Howl For It Page 47
“Okay. That sounds really ni—”
The howl cut into Darla’s words and she gasped in surprise. “Eggie.”
She started to run to the door, but one of her brothers caught her arm and held her back. “You just gonna run out there to him?”
“Of course I am. It’s my . . .” Darla stopped talking and faced her male kin. “How do y’all know Eggie’s howl?”
“Well,” her father admitted, “he’s been here a few nights now . . . howling for you.”
“You told him I wasn’t home, though, right?” When her kin only stared at her . . . “You didn’t tell him?”
“No need to bellow, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Daddy!”
“Don’t think he’s earned the right to know a damn thing,” her brother said. “Gotta make him work for it.”
“Make him . . . ? He saved my life. He loves me. We’re mated.”
“Eh.” Her father shrugged. “He could put in a little more effort.”
“Daddy!”
Darla snatched her arm away from her brother and sprinted to the front door. She snatched it open and ran outside. By the time she made it across the lawn, the wolf had shifted to Eggie and she threw herself into his arms.
Hugging him tight, Darla whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me, too.” He kissed her neck and held her close. “Me, too.”
Darla leaned back a bit so she could look him in the face. “I didn’t know you were here, Eggie. I haven’t been at the house for days.”
“I know.”
Darla blinked. “You know?”
“Yeah. I knew after the first hour I got here. Your scent had faded. Then when I went into town for breakfast the next day, my cousins told me you’d gone to San Francisco on a business trip.”
“But then . . . why did you keep coming here every night? Daddy said you were here, but that he kept running you off.”
“Yeah. He did.”
“Eggie—”
“It’s a male thing. I had to work for you. That’s all.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. You don’t think if we have a daughter, I won’t do the same thing to the lowlife slug that tries to make her his mate?”
“You don’t even know this boy yet and already he’s a lowlife slug?”
“If he’s messin’ with my little girl.”
“A little girl you don’t have yet.”
“We will.” He started walking toward the house. “But later. Now you’ll introduce me to your daddy proper-like.”
“Wait, Eggie.”
He stopped. “Uh-huh?”
“Suggestion. For first impressions with my daddy and all . . . may wanna put on pants.”
“Oh.” They both looked down to see Eggie deliciously naked. “Guess you have a point.” He smiled and Darla grinned back. She kissed him, hugged him tight.
“Come out with us,” she told him. “Daddy’s taking everyone to dinner.”
“I don’t think he wants me going.”
Darla snorted. “Daddy!” she called out, startling Eggie.
“Yes, Darla?”
“I’m going with Eggie to get his pants. Then we’re all going to dinner tonight. The whole family, so Momma can meet him, too.”
“I didn’t invite him.”
“Daddy!”
“Oh, all right!” he snapped from still inside the house. “But hurry up. Ain’t got all night.”
“See?” she told Eggie. “You can always get what you want. You just need to be nice about it.”
“Is that what I’m missing? Just being nice?”
“Darlin’,” she teased, “let’s not ask for the world.” She kissed him again, her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. “Now let’s go get your pants.”
“Will I have to put them on right away?” he asked, gently nipping the tip of her nose.
Darla gave the wolf she loved a wide smile. “Not if I have any say in it.”
EPILOGUE
More than thirty years later . . .
Eggie came out of the woods and walked toward his house. He knew the car sitting in front of it and the tall, beautiful She-wolf leaning against the overpriced piece of Eurotrash vehicle. But Eggie didn’t mind too much because he knew it wasn’t a car she would buy. No. Not her. She still had that ’78 Camaro sitting in his barn that she used every time she came to town to visit.
Too bad she wasn’t alone this time. She was with him. The boy.
Eggie walked up to a nearby tree where he’d left his jeans, shifted to human and pulled the jeans on. Yet even before he’d done that, she’d sensed Eggie’s presence. He could tell. She had his sense of things. His skills. In fact, Eggie would say she was better at what she did than he’d been. Her skill had been inborn. Part of her DNA.
The boy, however . . . was blissfully unaware of the danger lurking right behind him. Smooth and charming? Sure he was. But that was it as far as Eggie was concerned.
Eggie stood behind the boy, wondering how long before he’d notice Eggie was there.
About thirty seconds, it turned out.
Slowly, the boy turned and faced him, eyes wide. A Van Holtz. On Eggie’s territory—with permission. The thought made him feel like sneering. So he did. At the boy.