“Gun?” she asked.
Without looking away from his work, Ric pointed at one of the high kitchen cabinets. “It’s buried in the back.”
“Thanks.” Dee went up on her toes and opened the cabinet, searching around until she found a .9 mm. “Bullets?”
“The third cabinet to the left in the teapot.”
Dee retrieved the magazine and popped it into the gun. She put a round in the chamber, walked over to the kitchen window, and aimed it at the two cats who stood on the other side of the glass, constantly roaring in an effort to get Ric to move faster. The Shaw brothers dove for cover and Dee put the safety back on the weapon and returned the gun and the magazine to their original hiding places.
“Thanks,” Ric said.
“No problem.”
Ric was slicing potatoes for his last-minute decision to make his potatoes au gratin when Blayne ran in. His knife paused in mid-cut, his eyes narrowing on her.
“What are those?” he demanded.
Panting and sweating from her workout, Blayne frowned and looked behind her. “Oh! Strays.” She smiled. “They started running with me.”
“Get them out of my kitchen.”
“But—”
“Out!”
Blayne’s smile turned into a pout. “You are so mean!”
“And they’re filthy. Remove them or I’m adding them to the menu.”
Gasping in indignation, Blayne walked out the back hallway, the stray dogs following. Ric returned to his work but listened for the back door to open and close. A few minutes later, Blayne returned.
“Happy now?”
“I’ll be happier when you get out, too.”
Blayne gasped again. “Me?”
“You’re sweating all over my floor, and I don’t want you anywhere near the food until you take a shower.” He gestured to the swinging kitchen door that led to the front hallway. “Now go. Schnel!”
“Don’t bark at me in German! I hate when you bark at me in German!”
She stormed out—again—and Ric went back to work.
“What can I help you with?” Dee asked him.
“Help?”
“You know. As in assisting.”
“Uh . . . I don’t really know what you can help with. Unlike me, you haven’t been trained since birth to handle yourself in a Van Holtz kitchen. What if you crack under the pressure?”
“Do you want my help or not, Van Holtz?”
Chuckling, Ric admitted, “Stein might need you more at the grill.”
“Okay.”
“Hey. Come here.”
“Why?”
Ric faced her. “Move that cute butt, Smith.”
She walked over to him and he kissed her. “Don’t let my cousin smooth-talk you into doing all the work or try to take you away from me. Understand?”
“I enjoy how you think I’d let anyone but you get away with half the shit you try.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
“We do.” She kissed him again, their arms slipping around each other, their mouths and tongues exploring.
Until . . .
“Are you two at it again?” Stein demanded. “I’m drowning out there! And if those cats don’t get away from me . . .”
Dee-Ann pulled away, laughing as she did. “I’ll handle it,” she told Ric. “You just keep making your potatoes au gratin.”
“What makes you think I’m making that?”
“Because you’d better be.”
She turned away from him and headed toward Stein. “Let’s go, kid. I’ll help you out.”
Stein plastered himself against the wall, blue eyes focusing on Ric’s She-wolf. “You?” he asked. “You . . . you’re going to help me?”
Dee stepped in close, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is that gonna be a problem, hoss?”
“No. No, sir . . . er . . . ma’am. No, ma’am.”
He eased away from her, his back pressed into the wall until he hit the doorway, then he sprinted for freedom.
“I do have a way with the young ones, don’t I?” Dee asked before she followed Stein.
“Sure, you do,” Ric muttered to himself. “Just like parole officers and wardens.”
“I heard that, Van Holtz,” she called back.
And Ric laughed, enjoying this weekend way more than he’d ever thought he could.
CHAPTER 25
Dee woke up on Fourth of July morning alone. But on the pillow next to her was a note and a granola bar.
Had to run into town with Stein for more breakfast food—damn lions! We’ll be back soon. Please eat this until I return. I’m afraid you’ll start feeding on your own muscle mass if you don’t get some food in you.
Chuckling, Dee sat up and ate her granola bar. She was nearly done when she heard the howling from beneath her window.
“What?” she asked her cousin once she’d opened the window.
“Couldn’t you put on a T-shirt or something?”
“It’s not like you haven’t seen my tits before, Sissy Mae.”
“That’s not the point. There’s a time and place!”
“When did you become Sally Etiquette?”
“Just get your suit on. We’re hittin’ the beach.”
“I just woke up and—”
“Not a request. Just move your ass, cousin.”
“Fine.”
“I know it’s fine. In fact, it better be goddamn fine!”
“Heifer.”
“Rich man’s whore!”
“At least mine can cook the food he eats. And replaces it, too.”
“Now see, Dee-Ann Smith. That was just mean!”
Ric adored farmer’s markets. Fresh produce and dairy and relatively friendly people, and a healthy mix of full-humans and shifters. It was perfect. Even his cousin’s constant complaints couldn’t bring him down.
“Do you think Dee’s more a roses kind of girl? Or lilies?” he asked.
Stein stared at him. “Honestly? I think a machine gun and ample ammo is more your scary girlfriend’s speed, cousin.”
“See how you are?” Ric shook his head. “She keeps telling me I shouldn’t be so tough on you, and here you are, talking shit about her.”
“I wasn’t talking shit about her. God, please don’t tell that woman I was talking shit about her. She’s liable to cut my head off and wear it on her jacket as a brooch. And you are being too tough on me. I haven’t had a moment to relax or enjoy the pool, get in a little tennis, nothing, since I’ve become your indentured servant.”
“You owe me, Stein. Don’t forget what you owe me.”
“How can I? You won’t let me.”
“Is it so impossible for you to realize that you have to work your way back up? That you’re still not going to get a kitchen when you haven’t been trained?”
“How is washing dishes and scrubbing floors training?”
“My best cooks started off washing dishes and scrubbing floors.”
“They’re also not blood relations and they’re mostly immigrants.”
Ric faced his cousin, but didn’t say anything. He let Abby do the talking for him. She’d tagged along with them for the trip since she’d been up bright and early, eating food she’d dug out of the trash. Why she felt the need to do that when she had an entire refrigerator of fresh food at her disposal, Ric had no idea. Although they were low on things because of the cats, they still had food.
Abby snarled and snapped at Stein, nipping at his feet and forcing him to back up several steps.
“This is Abby Vega,” Ric told his cousin. “I’m thinking right now she does not like you.”
“Great,” Stein sighed. “I’m stuck on the politically correct team.”
“Does it ever occur to you that sometimes you shouldn’t speak?” Hannah asked Stein, standing off to the side. She’d come along because she seemed to fear she’d have to, in her words, “talk to Dee” at some point today. Ric wasn’t sure what Hannah was so worried about. If she was afraid she’d have to have some big, psychological discussion with Dee-Ann Smith about her inability to shift to her hybrid form when seriously threatened by hyenas, she was wasting her time. Dee didn’t have big, psychological discussions. That’s what Ric liked about her. His friends talked to him all the time about their problems, and although he didn’t mind, he enjoyed Dee’s lack of complaining. Besides, it was fun trying to figure out what had pissed her off at any given moment and how he could fix it.