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CHAPTER30
SEVEN YEARS
Makeup (after getting shot) sex was the best sex I’d ever had. Austin and I just fit in a way I couldn’t explain. An undeniable chemistry existed between us—not just physically, but mentally. And in some ways, emotionally. Everyone has a person in life that just “gets them.” They get all your idiosyncrasies, inside jokes, tells, and the subtext that lies beneath a comment or a wink of an eye. They know you inside out and upside down.
Austin got me.
We spent the next three weeks moving everything from their old place, Mom’s house, and my apartment, over to the fixer-upper that Austin had purchased. Maybe it needed a little work, but it was cozy with charm and personality. It was a place I could call home.
Mom quit her job so she could help get the house in order in addition to feeding the crew of hungry men. In return, Austin not only compensated her with a room, but insisted that he pay her. Mom felt weird about it at first, but I convinced her what she was doing was legitimate work. Shopping, laundry, cooking, decorating—all in addition to becoming the matriarch of the house. I didn’t think the arrangement would last; eventually Mom would insist she was doing it because she loved to. It was a good way to get her mind off my dad and everything that had transpired. I never found out what Lorenzo had done with him, and I didn’t want to know.
“Denny! Time for ice cream,” Maizy called out from the bottom of the stairs.
“Mr. Denny,” I corrected her.
“No. That’s Mr. Reno,” she said, pointing to Reno as he carried a bright red toolbox down the hallway. “And then there’s Mr. Cole, Mr. Jericho, Mr. Wheeler, Mr. Ben, and Denny! He’s not a Mister. He’s just Denny.”
“Why?”
Maizy shrugged. “’Cause he just is,” she argued with six-year-old logic.
“Why don’t you and Denny go treasure hunting for diamonds?” I suggested.
Denver did a little hop step coming down the stairs, wearing tattered jeans, flip-flops, and a Pink Floyd shirt.
“Jericho’s going to kill you if he catches you wearing that,” I said.
He brushed his fingers through his short locks of sandy-blond hair. “Yeah, yeah. Been hearing that for decades. They sell this stuff vintage on the Internet.”
“I’m ready!” Maizy called out from the doorway. Actually, she was swinging on the door, holding onto the brass knobs and wrapping her legs around either side.
“Are you stopping by the old house today to see if she’ll show you where she buried those diamonds?” I asked him in a quiet voice.
“For what?”
“Because she may forget someday, and that’s fifty million in your backyard.”
“So? It’s just money,” he said, fishing out his wallet. Denver thumbed through a few bills, doing a count. “Think it’ll make your life better? No, it’ll make it complicated. People covet money and do stupid shit over it. We’re happy, we got a house, and I need to get this girl a strawberry cone before she tears up the door,” he said, flip-flopping across the main room. “Skedaddle!” he barked at her.
Maizy squealed and ran out the front door toward his yellow pickup.
Denver had taken over as her watchdog, and apparently it wasn’t uncommon in a pack for a wolf to step in as the protector for a fatherless child or woman. It wasn’t a parental role, as Denver was more of a brother to her, but it gave me peace of mind knowing my family would be looked after. A pack bonded in ways humans didn’t, and it was a way of life that felt natural the more I became immersed in it.
I heard coins jingling and spun around. Austin stood in the hallway, twirling the key ring around his finger and giving me a peculiar look.
“What?”
“Busy?” he asked.
“Well, I was going to go to the movies later with Naya. I think she misses me being right next door. She mentioned something about how the new tenant that just moved in is seventy and single. Plus, I need to talk to her about the whole Shifter thing she kept from me.” I gave him a look. “Why?”
“Let’s take a drive,” he said, holding my hand and lacing his fingers with mine.
My brown summerskirt swished below my knees and matched the bohemian sleeveless top that tied behind my neck. I didn’t wear skirts outside of work, and I could tell Austin enjoyed seeing me in something feminine. He didn’t mention where we were going, so I rolled the windows down in his black muscle car and switched on the radio.
“Wheeler helping you sort things out?” he asked.
“He seems reluctant to get involved, but he’s helped me out with a few things. Maybe I won’t be so bad running a business after all; I’m learning a lot.”
