Werewolves in Love 2: Yours, Mine and Howls (11 page)

At the door he paused and smiled at her. “Keep an eye on Becca for me. Everybody here spoils her rotten, and I think she’s taken a liking to you.”

“All right,” she whispered.

And he was gone.

He ran into Michael just outside the gym.

The two wolves stopped in their tracks and regarded one another in silence. Michael wasn’t entitled to explanations. Cade didn’t want to talk. But after twenty-five years, he couldn’t keep much from his closest confidant.

His front was still soaking wet. Every wolf within miles could smell her on him. That wasn’t the problem, and now they both knew it.

“Oh, boss,” Michael muttered in dismayed sympathy.

He grunted. “Yeah, I know. Not what I need right now.”

“I’m sorry. I mean—should I be sorry? Are you sorry? Do you…?” Michael drifted off helplessly.

This would be so much easier if they were both furry. They wouldn’t have to talk.

Michael tried again. “Look, maybe it’s not even…it’s been three days. That can’t be enough time…”

“It happens. Hell, it happened to my father.” He scuffed a boot toe on the ground and looked up at his second. “Yeah, it happened.”

Michael opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. He opened his mouth again, closed it again because really, what was there to say?

Cade shrugged. “I can’t do anything about it right now. I’ll see you on Sunday. You call me if there’s a problem.”

They fell into step as they walked to his car.

“I’m not calling you, boss—whatever comes up, I’ll deal. You concentrate on the meeting. Try not to think about the female.”

Like that would work.

Once at the car, the two of them grasped forearms for a long moment.

“Ally’s going to keep an eye on Becca for me. I want you to keep an eye on Ally. Make her feel at home. Make her feel safe.”

“Of course, Alpha. Don’t worry about anything here. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He should’ve spent the two-hour drive thinking about the most important meeting of his life. Of course, he couldn’t think of anything but Ally Kendall.

The image of her body slicing through the water arose in his mind. The way she melted when he touched her, the tiny catches in her breath when he stroked her face, her tongue on his skin…

He couldn’t see himself calling any women in Denver now. The one who’d caused the craving was the only one who could fill it.

She was strange. She was sweet and stubborn and defiant. She liked his daughter. She smelled like sunshine.

She smelled like home.

That was what his father had always said about the first time he’d met Cade’s mother, on a cold, empty beach in the Outer Hebrides. He’d spent a few hours in her company when he realized she smelled like home. He had thought he knew what home smelled like, he said, but he didn’t.

Not until the mate bond claimed him.

Chapter Ten

“Shit! I don’t… SINDRI! SHAWN! That bitch! That, that…that sneaky—”

The office door stood wide open. Michael froze when she and Becca walked in the house. He sat at Cade’s desk, holding the phone in his hand, anger clouding his handsome face.

Michael stared at her. She stared at Michael. Michael looked at Becca.

Becca began to wail.

“We’re going upstairs now,” Ally muttered, scooping her up and taking the steps two at a time. Becca cried all the way.

“Shh, it’s okay. Come on, let’s chill up here.”

They’d spent the day together, reading books and hanging out at the stables with Dylan and Seth. It had done her spirit a world of good. Looking after Becca wasn’t the best way to keep her mind off Cade, but she didn’t think she could do that anyway.

“Why’s Uncle Michael yelling?” Becca had stopped crying once they’d reached her room. Now she just sniffled loudly.

“I don’t know, sweetie, but I promise he’s not mad at you or me.”

The little girl curled up into a ball on her bed, eyes shut tightly and face screwed up as if holding her breath.

Vaguely alarmed, Ally put a hand to her cheek. “Becca? Baby, what’s the matter? Do you feel bad?”

“No,” she whispered, “I’m scared. I wanna be a cat for a while.”

“Oh, baby. You don’t have to be a cat. I promise. Uncle Michael isn’t really that mad.”

“He’s mad at Sindri! I heard him yelling at Sindri!”

Ally sensed another wail coming on. “No, he wasn’t— Shh, sweetie, calm down.” She stretched out on the bed and put an arm around the girl, resting her cheek against the lustrous black hair. “He was calling for Sindri, he wasn’t yelling at him. How about you do some
Wiggles
and I’ll go see what’s wrong with Uncle Michael, okay? I’ll come back up here and we’ll play some more.”

The Wiggles
could take Becca’s mind off anything.

