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Authors: Molly Harper
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asked dryly.
“Oh, Cooper,” I said, a giggle escaping my tightly pressed lips. “He saved you from yourself. And we, your loving human in-laws, are helping you suppress your homicidal urges.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice of us,” Cooper said blandly.
“Actually, we can use this,” Mo said, sitting up, getting that “I’ve got a project” expression that always scared the hell out of me. “I’ll just start eating raw meat, standing out in the street, howling at the moon. It will totally throw him off.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll go into Susie’s attic, rattle some chains, and make him think the house is haunted,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Susie Quinn’s place?” Cooper asked.
“Yeah, he’s renting it.”
Mo frowned. “That’s sort of ghoulish. Besides, how would we even get into Susie’s attic?”
“You know, I hadn’t considered that. I got sort of hung up on the fact that this means he’s going to be here for a while. Which is bad.”
“Well, it’s not good,” Cooper said, scratching his bare stomach and shuffling into the kitchen. “I’m getting something to eat. Mags, pecan pie?”
“I’m insulted you have to ask,” I told him as he unloaded one of Mo’s calorie-laden pie plates from the fridge. He cut two huge slabs and brought one to me.
Mo eyed the pie with longing, obviously thinking of the postbaby weight she was still shedding. “I hate you and your damned werewolf metabolism.”
Cooper offered his wife a little bite of pie, which was quite a concession for a wolf. We generally don’t share food if we can help it. She took a tiny birdlike nibble, which we all knew wouldn’t satisfy her. But the gesture on Cooper’s part was the important thing.
As was his habit, Cooper asked about Mom, Samson, Pops, the cranky aunties in the bridge club, and the kids who kept dipping tobacco behind the school. I told him that I’d solved the underage “chaw” problem the same way Pops had when he caught Cooper and Samson dipping when they were twelve. I let our young cousins Ricky and Benjamin finish off the can of Red Man they’d swiped from my uncle Steve, indulging until they were an unpleasant avocado color and finally upchucking violently while they paid Steve back for the stolen can.
“They’ll never dip again. Trust me.” Cooper shuddered. “And how’s Aunt Billie doing?”
The teasing smile evaporated from my face. “Good days and bad. Alicia says she’ll be lucid one minute and then freaking out the next. Or she just sits in a chair staring into nothing. I always seem to stop by when she’s having a bad spell, and sometimes I find myself trying to find reasons not to go over, which, of course, makes me feel even worse for taking advantage of Alicia and Clay.”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Cooper told me, squeezing my shoulder. “And I know your ego and your God-given stubbornness make you think you can do it all. But it’s natural to want to try to find ways to lessen the load. Billie’s family, and you’re going to do right by her no matter what. Don’t feel guilty for letting Alicia and Clay shoulder some of the burden. They’re her family, too. You’re no good to anybody if you’re worn down to nothing.”
“I know,” I admitted softly, picking at the pie.
“I would say I’m proud of how you’re handling yourself as alpha, but I’m pretty sure you’d sock me one for being a sissy,” he said, nudging my arm.
I nodded but nudged him back.
“Speaking of Clay, how are you two doing?” Cooper asked, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.
“We’re fine,” I said, my brow crinkled. “Why?”
“Because Lee dropped by yesterday. With a moose carcass,” he added, chuckling nastily. “I just thought maybe Clay should be told about his competition.”
I groaned, which made Cooper that much happier.
Big, brawny, and without discernible brain function, Lee Whitaker was my uncle Frank’s brother-in-law’s son, raised in
“Oh, Cooper,” I said, a giggle escaping my tightly pressed lips. “He saved you from yourself. And we, your loving human in-laws, are helping you suppress your homicidal urges.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice of us,” Cooper said blandly.
“Actually, we can use this,” Mo said, sitting up, getting that “I’ve got a project” expression that always scared the hell out of me. “I’ll just start eating raw meat, standing out in the street, howling at the moon. It will totally throw him off.”
“Yeah, and then we’ll go into Susie’s attic, rattle some chains, and make him think the house is haunted,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Susie Quinn’s place?” Cooper asked.
“Yeah, he’s renting it.”
Mo frowned. “That’s sort of ghoulish. Besides, how would we even get into Susie’s attic?”
“You know, I hadn’t considered that. I got sort of hung up on the fact that this means he’s going to be here for a while. Which is bad.”
“Well, it’s not good,” Cooper said, scratching his bare stomach and shuffling into the kitchen. “I’m getting something to eat. Mags, pecan pie?”
“I’m insulted you have to ask,” I told him as he unloaded one of Mo’s calorie-laden pie plates from the fridge. He cut two huge slabs and brought one to me.
Mo eyed the pie with longing, obviously thinking of the postbaby weight she was still shedding. “I hate you and your damned werewolf metabolism.”
Cooper offered his wife a little bite of pie, which was quite a concession for a wolf. We generally don’t share food if we can help it. She took a tiny birdlike nibble, which we all knew wouldn’t satisfy her. But the gesture on Cooper’s part was the important thing.
As was his habit, Cooper asked about Mom, Samson, Pops, the cranky aunties in the bridge club, and the kids who kept dipping tobacco behind the school. I told him that I’d solved the underage “chaw” problem the same way Pops had when he caught Cooper and Samson dipping when they were twelve. I let our young cousins Ricky and Benjamin finish off the can of Red Man they’d swiped from my uncle Steve, indulging until they were an unpleasant avocado color and finally upchucking violently while they paid Steve back for the stolen can.
“They’ll never dip again. Trust me.” Cooper shuddered. “And how’s Aunt Billie doing?”
The teasing smile evaporated from my face. “Good days and bad. Alicia says she’ll be lucid one minute and then freaking out the next. Or she just sits in a chair staring into nothing. I always seem to stop by when she’s having a bad spell, and sometimes I find myself trying to find reasons not to go over, which, of course, makes me feel even worse for taking advantage of Alicia and Clay.”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Cooper told me, squeezing my shoulder. “And I know your ego and your God-given stubbornness make you think you can do it all. But it’s natural to want to try to find ways to lessen the load. Billie’s family, and you’re going to do right by her no matter what. Don’t feel guilty for letting Alicia and Clay shoulder some of the burden. They’re her family, too. You’re no good to anybody if you’re worn down to nothing.”
“I know,” I admitted softly, picking at the pie.
“I would say I’m proud of how you’re handling yourself as alpha, but I’m pretty sure you’d sock me one for being a sissy,” he said, nudging my arm.
I nodded but nudged him back.
“Speaking of Clay, how are you two doing?” Cooper asked, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.
“We’re fine,” I said, my brow crinkled. “Why?”
“Because Lee dropped by yesterday. With a moose carcass,” he added, chuckling nastily. “I just thought maybe Clay should be told about his competition.”
I groaned, which made Cooper that much happier.
Big, brawny, and without discernible brain function, Lee Whitaker was my uncle Frank’s brother-in-law’s son, raised in
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