Howl for It (3 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Shelly; Eden Laurenston

BOOK: Howl for It
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C
HAPTER
T
HREE
S
o this was the infamous Smithtown.
Darla had heard about it long before her sisters had become involved with Smith males. While Smithville, North Carolina, was the place of comfort and relaxation for all shifters, a sanctuary where they could be themselves while hunting deer and elk and freshwater seals, Smithtown was for Smith Pack members and their kin only. Even other Packs didn’t venture into Smithtown without express permission unless they were looking for a fight.
So with that particular history in her head, Darla was expecting a backwoods town filled with inbred redneck wolves. But, to her surprise, it was . . . charming. The smaller houses were nicely spaced with pretty little lawns and gardens, while the bigger homes were on lovely stretches of land. There were lots of trees and hills and deer and elk roaming around free. The town they cut through had quaint storefronts, a fancy restaurant, a more casual diner, and a movie theater showing
Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry
and
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad.
It seemed like a quiet, pleasant town and she was happy to see someplace new. She loved finding new places to visit.
Eventually, they pulled onto a dirt road. They traveled for another five minutes until they reached a small house with a wraparound porch.
“Is this your father’s house?” she asked.
“No.” He turned the car off and got out.
“Not real chatty, are ya?” she muttered, watching the big wolf walk around the front of the car and come to her side. He opened the door and slipped his arms under her legs and behind her back.
“I can walk,” she told him.
If he heard her, she couldn’t tell. He didn’t respond at all. Not even a grunt. He simply lifted her out of the car, easily carrying her toward the house.
As it was in most Smith towns, whether outsiders were allowed or not, his front door wasn’t locked and he walked right into his home.
And the inside of Eggie Smith’s house was . . . sparse. Yes. Sparse was the word. Not bad or anything, but not exactly homey either. In the living room there was a folding card table, three folding chairs, two barrels she assumed were used for chairs, and a pretty big TV right against the wall. A color one at that with a remote sitting right on top of the set.
Yet for a man who probably hadn’t been home for a very long time, it wasn’t a bad place. Someone was keeping it dust free and airing it out every once in a while. Still, the way the wolf stood in the middle of it, glaring at the entire room, she had the feeling he was seeing it for the first time from an outsider’s perspective.
Not wanting him to feel bad, Darla said, “You can just put me down in that chair there.” She pointed at one of the folding chairs around the folding table, but he snarled a little and held her a bit tighter.
Feeling awkward because she felt quite comfortable tucked in his arms, Darla asked, “Have you been fixing up the place? I see all the tools.”
“Building,” he replied.
“Oh, you’ve been building onto it?”
“That, too.”
Darla blinked, glanced around without turning her head. “Wait ... you built this place.”
He grunted.
“By yourself?”
“Mostly.”
Fascinated, Darla turned her finger in a circle. “Turn, turn.”
“Huh?”
“I want to see. Show me.”
He stared at her a moment with that deadly frown before he slowly turned in a circle.
Impressed with what she saw, Darla grinned. “This is beautiful, Egbert Ray. Did you design it yourself?”
“No. Cousin of mine gave me the plans. I put it together. When my brothers were sober and not arguing with your sisters, they helped.”
Always amazed by people who could build things with their hands, Darla looked into that scowling face. “It’s beautiful.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. Now it’s true that I can make you an éclair that would have you weeping tears of joy, but other than that, I can’t build a darn thing.”
“Well . . . thank you kindly.” He took another look around. “Ain’t got no furniture, though.”
“You have chairs and a table.”
“Okay. Ain’t got no
real
furniture.”
“I’m not spun glass, Egbert Ray. My posterior can sit anywhere it has a need to.”
He grunted . . . again, and walked into the hallway. She caught a glimpse of his kitchen and it wasn’t too bad from what she could see. Had all the basics anyway. Then he was taking her up a sturdy set of stairs to the second floor. He took her into the first bedroom and she guessed this was where he slept when he was home. The bed was big and also sturdy. A human king or a bear twin. Based on the thickness of the legs of the frame, she’d guess it was a bear twin.