It was none of her business what had the normally laconic werewolf so pissed off. But her curiosity—not nosiness, curiosity—forced her to investigate.

She found Michael in the kitchen with Sindri, no longer yelling. Now he paced, apparently arguing with himself. The brownie looked concerned but said nothing.

“…I told him when he left yesterday I’d handle everything here. I didn’t pay any attention to—damn. This meeting’s the most important thing that’s happened to this pack since Cade put it together—if he has to turn around and come home… The Alphas expected him to show up even after Seattle’s own son tried to kill himself, and—”

“Will Aaron’s father be there?” Sindri interrupted quietly.

“What? No. He and Cade had it out on the phone. Rufus called Cade a murderer. But St. Louis and Chicago still want to see him. He can’t just call them and say ‘hey, sorry—I’m a single father, I have to go home and meet my daughter’s grandmother’. I mean, Jesus, these guys are old school to begin with, they can’t—”

“Mary Ann’s mother’s coming here?” She blurted it without thinking. Michael frowned, surprised to see her.

“Ally, I have a crisis here. What do you want?”

“I-I just…” She stammered to a halt, embarrassed. She wanted to know what was going on, even though it didn’t concern her. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she finished weakly.

Michael waved her off. “No. I have to call Cade,” he said to Sindri, pointedly ignoring her.

“That is not necessary. The
barn’s
grandmother is no threat. It is good for the girl to see her.”

“Sindri, how do we know that?” Michael addressed the brownie with a gentleness and respect he hadn’t shown Ally. “You remember how furious she was when Cade wouldn’t let her have Becca last Christmas? If she shows up here, and Cade’s gone and there’s no nanny—there’s just you, me, Shawn, the wolves—what’s that going to look like?”

“Michael?” Ally interrupted.

“The wolves leave. You and Shawn remain. You tell her I look after the small
barn
.”

“Sindri, you’re great, and Becca loves you, but I don’t think—”

“Michael?” Ally said again.

He spun on her. “Ally, I’m trying figure something out here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! I have an idea.”

“And what would that be?”

“What about me?”

“You?”

“Yeah, me. I could, you know, pretend to be the nanny? Until Cade gets back?” It had sounded better in her head.

Instead of replying with something along the lines of, “God you’re pathetic—are you really that desperate to impress him?” Michael folded his arms and made a
hmm, that’s interesting
face.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he said to Sindri, who nodded.

“Cade asked me to keep an eye on Becca while he was gone,” she pointed out. And yes, she was that pathetically desperate to impress Cade.

“Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that…” Suddenly, oddly, Michael’s whole demeanor changed. He became almost friendly. “You know, that could work. I’m sorry I blew you off. I should show you some respect.”

“You should?” She blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Oh, well…because, you’re a guest, and— And you raised Cade’s nephew, and because… I’m a grouchy bastard sometimes, I guess.” He and Sindri exchanged a look and Sindri smiled.

Whatever the reason for the abrupt mood swing, she’d take it. “All right, Michael. Thank you. So, what do we do? When’s she going to be here?”

Michael looked at his watch. “About thirty minutes.”

“
What?
”

“Exactly.” He grimaced. “I don’t know what she’s up to, but Sarah Jane’s a proper Southern lady—she’d never do something this rude by accident. If we’re going to do this, you need to… Well, you don’t need to do anything, just be ready to meet her. I’ll go tell everybody to get the hell out.”

“What about my guys? Is it okay for them to be staying in the house? Are you worried what she’s going to think of wolves in the house with Becca?”

He thought for a minute. “No. I think it’s okay for them to be here, since you’re here. I don’t want the whole pack around until Cade gets back, but it’s not like Sarah Jane has never met wolves. She’s known Cade since he was a teenager. She knows a lot of the Savannah pack.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about Savannah sometime, it’s interesting. An unusual pack—they’ve been there forever. A lot of the wolf families go back to before the Civil War.”

“What’s she like? I mean, so I’ll be prepared.”

The strapping werewolf shrugged. “You know rich Southern ladies. Cotton candy you can break your teeth on.”

They both laughed.

“But she’s not crazy like Mary Ann. We don’t know she’s trying to take the kid. Maybe she just wants to see Becca, and she’s not giving Cade a chance to say no, even if it pisses him off.”

“She’s not afraid to piss off a Pack Alpha?” That just sounded unwise on so many levels.

