Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
“...the fae are gracious- ish to our guests. Or at least we don’t slaughter them at dinner .”
— C.N. CRAWFORD, DARK KING
L avender for a clearing glow.
Calm my mind and heart below.
Mint for a touch of riches.
Grant me rest and soothing . . .
I squinted at the handwritten note that had accompanied the herbs Elena had sent. Ditches? Bitches? Pitches?
Her intent was good , I thought, and I wanted to text her right now so we could laugh at my inability to follow the directions of a spell. At the knock on my trailer door, however, I tucked the sleeping herbs underneath my pillow and bellowed, “Come in!”
Mabel entered, balancing a load of garment bags. She’d told me in no uncertain terms, when I’d mentioned tonight’s family dinner plan, that I was not to pick out my outfit.
We rummaged through the bags she’d brought, and I played dress up. I needed to strike the right note.
At first, I settled on a short wrap skirt that crisscrossed over my thighs and a plum-colored sweater. The sweater had a cowl that could be worn over my head like a medieval adventurer. Mabel nodded approvingly when I slipped it on.
“Does this say, ‘Rip my clothes off, big guy’?” I asked dubiously. “But also ‘I’m a wholesome addition to the family’?”
Mabel grimaced. Ugh. Family dinners were terra incognita. The Hollywood heroes I’d dated had been leading happy bachelor lives; they never invited me to meet their parents or siblings.
Finding comfort.
That’s what we’re doing.
News flash: there was nothing comforting about meeting five new-to-me Boones.
Plus, if I nailed family dinner, then hopefully Maverick and I would move on to lustier activities.
Screw waiting!
I mean, screwing was sort of the point.
Sexy screwing, bedroom activities, getting my professor out of his clothes. And screw taking things slow.
Honestly, if we took them any slower, we’d be time traveling backward. I had maybe seven weeks left in Moonlight Valley, and I wanted to spend as much of them naked as possible.
With Maverick.
Doing the aforementioned screwing.
Mabel twirled her finger, and I pirouetted obediently. “We’re close. Maybe thigh-high stockings?”
“Oooh. Bringing out the big guns—I like it!” Mabel was the wardrobe expert, so I changed. Then she suggested a pair of slouchy, casual boots “because heels would say ‘fuck me now’ and you should appreciate his cooking first.”
I drove out to Maverick’s place, trailed by Eric. I’d extracted a promise from Eric that he wouldn’t lurk around glowering at the Boones, but we both knew he’d lied. He’d be somewhere nearby, keeping an eye on me, but he’d also make sure that no one saw him. I wasn’t entirely certain that would work, seeing as how the Boones were a bunch of werewolves with super awesome sniffers, but I had texted Maverick a heads-up about the bonus company. He’d said that he would tell his brothers not to freak out and go all territorial, and I’d decided to interpret that as “I promise they won’t eat your bodyguard.” Good enough.
I hadn’t been out to this part of Moonlight Valley before. Although the moon wasn’t full yet, there was still plenty of light, silvery and pale. It was foggier here than it had been in Phantom Falls, which struck me as weird. The trees were larger and older, just starting to drop their leaves. The few places we passed were decorated for Halloween, with jack-o’-lanterns on their porches, along with orange string lights and a skeleton parked in an Adirondack chair. Someone had even made a giant spiderweb out of cords.
After my mountain mishaps, I was proud of myself when I successfully followed the directions on my phone and pulled into a dense alley of trees that formed a tunnel over my car. Someone had hung candles in Mason jars from the branches, and it was like driving through a fairy tunnel. Not that I’d actually ever been to the Otherland, but I had Pinterest.
The tree alley should have been my first clue, but the three-story main house was not at all what I’d expected. It was beyond grand. It was also old, sagging in few discreet spots, and impressively large. Big house, big dick? A gal could hope.
It was clear, though, that the Boones were men who were willing to put in some work because the white exterior, blue trim, and red door were all freshly painted. I’m manifesting this, Universe. Please and thank you.
Acres of cleared land dotted with outbuildings in various states of disrepair surrounded the house. An old carriage house—possibly it had started life as a barn?—appeared to be undergoing renovations. I hoped the work went quickly because it looked like it might fall down tomorrow. Maybe Monday.
I parked and exited the car, clutching two boxes of chocolates I’d sourced from Nashville. If dinner went badly, I had consolation at hand.
The promise of chocolate was enough to momentarily blot out my nerves at the memory of sexy Professor Maverick holding me close as we forded streams and made our way through the Tennessee wilderness. The way he’d been so capable, but also tender and concerned.
“No pressure,” I said out loud. This wasn’t a lie—I had the usual Fae difficulty with outright fibbing—it was a command. To myself.
This was not Little Red Riding Hood.
The big, bad wolves were not going to eat me up.
(Although I guess a girl could hope.)