With great care, he placed her on the bed with her back against the headboard. He stepped back, looked her over.
“Now sleep . . . or something.”
Darla bit the inside of her mouth to prevent a laugh from coming out. Poor thing. He was just used to dealing with other Marines, wasn’t he?
After she got control of herself, Darla said, “The stitches.”
“What about them?”
“I think they need to come out.”
His frown became decidedly worse and she got the feeling maybe she was annoying him.
He motioned her forward and she leaned down a bit. His fingers moved her hair aside and she felt the tips slide across her wound. She trembled a little from the feel of his fingers against her skin, but he immediately pulled his hand back and stepped away.
“I hurt you. Sorry.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’ll get someone to help you with that.”
“I’m sure you can do—”
But he was already gone, the door closing behind him. A few seconds later she heard him howl to his Pack, although she didn’t know if he was calling for assistance with Darla’s wound or just complaining to the wind.
Deciding not to worry about it either way, Darla settled down onto the bed on her side so that her neck didn’t have to press into the pillow. She tucked her hands under her cheek and let out a deep breath. Before she knew it, she was out cold.
 
Sighing in relief, Eggie got to his feet and smiled at the She-wolf walking toward him, a big axe over one shoulder, a patch over her left eye.
“Momma,” Eggie said.
“Baby boy.” Pauline Ann Jessop lifted the axe she’d been using to chop wood and rammed it into the stump she passed on her way to the porch steps. “Sorry I missed you when you first got here, darlin’. I was out huntin’ and by the time I got back, your daddy said you were gone off with your brothers.”
The She-wolf lowered her head and stared up at her son through black lashes. “Bubba called last night. He is real unhappy. Thought I told y’all not to go ’round stealin’ girls.”
“I didn’t steal her. I rescued her.”
“And left a pile of human bodies behind.”
“Heard about that already, huh?” He knew that was not something his brothers would ever say over a telephone line, so the information was making it through the Smith channels like summer lightning.
“Of course I did. Now your brothers and those bitches of theirs—”
“Momma.”
“—are on their way home, probably to collect your little girl.”
“Ain’t holding her against her will. She can leave if she wants to.”
“Does she?”
“Don’t know. She’s recovering from a wound she got during the fight. I need you to take out the stitches.”
Pauline frowned. “Darlin’ boy, I know you can take out stitches.”
“Yeah, but . . .” Eggie shrugged, punched his fists into the front pockets of his jeans. “She’s delicate. I got these big hands.”
“If she’s a Lewis, she probably don’t mind those big hands.”
“Momma.”
“Calm yourself.” She walked up the steps, swinging her favorite rifle off her shoulder and handing it to Eggie. “I’ll take care of your little gal. You head to the house and get the food I have for you two. It’s in the pantry—the last place your father will look until he gets
real
hungry.”
“You sure you’ll be all right?”
Pauline stood on the same step as her six-four son, looking him right in the eyes. “What do you think, boy?”
 
Darla woke up while the stitches were removed from her neck, but she stayed still and quiet until the stitches were out and the bandage on.
“There ya go, darlin’ girl. All done.”
Surprised to hear a woman’s voice, Darla turned over, but she froze at the sight of a mammoth-sized She-wolf. Honestly, one of the biggest She-wolves she’d ever seen in her dang life.
“Pauline’s the name. The Smith boys’ momma. And you’re Darla.”
Say something! Don’t just sit there! It’s rude!
Darla nodded, although she immediately regretted that particular move. “Yes’m. Darla Mae Lewis.”
“The baby sister of those females lurking ’round my sons.” She stepped away from the bed, using a towel to wipe her hands.