“Like I said, she’s tough. And besides—he’s a single wolf with a bunch of other single wolves. He’s gotta be careful. Cade’s too smart to go loco on Sarah Jane—CPS would yank Becca out of here in a second. Okay.” He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck like he was trying to get the kinks out. “You get Becca ready, I’ll throw the guys out, and if this works, we meet back here for a beer or twelve after everyone goes to bed.”

She grinned, pleased and surprised to find herself bonding with the dour wolf. “You’re on. And when I get some beer in you, maybe I’ll get you to tell me about Mary Ann.”

He laughed again. “No, ma’am. No way. You can’t get me drunk enough to tell you about my Alpha’s women.”

“Where are you from, Miss Kendall?” Mrs. Ferguson spoke in the soft yet forceful voice common to many Southern belles, her Georgia accent stronger than Cade’s. Ally, a swamp rat who’d spent her life trying to suppress her Louisiana/Texas twang, had always envied gentler Southern accents.

“Lake Charles, originally, but I’ve lived in Houston for thirteen years. And please, call me Ally.”

“Thank you. Call me Sarah Jane. Do your parents still live in Lake Charles, Ally?”

“No, ma’am. They passed away when I was eight. I lived with an aunt after that.”

“Oh, how awful.”

They were in the living room—Michael, Ally, Sarah Jane and a sleepy Becca, who’d stuck to her grandmother’s side since before dinner. Mrs. Ferguson had last seen Becca when she was two. Becca started off shy but quickly warmed up. When Ally introduced herself as the nanny, Becca squealed in delighted surprise.

Ally sat at the other end of the couch from Becca and Sarah Jane, while Michael sat with one leg thrown carelessly over the arm of the leather recliner. Wolves were loungers, not perchers, and Michael didn’t seem inclined to be any less informal for the older woman’s benefit.

Becca lay with her head in Sarah Jane’s lap, slowly drifting to sleep while the adults talked around her. Ally remembered doing the same thing as a child when her parents were alive, and the warm, snug, safe feeling it had given her. No reason to hustle Becca off to bed right away. Besides, Michael had made it clear he didn’t want to be alone with “that woman”, which Ally found funny.

Sarah Jane Ferguson was formidable in a thoroughly refined, gently implacable way. Ally had assumed she’d be in her fifties or sixties, and she probably was, but she could have easily passed for forty-five. She wore her ash blond hair shoulder length, and she dressed in fitted capris and jeweled flip-flops that Ally figured cost fifty bucks. Everything about her was chic, tasteful and understated. Ally hoped she would age that gracefully.

Actually, Ally just hoped she would age.

“Michael tells me Carson’s son has been living with you?”

“That’s right. His mother was my cousin. When she and her husband died, I took him in.”

“You would’ve been just a teenager yourself, wouldn’t you? That’s a remarkable thing for a young girl to do.” Sarah Jane stroked Becca’s hair as she spoke, glancing down at her frequently.

“I’d been on my own since I was sixteen. And when we moved to Houston, I had family there to help me out.”

“I see. Michael says there are two other wolves with you?”

“Yes. Seth is Dylan’s uncle, and Dec is our roommate.”

The front door opened. They heard Dec and Dylan’s voices. The two wolves halted when they saw the group assembled in the living room.

Michael stood to introduce them. “Guys, this is Sarah Jane Ferguson, Becca’s grandmother. Sarah Jane, this is Declan MacSorley and Dylan Fontenot.”

“Oh my God. He looks exactly like Carson, doesn’t he?” For the first time that night, the older woman’s elegant poise slipped. She rose to greet Dylan with an outstretched hand and he shook it shyly, taken aback at her interest.

“You look so much like your father it’s scary, honey,” she murmured. “Which means you look just like Cade and Rebecca—doesn’t he?” she asked, turning to Michael and Ally. “All those green eyes and black hair—they all look just like Eirny.” She laughed. “You can’t see Louis MacDougall at all. Or me.”

“You knew my father?” Dylan asked quietly.

“I knew him when he was a teenager.” She smiled. “I can tell you some stories about Cade as well.”

Ally wanted to hear those.

Sarah Jane turned to Dec. “Forgive me, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Declan, ma’am. Declan MacSorley. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Dec pressed her fingers gently, giving her the most sincere smile Ally had ever seen on him, without a trace of his customary flippancy. “Your granddaughter’s the loveliest little girl I think I’ve ever seen, Mrs. Ferguson. You must be very proud.”