Page 89 of Hoofin’ It

“Whoever performs the first successful kidnapping wins.”

Marian giggled. “And what does the loser have to do?”

“Whatever the winner wants?”

“You sound so hopeful, Mr. Gibson. I’m sure I’ll think of something appropriate when I win.”

“I already know exactly what I’m demanding when I win.” Later, I’d thank Mom for the idea. I’d even try to be a gentleman about it—mostly. “Prepare yourself, Miss Peterson.”

“You have no hope of winning. You haven’t met my family yet.”

“No, you have no hope of winning, and you should know this, since you have met my family.”

Marian hesitated, then she narrowed her eyes. “Pussy cats. What sort of big bad werewolf lets his offspring shave him?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

My suit still fit, barely. It took more wiggling than I liked to get into the slacks, but the shirt and jacket were still within the realm of socially acceptable. Then again, the way Marian kept looking at my ass made me think the dark material was doing something right.

Having been guilty of sneaking peeks at women in tight jeans many times in the past, I pretended not to notice, making a point of adjusting my cufflinks, straightening my tie, and otherwise doing all the fiddly things Dad insisted were necessary to play the part of a well-dressed man. “Why am I wearing a suit again?”

“I’m burning the rest of your clothes, and you’re wearing the suit so you don’t have to leave home naked.”

“If you win our bet, you’re going to make me wear suits for the rest of my life, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Or uniforms, should you return to law enforcement. Uniforms are like casual suits, so that’s okay.”

“I’m obviously going to have to get a good job to pay for all these suits.” I held up a single finger. “This is how many of these things I own.”

“I don’t mind providing clothing for my badge bunny.”

With my slacks still the appropriate length, just shy of reaching the floor, I could get away with wearing my ankle holster and hiding my second Ruger in the interior pocket of my jacket. I braced my foot on my chair and made sure I could reach the gun with minimal effort. “Cute thought, badge babe, but face reality: you’re going to be saving all those pennies for a nice white dress. Then you’re going to be fitting that cute ass of yours into tight jeans.”

“Is that so?” Marian’s brows rose.

“I might even take pity on you and dress up, too. My mother has opinions about what a man should do with a girl who buys him a gun and gets him a permit. It’d be a pity if I didn’t look the part of a gentleman.” I grinned, settled my slacks over my Ruger, and straightened, checking my leg for evidence of the weapon. “That worked better than I thought it would.”

“Don’t even notice it. Good. Your other one?”

I opened my jacket and slipped the holstered Ruger into the interior pocket, but after a check, the bulge was too obvious, so I relocated it to my pants pocket instead. “I should get a shoulder holster and a good jacket.”

“And what is your mother’s opinion about what a man should do with a girl who buys him a gun and gets him a permit?”

“It involves the white dress you’ll be wearing upon my successful kidnapping of your person. Never underestimate a werewolf’s determination to plan a wedding, Miss Peterson. Maybe I haven’t met your family, but mine’s already here.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I’m sure Ernesto wouldn’t mind helping me.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“All’s fair in love and war, badge babe. Since we’re doing this backwards, maybe you should keep some form of white dress in your carry bag, so when I kidnap you, you’ll be ready.”

“I’m starting to think I may have miscalculated.”