A Matter of Pride

by Harte, Marie

  “Not a word, Stacey. I’m not kidding. If Lex knows about me, you and your family are as good as dead.”

  Her smiled disappeared. “I know.”

  He nodded and moved swiftly to the back of the store. After a moment, he let himself out, careful to keep to the back alleys. The Hunter’s mist masking his scent would last a few more hours. So long as he could avoid any of the townsfolk, he’d be golden.

  Now to set his trap.

  Dean made it to Whitefish hours later, after ensuring that Monty would watch over Stacey. As much as he wanted to trust the hellion to take care of herself, he feared that in her current frame of mind, she’d disregard her safety just to spite him.

  As he drove around town, he wondered what the hell he’d been thinking. Touching Stacey had never been in the cards. Sure he could fantasize and dream about her. But actually kissing her and holding her had been worse than stupid. For the past three hours he’d done nothing but relive that kiss. Harboring a crush on a conceited cat who wanted nothing more than to leave Cougar Falls in her rearview was asking for heartache. Trouble, asking for trouble. No hearts involved.

  Dean scowled and pulled into the lot of Chastell Tours. He didn’t feel anything more for Stacey Bermin than a bad case of lust. And who wouldn’t? Anything with a Y chromosome responded to her. Even little kids walked right up to her for a good glimpse of that smile in full wattage.

  He parked and slammed out of his truck, more than annoyed he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Despite their many run-ins—where she insulted him and he snapped back at her—those slight instances of sadness or vulnerability she’d shown had grabbed him and refused to let go. He continued to think there might be something deeper to the shallow cat who cared only about fashion and her own neck. He wanted to believe she loved her family, not because they were an extension of Stacey, but because she truly cared about them. And after kissing her, he needed to know he lusted after a woman with real feelings, not a superficial looker with nothing more than survival on her mind.

  He sighed and walked into the office that should have been empty.

  Grady had the Chapel group out today and the Benjamins weren’t due until eight Monday morning, giving him plenty of time to ready the cabins, go over the trail once more and get his shit together before the trip next week. There should have been nothing and no one to interfere with his downtime.

  Yet Stacey sat next to Rachel, Burke’s mate, while Burke chatted with Monty. A huge lunch spread covered the table on which their brochures and pamphlets normally lay.

  Monty noticed him first and greeted him with a wide, toothy grin. “Hey there, Dean. Look who brought lunch.”

  Stacey batted her eyes and gave Dean a demure smile—one that gave him the proverbial finger without lifting her pretty little hand.

  “Okay, who died?”

  “Dean.” Rachel smothered a laugh. “Stacey wanted to say thank you for all we’ve done to help her and her family.”

  “Ri-ight. So why is she here and not safe at home at the ranch?” He directed his question to his brother. “You know, keeping out of sight and not inviting trouble to come knocking at the door?”

  Burke, bless him, gave him a straight answer. “Stacey’s going out with you this weekend.”

  The silence in the room was deafening.

  “What?”

  Rachel answered, “I caught Miss Sneaky buying supplies at the store. She had a pack, clothes and enough food for a week.” Rachel shot Stacey a frown that Stacey ignored. “She said she wanted some space and didn’t think Miles would agree.”

  “So she’d just slip away and let us worry?” Dean stared at Stacey, confused. This didn’t seem right.

  Stacey started to respond. “I—”

  Rachel interrupted. “That’s what I said. But she didn’t want to be a problem and take us away from work. And I get that, but I told her we’d worry if she didn’t have protection.”

  Not to mention Miles would have a friggin’ conniption.

  “So why is she heading out?”

  “She,” Stacey interrupted, “wants a chance to run. Rachel thinks the best way to make that happen is if I go see what you tour guides do and how you do it.”

  Bullshit. “Why?”

  Burke spoke up. “It’s not a bad idea, actually. I figure we’ll keep her out of sight and out of mind while we tighten up security at home. Besides, I heard some chatter about strangers nosing around town, so we’re going to look into that while you’re gone.”