Because seriously? Maverick got to have his smart, sexy job as a college professor and this amazing mansion and his brothers and sister. Plus, he shapeshifted, which seemed like it would be even more amazing than owning a Southern house with a zillion square feet. He had a sense of humor, I could count on him, and he wrapped these amazing qualities up in a stubbled, growly, bearded, lumberjack-sized package.
Yes, I will let you comfort me !
Eager to get on with the comforting, I climbed the stairs to the porch. The newly restored boards gleamed in the light; someone had turned the light on for me. Seven rocking chairs lined one side, and two wooden porch swings bookended the verandah. I refused to imagine curling up with Maverick on one of those swings and maybe kissing the heck out of him. We could make love there, and it would probably be like having sex in a very small boat.
If the boat is a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking.
Inspired by that thought, I rang the bell, and less than a minute later Ranger answered.
“Hello.” He wore a plaid button-up shirt, a green cashmere vest, and a tweed bowtie. He was also holding a sherry glass.
“Nice to see you, Ranger.” It was hard not to like Ranger; despite our rocky beginning, he and I had become co-schemers. I had no idea why he wanted to pair Maverick with me, but I would not be looking my bow-tie-wearing, sherry-drinking gift horse in the mouth. “You’re looking snazzy tonight.”
“Be sure to say that loudly in front of Maverick,” he whispered as he tugged me inside and shut the door behind us. “And you brought chocolate. Excellent. Mackenzie will appreciate that. She’s always complaining that Knox is cutting sugar and starving the rest of us. Alice likes a good chocolate too.”
“Who’s Alice?” I whispered back.
“Ford’s girl. Ford’s the grumpy twin. Atticus is the nice one. Be careful around him though, as he’ll try to charm your pants off.” He offered me his sherry, like Girl, you’re gonna need a drink to get through tonight.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to hold the laugh in. If we were sneaking up on the rest of the Boones, I didn’t want to give the game away.
Ranger grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling happily. “You are remarkably pretty when you laugh. You don’t need that glamour of yours one bit.”
Gulp.
I guess I’d known that he knew about my magic and my half Faeness, but I hadn’t expected him to bring it up in conversation. Did he mind? Did he think I was some kind of weird paranormal bad influence? But what would he complain about? She’s nice to look at, and she makes me like her, oh boo hoo! I wanted to think it was no big deal, but the truth was that most people liked to make up their own minds.
“Ranger?” Maverick’s voice came from someplace behind me, sending shivers down my spine. His voice was rough and warm at the same time, with notes of growl and spice. It was perfect. “Did you get the door?”
Ranger abruptly snagged the chocolate boxes and set them on a console table underneath an antique-looking painting that was bigger than a twin bed. It seemed to be of a log cabin set in a creepy-looking field of corn with random black birds observing from overhead. I was not an art connoisseur.
“Kitchen,” Ranger whispered. “Fifteen steps north.” He flipped me around with his hands on my shoulders and pointed down the painting-lined hallway. “Your man is all alone in there, baking and barefoot. You should go tell him what a delicious cook he is and how you just want to eat him up.”
Ranger patted me on the shoulder and sent me down the hall.
I tromped toward the kitchen. I had anticipated flying into Maverick’s arms, maybe wrapping my legs around his waist. There would have been kissing and maybe some accidental butt groping. But now that I was here, I wasn’t as sure of myself. Hello, anxiety, my old friend! There were so many ways I could screw this up.
“No sex jokes,” I reminded myself. “No weird publishing stories.”
Just as I’d finished exhorting myself, Maverick popped his head out into the hallway. His glare abruptly changed into a smile, so I guessed he’d been anticipating a meeting with Ranger.
“Here I am,” I said, sounding breathless. And eager. Maybe as if I’d sprinted up the mountainside on foot, only to discover that I was asthmatic. My palms were damp. I couldn’t look away.
Who would want to?
Maverick had lost his flannel shirt somewhere. This was unexpected but good. Being short, I was eye-to-chest with him, and there was plenty of good reading material there. Biology puns—they cell themselves! I attempted to look like the kind of well-educated person who could appreciate a good biology pun. His T-shirt was stretched to the limits over his broad shoulders, and he was all muscles and biceps, corded sinew, and strong forearms. All that bare skin short-circuited my brain. He looked ready to wrestle bears. Well, except for the spatula he gripped in one hand.
Holy smokes, I’d missed him.
It hadn’t been that long since I’d seen or—or, heck, known him. What was in the water on this mountain? This was weird. Probably.
“Hey,” Maverick said finally, sounding hoarse. He stepped fully out of the kitchen, wiping his big hands on a towel covered with cute little kittens. He tossed the towel over one shoulder. I stared.
He was staring fiercely back at me. No way either of us moved. We were caught up in this lust magnet, sexy feedback loop, and words, words, words...who needed them? This felt great, so I was good.
