The triplets snicker. I’m in borrowed boots, jacket, sweatpants, and nothing else. There are better outfits to wear to a reunion that’s ten years overdue, but beggars can’t be choosers. No clothes shop is going to be open before dawn, and my instincts tell me to get back to Julia ASAP.
Of course, my instincts also tell me to walk into her house, scoop her up, toss her onto her bed and claim her as my mate. Something I definitely can’t do.
But one thing at a time.
“You bears behave yourself for Papa Deke,” I say, remounting my bike.
“Sir, yessir!”
Excellent.
“Get in the van,” Deke orders the bears, and they scramble to obey. Deke steps closer to me, looking thoughtful.
“This private mission,” he asks. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
It’s normal for members of my pack to accept solo missions between bigger jobs. Usually small time stuff, like a bodyguard job or surveillance. Our alpha is fine with it as long as we clear it with him first.
“I’m all good,” I tell him. “I’ll radio for support if I need it.”
“You do that.” He pauses.
“Aww, Deke. Are we having a moment? Because I feel like we’re having a moment.” I put my hand on his shoulder and make a moon face.
“No,” he swats me away, but he can’t negate the fact that he took a moment to let me know he’d have my back.
“I hear you. Good luck dropping off the package.” I wink. “Remember, you can’t kill them.” I point a finger gun at him, “but you could choke them out if they get too annoying.” I wrap my fingers around my own neck. “Unconscious is technically alive. Babysitting rule number one–keep the kids alive.”
Deke grunts.
“See? It’s a good thing you’re the one taking them back and not me.”
I go to start my bike, and Deke grips my bike handle.
“One more thing. Call me Papa Deke again, and I’ll gut you like a deer and dry you in strips.”
I grin, showing all my teeth. “10-4… Daddy.”
Deke snarls, and I turn my bike around, shooting back out of Deke’s reach, flashing him my megawatt smile before speeding off in a spray of gravel.
Down the road and out of Deke’s view, I set a course for Julia’s house, and relief washes through me. My wolf wants to stay close to her side. Her son—-my nephew—is thirteen. Puberty is a tough time for any kid but more so for a shifter. With Geo’s wolf surfacing, things can get out of control. My brother guided me through my first shifts. It was rough.
If anything happens to me…
I promised my brother I’d look out for his family. For ten years, I’ve sent money. I’ve watched over them from afar–checking in on them from my lookout post on the hill or through the cameras I secretly installed in the tall pines over their house.
But to guide Geo through his shifts, I’ll have to show up. In person.
That means being with Julia. In person. In close quarters, like those few years I stayed with them, when Geo was just a tot. Before Geoffrey died.
Geo’s wolf will need my presence. I may be a general fuck-up compared to the guys on my team, but I’m all he’s got.
I’ll keep my head down, my sights focused on helping Geo through his first shifts. Make sure he’s got a handle on his animal. I’ll help him and his mom as best I can.
And whatever I do, I won’t give into instinct and touch, taste or claim Julia.
The human I shouldn't want so badly.
Julia
The morning alarm always comes too soon. I roll over and smack the ringing clock hard enough to knock it off the bedside table. I’m old school–I still use an alarm clock. I don’t sleep with my cell phone by the bed because if I did, I’d look at it first thing in the morning, and then my work day would begin the moment I woke up.
I’ve never been a morning person, but I have work to do, and getting Geo off to school these days is harder than ever.
I shower, dress in my work-from-home outfit of comfy leggings and a nice blouse, and head downstairs, rapping on Geo’s door as I pass.
“Morning,” I call. “Time for school.” I knock again and wait until I hear a muffled groan confirming that he heard me. Resisting the urge to barge in and make sure he starts his morning routine, I force myself to go downstairs. I keep an ear out while I make coffee, hoping to hear him head to the shower.
I’m trying to give him his privacy and space. But it’s hard, so much harder than I thought it would be.
There’s a picture of our family–me, Geo and his late father Geoffrey–on the fridge. It’s the last photo we took together. Geo was three, and his sweet little face makes my heart catch. He’s the perfect blend of me and his father. He got silky dark hair and a golden brown tint to his skin from my side, but his face structure is all his father’s. And somehow he inherited Geoffrey’s striking green eyes, eyes that glow bright when their wolf side is close to taking over.
The first time Geo’s eyes caught the light and flashed like Geoffrey’s used to, I froze like a rabbit. I had to excuse myself before Geo could scent my freak out. I’d almost forgotten I was a human raising a shifter, a shifter who one day would be able to turn into a giant wolf. And then what will I do? I never thought I'd have to face this moment alone, without Geoffrey here to guide him.
I almost dialed the number Geoffrey’s brother gave me in case of emergencies. Almost. It’s been ten years since Channing joined the Army. I thought we’d see him between tours, on holidays, but he literally hasn’t been back since.
Geo wouldn’t even recognize his uncle if he saw him on the street. But I get it. He’s in some kind of special ops in the military. Probably hasn’t been in the country in years. Still, it would’ve been nice to hear from him. A letter. A text. A Christmas gift for his nephew. Of course, shifters don’t celebrate Christmas, so maybe that was expecting too much. But how about Halloween?
But, no. Nothing. No contact besides the money that magically appears in envelopes. Which I appreciate, but money isn’t really my love language. So, I’ve had to figure everything out myself. But it’s fine. Geo and I have done just fine on our own. We’re our own unit.
Before my coffee finishes brewing, Geo’s door creaks open, and he stomps down the hall. I hold my breath until the shower upstairs turns on.
Maybe this morning won’t be a struggle.
My phone buzzes with incoming emails and texts. I unplug it from the kitchen outlet and start scrolling through the messages at the same time I open the fridge and pull out eggs and milk. And bacon. Shifters need meat. That’s what Geoffrey used to tell me. He could down five hamburgers in a single sitting. And that was on a resting day.
My assistant has already sent over five emails. Rather than take the time to reply to each one of them, I dial her office while I set the frying pan on the stovetop and start cracking eggs.
“Hi Kelly, it’s me. I got your messages. Thought it would be easier to call.” I go through her questions while I beat a half dozen eggs for a scramble and put the bacon in the broiler.
It’s sizzling when Geo thumps down the stairs.
I end the call. “Morning,” I chirp, turning to Geo with a smile. “I made you bacon.”