The Mane Squeeze

by Shelly Laurenston

  Mitch, however, was still a problem, but Blayne had her surprise ace in the hole. A sneaky She-wolf who knew how to text message. No, no. She hadn’t lied to Gwen…officially. It was more about massaging the truth to help her friend. And that was okay, wasn’t it? Of course it was! Because it was all coming together and Blayne couldn’t be happier!

  Really, could the day get any better?

  “Goddamnit!” Gwen yelled out, making the dogs bark and Blayne realize the day apparently would not be getting any better. “That woman will be the death of me!”

  Blayne knew “that woman” could only be one woman and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to hear the rest of it.

  CHAPTER 23

  Lock waited until he heard the shower shut off and then he made her a mug of hot tea. When he walked into the room with it, he found her sitting naked in the middle of his bed, her knees up and her arms tight around them. He sat down next to her and offered her the tea, but she shook her head.

  Sitting next to her, he quietly said, “Gwen—”

  “She fucked McNelly’s husband!” she screeched, causing his upstairs neighbor to bang on the ceiling with a broom. But Gwen unleashed that combo hiss-roar and, not surprisingly, the banging stopped.

  Lock grimaced, and offered, “Wolves don’t really get married.” Gold eyes filled with rage fastened on him and he quickly amended, “What I mean is, I don’t think they were mated or anything. Wolves are big on that. They take it very seriously. I think this fight was more of a ‘You took my man’ kind of thing. Rather than ‘You took my mate.’ And it sounded like it happened years ago. Like before you were born.”

  “And everyone knows?”

  “Not everyone. Ric had no idea. And Dee-Ann—”

  “Right. The—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—‘Marine buddy.’”

  “She is. And one of my trainers. When I started, we were—”

  “Does it look like I care?”

  “O…kay.” He held up the mug. “Tea?”

  “I hate hot tea.”

  “All right.” He put it down on the side table.

  “I thought New York meant a new start,” she said. “But not when you’re the idiot daughter of Roxy O’Neill. A woman determined to haunt me!”

  “Gwen, you’re not an idiot.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Right? Because I’m an O’Neill and that’s what O’Neills do. Fuck other people’s husbands, get shot at, fix boxing matches, and set things on fire for money.”

  Lock blinked. “What?”

  “And we do that because we’re O’Neills and that’s what O’Neills do. I might as well accept it. And you need to accept it, too. Because according to you I’m your girlfriend and I’m also an O’Neill—so prepare yourself for the humiliation!”

  Letting out a breath, Lock lifted Gwen into his arms and moved her around until she was sideways on his lap, her head against his chest, her legs resting over one of his thighs. He held her and his hands smoothed up and down her back.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding pissier than he’d ever heard her.

  “Being nice to you. Whether you want me to or not.”

  Gwen didn’t struggle; there didn’t seem to be a point. Instead she sat there while he held her. He didn’t try and make a sexual move, he didn’t do anything but hold her. She had no idea what he was waiting for, what he wanted from her.

  Gwen was too busy seething to notice the tears until they fell on her chest. Mortified, she tried then to pull away, but Lock wouldn’t let her go.

  Would he understand these weren’t tears of sadness, but of frustration? Her frustration for having a mother she adored but who somehow managed to torture her without trying?

  And all this violence and fighting, poor Blayne turned into a human shotput, over an old grudge that involved Roxy, Sharyn McNelly and, tragically, Donna McNelly’s father.

  And here was this thing, this precious, delicate, amazing thing between her and Lock. An amazing thing she could see growing into more. But how could she hope to keep a man used to intellectual discourse over grilled salmon and wineglasses of cranberry juice, when her own mother was busy nailing the wolves of her derby rivals? An event so well-known it had once been the hot topic of conversation as far away as frickin’ Tennessee. A place O’Neills never ventured willingly until Mitch and Sissy hooked up.

  Yet Lock wasn’t running away from her. He’d picked her up at work, taken her back to his apartment, and made her vile tea. Even now he was holding her, stroking her naked body while managing to not make it sexual, but comforting. And as much as she tried to hold back from him, as much as Gwen tried to keep this part of her life separate from Lock, she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her.

  Gwen gripped his T-shirt, knowing she should push him away, knowing she shouldn’t drag him into any of this, but she ended up burying her face against his chest and crying. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

  She had no idea how long they stayed like that; even after she stopped crying, they stayed like that. But when Gwen was done, she was done. She sat up straight, but Lock’s arms stayed loose around her.

  “I’m done now.”

  “Okay.” She adored that he didn’t want to talk things out or psychoanalyze the situation. She hated that.

  “And we can’t let my mother find out what happened Labor Day weekend, or she’ll do something stupid.”

  “You don’t think Mitch—”

  She waved her hand, cutting him off. “He’s so freakin’ occupied with trying to get in the middle of my business, it won’t even cross his mind.”

  “Okay.” He brushed her hair off her cheek. “You’re staying tonight, right?” he asked.

  “If you want—”

  “Good.” Lock kissed her forehead. “Now, do you want to feel better?

  Oddly phrased question, but okay. “Sure.”

  “Do you really want to feel better or would you rather sit around wallowing?”

