Mitch stared up at his mother. “If I find out you’re lying to me—ooh! Stew.”
He dug into the bowl of stew Gwen put in front of him.
“I’m not lying. I didn’t have anything to do with O’Farrell buying it.”
Mitch let out a breath. “Okay. Good.”
“See, I was gonna wait until you testified first ... then I was going to have him killed. So you could feel like you’ve accomplished something. Then Uncle Joey was—”
Mitch held his hand up. “Please don’t say another word.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. No more. And it will never be discussed, ever again. Right, Ma?”
“If you’re gonna be that way—fine. Now would you like something to eat, baby-girl?”
Sissy blinked at his mother’s abrupt change of conversation. “No thanks, Miss O’Neill.”
“Roxy, baby-girl. Roxy.”
“Just do what I’m telling ya, Ma. Okay?” Mitch glanced around the table and then at his sister. “Bread?”
Sissy threw up her hands. “You ate two hours ago.”
“Why do you insist on having this discussion every time?”
“Because I keep hoping something will change ... preferably you.”
“I’m not changing. I like how I am. I’m perfect.”
“You’re delusional is what you are.”
“You two”—his mother grabbed his cheeks with her left hand and Sissy’s with her right, then she squeezed until their lips pursed out and it kind of hurt—“just so fuckin’ cute!”
“Ma!”
Janie Mae sewed her section of the quilt while three of her sisters worked on theirs. The fourth sister, Darla, was on the phone in the main part of their pie store.
“This is gonna be beautiful when we’re done, Janie Mae.” Francine examined the nearly finished quilt.
They’d been working on it a couple of times a month for the last few months. Janie knew it would be for Sissy and Mitch. She knew long before Sissy or Mitch did. The two of them—thick as planks.
“I think so. I love these colors. But I’ll have one of you give it to Sissy. If I give it to her, she’ll automatically hate it.”
Roberta shook her head. “You two are pathetic.”
“I wasn’t the one who got in a fistfight with Momma at Uncle Wayne’s funeral.”
“She started it!”
Darla walked back in, settling down in her chair and picking up the section where she’d left off. “It’s all settled.”
“Good. And how is Eustice?”
“He’s doin’ fine. Prison suits him.”
“I always thought so,” Francine muttered.
“They think some street dogs got into the jail somehow, so we’re fine.”
Janette rubbed her eyes. “How do they actually believe street dogs got into a jail?”
“Because no one wants to know the truth,” Darla explained. “They’d rather believe a roving band of pit bulls is sneaking into prisons to randomly attack mobsters than that humans are shifting to wolves and tearing him apart while in the shower.”
“That’s just sad. Full-humans are sad.”
“And how’s Travis?” Roberta asked, already forgetting what they’d done to protect one six-foot-five king of the jungle.
“Oh, he’s fine.” Janie gave a brief wave of her hand before returning to her sewing. “Complaining like a big baby. But from what I heard, he deserved what he got. What he said to his baby sister was wrong. And Sammy handled it just right. He’ll be a good Alpha. Bubba sees that now.”
“I told you that boy would be Alpha of this town one day. He’s smart, calm, and I like that mate of his much better.”
“And you’re going to tell Sissy what Travis did was wrong, right, Janie?”
Janie smirked at Francine’s question. “Actually, I told her she was ungrateful, and she should have left her big brother alone.”
Three of her sisters laughed, and Francine stared at her in disgust. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m not making it easy on that girl. I will not have one of those daughters that sits around constantly talking about how great it was when she was sixteen. There is a whole wide world out there for her, and I expect her to go out there and get it. Nothing is going to hold my daughter back.” She smiled with pride, thinking how far Sissy had come and how much further the brat had to go. “Not even me.”
“Mitch. Wake up, darlin’.”
Oh, yeah. He could definitely wake up to that voice every morning.
Smiling, his eyes still closed, he reached for her, but Sissy laughed and batted his hands away. “You need to get up.”
“Why? Can’t I sleep a couple more hours? It’s not even light out.”
“That’s because it’s seven o’clock at night.”
Mitch forced one eye open. “Then why are you waking me when I just went to take a nap an hour ago?”
“Because you actually went to take your nap forty-eight hours ago.”
Now both of Mitch’s eyes were wide open. “What?”
“No need to yell. You needed the sleep, I’m guessing.”
“Are you sure?”
Sissy grinned. “Am I sure that you slept forty-eight hours? Yeah, I’m sure. Except for you stumbling to the bathroom a few times, you’ve been out cold. Thankfully, it was not due to blood loss this time.”
She patted his leg. “Come on. Time to get up. Your momma made you dinner.”
“I am up.” He motioned to the tent he was currently making with the sheets. “Time for you to get to work.”
“That’s charming.”
“I never promised you I’d be charming.” Of course, now that he thought about it, Mitch hadn’t promised Sissy anything. He hadn’t been able to. But now, that was pretty much over. O’Farrell was dead, and the bounty on his head miraculously gone—he would not ask about that. Some questions shouldn’t be answered.