  Stacey nodded, but the innocent look on her face didn’t mesh with the devious cat Dean knew and didn’t trust.

  “Besides,” Rachel added. “Stacey’s thinking about doing some design work for outdoor adventure. A fun women’s line that’s fashionable and serviceable. I think it’s a great idea.” Rachel patted her stomach, now starting to show at four months along. “I hate looking like a Yeti when I’m camping. All those bulky sweaters in greens and browns, clunky boots and thick jeans at the mercantile are beyond manly.”

  “Sad but true.” Stacey nodded. “The clothing—and I use that term loosely—that’s available in your quaint little town is outdated and downright ugly. Your poor women are shopping online, for God’s sake. I’m thinking I might bridge that gap.”

  None of what she said made sense to Dean. “So why does she have to come out with me? Come Monday morning, I’m guiding a family of seven along the Forester Trail on Big Mountain. I’m checking it over this weekend.” He looked at Stacey. “I’m camping out overnight at a primitive site. No bathrooms, no toilets. Me, fully human, enjoying nature in all its glory.” Actually they had cabins, but he really didn’t want her along.

  Stacey smiled. “No problem. I’ll pretend I’m a camper and adjust the fit of the clothes I picked up today.” He was amazed she said that without a sneer. “My cat really does need to stretch out. I’m going a little stir crazy at the ranch.”

  He turned back to Burke. “This makes no sense. She’s safer at home with the pride.” In Whitefish, away from other Ac-taw, she’d be a sitting duck.

  “Actually, away from us, she’s a smaller target.” Monty just had to stick his canine sense in the mix. “You know the woods like the back of your hand. They aren’t looking out there. Any eyes Lex might have will be on the ranch.”

  “Thanks, Monty,” Dean said between gritted teeth.

  “Sure.” Monty grinned.

  This plan was the most asinine thing he’d ever heard. But before he could refuse, Burke cut in. “Considering Miles wants to rip you open and feast on your entrails, I’d suggest you use the weekend to rethink this feud you have going on with him.”

  “I’d already planned to be gone this weekend. But not with her.”

  Burke talked over him. “Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. We’ll make it look like she’s still at the ranch while you two take a hike.” Burke narrowed his gaze. “And for all the shit I’ve been dealing with on account of the gray wolves, you really need to be on my good side right now.”

  Dean looked to Monty for backup, but the wolf gave a subtle shake of his head.

  Burke growled, “Rafe Sheridan is more than pissed. He wants your head on a platter.”

  The new leader of the Gray Wolf Order was trying, but his wolves lacked discipline. “Not my fault they don’t understand boundaries.”

  “Dean, you shaved Ivan’s head. That’s more than kicking his ass. That’s humiliating him, which makes the entire order look weak.”

  Monty bit his lip.

  “It’s not funny,” Burke snarled.

  Rachel patted his back. “That’s right. It’s not.” She paused, then burst out laughing. “It’s hilarious. I heard one of the silver foxes got him drunk and painted a target on his head. When he woke up the next morning, the raptors were flying and dropping things on him, hoping to hit the bullseye before he realized what they’d done. Genius.”

  Monty joined her, and even Stacey chuckled.

  B
urke didn’t so much as twitch. “So you, Dean, brother of mine, are going to do whatever the hell I tell you to, because I’m dealing with a pissed off cat and aggravated wolves—plural—who are up to here with your pranks.” Burke lifted his hand to his forehead.

  Monty rubbed his chin, then lifted his hand above his head. “Actually, Burke, I think it’s up to here. That’s not high enough.”

  Burke’s eyes changed, flashing thin pupils before they grew round once more. “You want to join him?”

  “No, no. I’m good.” Monty cleared his throat. “Stacey’s gear is all packed up and ready to go.” He pointed toward a backpack in the corner. “And I loaded yours up too, Dean. Well, what I could manage to find after Miles trashed your room.”

  Stacey frowned. “That’s so juvenile.”

  Dean growled, “Yeah. Totally.”

