How to Tame a Werewolf: Seven Brides for Seven Shifters, Book 3 (8 page)

“It’s too bad he’s not here,” Ian said. “It’d be great to see him right now. That kid knows how to lighten a mood.”

“Yeah, well,” Garrett interjected, “my son isn’t available to you.”

That’s what pissed Ian off. Garrett had a way of being a surly bastard for no good reason. When it came to their rivalry, Garrett had won the girl and temporary leadership of the pack. Where’d the bitterness come from? “Do you practice?” Ian asked, his eyebrow quirking.

“What?” Garrett said, taking a long swallow of Scotch.

“Being an asshole.” Ian deadpanned, leaning forward to stare Garrett down. “Or does it just happen first thing in the morning?”

The big werewolf with ancient bloodlines, shrugged. Hell, he didn’t even smile when he said, “I woke up like this.”

Ian drank his own Scotch and laid his head on the table. “I know this makes me sound like a juvenile, no older than Nox, but I hate your ass. I…” He looked to Cash, pleading for a little help. None came. “Yup, I fuckin’ hate you, Garrett.”

“There’s a club,” Garrett said, pushing a button to recline his seat into lounger mode and closing his eyes. “Wanna join it?”

Ian politely refused to join the not-so-exclusive Garrett Anti-Fan Club. There had to be thousands of members already. The three men sat back and enjoyed the rest of the flight, which they primarily spent catching Ian up on the happenings in LuPines and discussing the pop culture they all loved.

After their landing and a chauffeured ride back to LuPines, they split up. Ian wanted to explore his city while it slept. So much had changed. The Dumbarton Library clock tower, which hadn’t run in more than ten years, chimed every hour on the hour like…well, like clockwork. There were new businesses and newer residents. Things seemed alive in LuPines in ways they hadn’t before.

At one of the new bars in town, Ian learned that the lead singer of the band Cross, Adam Cross—AKA Jules’s asshole ex-boyfriend—had held a press conference in the Dumbarton Library. During his remarks to the media Adam had come clean about a scandal involving him and Jules several years ago. Ian chased the shock of the news down with a glass of bourbon. Things really had changed.

A few hours later he made his way to his vineyard. He wanted to spend the night in the vines. Then tomorrow he’d go to see his mom. After that he’d chase down the second badass chick to leave him stranded. Rue would be the last bitch he’d ever allow to hurt him. He’d make sure of that.

Chapter Ten

I’m a perverse bastard.

Ian didn’t chastise himself for his planned revenge on Rue. Neither that nor for the grand entrance he’d mapped out to announce he’d come home. He did, however, congratulate himself for coming up with such a devious plan.

In anticipation of springing his identity on Rue, he’d hidden inside the winery, in one of the seldom-used alcoves, flanking the reception hall used to welcome visitors and hold tastings. His mother would get a shock as well when he walked into the hall, but he’d never met a woman better adept at rising to an occasion, and she’d be happy he’d come home in relatively good health, mentally and physically. Relatively being the key word.

Ian wasn’t worried about his scent giving him away before he wanted to be discovered either. The heady aromas of the grape varieties they grew at Somerfield, from Sangiovese to Malbec to Nero D’Avola, hid his scent well. What he struggled with most was finding the perfect timing during Rue’s interview to screw the whole thing up and make her head explode. Not literally, that would be messy. No, he wanted her to burst a blood vessel and subsequently shit bricks. He was so far-gone into the fantasy, he’d daydreamed about it more than once that morning. Truth be told, he lived for Rue’s first stunned blink of understanding when she realized her Magic Man and Ian Somers were the same wolf and she’d pissed them both off.

Peeking out into the hall, Ian watched his mother and great grandfather along with other members of the vineyard staff administer a taste test to the final two candidates for the
sommelier
job. His family and the vineyard officials sat behind a long narrow table. Their notes, chunks of under ripe pineapple for palate cleansing between wines, and a few sterling silver spittoons covered the tabletop.