Or bad.
I was willing to take direction as long as it ended up with my hands all over this man.
He was barefoot, which was one step closer to naked. He had beautiful feet.
Okay, I was officially super weird.
I should have practiced this scene, I realized, because the next line my brain sent to my mouth was GAH. That paltry syllable did not begin to convey the depth of my attraction.
Do not throw yourself at the man.
I had a side of dignity to go with my lust.
“I brought chocolate, and you have nice feet. Should I take my shoes off? Is this a barefoot household?”
He blinked at my torrent of words, his daze fading, and a soft smile spreading over his face. “I appreciate that.”
“The chocolate or my admiration for your feet?”
“Both. I have to admit that feet have never been my favorite body part, not when there are so many other fun ones. But shoes are not what I would like to ask you to take off.” The heat in his playful gaze did things to my insides. We would need to eat dinner quickly. His smile widened and grew teasing.
More of this, please.
I’d missed this smile. I’d missed how it warmed me up and made me feel special. If I were creating a list of Maverick’s smiles, rank ordered, this would be number one. Wait. Was I cataloging Maverick’s facial expressions? Was I now a Maverick librarian? Did I have favorites ?
Yes, yes, I did.
“I’m going to need your top ten list,” I teased. “Please specify all your favorite body parts. Detailed explanations of why are also welcome.”
“Why tell you when I could show you?”
“Show don’t tell. That is an important rule for us writerly types.”
Maverick laughed—a deep, husky, unrestrained shout—and that made me laugh too. Holy moly. This was going so well. We weren’t awkward. It was as easy as before.
I was just about to nominate myself as his live demonstration model when a buzzing from the kitchen broke the deliciously flirtatious enchantment. Cockblocked by the oven timer! Maverick started, frowning as if he had no idea what the sound was, and then he turned said frown on me, as though my presence in his hallway confused him. Or disgruntled him. Take your pick.
“That’s the chicken-fried steak,” he said. Then he hesitated. “Uh, well not chicken. Or steak. It’s jackfruit masquerading as a formerly living protein source. I promise you’ll like my meat, though.”
I was sure I would too.
He turned and strode into the kitchen to do mysterious chef things. I was not a cook. I was more of an order takeout and live for a week on the leftovers kind of gal. Hopefully, we could compromise.
Hope was not a familiar emotion, not when it came to my romantic relationships. My dating life had mostly engendered emotions like frustration, boredom, disbelief, and the occasional well-directed orgasm. Men in Hollywood required direction in order to achieve results. The possibility of relating with Maverick had me hopeful that there could be something more—and that was scary. I was not prepared for him to reject me again, and I was always prepared.
See also: this was scary.
Sidling into the kitchen (I could hear my mami’s voice: Only ghosts lurk, mija ), I discovered Maverick seated at the kitchen table. Much to my disappointment, he was in the process of pulling on his work boots over socks. I love a sexy work boot as much as the next gal, but we were now regressing in the Get Maverick Naked plan.
“Are you okay?” He raised an eyebrow questioning.
Gah, he had sexy eyebrows.
I admired them diligently from the safety of the kitchen door.
“Come on in,” he offered. There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and the corner of his mouth hitched up. He was enjoying my sexual fog and confusion. “I don’t bite.”
Can you do a sexy werewolf bite? Can we start with nipping and work our way up? I was about to blurt out my new sexual fantasy when a loud male voice roared in the other room. Maverick definitely wasn’t the only wolf on the premises.
“Nope. Not a chance. Never, ever, EVER.”
“I’m begging you.” This was a female voice.
“No means no.” The owner of the male voice sauntered into the kitchen. He wore a scowl on his face and was rangy and muscled, built more like a runner than a lumberjack. His red hair stood out in every direction, and he had a neatly trimmed red beard. His icy blue eyes did a quick inventory of the kitchen, landing on me for a beat before he startled and then moved on, dismissing me.
I grinned, liking my odds already. I’d never been overlooked so quickly. It was awesome!
An energetic woman with brown hair twisted up in a messy bun on top of her head burst into the kitchen behind the icy-eyed guy. She was brown-eyed, freckled, and super pretty. She waved her hands, intent on making her point to the guy. “But, Ford, I wouldn’t ask except Alessandro needs?—”
“Like my momma used to say, keep stoats and dogcatchers at arm’s length.” Ford shook his head. The man had made up his mind.
The brown-haired hand-waver rolled her eyes. “Ford Montgomery Boone, don’t you be rude. You know that Alessandro would be real appreciative of your assistance.”
“He can take that appreciation and stuff it up his?—”
“Ford Montgomery,” Maverick snapped. “Company manners. Be on your best behavior.”
Ford’s scowl deepened. But he inhaled, exhaled ostentatiously, and then his frown lines eased up. It was a Christmas miracle in October. He held out an enormous paw of a hand to me.
