22. Emily
Chapter twenty-two
Emily
I fully intend to sleep like a rock through the entire night, safe in the Degarmo compound, but the temptation of having a hot werewolf in my bed is just too much. To his credit, he does not initiate at all–it’s me bugging him, though the next time we lock he comes from behind so we can go back to sleep after without anyone's extremities losing circulation.
By the time his alarm goes off, I’m already bugging him for round three. He laughs and rests his nose against my neck. “Are you sure you aren’t a wolf?”
“Just ridiculously hormonal from waking up next to a hot naked man in bed with me.”
He laughs. “So I’m hot? I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.” He places small kisses down my neck until he reaches my shoulder, then starts heading to my breasts.
“I’m calling bullshit on that, Easton Degarmo.”
“Let’s see,” he says as he runs a tongue around a nipple. “I’ve been called asshole…jackass… Eastie…”
I laugh, “Eastie? That’s awful.”
He looks up and chuckles. “Mikey and I thought we were badasses when we were kids. Let me think, what else? Tracey called me motherfucker the other day. I guess I am one, finally.”
I slap him playfully on the arm and he laughs. “Why did she call you that? Did you get into a fight?”
He shrugs as his phone goes off. “Tracey doesn’t always agree with all of my choices.” He stops speaking to read the text on his phone.
“Good news. Your shop has been clear since the incident. You can go in for a little while, if you’d like.”
I squint at him. “Just a little while?”
“You promised me a lunch date.”
“I did,” I tell him, leaning against his chest. He’s such a fuzzball. Which, honestly, is not something I ever thought I wanted, but now I’m the weirdo who can’t get enough of his chest hair and his smell. I suck in a deep breath and let it go. “How do you always smell so good?” I wonder aloud. It’s a weird thing to say, and suddenly I’m embarrassed for voicing my random thoughts, but Easton, bless him, doesn’t tease me about it. He squeezes me to his chest and murmurs into my hair, “I wonder the same thing about you.”
***
It’s only been thirty-six hours since I last stepped into my tiny little shop, but it’s like a lifetime has passed. Everything is exactly as I left it two days ago, but it all looks and feels different. I know it’s just me. I’m the one that’s different.
I turn on my ancient computer and get started sorting through orders. Somehow I had the presence of mind to shut off incoming orders yesterday morning, but there are still several pending orders from the day before I never got to. Luckily, only a few are late. I send messages out to the customers asking if they’d still like me to process them or offer a refund, then get to work. It must be a sick day because most of my arrangements are headed for various hospitals around town. There’s just one anniversary bouquet.
I spend the most time on that one, smiling at it like a dork, imagining Easton sending me one just like it next year. Though Easton doesn’t seem like the flowers type, and Angie’s right–would he send a florist flowers for their anniversary? Maybe he’ll show up with another expensive gadget I need for the shop or the baby.
As if it can hear my thoughts, Gremlin Baby begins to kick or maybe rather punch down into my bladder area. I’ve seen the diagrams, but trying to figure out exactly what appendage is hitting me at any given time is still a mystery. I pull up a stool to the table I’m working at and begin to tap my foot, hoping the motion will put the baby back to sleep, but no luck. I’m just about to go for a walk before lunch when I hear an angry MREOW from outside the back.
Feral cats are plentiful on this side of town. One of the business owners down the street runs a catch and release program that at least keeps them from making babies, but new cats seem to show up every week. It’s not unusual for them to be making babies out there, but this sounds different, angry, almost.
I’m certifiably nuts for thinking I can tell one type of cat meow from another, but I can’t let go of the nagging feeling that I should at least go check. I walk back through the back of my shop and to the door that leads to the alley and open the door wide.
There, near the dumpster, is Sir Jon, red collar and all. Next to him are two other cats–an orange tabby and a tuxedo. They stand between Sir Jon and two large dogs trotting way too fast down the alley toward them. In the time it takes me to get down the two steps, one of the mangy dogs is already there, baring his teeth and lunging at the cats. The orange and tuxedo hiss back, keeping themselves between Sir Jon and the dog. The dog lunges for Sir Jon as his accomplice catches up.
I storm towards them, rage filling every fiber of my being.
It races through my body. My fingers and toes tingle as if electricity is coursing through my blood. Something else entirely has control of my brain and its functions. I’ve read about out-of-body experiences before, but this is entirely different. I’m not watching from the outside. I’m right here, but I’m powerless. The anger and rage control me entirely.
With a strength I didn’t know I had, I push one of the dogs away, growling at the second as I reach for its scruff, pulling it up and away from the cats. It looks at me with fear in its eyes and starts to whine. I stare at it, growling, angry, ready to kill this creature that would dare to come after Sir Jon, when a voice calls from the street.
“Emily?”
I suck in a deep breath, my hand still on the scruff of the dog, my chest heaving as if I just ran a race.
“Emily?” the voice repeats.
I turn, finally able to move, and find Easton standing just a few feet away. “Emily, are you okay?”
My hands come under my control, and I release the dog. He cries as he races away, my brain still trying to catch up with what just happened.
“Emily,” Easton repeats. He approaches me slowly, looks down at the cats and grimaces. “Of course, you’d be involved, Kevin.”
Sir Jon meows and begins to rub up against Easton’s leg.
“Emily, look at me.” Easton brushes the hair from my face, then takes my hands in his own, turning my arms this way and that.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I finally manage to say, as my lip begins to tremble.
“Checking for bites or scratches. That dog could have had rabies. You’re pregnant, Emily. I know you want to save these dumbasses, but you are going to get hurt.”
“I-I don’t know what came over me. I-I didn’t have control. They came after Sir Jon. I-I was just so angry.”
His eyes flicker over me for a long moment before he pulls me into his chest. I take in a deep ragged breath, tears threatening to fall down my cheeks, and just breathe in the scent that is uniquely Easton. He wraps his arms around me and, suddenly, I can’t hold the tears back any longer.
Sobs wrack my entire body as the adrenaline dissipates. My insides are like a deflated balloon–hollow and empty–as the stupidity of what I just did settles on me. “Hey, hey,” Easton says, leaning back from me. “It’s okay. Everyone’s fine, no one got hurt. The crazy cats are fine, Gremlin Baby is fine.”
That I have even him referring to the baby as Gremlin Baby is enough to make me laugh just a little. He wipes the tears from my face with his thumbs and looks around. “Why don’t you close up early? We can take the cats home and see if your friend can meet us at the house. I’m sure Raul could make us something simple.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
He takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “I swear on Kevin, nothing you need will ever be trouble. Anything, Emily, anything at all, just say the word. I would move mountains and destroy cities for you.”
Kevin lets out a mreow, as if he’s protesting the possible sacrifice, and we both laugh.
Easton leans down and kisses me, softly, carefully, as if I’m fragile. This cannot be real, a tiny part of my brain warns, but I ignore it, and allow myself to be pulled into Easton’s warm embrace. It feels safe here…comfortable in a strange way. It’s exciting to be in this dangerous man’s world, to be the one he’d burn the world for. I close my eyes and stand on tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck. He laughs as I start to lose balance and sets me back to rights with two great hands, one on each ass cheek.
“That was convenient,” I tease, kissing him one last time.
He squeezes my ass before releasing me. “I’m an ass guy. What can I say?”