and butter were completely blended. Once it was all mixed, I sampled it.
“ Yum, ” I said, unable to stop myself. The real cheese was much better than Velveeta.
“Don’t you forget who taught you how to cook.”
“Never ever.”
She had finished folding the bread dough back into the bowl to let it rise, so she came over and bustled me out of the way, sampling the grits to make sure I’d done all right. Her approving smile was worth all the compliments in the world.
“Good job, baby.”
“So, what do you think I should do about Cash?”
“You got any better offers?”
I thought of Wilder and then immediately banished those full frowning lips from my mind. Bad, bad Genie.
“No.”
“Then give him time. And you talk to him. Lord almighty, girl. All the problems in the world can be solved by talking them over. Either he can love you for who you are, or he thinks you’re going to get in his way. Doesn’t matter. Either way you know.”
Easy for her to say it didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned it mattered a whole lot.
“Now go on. I’ve got work to do.” She kissed me on the cheek and swatted my butt like she had when I was little. “Check the drink fridge. I hid something in there for you I didn’t want those boys down at The Den getting their hands on.”
The Den was our on-site bar. After too many brawls had started thanks to high-strung werewolves mingling with townsfolk, Callum decided it was smarter and safer to build a bar on his property where the shifters could drink in private. And that had been before the secret came out. I had been too young when I left to spend any real time there, and since returning from the swamp I hadn’t taken much interest. Technically, at twenty-one, I was only just now legally allowed to be in there, but that hadn’t stopped Ben from going years earlier.
I opened the fridge and pushed aside a carton of orange juice to find a band-new six pack of Abita Strawberry Lager hiding at the back.
“Oh, Lina, you’re an angel ,” I squealed, grabbing a bottle of my favorite beer. I kissed her again and made a dash for the kitchen door with a bottle in hand before she could shoo me out.
Chapter Eight
I leaned my face against the wet tile in the shower, letting the hot water beat down my back. The still-cold bottle of Abita was clutched in one hand, the bottle’s surface now beaded with sweat from the steamy bathroom. The cool beer was a perfect complement to the shower, but it did make my head a bit swimmy.
Now that I was home, I felt safe enough to let my guard down.
How sad was it, though, that my guard had to be up at all? I was supposed to be living a nice, normal life, going to school, hanging out with friends. Yet none of those aspirations seemed to be panning out for me. If I couldn’t even drive home without fear because some psychos wanted to kill me, I couldn’t qualify my life as normal.
After what had happened in New York, with the dead coming to life and the world on the edge of complete destruction, I thought I had made it through the worst the universe could throw at me. I thought I was done with the monsters and the madness.
As much as I could be done when I was a werewolf myself.
The last thing I expected was to be confronted by monsters of the human variety. No matter how much I thought I understood the depths people could sink to, there would always be another psycho crawling out of the woodwork to remind me how terrible things could get.
I took another sip of the strawberry-flavored beer, smiling at the taste of summer on my tongue. This little reprieve couldn’t last long. The shower was one of the only places on the grounds I could get any real privacy, so I did most of my best thinking there. With all the male pack members in and out of the house at any given time, using the other bathrooms to clean up after runs, Callum had insisted I get my own private bathroom.
It wasn’t huge by any standard, an en suite with a
“ Yum, ” I said, unable to stop myself. The real cheese was much better than Velveeta.
“Don’t you forget who taught you how to cook.”
“Never ever.”
She had finished folding the bread dough back into the bowl to let it rise, so she came over and bustled me out of the way, sampling the grits to make sure I’d done all right. Her approving smile was worth all the compliments in the world.
“Good job, baby.”
“So, what do you think I should do about Cash?”
“You got any better offers?”
I thought of Wilder and then immediately banished those full frowning lips from my mind. Bad, bad Genie.
“No.”
“Then give him time. And you talk to him. Lord almighty, girl. All the problems in the world can be solved by talking them over. Either he can love you for who you are, or he thinks you’re going to get in his way. Doesn’t matter. Either way you know.”
Easy for her to say it didn’t matter. As far as I was concerned it mattered a whole lot.
“Now go on. I’ve got work to do.” She kissed me on the cheek and swatted my butt like she had when I was little. “Check the drink fridge. I hid something in there for you I didn’t want those boys down at The Den getting their hands on.”
The Den was our on-site bar. After too many brawls had started thanks to high-strung werewolves mingling with townsfolk, Callum decided it was smarter and safer to build a bar on his property where the shifters could drink in private. And that had been before the secret came out. I had been too young when I left to spend any real time there, and since returning from the swamp I hadn’t taken much interest. Technically, at twenty-one, I was only just now legally allowed to be in there, but that hadn’t stopped Ben from going years earlier.
I opened the fridge and pushed aside a carton of orange juice to find a band-new six pack of Abita Strawberry Lager hiding at the back.
“Oh, Lina, you’re an angel ,” I squealed, grabbing a bottle of my favorite beer. I kissed her again and made a dash for the kitchen door with a bottle in hand before she could shoo me out.
Chapter Eight
I leaned my face against the wet tile in the shower, letting the hot water beat down my back. The still-cold bottle of Abita was clutched in one hand, the bottle’s surface now beaded with sweat from the steamy bathroom. The cool beer was a perfect complement to the shower, but it did make my head a bit swimmy.
Now that I was home, I felt safe enough to let my guard down.
How sad was it, though, that my guard had to be up at all? I was supposed to be living a nice, normal life, going to school, hanging out with friends. Yet none of those aspirations seemed to be panning out for me. If I couldn’t even drive home without fear because some psychos wanted to kill me, I couldn’t qualify my life as normal.
After what had happened in New York, with the dead coming to life and the world on the edge of complete destruction, I thought I had made it through the worst the universe could throw at me. I thought I was done with the monsters and the madness.
As much as I could be done when I was a werewolf myself.
The last thing I expected was to be confronted by monsters of the human variety. No matter how much I thought I understood the depths people could sink to, there would always be another psycho crawling out of the woodwork to remind me how terrible things could get.
I took another sip of the strawberry-flavored beer, smiling at the taste of summer on my tongue. This little reprieve couldn’t last long. The shower was one of the only places on the grounds I could get any real privacy, so I did most of my best thinking there. With all the male pack members in and out of the house at any given time, using the other bathrooms to clean up after runs, Callum had insisted I get my own private bathroom.
It wasn’t huge by any standard, an en suite with a
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