How to Howl at the Moon (28 page)

Lance growled a little harder and latched onto Tim’s neck, gently, with his teeth. Tim forgot all about laughing. “Oh. Oh, God.”

With that light bite, Lance guided them both to the ground and then pulled and nuzzled and pushed til Tim was on all fours.

Tim had a few dregs of his logical brain still online, enough to wonder at himself, to be surprised at how hot this was. But it fucking
was
. Out there in the night, naked on a mountain top, with Lance’s beautiful and very male human form, but the beast still prowling just below the skin. There was something dangerous and primal about the animal nature—completely unself-conscious, focused, unashamed, and lost in its mate, driven by pure instinct.

And then Lance nuzzled between Tim’s cheeks and began to lick him
there
. Tim’s mind rolled over and joined Lance in letting chemistry rule.

Lance licked and worried at Tim, opening him up. He didn’t use his fingers. His hands
were braced on the ground, arms on either side of Tim’s hips. And there was something incredibly sexy about that, about the single attention of his enthusiastic mouth, about being touched by nothing but the cool night air, the wafts of heat radiating off Lance’s body behind him, and those lips, probing tongue, and teeth. Tim panted and moaned and tried to dig his fingers into the dirt beneath them.

“Lance, please,” he begged at last. “I need you. Need you now.”

Lance obliged. He rose onto his knees, laved Tim with spit, used his hand to gather pre-cum from Tim’s cock and spread it on his own, added saliva, and then grabbed Tim’s hips. He wasn’t rough, but he was insistent, urgent. He penetrated Tim with one long, slow thrust.

Tim’s head dropped onto his arms. “Fuck.”

He spread his legs wider and canted his hips back, inviting his lover to take him. And Lance did. He held on to Tim’s hips with both hands and pounded into him to the point of pain. A breeze ruffled Tim’s hair and painted goose bumps down his spine, and the sharp bite of Lance’s cock became a lustful thrill that curled Tim’s toes. Lance was pounding him open—body and mind both,
owning
him, and Tim had never felt so high on arousal or so alive.

He shifted his hips slightly, so that Lance was hitting that sweet spot inside him, and bliss ramped up with every thrust.

“Can’t—” Tim managed, feeling his testicles tighten and his cock throb where it hung heavily down between his legs. Christ, he was going to come untouched.

Lance made an incomprehensible sound above him and pounded even harder, his thighs shaking and his fingers gripping tight, his breath soft grunts. The sound and feel of his desperation was enough to send Tim flying. The first pulse hit the ground, and Tim grabbed himself with one hand and squeezed, so intensifying the sensation that a cry left his throat.

“
Lance
!”

Lance stiffed behind him, threw back his head, and let go. His howl rang out into the night, a vibration of life, a wild echo of ecstasy and joy.

BY AUGUST, Tim was used to the routine, but it was still grueling. In Santa Barbara, he’d worked hard, but he had peace and quiet in the greenhouse. Now at the head of his own produce business, he did everything. His crops were in their August abundance and needed regular weeding and watering along with daily harvesting. He attended three farmer’s markets a week. Prepping for those—washing and packing up vegetables and herbs, loading them in Lance’s pickup truck, and manning a booth in the hot sun for hours before packing it all up again, was exhausting.
And
there
was still the bookkeeping to be done and planning and ordering for next season’s crops, plus what hours he could steal to work on his hybrids. He’d grow squash, lettuce, kale, and brassicas until the snow hit. Over winter, he could limp along some of the sturdier plants in his greenhouse and in cold frames. And then in February, it would be time to start next year’s seeds and the cycle would begin again.

Despite the long days, Tim had never been happier. He wasn’t exactly making a fortune, but he was selling well at the markets and bringing cash in. And he wasn’t alone. Lily insisted on feeding him regularly, and Lance had hinted about moving into the cabin soon, renting out his little house in town. For the first time in possibly forever, Tim wasn’t fearful of the future. He felt secure, that life was something great he was building rather than a road to nowhere.

So of course, that was when Marshall showed up.

Tim and Gus were winding down the Mad Creek farmer’s market at three in the afternoon. Tim was rearranging the last of the peppers on their table, when he heard a snide voice.

“Those look like Lemonade Poppers.”

Tim looked up into Marshall’s irritated face and felt his stomach drop. “Oh. Hi, Marshall.
Nice to see you too. They’re not Lemonade Poppers, for your information. They’re Golden Bells. Victory Seeds. They’re much larger, and darker gold too.”

Marshall looked at the gold sweet peppers with a put-upon frown, as though Tim were lying. The guy really didn’t know his fucking vegetables, did he?

“Just because you’re up here in the mountains doesn’t mean you can get away with stealing from me,” Marshall began. “My lawyer says if you’ve got a business license, we can have it revoked for copyright infringement. We can make it illegal for you to sell produce anywhere in California! And you signed a non-disclosure when you worked for me. If you so much as breathe a word of what you did when you worked for Roots of Life—and I know you already told Linda Fitzgibbons—I can sue you for whatever pathetic dregs of cash you still have. So if I were you…”

Marshall ranted on, essentially telling Tim he wasn’t allowed to grow anything, anywhere, anytime, til the end of his days. Tim tuned him out as he drew out his phone and calmly sent a text message. Then he stood and listened some more, nodding encouragement and asking the occasional stupid question to keep Marshall going. He folded his arms over his chest and suppressed a smile.

