There's Something About Werewolves: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 1 (4 page)

Sure, nut bucket, a perfectly reasonable conclusion if you’re into self-flagellation.
If she allowed herself to believe she had any chance with him, he’d destroy her again. And this time she doubted she’d get back up after the fall.

Chapter Four

There had to be a name for threatening a woman with sex in order to get into her kitchen. Something other than ass backwards, preferably without a five- to ten-year prison sentence attached. Garrett doubted it though. No such lunacy existed outside of his special brand of crazy.

He leaned against the corkboard in the small hallway outside Lennox’s office, and tapped a rhythm on the wall with the flats of his fists. Similar to the adage about chewing gum, Garrett couldn’t walk and berate himself at the same time. Muttering, “Idiot,” under his breath until the colossally stupid side of him got the message, took concentrated effort.

A pair of teenage girls strutted past him, doing pouty imitations of seductive. Garrett scrubbed a hand over his chin. He’d been the lady’s love kind of guy his entire life. As a youngster he’d taken advantage. As a married man he’d been amused. As a widower who’d just gotten turned on for the first time in a decade—and who felt guilty as hell about it—the attention annoyed him. He mock-growled at the girls. They squeaked, giggling as they ran for the safety of the ladies’ room.

He felt better. Time for a dose of truth, he hadn’t been trying to get into Lennox’s kitchen. He’d been trying to stay out from under her skirt.

When did his tomboy start wearing high-heeled Mary Janes and ’50s-style outfits with flared skirts that showed off killer calves and an amazing ass? Garrett refused to think about how magnificent she’d been when she’d decided to protect Nox. He adored her more for that. She’d taken control and gotten his son away from the company of wolves without being asked. And she’d looked hella sexy doing it. He almost went back into her office. Instead he grabbed his own collar and yanked himself toward the kitchen.

All his life he’d had a mantra and he lived by it: You’re born once, die once, and marry once—because you love only once. In his heart and mind he’d always be married. There’d be no other loves. Wolves mated for life. No matter how tempting, he couldn’t give Lennox the life she deserved.

Garrett pushed through the swinging stainless steel door. Not more than five inches inside the kitchen, the fry cook flattened his toes on a mad dash for a smoking appliance.

“
Mi scusi
,” the kid said in Italian. “Your toes are okay?” He flipped open the commercial waffle iron. A blackened mess greeted him.

“My toes’ll live,” Garrett said, covering his nose. Burnt waffles weren’t the most appetizing smell. “You look like you need a hand.”

“The black steam is no good, hey?” The young fry cook shook his head.

Searching the open shelving, Garrett found a stack of paper diner hats. He considered putting one on, thought about his image, and tossed the hats back were he’d found them. Without protest, the fry cook handed him an apron.

“Smoke is never a good sign when it comes to breakfast,” Garrett said, nodding his thanks. “You might want to check those eggs.”

A laugh and a dive for the flattop preceded an introduction. “I’m Paolo. Lennox said it’s okay?”

“I had to arm wrestle her for it but, yeah, I’ll help you out.”

Paolo turned from the flattop with a spatula. He pantomimed thank you with his hands tented in prayer. “You any good?”

“I taught your boss.”

Paolo reached through the pass through, grabbed something, and tossed a menu to Garrett, Frisbee style. “You’re in good shape then.”

Garrett caught the flying plastic between his palms. Flipping through the glossy pages, he took in the Peach Pit’s offerings. Omelets and pancakes dominated the menu. His specialties.

“Let’s do this,” Paolo said.

“Let’s do it.” Garrett started his prep work.

“If you give me a minute, I’ll show you the recipes.” Paolo put a plate of sunny-side up eggs and tofu in the window.

“Vegetarian not vegan.”
Garrett heard the words within his soul, spoken by a smoky voice with a hint of amusement and a whole lot of sass. He braced himself for the oncoming barrage of emotions. A flounce of green sari teased the edge of his eyesight. Tina. The scent of jasmine enveloped him. Ghostly whispers of her had returned again. As though she hadn’t chosen giving birth and sacrificing her own life for Nox’s. As though she hadn’t closed her eyes that last time and left him. His wife never drifted farther away than the length of his memories. But she’d never be close enough to him again.

Tina’s death had hollowed him out inside. She’d taken the breath, the pulse, of his life with her into the afterlife. All he had left was his love for Nox and the echoes of a happiness long gone.