“Hi. I’m Ford. One of the twins,” he said flatly, as if greeting me was a chore he was checking off his chore chart. I was not a TV star; I was a prize sticker slapped on a task accomplished. It was oddly charming.
“Hi. I’m Sonnet. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“This is Alice.” He set a protective hand on the back of the freckled woman who’d come in with him. When he looked at her, his gaze warmed up faster than a glacier in a greenhouse. He looked downright proud and happy to have her by his side.
“I’m so excited to meet you!” Alice grabbed my hand and shook it, shooting an impish grin at me. “I feel like I know you from watching you, first on TV and then at Biscuits & Blessings. That sounds downright creepy, doesn’t it? But I’m so sorry that the folks there didn’t leave you and Maverick in peace to eat your dinner. Some people have no manners.”
“You saw that? At the restaurant?” I didn’t recognize her. On the other hand, I’d been surrounded by a crowd of napkin-waving locals. I’d been too busy charming and signing to remember faces. It had been a disappointing night.
“I was, but I hung back. I’m a citizen scientist, and we were tabulating the results from our last firefly count,” she explained. “If I’d stopped, I’d have had to start all over again.”
“She is an excellent scientist,” Ranger announced, adding himself to the crowd in the Boone kitchen. He tipped his head at Alice. “Good evening, Ms. Aymes.”
“Ranger,” she returned with a small grin.
“You look absolutely lovely, Ms. Aymes,” Ranger remarked.
Ford’s scowl reemerged.
“You’re so nice, Ranger.” Alice looked like she was holding in laughter. “And may I just say that your vest is?—”
“Stop right there,” Ford cut in, sliding between the two of them and wrapping his arm around Alice’s waist. “I know what you’re up to, Ranger. There will be no matchmaking, no accidental locking of two people into a closet, no unexpected blizzards or mechanical failures. I do not need your help to kiss my girl.”
Ranger widened his eyes innocently. I made a mental note to offer him tips about not overacting a scene.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I don’t like it,” he said. I was certain he did know—but didn’t care. Then, turning to me, he took my hand and tugged me toward him. He leaned in and gave me a cheek-kiss. I had not expected that.
“You too look lovely, Ms. Ruiz,” he declared loudly.
Someone growled close by.
“Thank you, Ranger,” I said automatically, because that was usually the next line in this kind of scene. I hoped no one was about to go all furry. “You look very dashing this evening. Very lord of the manor.”
“Oh, this old thing I just threw on?” he asked loudly, kissing my other cheek, then whispering, “Is Maverick watching?”
I checked. He was indeed watching and out-scowling even the grumpy Ford.
“You bet.”
“Excellent.” Ranger straightened up, winking. He slid an arm around my waist and tucked me against his side. I added this to tonight’s list of unexpected things. “I’m pleased as punch you’re here.”
Maverick strode over, scowling ferociously. He gently pried me out of Ranger’s embrace and tucked me up against his side. I had no complaints. “Don’t you do that,” he warned his brother. “Ford doesn’t like it one bit. So, what makes you think I would?”
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” Ranger repeated. He sounded irritated and put out. “I’m just being sociable.”
“Be social somewhere else,” Ford warned as yet another large, bearded man strode into the kitchen. We needed to relocate to somewhere bigger. It was like Snow White and the Seven Lumberjacks, except I guess that there were two of us playing the lead.
The new guy’s hard stare took in the five of us, pausing on Maverick’s hand around my waist. While he did his looking, Maverick and Ford got on Ranger’s case.
“I thought you didn’t want to bother her,” Ranger was saying to Maverick, his hands on his hips.
The newest Boone was even taller than Maverick, and broader. Although his hair and beard were near jet-black, his eyes were bright blue, and he was Hollywood beautiful. I’d spent years looking at pretty faces up close, but this man’s made me do a double take. His features were symmetrical, his bone structure photogenic. He could have given Luke a run for his money on a movie set.
And yet, despite his inordinately hot looks, he was an iceberg. He gazed around the room with icy self-containment, radiating disinterest and detachment. He lacked Maverick’s ever-present charm and warmth, a genuine warmth that I’d been drawn to and couldn’t seem to deprive myself of. This other guy, however, was a grade-A North Atlantic iceberg. We needed to get in the lifeboats fast, or our boat would hit him and sink.
Mr. Iceberg’s eyes met mine, and they were frosty stalactites that bored straight into me. There was something fundamentally unpleasant about him that had me burrowing into Maverick’s side.
“Do not talk about bothering Sonnet. And leave off kissing her as well. Keep your paws to yourself.” Amber might have tinged Maverick’s eyes, but his voice still held a note of amusement. Even though he was irritated by Ranger’s antics, he was working hard to stay pleasant and not give in to temper.
“What in the Sam Hill is going on in here?” Yet another enormous Boone brother shouldered his way into the kitchen, which was starting to feel like one of those clown cars. At least this latest addition was smiling.
