answer. “Yahtzee. It’s a family favorite of ours.”
“Hmm.” She continued to eye him with suspicion but lowered the spoon.
“Have you played?” he asked, and she moved in close to take the game from him for inspection. Her scent filled his nostrils. It was fresh and airy. It made him think of the sky, clear and cerulean. It made him think of a breeze flying off the water of Brown Trout Lake, crisp and invigorating as it washed across his body or rippled through his fur.
“I think so, a few times. You’ll have to refresh me on the rules, though.”
She smiled up at him, a lock of dark hair falling across her face. He began to lift his hand to smooth it out of the way when an aggravated look flitted across her features. She scooted around him. “Marina,” she said, “Dr. Ashley came to make sure you’re doing all right. Wasn’t that nice of him?” There was a tight note in her voice.