Rue stood in front of the review committee. A gaunt, balding man with an unearned sense of self-importance and a nose held high enough in the air to reach another elevation stood beside her. Ian knew his mother had already chosen Rue. He could tell in the nearly toneless way Cora addressed the younger woman. His mother tended to strip her voice of all emotion when she didn’t want to give anything away.

Cora would definitely approve of Rue’s presentation; she had chosen her clothing well. She wore a crisp gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up and pressed to represent her business side. To go with it she’d paired a pleated horizontal striped black and cream skirt that flared when she moved to show off her personal style. Her tiny tawny curls were piled on top of her head in a waterfall of cinnamon hues streaked in toffee. And deep black outlines highlighted the amber ale of her eyes, an effect Ian had discovered came from her animal’s markings and not from makeup. Beyond her style, Kitty had shown a delightfully well-developed palate. Her sense of taste was so acute his great grandfather had hooted a few times.

Ian stepped back into the shadows as a new, and possibly dastardlier, plan took shape within the depths of his perverse mind. He should let Rue land the job. How much more fun would it be to break her with training after he stepped back into his role as chief winemaker and co-director of the vineyard? It’d be a fucking treat. He’d put her through wine-style basic training and boot camp all at once. Watching her sweat while trying everything she could but never quite pleasing him sounded good.

So he waited a bit longer than he’d originally planned. The gaunt, bald man whose name was Perry Peters went first in the blind taste test. Once Perry put on the blindfold he did well in identifying the wines but his descriptions of the bouquets and flavors underwhelmed everyone. Where he might’ve described the Tokaji Aszu as a honeyed beam of sunlight frozen on the vine at the perfect moment, Perry called the Hungarian wine “sweet and thick”.

Pop-pop, Ian’s great granddad, harrumphed and turned his head in clear disappointment tinged with disdain. Worse, Perry’s lackluster description of a 96 Bodega Catena Zapata Malbec left a bad taste in your mouth. They used wines from other vineyards because it’d be easy to study Somerfield vintages but no one could cram for a test that included any wine from anywhere. Ian shook his head, surprised that a man with as much pride and knowledge as Perry inversely lacked the necessary love of wine to describe it imaginatively.

Rue, however, enthralled Ian with her descriptions when she took a turn in the blindfold. The way she swirled the wines on her tongue, then swayed on her feet before swallowing gave Ian a raging stiffy. This woman had the love he looked for in a
sommelier
. He adjusted the crotch of his pants—uncomfortable he’d allowed her allure to get past his anger.

When she tasted and identified the Tokaji Aszu she moaned and described it as, “a confection made by a master chef; if a seminal dessert could be grown on the vine and the winter sun could be called a chef.” Ian thought Pop-pop was going to kiss her after that. A warm flush filled the old guy’s darker than tan skin, making his silvery hair more pronounced. Pop-pop even tapped the table with his hand-carved Acacia wood cane, the one he favored because of the jackal head handle.

“Good girl,” Pop-pop said.

Rue blushed behind her blindfold, making Ian wonder how long it’d been since a father figure had praised her. He didn’t bother to wait for her description of the Malbec. Based on the previous four wines, if she uttered a single word about the molten blackberry and mocha spice wine he’d split through another pair of pants fueled by her sexy voice alone. But Ian couldn’t deny she was the entire package: the voice, the knowledge of wine, the palate, that rich brown skin…damn, she turned him on. He’d add that as another infraction on his list of things to make her suffer for when he became her employer.

Clearing his throat he strolled into the room like a boss—because that’s exactly what he was about to be.

“My boy!” Pop-pop yelled, tossing his cane into the air.

The look on his mother’s face broke him down. The joy in Cora’s suddenly jewel-bright eyes, shiny with unshed tears, along with the crack in her voice welcomed him home when she said, “How dare this child show up while we’re working?”

He jogged to his mother, reaching over the table to crush her to his chest. She threw her slender arms around his neck and squeezed him. “Oh,” she cried out, dropping her silvery-blonde head onto his shoulder. “How could you, Ian Orion Somers? How dare you leave for so long?”

