“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Truman sneered as they headed for the door.
“Only when you wear makeup, princess. When I’m done guarding the human Bratz doll here, why don’t we meet outside and I’ll introduce you to my friend, Mr-Fist-Down-Your -Throat?”
“Thanks, I’m flattered, but I’m not really interested in having you fist me.” Truman stalked out the door, following Chantelle.
“Jeez, that’s a lot of testosterone,” Taylor groaned as they left the room. “And I’m including Chantelle in that. In fact I think she has bigger balls than they do.”
And Chantelle was continuing to wear a full face of makeup from morning to night. She’d never shown any interest in any of the werewolves as far as Taylor could see, but something was up. Something was definitely up.
“Excuse me,” Cliff said to Taylor. “Now that the crisis has been temporarily averted, can we go back to our previous conversation? As I recall, there were no words, but a lot of tongue was involved.”
* * * * *
“Thank God for pants suits,” Taylor said to Cliff as they walked into Finnegans. She’d shaved her legs three times that day, before finally giving up. On the way to the restaurant, she’d eaten several pounds of raw hamburger.
Truman and Rusty were there, on their best behavior after a very long car ride of muttered threats and insults.
It was a best-behavior kind of restaurant. The décor was carefully country-casual, but the glassware and china was obviously expensive, and one look at the wine list was enough to make Taylor blanch. The smell of juicy, medium-rare steak on the air was maddeningly good, even though Taylor had eaten half a cow on the way there. Her stomach growled.
Carol and Chester were sitting at a table by the front door, watching anxiously as they all trooped in, ten minutes early.
Chester stood up as Cliff walked over to him.
“Hello, Mr. Zywicki, I’m Cliff Bronson. Thank you for all the excellent work you do for my company.” His voice was friendly and non-threatening, and he thrust his hand out to shake.
Chester, who was at least eight inches shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than Cliff, looked him right in the eye with an expression that was much more neutral than friendly. “So you’re the man who’s taking our Taylor away from us.” He grasped Cliff’s hand and squeezed hard.
Cliff actually winced slightly. And there was no way that Chester had hurt him, so Taylor knew he was doing it on purpose. Acting. Reassuring Chester.
“Yes, sir, that’s me. But I promise you that I will dedicate my life to making her very, very happy.”
Chester nodded. He held on to Cliff’s hand, still squeezing. “I hope you do. Let’s get this out of the way so we can enjoy a pleasant dinner. Taylor is very, very precious to us. As precious as flesh and blood. And Chantelle, our daughter, the light of our life, is staying on your property. And I want to believe that everything’s on the up and up, but this whole wedding-out-of-the-blue thing, and Chantelle’s behavior since she’s been on your property…it feels hinky to me. If you’re hurting or coercing them in any way, I swear to God, I will dedicate my life to destroying yours.”
Then he let go of Cliff’s hand and sat down.
Carol gazed at him in adoration. Skinny, short, Chester had just threatened Cliff even though Cliff could squash him like a bug both financially and physically.
“You’re my hero,” she said to him. “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”
Chester would do anything for the people he loved. He’d die for them if necessary. Carol was a lucky woman.
As Cliff pulled her chair out for her, Taylor realized that so was she. Cliff was her Chester. He was her knight in shining armor. He loved her passionately and unconditionally, at her worst and at her best. He would do anything to keep her safe.
She wanted to tell him she loved him, but in private. It was just for the two of them. She’d do it the moment they were alone back on pack lands.
“I want to talk to my daughter alone,” Carol said abruptly. “And Taylor. Come, girls, we’re going to the restroom.”
Before Cliff could object, she’d whisked them away.
They spent several minutes in there, reassuring her again and again that they hadn’t been kidnapped or brainwashed, that Taylor and Cliff were madly in love and Taylor was probably expecting so that was why they needed to rush the wedding, and everything was totally fine.
As they walked out, Taylor was annoyed to see Brandii with two iis heading into the bathroom.
“What are you doing here, freak?” she snapped at Taylor.
Chantelle shook her head wearily. “Call us when you’ve got some new material,” she said.
That had been unusually subdued of her.