But he’d still need to be careful. Of course, he was always careful. So at this moment, absolutely nothing stood between him and Sissy making this thing forever.
When he didn’t panic, try to make a run for it, or vomit, he looked at Sissy.
“Uh-oh. Why are you looking at me like that for?”
“We need to talk.”
“Can this wait? Maybe later tonight?” she asked hopefully.
“No. I want to talk now.”
Sissy glanced at the door, sighed, and sat on the bed. “Okay. Talk.”
“It’s about us and where we want this thing to go ...”
And that’s when Sissy took her forefinger and made circles with it. She was telling him to hurry up?
“If you don’t want this, you just tell me, Sissy, so we can get this over with.” But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. He didn’t want this over with. He loved her. More than he had ever realized.
Sissy slapped her hands against her knees and stood. “I don’t want this thing over with,” she snarled. “But I need you to pick up the pace!”
“What the hell for?”
That’s when she stalked over to him and twisted one of his nipples, which hurt like hell.
“Ow!”
“Downstairs, there is a living room full of people waiting for your dumb ass to come down those stairs so they can all yell ‘surprise’ because it’s a God dang surprise party!”
“Party?”
“Yeah. Party. For you! There’s food—enough even for you—cake, and to my horror ... a karaoke machine. And to bring home how much I love your Yankee ass, I am going to be doing my rendition of The Runaways ‘Cherry Bomb’ with Ronnie Lee on air guitar. But I can’t do a damn thing until you get that big cat ass out of bed and into the shower and then downstairs in the next ten minutes!”
Mitch stared at her calmly. “If you’d said that in the first place ...”
When her eyes shifted and he saw a flash of fang, Mitch laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her onto the bed with hi
m. “I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“You better be. And when you go downstairs, you better look surprised, mister.”
“Yes’m.” He kissed her nose. “I promise. Total shock and awe.”
“Don’t chew the scenery. Just look startled.”
It had been his mother’s idea, and Sissy hadn’t been sure how well it would go. But so far, it had been perfect. A party for Mitch that was made up of her Pack, a good chunk of Jessie Ann’s Pack, Roxy’s Pride, and the Shaw twins had the place pretty well-packed from floor to rafters.
But it was nice. And fun.
Using oven mitts, Sissy pulled the large pan of mac and cheese out of the oven and placed it on the kitchen table. Wanting to give it a few moments to cool, she pulled off the mitts and turned back around.
“Oh.” She took a step back. “Bobby Ray.”
“Baby sister.”
“Everything all right?”
“Yup.”
“It’s so hard to tell with you sometimes.” She closed the oven door and turned off the heat. “So is there something you want?”
“Spoke to Dee-Ann today.”
“And?” Sissy pushed when her brother stopped talking and stood there.
“She’s thinking on it.”
“Why thinking and not doing? Were you not persuasive?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I—” She sighed. “Did you tell her we’d love for her to move here and to join our Pack? Did you tell her we’d love for her to be part of the family here? Did you tell her we’d love for her to come work for us?”
“Work for us? You mean work for me, don’t you? Work for Mace.”
“Did you tell her all that?”
Bobby Ray shrugged. “I got it across.”
Sissy threw up her hands, turned away from him. “Fine. I’ll make a follow-up call myself. I swear, Bobby Ray, you don’t have the sense the Lord gave a rabbit.”
“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said, wisely cutting off one of her potential tirades. Even she knew once she got going, she could really go.
“For me?” She faced him. “Do I have to give up a kidney?”
“No.”
“Become a better person?”
“No.”
“Achieve world peace?”
“Sissy Mae.”
She laughed. “Sorry. What’s your proposition?”
“We’re working with that Asian wild dog—”
“Which one?”
“Jessie Ann’s”—her brother snarled a little—“friend.”
“Oh. Kenshin Inu. He must really care about her. He stared at her with such longing at the wedding.”
Bobby Ray made an attempt to go, and Sissy grabbed his arm. “I’m kidding. I swear, I’m just kidding.” Still laughing, she pulled him back.
“That’s not funny.”
“So what’s the proposition?”
“I can’t ask Mace to leave Dez and Marcus for at least three to six months. And now that Jessie Ann’s pregnant—”
“You want me to go to Japan?”
“To work, Sissy. To. Work. Not to start shit. Not to race. Not to gamble. And definitely not to get arrested or turn all of Japan against you. Remember, I’m not stationed right around the corner like before.” He stuck his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You interested?”
She squealed as she did on occasions like this and threw herself into her brother’s arms. He caught her and hugged her.
“You’ll be working directly with Kenshin and his people. All wild dogs”—he held Sissy at arm’s length—“so be nice.”
“Darlin’, I was born nice. People love me. And Mitch is coming.” She squealed again and hugged her brother. This time, he didn’t hug her back.
“I didn’t agree to that.”
Sissy stepped away from him. “But you will, Bobby Ray.”
Bobby Ray crossed his arms over his chest, braced his legs apart. “Or what?”
Sissy mimicked his stance. “Either Mitch goes with me ... or get used to finding your wife hiding in trees.”