  “I would have waited to pounce on you later, when you least expected it. Mussing your room is an unsophisticated form of revenge.”

  Dean just looked at her. “Oh? And how would you do it, princess?” He gave her a suggestive leer. “Or do I already know?”

  “And that’s our cue to leave. We’re gone.” Burke gently tugged Rachel to follow him. “Take good care of her, Dean. Monty’s on call while you’re out. He’ll be manning the office. Grady and I will be home taking care of things.” Protecting the pride and the pregnant females from possible threats.

  “Yep. You need anything, radio me.” Monty sat back behind a huge desk and started in on the plate of food he’d helped himself to.

  Dean watched his brother and sister-in-law leave. He glanced at the man literally wolfing down roast beef, ham and a mountain of potato salad. Then he turned to Stacey, who watched him without blinking an eye.

  “Okay, what the hell is really going on?” he asked.

  When she smiled and offered him a plate of food, he knew he was in trouble, because he wasn’t hungry for meat, but for the blonde holding the plate.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday morning, Stacey gripped her pack straps and stepped where Dean stepped, bringing up the rear of their two-man party. The night had been a living hell. Sleeping on the ground when feline was tolerable, but as a human? Her hips were sore and her butt felt numb. Though the summer weather made the days tolerable, nights in Montana were chilly at best.

  Dean, to her chagrin, seemed to sleep like a baby while she tossed and turned in a sleeping bag not fit for a child. And then she’d had to take care of business in the woods. There was no water to drink or wash with but what she carried, and the stench of their makeshift fire had carried into her clothing. She wanted to run screaming to her hairdresser, but she’d left that life behind weeks ago.

  A normal Saturday morning in Miami consisted of a nonfat latte and plans for the evening—as in, which man would be lucky enough to be her date to whatever boring nightclub she’d agreed to attend—and design time. Stacey liked to use her Saturdays to sketch new clothes and think outside the box. Her fun, creative spans gave her some ease from the stresses of running the business side of things that Miles didn’t manage from Monday through Friday.

  Truth to tell, she’d much rather spend her weekends with her sketchpad or sewing machine dreaming up fashion. That or curling up with a good book. But her so-called friends, those darlings of society who kept her purse fat and happy, liked being seen with her. They bought the pieces she wore at the clubs, and they spread the word about her designs.

  The men were a necessity. Accessories to dress up her solitude. A small part of her always hoped one of them might break her string of predictable, two-dimensional dates. Inevitably, they’d pressure her for sex, flatter her until she felt ill or show her off like a prize poodle.

  She sighed.

  “Keep up, your highness,” Dean said with cheer. The idiot started whistling and increased his stride through the well-traveled trail.

  Dear God, they’d already walked three miles this morning. When could they shift and run as cats? She needed four feet, not two. Her boots were killing her.

  She wanted so badly to complain, but she didn’t want to give Dean the satisfaction of being right about her.

  He stopped so suddenly she plowed into his backpack. “Oomph.”

  He turned around with a smile. “Sorry. Thought I heard something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Heavy breathing, a little grumbling, maybe. I’m not sure.” His eyes twinkled.

  As annoyed as she felt, Stacey couldn’t help wanting to smile with him. God, a man this aggravating shouldn’t be this charming. She poked him in the chest, pleased when he grunted, and walked around him. While she followed the clear trail, her cat scratched at her mental guards to go free and hunt. The scent of deer and rabbit tantalized and her nose twitched. But reminders that Lex’s cats might be near kept her head clear of everything but Quince’s orders.

  She snorted. The cat thought he could command her. How little he knew her. Stacey had agreed to be bait because she wanted to deal with Lex on her own terms. Screw Quince. If he thought she was worried about Miles, he could jump off a— Okay. So she worried about her brother. Miles let his anger get the best of him when it came to Quince, and she knew why.

  Miles and Quince had been tight once. Best friends, until Quince’s responsibilities under their pride leader had taken his time. Miles had focused more on business, but they’d always been friends. For Quince to turn against the pride and take Lex’s side over Michael’s had hurt. Especially considering Miles’s clear loyalty to Michael and the well-being of the pride.