“Look up,” Paolo shouted.

Garrett caught the latest missile in one hand. The cylinder fit snugly against his palm. “Paolo,” he said, “don’t make me break you out of the habit of throwing things at me.”

The younger man looked sheepish and busied himself. Garrett examined the dark blue tin. The paint had worn off where the lid fit onto the base. Before he could take a closer look the container jerked out of his grasp. Lennox took it in two hands and whipped it across the kitchen to Paolo. He caught it with an
oof
.

“Put that back where you got it. He doesn’t need to see.”

“Why not?” Garrett asked, growing suspicious. He had no idea what they kept inside the old tin but he wanted to know.

“Good question,” Paolo said, winking at Lennox. Garrett walked over to the fry cook and gestured for the tin. Paolo regarded his outstretched hand. Amusement twinkled in his gaze. He ducked under Garrett’s reach and tossed the tin to Lennox. She caught it and tucked the container under one arm, in true football player style.

At six foot five it only took Garrett a couple of strides to cut off Lennox’s escape. He grabbed her around the waist and swung her back into the fray. She threw long. Paolo caught the container on the other side of the stainless steel prep table. When her fry cook clutched the makeshift football Lennox’s smile of victory froze Garrett to the floor. And then she laughed and he knew he couldn’t stop playing. He stalked Paolo, pulling Lennox by the wrist behind him. She twisted free. Paolo seized the opening. He jumped and sent the tin sailing in an arch over Garrett’s head. Garrett tried to snatch the tin but it floated just above his reach. Lennox leaped and came down with the tin in a flurry of giggles.

“Same as in school,” she said, “you can’t beat me unless you cheat.” She made a
neener neener nah nah
face. Garrett fell out laughing. He couldn’t help it. She’d always been adorable.

A quick flick of her hands sent their “ball” sailing to Paolo who started playing soccer with it, bouncing it on his knees and feet. Garrett crossed his arms and watched for a moment. Paolo had skills.

“Throw it back!” Lennox shouted. “He’s full of tricks.”

Too late. Garrett reached out and pinched Paolo’s nose closed. The fry cook gasped. The tin hit the floor. The top bounced off and index cards spilled everywhere.

His interest piqued; Garrett went down on one knee. The first index card he picked up read,
Walk of Shame Omelet
. The recipe consisted of skirt steak, home fries, green tomatillo sauce, and avocado. Stunned, he looked to Lennox. She sucked in one side of her lower lip. He knew both her embarrassed expression and the ingredients well. No surprises there. But the handwriting shocked the hell out of him. Mostly because he’d written this and every other index card in the tin. She changed most of the names for the Peach Pit menu, but Lennox had used his personal dishes to build her restaurant and she’d kept all the recipes he’d ever written down for her. His chest tightened. She still cared for him, had always been and would always be his Lennox.

“Ooh,” he said, jumping up and down and pointing the way Nox did when he lorded something over his friends. “I’m suing.”

It felt good to be a kid again. To remember when he and Lennox had run free.

Lennox crossed over to him, holding his gaze she muttered, “Pick all that up, Paolo.” When the fry cook skulked past she playfully swatted him on the back of the head. “You just had to get cute with it, didn’t you?”

Scowling at Garrett she pursed her lips. “You’re not suing anybody, Garrett Anderson.”

Taking a step closer, he leaned down so they were eye level. “My name is Anderson G. Westlake and I’m one of those billionaire assholes you hear about. I’m definitely suing.”

She took a step back and crossed her arms. “Really?”

“Hells yeah. You stole my recipes.”

Inclining her head she stood on tiptoes until their noses nearly touched. “Yeah? Well, you stole my Space Vikings.”

Garrett jerked upright and swallowed. Scratching his sideburns, he studied the ceiling. Actually he
had
stolen her Space Vikings. They’d made him a lot of money too. “You see, what had happened was—”

Her yelp of laughter cut him off. “Are you serious right now?”

Garrett squatted slightly to plead with her. “Let’s call it even.”

“No way, cheater.”

“I’m not a cheater.” He got in her face.

She got deeper into his. “You’re such a cheater. Cheater, cheater, cheater.”

Paolo cleared his throat. “I can call Pastor Sweetlow if you want to get married today.” He waved one arm high. “I’ll cook for the reception.”