Because Marshall… Marshall had no idea what was about to hit him.
Wow, it sucks to be you right now.
It was so great! And suddenly Tim
saw Marshall’s problem for what it was. He’d lost control over Tim and over his hybrids, which was the one thing that had made Roots of Life a success. He’d probably thought he could manipulate Tim for years to come. And he was likely scared, too, that Tim would tell people the hybrids were his, and about how he’d been treated, that he
would
tarnish the company’s reputation.

Marshall was going on about the Roots’ customer mailing list, which Tim didn’t even have, when Janine, looking very proper in a charcoal suit and purple shirt, tapped him on the shoulder.

Marshall turned to glance at her, his hippy dreads bouncing, then did a double take.

“Oh. Excuse me, Miss, but if you’re wanting to buy vegetables, you’d best find another table. This man has stolen from me. He doesn’t have a right to sell any of this.”

Janine raised one pricelessly cold eyebrow. “Defamation of character. Interesting.” She handed him a white card. “Janine Donegal, attorney. Mr. Weston is my client. And you, sir, are
way out of line.”

Marshall took the card and read it carefully, as if that would prove it was all a joke. But apparently, the card looked legit, because he frowned. “I’ve already spoken to
my
lawyer about this, Ms. Donegal. If you have any point to make, you can make it to him.”

“I quite agree,” Janine said smoothly. “And in fact, if
you
have any point to make, you can make it to
me
. From now on, I would ask you not to speak directly to my client, ever. Not by phone, not via email, and certainly not in person. It goes without saying that threatening him at his place of business will be taken for the criminal act it is.”

Marshall shot Tim a dirty look, but he was slowly deflating as it became obvious he wasn’t going to be able to run over Tim the way he used to.

“And, to avoid a lot of wasted time,” Janine continued briskly. “I can tell you that Mr. Weston has shared all of his employment contracts with me. The language borders on illegal, and I have several issues with the validity of the execution, which I’ll be taking up with your lawyer. But even assuming the contract
is
enforceable, you have absolutely no right to preclude my client from growing anything from publicly offered seed companies and selling the fruits of those plants. And that includes the seeds of his own hybrids that
you
are now selling to your customer base via mail order. He can legally grow those seeds, and sell the produce, til the cows come home. And, to be clear, as Tim develops new hybrids you have no stake in them, not since the day he formally terminated his employment with you, which was March 10th of this year.”

“That’s… that’s not precisely—”

“Oh, it is
precisely
. I’m so glad you stopped by to let me witness in person your verbal threats. I’ll be mailing a letter to your lawyer today outlining my client’s rights and requesting a cease and desist of your continued harassment. And I’ll send a copy to you at your place of business as well, of course.”

Janine was so… puffed up, bristled, that Tim felt a little sorry for Marshall. He was glad he wasn’t on Janine’s bad side.

“We’ll see about this,” Marshall threatened lamely, but he was already backing away.

He backed right into Lance, who was standing, watching, feet braced, in full sheriff’s uniform, completed with mirrored shades. Marshall spun around to see what he’d hit.

“Oh. Sorry, Officer.”

“Sheriff. I’m the
sheriff.
”

Marshall blinked at Lance’s hard tone. “Oh. Sorry, Sheriff. Everything’s fine. I was just—”

Lance grabbed fistfuls of Marshall’s tie-dyed shirt in both hands and lifted him a few inches off the ground. “It’s not fine. At all. I heard you just threaten
my boyfriend.
” There was a deadly poison dripping off every word, and his lips drew back to reveal his strong white teeth.

Tim put a shocked hand over his mouth to hold in a laugh.

“Your…? I’m… No, I—”

“This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to drive you to the town line. And then I’m going to send you over it. Head first. And if you ever step foot in
my
town again, or contact
my
boyfriend Tim again, I will find you and you will regret it. You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass right now for that bullshit you pulled on him when he worked for you.”

“But… but….”

Lance turned and marched toward his cruiser, which was sitting, lights flashing, in the parking lot. He kept Marshall mid-air as if he weighed nothing. Marshall’s hands flailed as he tried to explain. The crowd parted for them, the pack members watching with intent focus, ready to step in should Marshall do anything stupid. Or stupider anyway.

“Well. He’s a tool,” Janine said with a huff.

“That’s Marshall,” Tim said, still suppressing the giggles. God, he was a bad person, but he just fucking
loved
this. Maybe it wasn’t revenge against his father, Tim realized in a moment of self-understanding. But it was close enough to feel pretty damn good.

“He won’t be back,” Tim said. “He’s a total chickenshit.”

“I’ll make sure of it. If Lance leaves anything breathing, that is.”

Lily ran up, her eyes wild. “I heard! Where is he? Where is that damn bastard?”

“Lance took care of it, Lily. Him and Janine. It’s fine.” Tim was a little alarmed by the look of eager rage on Lily’s face.

“But I wanted to!” Lily sounded genuinely offended at being left out. She jumped up and
down.

“Lance took him to the parking lot. Don’t think they’ve left yet,” Gus said helpfully.

Lily’s eyes lit up, and she took off toward the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Or a border collie after a fox, maybe.

“Yup, I don’t think
Marshall
will be bothering you again,” Janine said drolly, watching Lily go.