He circled the table to get closer to her and she squeezed him all over again. Now that’d he come home his reasons for leaving didn’t make as much sense as they’d seemed to over the last two years. Holding his family again meant more.

It took his mother over ten minutes to finally let him go. In that time, Pop-pop had gotten to his feet and come over to wait his turn. The old man let one tear roll down his cheek, but Ian wasn’t fooled. “Duck,” he told his mother before Pop-pop swung his jackal-headed cane and caught Ian in the upper arm.

“Ow. Okay, I deserved that, old dude, but now I need a hug,” Ian said, feeling like a little boy who’d once wanted nothing more than to stomp grapes in giant wooden casks, alongside his great grandmother with their bare feet while Pop-pop played the violin.

Ian opened his arms and his great granddad nearly fell into them, his old shoulders stiff and shaking.

Pop-pop patted him on the back and repeated over and over in a tremulous voice, “My boy. My boy. You’ve grown, my boy.”

The other members of the review board greeted Ian with questions, back pats and tears. These were the people Ian had worked for, then with, and who’d eventually worked for him. It took a good while for the reunion to settle down. Finally, his mother said, “Ian, come meet the woman I’ve decided to hire as our new
sommelier
. She’ll be with us for at least the three-month probationary period.”

Ian turned in Rue’s direction. She’d been standing still as steel, her back so straight she could break it from the tension. She hadn’t bothered to remove the blindfold. Probably because she recognized his voice, and she for damn sure knew his scent by now.

“Take that thing off, darling,” Cora said, her old money voice tinged in affection.

Rue’s hands shook as badly as Pop-pop’s when she slowly lifted the elastic band of the blindfold over her head. Ian’s mother took his arm and pulled him toward the runaway ocelot.

“Rue Gray-Sayf,” Cora said, smiling warmly. “Meet my son, Ian Somers.” Silence. “But wait, you two are well acquainted. I’d forgotten in the excitement of having Ian home.”

His mother brushed a few stray strands of hair off his forehead. “It is clear Rue is your protégé, Ian. Her palate is remarkable.” A long suffering sigh before Cora continued. “A mother could wish you’d brought her home sooner but such is life.” Cora delicately shrugged then hugged his arm.

Unlike his mother, Rue gaped at Ian. Her gaze traveled the full length of his well-dressed body down to his shoes, then back up to stare back into his wolf’s eyes. “Ian?” she questioned, her voice cracking. “I told everyone you weren’t ready to come home yet.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he answered. “It’s definitely me. And you inspired me.”

Those were the words Ian said out loud. Rue covered her mouth, she must have bitten the inside of her cheek because an indent formed there. What Ian didn’t say, as his eyes narrowed and a self-satisfied smirk curled his lips was:
That’s right, chickie, I’ve gotcha now.

But she got the message anyway, because she swooned. Like he knew she would.

Chapter Eleven

Rue blinked repeatedly and kept blinking. How? They looked alike but they weren’t identical. Magic Man was taller. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Mr. Amon, Ian’s great grandfather, had noticed it too. Men in their thirties didn’t grow a couple of inches. Who did that? Rue answered her own question; apparently Ian Somers did.

The ridiculousness of the situation crystallized for her. Rue had asked Ian Somers to impersonate Ian Somers. She giggled a little. And he’d said yes. She giggled more. Ms. Cora sent a sidelong glance her way and Rue immediately pulled herself together.

She didn’t have the right to be angry. Shocked? Yeah. Appalled? Maybe. But she’d used him. He’d tricked her. They were even. Plus, despite the nefarious smirks Ian tossed her way, it felt good to have him there. She’d hated leaving him behind.

“Do you have plans to train Rue any further, Ian?” Cora asked her son.

Ian linked one arm with his mother’s and used the other to catch Rue around the waist. Along with those actions, his expression transformed with absolute wickedness. The term handsome devil came to mind and Rue stumbled.