They’d forgotten themselves during the spontaneous game of keep away, and reverted to that strange crossbreed of kid and adult that took most people through college. It had been good back then. Carefree best friends who always sensed when the other person needed them, teased each other mercilessly, and faked getting mad to tease each other more. Tina changed that. Lennox and Garrett, as a duo, stopped their forward momentum. Love had overturned their friendship.

The word “married” brought an avalanche of pain down on them. Lennox’s jaw tightened. The start of his marriage had broken her heart. Garrett looked away. The end of his marriage had broken his. His wedding ripped a huge chasm between them, and they no longer had their friendship to bridge the gap.

Lennox made a rude noise in her throat and stalked out of the kitchen. She called back through the swinging door, “You guys can close tonight. Me, Nox, and Gran are going to the movies.”

“When did you decide that?” Garrett said.

“Just now,” she yelled from farther down the hall. “Deal with it.”

Paolo patted Garrett on the shoulder. “What did I say, my friend? I didn’t know.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrett said. “I don’t think either one of us can fix it.”

Garrett’s anxious knock nearly shook the old oak door down. It gotten late while he and Paolo closed up the Peach Pit. Gran answered in grand style, beckoning him in with a sweeping gesture. Her mood seemed as jaunty at midnight as it would’ve been at noon. Garrett stepped over the threshold and Gran whacked him upside the head. She had to leap to get it done but she managed.

He rubbed the spot but it didn’t hurt. Where other women kissed, Gran playfully swatted to show affection. “I forgot hitting runs in this family,” he said. “Use your words, Grandma.”

“If you don’t know why I bopped you one, maybe I should bop you again.”

Garrett threw his hands up in front of him in surrender. “No need.”

Gran grinned. She looped her arm in his and led him toward the family room.

Averdeen Manor still felt like a second home. He’d spent so much time here during his college days. Garrett always thought of the old South when he visited. Not that the interior or furnishings were dated. No, they were lush with texture, pattern, and color. Updated antiques in lacquered white, toile upholstery in unexpectedly bright colors. He peeked into the kitchen as they passed. Lennox had remodeled in full ’50s chic, lots of chrome and rounded contours. A man could rest in a house like Averdeen Manor and not feel he’d been sucked into a time warp.

“How was the movie?” he asked Gran.

She shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I fell asleep.”

Nox’s voice greeted him as Garrett and Gran took the two short steps up into the family room. His son didn’t know he’d arrived but any time Nox laughed it welcomed Garrett home.

The oversized twelve-year-old grinned at Lennox, pointed to something in the book they were reading, and lay back in her lap. Garrett paused mid-step. He used to do that, lie in Lennox’s lap and tell her about his day. In those days she’d usually shushed him so she could study. Retaining info didn’t come easily to her. She wasn’t slow, far from it. She just had to read the words a few times for them to sink in. Of course, if he didn’t tell her about his day she scolded him for that too. You couldn’t win with Lennox—unless you were named after her like the kid in her lap.

In contrast to her former feigned impatience with Garrett, with Nox she paid attention to every word, laughed with him, asked him questions, combed her fingers through his hair. The woman held a mean grudge but she didn’t misplace blame. No matter how angry he’d made her she treated his son like her own.

Nox did a funny voice. Lennox answered with another. They were reading the graphic novel in Nox’s hands by taking turns with the dialogue. Nox took all the female parts and Lennox did the male ones. They were weird those two and Garrett could watch them all night.

Lennox noticed him. She straightened and patted Nox on the shoulder. He sat up to wave at his father.

“I’m out of here,” Gran said. “Good night, all.”

They said their good nights as the elder Averdeen sashayed up the stairs. After a long silence, Garrett said, “Time to go, Nox. I’m sure Lennox is ready for bed too.”

She nodded when Nox glanced at her for confirmation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Taking his turn to nod, Nox kneeled on the sofa to put the book on the shelves behind them. It slipped from his fingers and fell between the sofa and the shelves. “I’ll get it.” He tried to reach from overtop but his arms weren’t long enough. Nox hopped off the seat and bent to go under the couch.

An assessing gaze fell on Garrett.

“Something on your mind, Lennox?” he asked.

“Lots,” she said, sighing. “Where are you staying?”

“I have a house on the outskirts of town.”

She didn’t hide her shock fast enough. Hell, he hadn’t figured out why he’d bought the house either, and he’d had years to get used to the idea.