  But Stacey still didn’t know exactly what to make of Quince. He’d had one of Joy’s pieces, her pride and joy during her jewelry-making days. She’d only given her bracelets out to loved ones. Yet Quince had one, and he’d obviously carried it around. The little threaded bracelet appeared worn and carried his scent all over it. He kept it in his pocket?

  She had a bad feeling the man had a thing for Joy. Come to think of it, he and Joy had always seemed to rub each other the wrong way.

  Kind of the way she and Dean argued.

  An immediate remembrance of their kiss flared to life, and her entire body tingled. That rush of adrenaline when they fought had translated all too easily to passion. Is that what Quince felt for Joy? And if so, did that mean Dean felt something similar for her?

  Horrified at the thought, she forced it from her mind. But that left her free to worry about Lex and Quince. She’d have to ditch Dean out here somewhere, and in a way that would keep him from looking for her. For all that he acted like he couldn’t stand her sometimes, he had as big a protective streak as his older brothers. But with Lex, Quince and a bunch of cats with confusing loyalties all roaming the forest, she didn’t want to take a chance with Dean’s safety.

  Once she took care of Dean, then what? Quince had said he’d handle Lex. But would he be any better a leader? Just because he had a crush on Joy didn’t make him a hero. Far from it, considering how he’d turned on their pride leader in the first place.

  “You okay? You worry me when you’re quiet.” Dean touched her shoulder, and that easily, arousal flared to life within her.

  “I’m fine. Great. Just love this mountain air.” What she wouldn’t give for a whiff of her lemongrass aromatherapy as she basked in a mud wrap while Inga worked her shoulders.

  She took her canteen out and drank, thirsty and tired, though she’d be damned if she’d admit it.

  “Slow down.” He eased the canteen from her mouth and caught a drop of water off her lip. The sensual glide of his thumb over her mouth gave her goose bumps. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

  His concern made it even harder to not want him. Even though he’d backed away from her like she had the plague yesterday, he looked anything but disinterested right now.

  She coughed and took a subtle step back. “I hate to break it to you, but I can handle myself. I spent most of my life dealing with the urban jungle. Your little trek through the woods is not
hing compared to summers in Miami.”

  He tilted his head and stared at her.

  “What?”

  “So you’re loving this trek, eh?” The dimple that winked on his cheek made her heart race. “Gee, Stacey. And here I’d pegged you for a comfort and resort kind of gal. I can’t wait to tell Maggie that we can add your name to the list.”

  “What list?”

  “The girls are going camping in a few weeks. It’s a real fun trip they make once a quarter. Camping out under the stars, a campfire, roasting marshmallows. No men or civilization for a full weekend. Sounds right up your alley.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. She already had withdrawal from the cell phone she’d been forced to leave behind at the pride. “Sure.”

  Dean beamed. “Yeah. Just think. You can ask them all kinds of questions about how they like their clothes to fit while roughing it.” He paused. “What a great idea. I’ll make sure to mention it to Maggie and Julia. Oh, Gabby too.”

  I’m sure you will.

  “I’d tell Rachel,” he continued, “but she likes to spend her time off at the local spa. Not like you.”

  The bastard didn’t believe her for a second. He could obviously see the sweat and dismay written all over her face. She hated being dirty when human. Even as a feline she spent an inordinate amount of time grooming. But she did like to shift into her animal soul and lose herself in nature, feeling the earth beneath her paws, catching the scent of prey on the wind.

  Followed, of course, by a day being pampered at an exclusive resort. She had a feeling she wouldn’t get the spa treatment after this weekend.

  Dean chucked her chin as if she were a three year old and walked away a few steps to confer with Monty via his HF radio. He signed off while she finished resting her tired muscles. God, she missed the familiar comfort of her heels.

  “One more mile until we hit our change spot.” Where they’d shed their packs, clothes and skin, and haul ass, catamount style.