He kept her on her feet, looking directly into her eyes with a smirk that said, “I’ve got you now.” And he did. He had her. But not for the reasons he thought. If he’d looked good back in Arizona, she’d had no idea what good looked like. Here in LuPines on Somerfield land, in his own clothes and in his element, Ian stunned.

He’d chosen a lightweight powder blue crewneck, which he paused to ruche up over his sculptor-perfect forearms before grabbing her waist again with more ferocity. The trousers he wore were granite blue-gray, baggy through the hips and legs, tapered at the ankles and slouching over a pair of distressed designer combat boots.

Excitement made Rue a little giddy. And that was why he had her. It wasn’t because he’d surprised her, although he’d truly knocked her on her ass when he’d made his entrance. Not because every dark and stormy look he gave promised he’d be the thundercloud over her parade from today on. Nope, none of those things started her hands trembling so badly she had to hide them behind her back. Ian Somers had her because she, Rue Gray-Sayf, was so freaking happy to see him she couldn’t put one foot in front of the other without tripping. She hadn’t realized she’d missed him until she’d inhaled his forest-in-winter scent and felt…right.

“Oh, Mother,” Ian said, walking them toward the front door. Rue tried to hold back but the man had the strength of Odin or Anansi or maybe Ra. “I’m going to teach Rue everything I know—all the dirty jobs it takes to run a vineyard. Mucking out the vats, loading the stems and leaves into bins for composting, entire days harvesting with a bent back and sliced fingers. All the things that make a winemaker a winemaker.” Looking back over his shoulder he asked, “You coming, Pop-pop?”

The handsome old guy grunted, distractedly waving them away while speaking with one of the members of the hiring committee.

Ian charged forward, dragging Rue and his mother along with him. Outside in the sunlight they walked a paved road that led to the main house.

Cora seemed puzzled. “Why would she need to know any of those things, Ian? She’s going to be the
sommelier
at our new wine bar. There’s no reason to train her to be a winemaker.”

“Oh, there’s a reason, Mother,” he answered, his brows scrunched up convincingly.

Cora stopped walking and looked up at her son expectantly. “Well, go ahead, what’s the reason?”

Ha! Get out of that one, Magic Man. Wait, he might tell his mom the truth. “I agree, Ms. Cora. I’ve learned so much from Ian already. It’d be great to shadow
you
and get a different perspective.”

Ian curled his lip at her. His eyes burned with amber, his grip tightening around her waist. “No, you need to be with me. I’m not done teaching you lessons,” he said.

Rue took hold of his fingers and peeled them off her body one by one. “I’ve learned enough lessons from you.” She caught sight of Cora’s displeased look. “I mean, you’ve been more than gracious, Ian. I don’t want to bother you. Plus, your mother has a lot to show me.”

“That’s true,” Cora said. “We’ll need to review the space and the branding guidelines. We also need to start choosing and stocking the wines. Oh, and, Rue, we must get you settled into your bungalow.”

Rue beamed. Her bungalow. It should’ve been a song because she wanted to sing it.

“Mother,” Ian mowed Rue’s happiness down. “This is a whole new venture. My theory is that learning the entire process, every hard dirty bit, here at Somerfield will benefit Rue. Think of the stories she’ll be able to share with our guests.” That said, he turned a smug look her way.

Rue quickly interjected. No way would she be a subject to Ian’s evil rule. “I’ll make something up!”

He actually snarled at her this time, his arm snaking around her waist, jerking her tight to his side. “You’re good at that.”

Oh, okay. He had canines and went all growly. So what? She had fangs too. Rue completely forgot herself for a second. She got up on her tiptoes, stuck her nose in his face and snarled right back—fanginess and all.

Cora tapped her cheek. Her shrewd gaze searched her son’s face, switched to Rue, back to her son then finally lingering on Rue. “I see,” she said. “Or at least I’m beginning to.”

Rue and Ian simultaneously turned suspicious gazes on her.

“Wait, what do you see?”

“What idea did you just hatch, Mother?”

Cora gave them the haughty sidelong glance of a queen. “Come along, children,” she said. They waited for more but nothing came, so the pair of them jogged to catch up with Queen Cora.

