But even knowing that she and Dean Chastell had never fooled around, he still wanted to beat the smooth-talking cat to a pulp. Then again, the poor guy was stuck with Stacey for life. Punishment served.
“What’s that smirk for?” Joy asked. Her hand lay on his thigh as he drove. Since they’d made love that first time, they hadn’t stopped touching each other. As if worried this new, fragile peace between them might be severed, he kept in physical contact. And she accepted it.
“Oh, just thinking about Dean…and your sister. Such a perfect pair.”
“I know, right?” Joy chuckled. “I’m not sure which one of them they consider prettier.”
He grinned.
“Amy and Melissa are doing fine up there. I’m just worried about the wolf rumors.”
“Oh?”
“I think the dogs are taking a look at my sisters. Man. Can you imagine wolves as family?”
He gave a mock shudder. “Thank you, no. My dealings with Monty GrayClaw were enough to scare me for life. How the hell is a wolf in a pride, anyway? Cougar Falls is a weird place.”
“True.”
The closest wolf order to Miami was in Texas, a place Quince had no inclination to visit. Ever. If he wanted sun and sand, he had plenty of it in Miami. And no thick drawls, thuggish canines or ten-gallon hats to contend with.
“So what now?” he asked, loath to bring it up, but not wanting any misunderstandings. He’d have confessed his love earlier if he hadn’t thought he might completely freak her out. Mating was one thing. Animal spirits and humans in tune with the whole package. She hadn’t seemed to overly care about his cat wanting her, since it was a biological imperative she would have as well. But that freaky emotion—love—tended to alarm even the most stalwart of felines. It made them vulnerable. If he hadn’t had years to adjust to the idea, he might have been terrorized himself.
“What do you mean, ‘What now’?” she asked.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m done playing.”
Her soft mew of disappointment had him fighting a grin.
“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “I guess this—you know, our going at it like cats in heat—qualifies as serious dating.”
“Monogamous dating. Just you and me. No other males.”
“Or females,” she added with bite. “Especially not Alissa friggin’ Whoreberto.”
He laughed. “Catty much?”
“Shut up.”
“Whoreberto.” He chuckled. “She’s been a thorn in my side for years.” The woman refused to understand he wanted nothing to do with her. She was cold, wanting only to use him for whatever she could wring out of him before she’d no doubt cut him off when he’d served his purpose. He’d seen her do it time and time again to the men in the pride. Jace had been brave enough to dip his toe in the water once. According to him, the woman gave a mean blowjob. But Quince wasn’t desperate enough to put his dick anywhere near Alissa’s mouth.
“She’s done bothering you. I promise.”
“Now don’t go starting trouble.” What am I saying? The woman’s middle name is Trouble. That’s like asking her to stop breathing. “I mean, just think about the harm you could do with the females in the pride. They look up to you, even the ones counting Alissa as a friend.” He’d been impressed with the headway Joy had made in the little time she’d been appointed Liaison.
“Yeah, well. She brings it, I’ll finish it.”
He fought down a smirk at her possessive tone. His cat loved her jealousy. But he also knew showing his satisfaction would be a sure way to piss the woman off. The trick to handling Joy was to act unconcerned until he wanted something. Then he had to act the opposite to get what he wanted. He’d studied the contrary woman enough to know that she’d step into a trap just to spite an opponent.
They continued to tease each other the rest of the short trip back. Since she still wore her sexy pajamas, he needed to swing by her house to pick up a change of clothes for her. And maybe, if he were lucky, they’d spend some quality time together in his comfortable bed for once. He hadn’t mentioned their living arrangement yet, but he wanted her spending her nights with him. And he wanted everyone to know it.
Except when he pulled into her driveway and keyed the remote to open the garage, he saw a familiar car parked in front of her house. Quince stopped the SUV, not yet ready to have his perfect time with Joy ruined.
She glanced at the car as well, and they watched together as the driver side door of a sports car worth five of Quince’s SUV opened. Miles unfolded from the seat, dressed in trousers and a silk tee-shirt—his war wear. To say he looked less than pleased to see Quince’s SUV in the driveway was an understatement.
“Shit,” Quince and Joy swore at the same time. They glanced at each other and snickered.
“I’ll handle this one,” Joy said.
“You sure? I don’t want him giving you a hard time. You know how he feels about me,” he ended brusquely, still bothered that his best friend didn’t seem to know the real him. How the fuck could Miles believe Quince had ever tried to hurt Michael?
Joy’s eyes softened. “He’s stubborn. You know Miles. He digs in his heels, especially when he thinks he might be mistaken. I think the world might end if Miles ever admitted he was in the wrong.”
“You got that right.” He covered her hand, still on his thigh, and squeezed it. “You handle him however you need to. But I won’t let him take his dislike of me out on you.”
She squeezed his hand back, then left the SUV. Quince knew the shit would really hit the fan once Miles took a good look at Joy’s clothing. Or lack of clothing. Though the boy shorts and tank might be able to pass as thin casual wear, maybe, it seemed too obvious to Quince that Joy had just been fucked seven ways from Sunday.
He couldn’t forget their merged scents, or the fact that for just a moment, Joy had initiated what felt like the beginning of a true bonding.
“Well, look at this.” Miles opened his eyes wide with mock surprise as he stopped a few feet away from Joy. “My dearest sister wearing next to nothing. Is this what you’re considering for our new junior line?”
Quince left the vehicle to stand behind Joy, at her back.
The frost descending over Miles’s face was almost visible to the naked eye. Light green eyes flashed with loathing as he scowled at Quince. “Slumming, honey?” he sneered. “I know your taste in men is deplorable, but even you can do better than this.”
“Excuse me? Even I can do better than this? What the hell does that mean?” Joy planted her hands on her hips, her tone one Quince knew to steer clear of. If Miles possessed an iota of sense, he’d back away and return later for a confrontation. Joy in a rage might turn Quince on, but the woman was lethal. Her brother should know better.
Miles gave him a contemptuous onceover. “Please. It’s obvious. This cat isn’t worth your time. He’s gutter trash. Come on. We’re going home.”
Quince would have loved nothing better than to give Miles that fist in the mouth he seemed to be begging for, until he realized what a blessing this might turn out to be. Miles telling Joy not to date Quince. It was like a higher power coming down to order Joy to love him forever. At this rate, he and Joy might be mates by tomorrow.
He could scent the musk of rage settling over her, a deep perfume that turned him inside out and always had, and had to stifle the wide-ass grin threatening to overtake his face.
She fired back at her brother, “You know what, Miles? You can go fuck yourself. I’m happy here. And I’m happy with Quince.”