“That’s just mean.”
“I’m a Smith. What did you expect?”
“Good point.”
The siblings stared at each other for long minutes until Bobby Ray snarled, “Fine. He can go.”
Sissy squealed and threw herself into her brother’s arms.
“Lord, Sissy. Stop making that noise!”
Mitch sidled up behind his older sister, Marissa. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I heard you cried for me.”
Her whole body stiffened, and she wouldn’t look at him. When he’d first seen her earlier in the evening, he’d only gotten, “Glad you’re not dead since Bren probably wouldn’t have stopped whining about it.”
To be honest, she’d asked to be tortured.
“It was ... early. And I’m relatively certain I was still drunk.”
“Or”—he moved around her until they were face to face—“you love your little bruh and were terrified you’d never be able to tell him how much.”
“Arrggh!” She pushed past him. “Asshole!”
He started laughing, then Marissa was back. She grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek—then she slapped him. Hard. It was a very Marissa kind of thing.
Without another word—or slap—she stormed off.
Brendon shook his head. “Never know when to back off, do ya?”
“No. Not even a little.” Mitch held up his empty beer bottle. “Want another?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Mitch took the empty bottle from his brother and walked into the kitchen. The females were prepping more food, but he could smell Sissy’s mac and cheese above it all. He started to walk over to it, ready to dive in, when he heard the knock on the back door.
Dropping the bottles in a trash can for recyclables—his mother was surprisingly “green”—he headed over to the door. But when he pulled it open, he could only stare.
“You going to invite me in?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Mitch stepped back, allowing the older man in.
“Heard you had some trouble.”
Mitch laughed. “You could say that.”
“I’m glad to see you’re okay.”
“Thanks.”
Brendon walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Ronnie wants a—” He stopped ... and gaped. “Dad?”
“Brendon.”
“What are you doing here?”
Alden Shaw awkwardly adjusted the pack he had attached to his back. “I got a message from your sister. It took a while to get to me, though. I was at a game park in Africa.”
Mitch had to admire his father on that. He loved to run with the big cats when he could and traveled from Africa to India to Siberia constantly. Mitch didn’t even know when his father was last in New York, much less Philadelphia.
“I needed to see if my family was okay.” He glanced between his two sons. “You look okay.”
It took a lot not to laugh, so Mitch asked, “Would you like to stay for a while?”
“If your mother doesn’t mind.”
“It’s my party. I want you here. And she adores her son.”
Alden smiled. “Well, when you put it like that.” He grabbed the straps of his backpack and began to slide them off his shoulders. He turned so Brendon could help him get the pack off. And as the two took care of that, Sissy walked in the room. She winked at Mitch and motioned to the mac and cheese. He nodded vigorously, and with a laugh, Sissy went to dish some up for him.
The backpack removed, his father turned back around.
“You hungry?”
“Starving.”
Mitch motioned to the table filled with food. “We’ve got stuff here and in the dining room, so—”
“Janie Mae?”
Sissy froze in the middle of heaping food on Mitch’s plate and, spoon raised, she slowly turned. “What did you call me?”
“Sorry. When I saw you from behind,
I thought you looked like—”
“My mother?”
Alden held his hands up, palms out, just like Mitch did a lot. “Your mother when she was nineteen ... if that helps.”
“It probably doesn’t,” Brendon muttered to Mitch.
That spoon still raised—although Mitch was grateful it wasn’t a knife—Sissy asked, “You knew my mother?”
“It was a very long time ago, but yeah.” And then he smiled. And Mitch knew that smile. He’d bet he had it a lot himself the last couple of weeks with Sissy.
Sissy’s eyes briefly closed in horror. “I can’t believe this.”
“It was nothing really.” Alden grinned again. “Just a weekend.”
Damn. At least forty years or so later, and the old man could still remember it like it was yesterday. And with that look on his face—what a yesterday it was.
“You and my mother?”
Alden, trying to help, but not really, added, “It was nothing. She was just using me to make some wolf who was ignoring her jealous. Although I was more than happy to help her out.”
Mitch pushed his father toward the hallway. “Dad, why don’t you go see Ma?”
“Do I have to?”
Sissy let out a breath. “Everywhere I go that woman haunts me!”
Mitch took the spoon out of Sissy’s hand, trying to ignore the thick bits of cheese, ham, and noodles stuck to it, calling his name. “You’re missing the big picture here.”
“I am?”
“Your mother. My father.”
“You’re not helping.”
“And some wolf she was trying to make jealous. Imagine if that just pops up during, say, Thanksgiving dinner? Or Easter. Or a baptism. Perhaps when the local preacher is about ... Sissy, imagine the possibilities.”
“Mitchell, that is a horrible, despicable idea.” Sissy grabbed Mitch by his T-shirt, jerking him close. “And I can say with all honesty, I’ve never wanted you more.”
Sissy walked out on the back porch and sat on the stoop between Dez and Ronnie Lee.
“What’s going on?” She reached over and took her godson from Ronnie’s arms. He giggled and hissed.
“Dez is having a hard time dealing with her new life.”