“Nothing,” Ford and Maverick said together.
The newest redheaded addition circumvented Mr. Iceberg—who was still glaring at me with his ice-ray vision—and stepped forward.
“Well, I’ll be! I know you. You’re Sonnet Ruiz!”
Given the similarity between this redhead and the one wrapped around Alice, I decided this must be the missing Boone twin. “Yes. You must be Atticus.”
His happy beam reminded me of Maverick’s, as did his easy manner, although his charm was more excited puppy than Maverick’s studly spell. Still, he was cute and enthusiastic. I gave him an answering smile.
“This is so great, meeting you. Wow. You have the dimples! If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber!”
This made me laugh and made Maverick scowl some more, his hand planting itself on my hip. Keep off my grass, motherfucker! That’s what Maverick’s hand was saying. I suspected his middle finger might be adding some punctuation just out of my line of sight too.
Regardless, I snuggled back against his side. Kitchen time was awesome! Ranger’s evil master plan was totally working.
Atticus’s blue eyes shifted between Maverick and me, his smile fading some. “Hold up. Are you two...”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Apparently, he was flummoxed by the idea of two consenting adults spending adult time together.
“Yes,” Ranger, my new favorite Boone brother, announced. “Our brother Maverick has finally done right by our pack and brought home a fine woman.”
Maverick grunted irritably but did not release my hip. “We’re friends,” he said. The Boone brothers collectively stared at us.
Alice giggled. “Real good friends.”
We certainly were friends—the kind that kissed.
I filed this away for future discussion. Was he not ready to be a couple in front of his family?
“Friends is awesome,” Atticus said happily. “So, it would be fine if I?—”
“It would not be fine, and you can go mash the potatoes while I give Sonnet the grand tour.” He spun us around with a muttered, “Sorry,” and a quick kiss on my cheek. I was too busy enjoying the memory of how his beard had tickled to complain as he led me out of the kitchen and out of the house.
“I appreciate someone who’s not afraid to own he was wrong,” I whispered, my lips making a sneaky foray up his neck. Look at me, walking and kissing! “But that was fine. No apologies necessary. I feel like I’m getting to know your brothers.”
I squeezed his waist. Could he feel my heart pounding in my chest? Because truth was, I was only bothered by what had happened back in the kitchen in the sexy, fun way. His steering me out of there with his arm around me was a hug, an opportunity to feel him up, or both.
Seeing as how we’d previously established the value of showing rather than telling , I swung myself in front of his ground-eating stride and wrapped myself around him like a sexy barnacle. No inch of space for us! Not being slow, he grabbed me right back and pressed me up against him. He held me tightly, big hands gripping my butt, angling us closer. He was the sexy bolt, and I was the nut grip, if you took my meaning.
“That’s the carriage house.” He tipped his head toward the half-restored building I’d spotted earlier. I’d rather have heard, That’s my bedroom, or Hey! There’s a Jacuzzi tub and a discreet five-star B&B over there! Shall we check in for the night? But such was life, and my life apparently held a distinct lack of padded horizontal surfaces.
“I’ve stripped it down to the drywall,” he continued.
“Stripping is great,” I murmured. Hint, hint!
He gently disentangled my limbs from his and started walking again. He was such a party pooper!
“And she’s got a new roof and new siding,” he continued. “I’ll be done in two months, tops.”
“I like a man who takes his time.”
“I always do.”
He moved past the carriage house, walking briskly as he steered us through a wildflower field. Moonlight silvered the grasses and threaded through a forest thick with trees. I should have been taking pictures for my Instagram because it was truly magical. Instead, I was looking for a nice, private tree to drag my man behind. We needed to do some talking, followed by a whole lot more kissing. I had a sexy proposal to make for Maverick + Sonnet , the extended edition movie.
Go time.
There was no way I held in my pitch until after dinner. If he’d relocated me to the friend zone, I needed to know now. I could act my way past that kind of disappointment, but masking my hope was a challenge.
Silence on the set.
Cameras rolling . . .
“Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That was Ranger’s work. He invited you, not me.”
“Uh-huh.” I winked at him. “So I should be thanking Ranger. Good to know.”
Maverick frowned. “Ranger doesn’t need your thanks. As I’m cooking, you can thank me.”
“What would work best for you?” I said huskily.
We were out of sight of the house now, hidden by the thick undergrowth and all those trees.
“A few words would suffice. Maybe praise the food in front of my brothers.” He smiled teasingly at me. “Let them know how much you enjoy my meat.”
“But I haven’t even seen your meat,” I protested. “I think I should taste it first.”
“Take your glamour off?” he asked, unexpectedly serious. “I want to see you .”
Just the glamour? And not my clothes?
What was I doing wrong? I needed this man.