  She chuckled. “No. I’m done wallowing.” And she really wanted to feel better. Of course just having Lock here was making her feel better.

  “I can help you feel better.” He lifted her off his lap and placed her carefully on the bed, before he scrambled off.

  Gwen wasn’t exactly surprised when he took his clothes off, nor did she mind.

  Naked, Lock got back on the bed and stretched out next to her. “Lay down.” She reached for him but he shook his head. “No, no. Stretch out. Next to me.”

  That seemed weird but whatever.

  “Now…you lift your legs up straight.” Not sure what the hell he was doing, Gwen lifted her legs up. It was kind of humorous to see the two pairs of legs raised up considering how much longer his were. “And using your hands…grab your toes.”

  Gwen dropped her legs and sat up. “You want me to do what?”

  “Trust me. You’ll feel so much better.”

  She quickly scrutinized the room. “You don’t have a hidden camera around here or something?”

  “Of course not.”

  “This isn’t going to end up on the Internet or something, right? I’ll be really pissed if this ends up on the Net.”

  “Trust me,” he said again. And when Gwen looked at him he was playing with his toes.

  With a shrug, Gwen stretched out beside Lock, lifted her legs up, and grabbed her toes.

  “You can roll back and forth, too.”

  All right then.

  “What do you think?”

  “This is…uh…kind of…nice actually.”

  “I know. I do it anytime I’m really pissed or depressed or bored or…playing.”

  “You do it every day, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes. There’s no shame in the toe grab. And look! You can cross arms and grab opposite toes.”

  “Rebellious.”

  “I live on the edge, Gwen.”

  Laughing, Gwen dropped her legs and curled into Lock’s side.

  “What? What
’s so funny?”

  Sharyn McNelly pulled her truck into the strip mall and parked in front of the hair salon.

  Walking inside, she didn’t bother to look around. For the last two years, she’d been coming to this salon every other week just before closing. The owners were cats, but they were cheaper than the other places and worked fast. She dropped into the chair and opened her bag to toss in her phone. “The usual, Ling,” she told her stylist. “And make it quick, I’m meeting someone tonight at the bar down the street.”

  There was a rare moment of silence from the chatty stylist and then, “Man, you got fat.”

  Sharyn’s head came up, her fangs instantly extending as anger roared through her system. “You.”

  Roxy O’Neill grinned back at her in the mirror, seconds before she gripped the back of Sharyn’s head and slammed it into the table that held the stylist’s tools.

  Stunned, Sharyn fell back in the chair as Roxy moved around her. “You went after my daughter? What made you think that was okay?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, bitch.”

  Sharyn’s head hit the small table in front of her again. “Goddamnit!”

  “My baby girl. Did you really think I’d let you get away with that?”

  Gripping her head and panting, Sharyn watched the cat. “She was there. It was convenient. And I still owe you.”

  “Are you kidding? You did it over that idiot?” Roxy leaned down and stared Sharyn in the eye. “He fucked everybody in the league, sweetie. And actually, it was Marie who fucked him. I just gave him a blow job.”

  Sharyn wrapped her hands around Roxy’s throat and they crashed to the floor, but the cat wasn’t alone, her sisters grabbing Sharyn’s arms and pulling her off, dragging her across the floor.

  Roxy stood, shook out her gold mane of hair. “There’s a thing about the O’Neills you need to know, pooch. Mixed-blood or full. Dark hair or gold, we always protect our own.”

  Even though she struggled, the cats easily yanked Sharyn into the chair and held her there.

  Roxy smiled down at her. “The other thing. Never start shit with a lion when it’s lions that are doing your hair.”

  “And FYI,” Marie tossed in. “Just because she and her sisters are Asiatic lions, doesn’t mean her name is Ling.”

  “It’s actually Tracey. And look!” Roxy held up clippers. “She’s letting me use her equipment. Now let’s see if we can fix that mess you call hair.”

  Marie patted Sharyn’s shoulder. “You know, hon, conditioner? It’s your friend.”

  Gwen pulled on one of Lock’s T-shirts and laughed when it went past her knees. He grinned at her from his bed. The lone white sheet was pulled up to his waist, but he had one leg out and raised. She’d always enjoyed the male body but…

  She sighed softly. All that hard muscle and so damn much of it. And she’d spent the last three hours enjoying every inch of him. It simply dazzled her how he went from goofy bear, rolling on his back and playing with his toes, and right into sexy-beyond-belief Jersey grizzly who’d worked her body like a love god.

  “It looks like you’re wearing a muumuu,” he joked.

  “And if I were wearing a muu-muu?” Gwen asked, her hands on her hips. “Then what?”

  “Gwen, I don’t care how big you get, you’re never wearing a muumuu around me. But…feel free to wear any of my shirts, anytime you want.”

  The way he looked at her sometimes…it wasn’t cute and cuddly, that was for sure. And it made her feel sexier than she ever had before. “I’m going to call Blayne before she calls me, panicking. I ended our training session a little abruptly this afternoon.”

  “Okay. I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.”

  “Sounds good. I won’t be long.” She started for the door, but she heard the grizzly grumble and then what she could only describe as tongue clicks. She faced him. “Yes?”

