“You going to tell me what happened?” Ric asked, reaching for one of the berries from the massive bowl Adelle placed in front of Lock, but quickly snatching his hand back when she slapped it.
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’ll feel better.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Did you end up on the wrong side of a buck again?”
“No. Wolves.” When Ric and Adelle passed glances, both wondering who in their Pack would be stupid enough to go up against any bear, much less Lock, he shook his head. “Not your Pack. Some other flea-bitten Pack.”
“Excuse me, but we haven’t had an outbreak of fleas in years. And what other Pack?”
“I don’t know.”
Adelle cleared her throat, her face concerned. “I know some of the Smiths are staying out at Shaw’s place this weekend. But I can’t imagine Bobby Ray would—”
“These weren’t Smiths. I’ve dealt with Smiths before, and met a few of the New York Pack at Jess’s wedding. It wasn’t them.”
“Okay. Then who do you think—”
“She’s going to think I deserted her,” Lock blurted out.
Her? Lock didn’t have a “her” in his life. He’d had a few “you remember, what’s-her-names” over the past couple of years, but they’d come and gone quickly with little thought. The only females in his life that Ric knew Lock thought about on a regular basis were his mother and sister. Otherwise, Lock kept primarily to himself.
“And who would this she be exactly?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But I’m sure we can go to wherever she is and—”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” Lock picked up his bowl of berries and walked out of the kitchen.
After they heard his bedroom door slam shut, Adelle asked, “Do you think his ‘she’ is a wolf?”
“He smelled like he’d been around a feline, but what kind, I’m not sure.”
“A feline? For my Lock?” Adelle scrunched up her nose. “I’m not sure some feline’s going to be good enough for him.”
If Lock really liked her, whoever she may be, Ric wouldn’t care. His friend had not had an easy life, so a little feline canoodling couldn’t hurt.
Ric slid off the stool. “Let me see what I can find out.”
“Good.”
“Did you say Brendon Shaw was in town?” he asked, always wanting to get information up front before he threw himself into things.
“Yes. Brought out a bunch of people, too, including Smitty’s Pack and Jess’s.”
Ahh. Sweet Jess. Ric had always liked her, and was not happy he couldn’t make her wedding. But he should have known that a sudden demand for an important business trip would rise up out of nowhere as soon as Ric’s father had found out he hadn’t been invited to the wedding but Ric had.
“I’ll let you know what I find out,” he promised, heading to the back door and pulling out his cell phone.
CHAPTER 5
One small kitchen fire later and Jess Ward-Smith was racing across territorial lines and right into Ulrich Van Holtz’s open arms.
Oh, and it was a small, controlled burn. Nothing to worry about. Simply a way to distract one overprotective hillbilly wolf and his hillbilly wolf kin while she illicitly met up with one of the coolest-named guys ever.
“I’m so glad to see you!” she said, hugging the wolf tight.
He hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek. “Me, too.” He placed her down and studied her carefully. “You look astoundingly beautiful,” he said easily. He had to be the only man she knew who made those kinds of compliments sound as if he was stating the obvious rather than merely trying to flatter her. “And very happy.”
Jess Ward-Smith knew she was blushing now, but she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, okay,” she admitted. “I am.”
Ric laughed and gave her another hug.
Like all the Van Holtz males, Ric was tall, well-built with a slightly overdeveloped diver’s body, and handsome. Yet handsome was only the first stop on the beauty train for Ric, who managed to head all the way into the station for The Land of Gorgeous. With his sculpted cheekbones, Grecian nose, square jaw, and that always freshly tousled dark blond hair, it still surprised her he’d never done any modeling.
“And pregnant, too,” he teased. “My, those Smith males move quite fast.”
“Don’t start.” Jess stepped away from him, but kept a grip on his hand.
Knowing she was short on time once Smitty realized she’d sneaked out—would she have to endure his Smith protective streak through every damn pregnancy?—Jess asked, “I got your text, handsome, what’s up?”
“Lachlan MacRyrie went out for salmon and a nap, but came back covered in bruises and in full boar-rage. Any idea why?”
Jess briefly covered her mouth with her hand, a small gasp escaping before she said, “Oh, my God! That was Lock?” When Bren had muttered something to Smitty about an “annoying, fat-ass, stubby-tailed bear,” she’d assumed it was one of the local bears. Not her Lock! And the last thing that man had was a fat ass, but that was a treacherous un-mate-like thought for another day. “Is he okay?”
“Physically he’s fine. But he’s rarely this pissed off. I’d love to know why, so I can avoid any maulings this evening.”
“Well, the men aren’t telling me anything, so I brought Blayne along to fill in the holes. She was there with Bren’s sister, Gwen. Right, Blayne?” Jess looked around, wondering where the wolfdog she’d dragged along with her had gone off to. “Blayne?”
Ric picked up a pair of shorts from off the ground. “She’s disappeared.”
No. She hadn’t. But she had found a squirrel. Jess and Ric watched as a shifted Blayne chased the squirrel, caught the squirrel, toyed with the squirrel, let the squirrel go, only to go chasing after it again. Until she was distracted by the crow that she tried to catch in her mouth.
“So…when are you due?”
Jess winced at Ric’s question as Blayne ran into a tree, backed up, and went after the bird again. “Mid-March.”
“And you’re having a—”
“Yes. Yes, I’m having a wolfdog.”
“Huh.”
Blayne was turning in circles now, trying to catch her tail.
“Blayne,” Jess called out. “Blayne!”
The wolfdog immediately stopped and started to walk over to Jess and Ric. Too bad the dizziness got the best of her, though, because she stumbled sideways into another tree and slid down, panting.
Picking up Blayne’s clothes, Jess walked over to her. Blayne had an interesting look to her as wolfdog. Built like a wolf, with a heavy coat and muscular body, she still had the giant ears and tiny paws of the wild dog along with the coloring that included big splotches of white, brown, blond, black, and red all over her shaggy coat. Not surprisingly, Blayne dyed her human hair one solid color, like most wild dogs. They were the only shifters forced to do so if they hoped to fit in among full-humans.
“I don’t have