I slipped the glamour off as we walked, tucking it away. Like it was a sweater I didn’t need. His steps slowed, and I snuck a peek at his profile, trying to read his face. His jaw was set, firmed. It did not radiate welcome. Or do much for my hopes. He uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“This is the national park.” He tipped his head toward the forest. “The house has been in the family for over a century. It’s on fifteen acres. It’s mine. I’m the oldest, and therefore I inherited it all, along with some other responsibilities. There’s a white wolf that runs free here.”
“Okay?”
“She’s our momma,” he said fiercely. “Our daddy bit her without her permission, forced his mating bite on her, and now she’s stuck like that and I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to shift back. He took something real special and turned it into a nightmare. So now I— we —keep her as safe as we can. This is her home.”
We both stared at the woods, as if the bushes choking the trees would part and the white wolf would come running out.
There was nothing but the sound of crickets and the night frogs, singing up a storm. I imagined how it would be to stand in my family home, watching for Mami and knowing she would not be coming through the door. That I would not be talking with her or hugging her or doing any of the hundreds of small things we did together. My heart broke for Maverick.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. Those words were entirely inadequate for what I was feeling, but I hoped he’d understand that they were a start. A down payment.
He nodded, turning. The line of his features was serious, his eyes cautious as they searched my face. “I plan to raise a whole passel of kids here in this house, on this land.”
“It would be a great place for that,” I said carefully. My script for this evening seemed to be missing a key page. “I grew up in the Mexican mountains. I ran all over the place, and it was wonderful.”
He frowned slightly. My hopes plummeted. “I like you, Sonnet. I do.” I could hear that liking in his voice, feel it in the tension in his body. I could also, however, hear the but that shivered on the tip of his tongue. “But I apologize if I misled you about my intentions or gave you the mistaken impression that I was open to a hookup while you’re shooting here. I am not available for that. I don’t think we’re suited.”
“We’re not suited?” We suited just fine. In fact, our suitability levels were off the charts. Ten out of ten. Smoking hot. My heart ricocheted out of my chest, plummeted toward my feet like a smoke jumper spotting a forest fire from the plane, skipped upward past my ovaries (he wanted babies!), and planted itself in my throat.
“Is this because I let you believe my name was Suzette? Or the Fae thing? Because what about all the kissing?—”
“No, we’ve talked about the name business. You explained and I accepted your apology. I understand how that happened. And being part Fae is just who you are. The problem, as I see it, is that you’re young and very talented.”
“This is not some kind of May-December romance,” I protested. “You’re only six years older than me. That’s hardly a big deal.”
“It’s not the number. It’s the difference in our life situations.”
“So, you’re older and what? Untalented? A failure?”
“No.” He cracked a grin. “I’m not old and I’m not a failure. But you’re world-famous, and I’m a wolf shifter.”
“You don’t want to live life in the Hollywood fishbowl.”
“It is a fishbowl, and from the little I’ve seen, it’s overwhelming. I’ll be upfront about that. But that’s not the problem. The real problem is that I’ll never be as wildly successful at my job as you are at yours. We biologists don’t get invited on TV morning shows or have paparazzi trailing us with cameras. I like my job. I like my life here. Where I want to grow things is with my family. I want that wild success to come at home. I want to be the best-ever husband, father, brother, and uncle. That’s where I want to put my time and my effort, and I can’t start something, invest myself in someone who is temporary. I want a mate. I want to know that I’m with someone I could choose to give the mate bite to, and who would choose me back.”
I looked away, pulling my glamour back on. “The werewolf wants forever?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“But not with me?”
His soft gaze took me in. “With you? Yes, absolutely. At least, I’d want a chance of forever with you.”
Could he be any more amazing?
Hand to God, tell me the truth. Could he be more perfect?
The werewolf wants forever.
Did I? Was I prepared to settle down here in Moonlight Valley and make wolf babies with this man? Could I take a chance on forever with him?
There was no safe answer, or at least not one I could give with one-hundred-percent certainty. Neither of us could predict the future, and yet I knew exactly what to say next.
There was only one answer, after all, that I wanted to give.
“Okay.”
He nodded, looking sad. And resolute. And all sorts of reserved, solemn, and other stable sorts of things. “Okay.”
He was never supposed to look sad.
“Okay,” I repeated, closing the distance between us. When I reached him, I leaned up to press a kiss against his mouth. I was constitutionally unable to stop myself. His lips were plush and firm and perfect. I refrained from pressing the rest of myself up against him. We were having a conversation, but I had a weakness for him. There would be more kisses, I promised myself. We’d have ALL the kisses. “Let’s do this.”
He blinked. “Do what?”
“The thing.” I wagged a finger between the two of us. “The not-temporary romantic relationship thing. The maybe-forever hookup. We’ll be Gorilla Glue instead of painter’s tape. Sharpie instead of washable marker—which we will totally, one-hundred-percent regret if we get to those wolf pups you mentioned. Your beautiful house will never be the same again once a toddler’s drawn on your walls.”