  “I want a kiss.”

  Gwen shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t give me that innocent bear look. I start kissing you and we’ll never eat and I’ll never call Blayne and then we’ll starve while crazy Blayne tries to track us down in all the wrong places.” She pointed at the door. “So I’m going out there and you’re going to get us food.”

  “Not even a little kiss?”

  “Stop it.” She again moved toward the door, but paused before she went through it. “And stop humming.”

  “I didn’t know I was.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “You do it while you sleep, too.”

  “And you purr in your sleep.”

  She didn’t normally. Of course, the last few nights in Lock’s bed she’d been purring a lot.

  Leaving the bedroom, Gwen grabbed her phone and speed dialed Blayne. She dropped facedown on Lock’s couch as Blayne answered.

  “Chello?”

  Gwen smiled. “You sound in a good mood.”

  “I am! Cherry says I’m doing so much better since I’ve been training with you. Everybody’s really happy. Thanks so much, Gwenie.”

  “Anytime, Blayne. You know that.”

  “Well…since you mention it—”

  “I’m not joining the team, Blayne,” Gwen cut in, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

  “But they like you so much.”

  Lock sat down in the big king chair across from the couch. He wore boxers and was eating honey from a jar with a spoon.

  “That’s really sweet, but—”

  “Won’t you even consider it?”

  “No.”

  Gwen glanced over at Lock, watched him trying to shake the spoon off his right hand. When that didn’t work, he used his left to pull it off and then tried to shake it off that one. Since he seemed more entertained than frustrated she didn’t bother saying anything.

  “Why not?” Blayne asked.

  “I’m not trying to be a bitch.”

  “I know.”

  “I just…I can’t.”

  “Okay. I understand. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be a teammate in spirit!”

  Only Blayne. “Okay, fine. I’ll be a teammate in spirit.”

  “Yay!”

  Lock used his mouth to pull the spoon off his hand, then realized that both hands were too sticky from honey to have anywhere to put it. He stared at his hands for several seconds, shrugged, and then flicked the spoon in the air, catching it with his mouth when it came back down.

  “Christ,” Gwen murmured, “he’s a goofball.”

  “Huh?”

  Focusing on the couch cushion, Gwen said to Blayne, “Nothing.”

  “Okay.” Blayne paused for a moment and then asked, “So…are you at the hotel?”

  Blayne Thorpe. Obvious Girl. “No, Blayne.”

  “Where are ya then?”

  “I’m hanging up, Blayne.”

  “Gwen—”

  “Blayne, we’re not going down this road.”

  “Just tell me this…are you happy?”

  “You mean at this second?”

  “Yeah, Miss Specific. At this second.”

  Lock was now staring at his toes while using the sticky spoon to eat more honey. In another two minutes he’d be playing with those toes using his sticky fingers.

  “Yeah,” she replied honestly to Blayne. “I am.”

  Gwen disconnected the call and demanded, “I thought you were going to get food?”

  Licking the spoon, Lock admitted, “My mind wandered.”

  And laughing, Gwen buried her face in the couch.

  Blayne put down her phone, stared intently across the table and said, “My nefarious plan is almost complete. And soon, everything I could imagine will come to fruition.”

  Her father glanced at her over the top of his reading glasses. “Must you always be as odd as your mother?”

  “You adored my mother. You told me so. And I’m your little princess.” Blayne grinned and her father snorted out a laugh but cu
t it short like he always did.

  “And what is next in my little princess’s plan to get her feline friend a bear? Although why anyone would want a bear…” he ended on a grumble.

  “We’re almost there, Daddy, but…we’re…we’re not there yet.”

  “That made no sense. What have I told you before about not making sense to me? You know I hate that.”

  “I also know you should be used to it by now.” Her father’s lip curled and Blayne quickly threatened, “If you snarl, I start crying.”

  “Please don’t.” He leaned back in the chair and said, “Okay. Remember what I taught you.”

  “About knife fighting and skinning animals?”

  “No. Although that’s good information. I’m talking about seeing the final outcome of what you want and seeing where you are right now. From there, you figure out that final step. And keep in mind that you’re dealing with predators.”

  Blayne thought for a moment before she said, “She needs to claim him.”

  “I thought she had.”

  “That was to her brother. She’d claim Genghis Khan if she thought it would piss off Mitch. She needs to claim Lock as her own, in front of the world. Or, at the very least, me. That’s the final hurdle.”

  Her father picked up his copy of the Navy Times. “And for a feline, Blayne, that will be the hardest hurdle of all.”

  “I know, Daddy.” She picked up her cell phone. “And that’s why you need friends.”

  CHAPTER 24

  An envelope appeared in front of Lock’s face, his name embossed in silver on the front and his response was immediate, “Not in this lifetime.”

  “You have to go,” Ric said, leaning against Lock’s desk, ignoring all the papers, CDs, DVDs, hard drives, and small tools he had littering it. “If you don’t, I assure you there will be tears. You know you can’t handle that.”

  “I’m not putting on some stupid costume and parading around—”

  “Already discussed and you’re off the hook.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have that in writing?”