“Rue?” Cora asked without looking back, once they’d caught up. “Has my son ever fallen into a body of water as a result of which you pulled him out?”

What the hell was brewing in this woman’s head? “Um, yeah,” Rue answered with an eyebrow lift, the last word sounding extremely squeaky.

Cora nodded. “Was the fall he took off of a bridge?”

Whoa. Cora Somers had all the skills. “You’re clearly psychic, Ms. Cora.” Rue grinned. And feeling daring because Ian made her blood pound, she added, “Tell me how I die?”

Cora turned on her heel causing Rue to take a step back. They’d stopped in front of the main house, an Italian style villa done in rounded stone masonry and golden Roman plaster. Smoothing her skirt, Cora replied. “Here and now if you don’t answer me.” Her voice rang like a hammer wrapped in cotton candy.

Rue straightened up, smoothing down her skirt as well. “Yes, ma’am, it was off a bridge.”

Ian stepped between them so Rue had to peek around him to see what came next. “I know what you’re thinking, Mom. Cut that shit out.”

“Don’t curse at me, boy.” Cora seemed to sizzle. “It is taking patience I don’t have not to stomp your foot into jelly for disappearing for two years.”

His shoulders slumped with guilt as Ian stepped forward and took his mom’s slender upper arms in both hands. “I’m sorry. It was foolish and selfish. I won’t get caught up in my emotions like that again.”

Cora rubbed her son’s forearms. “Don’t apologize. With each moment, the reason you stayed away becomes clearer. Or at least, the reason why you returned.”

“Mom.” Ian put a world of caution in that word, but before he could say more, a barrel-bellied man with a badge and a huge tan cowboy hat walked up.

Cora sniffed, spun, and gracefully slid into the man’s open arms. The kiss they shared was hot, but not as hot as the red burn on Ian’s face as he watched them.

Ian’s hands balled into fists. “What is going on? Mom? Sheriff?”

Cora and the sheriff shared another kiss, this one longer and steamier. Rue liked the steel magnolia matron of Somerfield Vineyards more and more.

After a last peck to the sheriff’s cheek, Cora glanced at her son. “You’ve always been good at math, Ian. Add it up.”

Rather than do any adding, Ian rubbed his eyes. “I can’t. No. You and Sheriff Stan? A jackal and a wild boar? On what planet does that make sense?”

“I’m supposing on the same planet an otherwise fantastic son abandons his family, business and pack for two years, merely because a woman who wasn’t his mate didn’t honor his love and married someone else.” The blue eyes she’d passed down to him blinked at Ian. “Am I in the neighboring sector of the right planet?”

“She left me at the altar,” Ian snarled, not at his mother but more likely at his life.

Cora’s steel façade softened. “She did. And as much as I adore Lennox Averdeen, I’m almost grateful she walked away. Although it took her twenty years, she wasn’t the one. I know this in ways I can’t explain.”

Rue looked at Ian. This was the life-altering event that had caused him to leave home; that a woman he’d loved for twenty years had rejected him and abandoned him at the altar. No wonder he’d been so angry at her for leaving him behind at the airport. Rue ached for him because she understood the size and shape of his pain. The people she loved had cast her out too.

Rue studied him for a while. The pain of the past and the shock of his mother’s love life silenced him. Without meaning to, Rue gently stroked his back. She needed to comfort him so badly she couldn’t stop herself.

“And what does it matter, Ian?” Cora said, her Southern gentility a mask of calm despite her accent carrying undertones of some other place. “You’re not one who’s bothered by interspecies relationships.”

The assertion he had issues with shifters mating outside of their species made Ian defensive. Rue felt it in the stiffening of his back. “I’m not bothered by interspecies unions. You know me better than that.”

Cora’s lower lip trembled. She hadn’t meant to wound her son. Reprimanding him was one thing, challenging his integrity another. “Then why all the emotional upset, Ian?” she asked.