“What?”
I pointed to the big family home behind him. “I love your house. I’m aware that it comes with a pack of wolves, but I’ll work up to loving all of them. At some point soon, yeah, I’d like a wolfy demo because I need to know just how good my imagination is. Show me around your place. If you’ve got a kinky toy drawer or a sex swing, a heads-up would be appreciated because I’m gonna need to start doing some yoga if our sex life comes with playground equipment, but I can totally imagine raising our hypothetical wolf pups here. But you should build a tree house because we may want to sneak away from your brothers, so we don’t have to be quiet, plus tree houses are cool.” I gestured toward a big yellow aspen. “Also, I must warn you that I have a big family, and at some point you might want to brush up on your Spanish. Also, you might want to invest in some of those find-my-crap tiles because my family’s Chaneque, and we have a few quirks. We can talk about those after you show me your wolf.”
The edges of his frown eased as I laid out our maybe future for him, his stare taking on a note of wonder. “You mean it.”
“I do.” I did.
“You don’t know me.”
“Not yet, but I will. And ditto. But we’re not running off to Vegas or even buying a house together. You asked me to give a relationship with you an honest, hundred-percent shot. I’m asking for the same from you.”
He put his hands on his hips. “You are a celebrity TV star with millions of fans.”
“I am. And you are a biology professor who has a thing for snakes that would send most people screaming. Not to mention you go furry, and I have magic. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. Bonus points if shifting means you get naked right here and now.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “Yeah.”
YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS, YEAH.
He took a couple of steps backward. I plopped down on a handy stretch of fallen tree. I was getting dinner and a show!
He gave me a stern look, so I dropped my glamour again. Fine. If he wanted a brown-and-green girlfriend, I was game.
“Your turn!” I caroled.
Maverick stripped down with the same neat efficiency he handled everything. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, folded it up, and set it on the grass.
“You could give me your clothes,” I suggested hopefully. “I could hold on to them for you. That seems like a mate-ish kind of thing to do.”
“Uh-huh. And what are my odds of getting them back?”
“What are the odds of you wanting them back?”
“Fair enough,” he said, and handed me his shirt. Next, he bent over and shucked his boots and socks. I got to see his bare feet again, which also went in the win column.
His hands went to his belt. “I’m not sure how you all do this for a camera.”
I grinned at him. “Why, Maverick Boone, are you insinuating that I’ve shot naked love scenes for the camera?”
“Uh—” My sweet man blushed.
“It’s about the least sexy thing ever.” I took pity on his embarrassment. “We have an intimacy coordinator, and we choreograph everything before the clothes come off. But you let me know if you need any help.”
He muttered something profane, but then he undid his belt and slowly popped the buttons on his jeans. God bless jeans that buttoned up. The wash-worn denim cupped him in the best of places, as did the black cotton boxer briefs he wore underneath. He folded up his pants, shoved the briefs down—I had only a brief second to appreciate that Maverick was size-appropriate everywhere—and then he shifted.
BOOM. Or more like CRACK , my surprised brain suggested. Like the quickest pop-pop-pop of a Fourth of July firecracker on a dark night. Maverick just sort of turned inside out, his human skin going out like the tide, and his wolf fur coming in to replace it. One minute, I was ogling my man (my man!), and the next I was nose to muzzle with an enormous wolf.
I fell off my log.
The wolf yipped and nudged me. If wolves could laugh, this one was.
“Crickets and crackers.” I dumped his clothes onto the ground beside me. I’d have to work on being an awesome wifey type later. “You are something unexpected.”
He was unexpected, but he was also absolutely amazing. His wolf had a thick, dense pelt of brown fur, with a darker ruff around his face. His eyes were golden, his ears jet-black. He was as big as two Rottweilers, but those handsome eyes of his were still friendly and concerned. He was just watching out for me in a four-legged form. I tested that thought and decided that I liked it.
The wolf bumped against my shoulder.
It whined.
Then it licked my cheek.
Gross. I was not a fan of wolf slobber. I squealed, slapping at its shoulder with my hand. “Do not do that!”
It— he— laid down and put his enormous head in my lap. Warm eyes regarded me.
“Okay, so you’re a handsome beast.” I ran my fingers over his head. He was so soft. “In either form.”
We sat like that for a while, me petting him, and he...I had no idea what he was doing, although when he turned his head and his muzzle brushed against my crotch, I had an idea.
“You behave yourself,” I said sternly.
After that, he shifted back, and we played a little game of keep-away with his pants. I thought he should stay naked and commune with nature a while longer, while he was more concerned about unpleasant things like “chiggers in places chiggers should never, ever go.”
He got his boxers on and his pants up, although I did my best to make sure he couldn’t button them. While he was distracted putting himself back together again, I ran from him, waving his shirt over my head like he was one of those exotic dancers you hire for a raunchy bachelorette party.
Being a wolf at heart, bless him, he chased me.
A muscled arm locked around my waist, swinging me off my feet and up into his arms. His face laughed down at me.
“Gotcha,” he growled.
“Oh, woe is me!” I threw myself back against his strong arms. He wouldn’t drop me, and this was fun. “Whatever shall I do?”
Bonus: since he was bridal-carrying me, my skirt had given in to gravity and was now around my waist.
“Look! Thigh-high stockings!” I smoothed my hands down my thighs to the lacy bands. You know. Just in case the man was too much of a gentleman to look.
Fortunately for me, he wasn’t. His eyes locked on my legs, his gaze growing hotter.
I win.
“And my panties match,” I pointed out.
Some exciting spins and turns occurred at this junction. My wolf was either practicing a daring gymnastics floor routine or eager to get me horizontal underneath him. I was happy to help.
We ended up lying in the middle of the wildflower meadow, crushing a whole lot of aromatic but defenseless grasses beneath us. Maverick reached for me, his mouth curving in a wicked grin.
“You are a bad influence.” He plucked his T-shirt from my fingers.
Resistance was futile, mostly because I was giggling too hard to put up a good fight.
“What are you going to do about that, Mr. Boone?” I hoped I’d find out in the next ten seconds or so. I might last an entire minute, but I was not a patient woman.
Gazing down at me, he half lowered himself over me, caging me between his arms. Yay! I approve! He planted one hand beside my head, his fingers toying with my hair. I was certain I had not-so-sexy bedhead at this point, but he’d have to take me as I was. Real-life Sonnet did not have a hair and makeup team at her disposal, and she was lazy. His other hand dipped south and smoothed over the lacy band of one stocking, his fingertips tracing small circles on my bare skin. With an achingly careful touch, he trailed them higher and then higher still until I was tense with anticipation.
“I’m going to make you mine,” he growled, nipping at my green-brown jaw. “My girl, my mate.”
“Nope,” I countered, ducking away from his mouth. “We need to get this straight. I’m making you mine. My guy. It’s part of the whole partnership thing.”
He grinned, clearly not unhappy with my claiming. Something predatory flashed in his eyes as they dropped to my chest. Between the chase and the anticipation, my boobs were heaving in a way I’d never thought possible outside the pages of a book. “You’ve seen me naked, Sonnet Ruiz. If we’re doing things equal, I should get to see you naked now.”
I nodded. That worked for me. He groaned, capturing my mouth in a heated, searing kiss. He was not afraid of my teeth.
He liked me.
The hand on my thigh started drifting higher, igniting an inferno in my belly and the regions nearest his fingers. And God bless the man because he correctly interpreted my little whimpers and wriggles and moved his fingers to the front. A gentle nudge of his knee and I was spread for him, and his knuckles were rubbing back and forth over my panty-covered center. I pushed up into his touch, my hands gripping the waist of his jeans as I gasped for air.
“You’re wonderful.” He sounded amazed and as breathless as I felt. He took parity seriously, and I rewarded him by sending my own fingers south and under the waistband of his jeans. It would be a crime not to touch his butt.
“Behave,” he growled. “I want you.” His rough words were part warning, part promise. The need in his voice made me tremble. Amazing, unbelievable, out-of-this-world trembling. He made me feel so alive.
“Do you want me to behave? Really?” I asked.
His fingers pressed deeper against my front. That touch was all Maverick: sure and confident and capable. What would happen when we were finally in a bed together?
I could tell he was thinking about it too. His eyes darkened. He was this close to losing control, his breath coming harder and faster. Stopping? Not a chance.
And yet we’d agreed: forever. Or at least our best shot at that, and he’d told me that he didn’t want to rush things. He wanted to take the scenic route in this relationship, slow down and savor the ride. He wanted to be as sure as he could, but here I was chipping away at those boundaries.
So I swallowed and moved my hand from his butt to his shoulders. Those were Switzerland-sized body parts, almost. I tried to ignore the hard ridge pressing against my stomach. I failed, but I tried.
“Slow,” I said. “We said we were taking things slow.”
Persuade me otherwise, please.
He nodded once, pressing a tiny kiss against the skin beneath my ear. Removing his fingers from my happy place, he stroked the outer edges of my thighs. He wasn’t letting go, either.
Eventually, he got control of himself and lifted his head. The rasp of his beard against my neck was enough to make me rethink priorities and boundaries. Why not just leap into this?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Pardon?” His voice was thick and rough, as if he’d been thinking some very dirty thoughts.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, make a list. I need to know. Because when we do go to bed together, we need to do it all.”
Amusement colored his eyes. “But what if it involves my drawer of adult toys?”
I pressed a quick kiss against his mouth. “Make that number one on your list.”