He struggled to express his state of mind, then blurted, “Because you’re my mother.” Ian gestured in the sheriff’s proximity, not unkindly but with a certain distance that told Rue the two men weren’t close. Ian went on. “And he’s Stan. I’m not mentally prepared to see you two kissing and whatever the hell else you’re doing.”

His mother blanched. “What we do isn’t something you’re going to see, Ian.”

Thank God for that
, Rue thought and hid a grin when Ian said the same thing out loud. Off his mother’s annoyed exhalation, he told her, “Everything has changed. I guess I imagined—”

“We’d all be frozen in time waiting for you?” Closing the distance between them, Cora took his hand.

Ian had the grace to be embarrassed. He ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. “Yes, I know that’s ridiculous but yeah.”

Cora’s mouth opened into an “ah” shape. “Once again I’m clear,” she said, “Apparently I gave birth to a mythic god. No, not merely a god, but an entire pantheon.” She gentled the smack down by patting his hand.

“Dammit, Mom,” Ian said. “That hurt.”

Sheriff Stan finally spoke. “Don’t you worry, Ian. My intentions toward your mama all lead to the altar. We’re not planning on living together for long.”

Wow, the sheriff took the first place prize at the clueless fair. Good thing cats had quick reflexes because Ian lunged and Rue had to cage him in with both arms. He glowered at her for restraining him and she murmured, “Calm down.” Ian stared at her, his eyes flickering amber, blue, amber, something akin to hazel, then returned to amber, but he stopped straining and nodded. She relaxed when he did but held on to him.

Cora sniffed and her eyebrows arched. She returned to the sheriff’s side, throwing a hand in their direction. “Do you see it? And scent it?”

The sheriff sniffed the air. “There’s no mistaking it. That’ll make a shifter male act outside of his personality every time.”

For the second time Rue and Ian turned simultaneously in confusion.

Cora ignored them and spoke only to her lover. “No wonder he gave his backing to a young
sommelier
no one has ever heard of.”

Sheriff Stan grinned. “It doesn’t take a detective. That’s for sure.”

“Finally,” Cora said, with more enthusiasm than she’d shown for anything other than welcoming Ian home. “My son has found his true mate.”

Rue swallowed and went into a seizure of blinks. “Wait? What? No!” she said.

Ian didn’t bother with etiquette. “You’ve gone insane. My mother is nuts,” he said, walking away, then storming back to say one more thing, “Nuts. Cray. Gone.”

None of what they had to say affected Cora in the slightest. “Rue, darling, no bungalow for you. You’ll be staying with us in the villa.”

My bungalow. No!

Rue didn’t have the strength to resist when Cora took her by the shoulders and walked her toward the house. One of her goals went poof while her wildest fairytale daydream seemed to be coming true. This was not the happily ever after she’d planned.

“Come along,” Cora said, sunnily. “I’ll show you to your room and have your things brought over from the hotel. And tomorrow, you’ll get to know your job duties. Then we’ll be ready to plan your mating ceremony after the harvest.” She snapped her fingers with a sassy little twist. “Darling, I can’t wait to get payback from all the women who’ve forced me to give gifts to their precious spawn all these years. This is magnificent.”

Rue twisted toward Ian, hoping her eyes communicated the SOS she sent him. However, her one time magic man didn’t do a thing but open and close his mouth several times. Before she got pulled into her fairytale nightmare-come-true, Rue heard one last exchange.

“What crazy turn did my life just take?” Ian asked the sheriff.

“Well,” the sheriff said. “My Cora is smart enough to see something you and that girl haven’t figured out yet. Heck, anybody could smell it. But there’s something else at play here.” A heavy hand landed on Ian’s shoulder as the sheriff continued. “Something that’s making Cora force things she’d usually let nature handle. That something is a universal truth you’re going to have to admit to before you go inside that house.”

Ian turned away from the Somerfield Villa to give the sheriff his full attention. “What truth is that?”

The sheriff rubbed his impressive belly, a stomach that tested the strength of the buttons on his uniform. Those buttons were superheroes. “It’s a simple truth any man raised by a woman ought to know. Payback isn’t a bitch, it’s a mother.”