The She-wolf was, in a word, hearty. About her son’s height, with shoulders nearly as wide, she reminded Darla more of a grizzly sow, but . . . stronger. How that was possible Darla didn’t know, since all she scented from the female was wolf.
The eye not covered by a patch was like Eggie’s, too. Wolf-yellow like she was about to shift, even when she wasn’t. Black hair with lots of grey reached her shoulders in a shaggy mess and she wore a sleeveless plaid shirt over loose-fitting and possibly ancient jeans. Work boots were on her enormous feet and she was missing a pinky on her right hand and her middle and forefinger on her left. Darla could be wrong but they looked bitten off. She also had a scar on the side of her neck like something had once taken hold of her there, but Darla had no doubt the woman was healthy as an ox and had every intention of living another three or four thousand years.
“Yes’m, I am.”
“How come I haven’t met you before?”
“I’ve been in San Francisco.”
“What the hell for?”
“Studying.” When the She-wolf stared at her, she added, “To be a pastry chef.”
“You have to study for that?”
“It helps.”
“As ya like,” she sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “You going to be sniffing ’round my boy, too?”
“I’m just on vacation to see my parents. I have no idea what happened last night or how we even got here so fast, but your son did protect me. I’m very grateful to—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Grateful, right. But you going to head back to Smithville as soon as your sisters get here?”
Darla hadn’t known her sisters were coming here but she shrugged. “I guess.”
“Huh. I see.”
Darla had the feeling she’d disappointed Eggie’s mother but she had no idea how. Then again, maybe it was best not to ask.
“Anyway,” Pauline went on, “that should be fine by morning. With my boys I’ve been puttin’ in and takin’ out stitches before most of them could walk. You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Miss Pauline.”
The She-wolf eyed Darla before grunting, “Huh.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out.
“All right then,” Darla said with a little laugh. Because if nothing else, at least she wasn’t the least bit bored.
C
HAPTER
F
OUR
E
ggie stared down at the She-wolf until her pretty brown eyes opened, blinking wide at the sight of him.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Hungry? Oh. For food.” Yawning, she sat up and stretched. That’s when Eggie realized she’d put on one of his T-shirts . . . and not much else.
“You know,” she said, her smile bright, “I
am
hungry. Starving.”
“Good.” He had food. Hell, he had enough food for a small army.
He reached for Darla, slipping his arms under her legs and behind her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Picking you up.”
“I can walk, Egbert Ray.”
“You’re still recovering.”
“Says who?”
He lifted her up, held her tight in his arms. “
I
do.”
She stared at him for a bit until she raised her hand and pressed her forefinger against his forehead. “You know, you’ve got this thing so dang low, it practically touches your nose.”
“I’m trying to intimidate you into doing what I want . . . but you poking at me ain’t helpin’.”
She giggled, a sound he didn’t often hear that close to him and definitely not when he was the one causing it.
No, people didn’t giggle around Eggie. Or laugh. Or breathe too hard. Or make any sudden moves that might be construed as a threat. Nope. Not around Eggie.
But Darla did.
“Well,” she said, her finger stroking down to his nose, “if you’re gonna insist on carrying me, you better get movin’. I’m hungry!”
“All right. All right. No need to snarl at me like a Doberman.”
Eggie carried Darla down the stairs and cut through the living room to get to the dining room.
“Oh!” Darla squeaked, her hand covering her mouth. “Um . . .”
Eggie stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh . . . nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I see you got furniture while I was asleep.”
“I couldn’t have you sittin’ on a barrel. Just seemed wrong for a lady. Momma said you wouldn’t care, but I asked one of my daddy’s sisters to send over some furniture from her mate’s store.”
“Ahhh. Yes. That explains it.”
Eggie looked at the big couch with the giant yellow and green flower pattern on it. “This doesn’t really say Egbert Ray Smith, does it?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line, shook her head. He had a feeling she wasn’t disapproving as much as trying not to laugh at him.
“Not really,” she finally managed to answer. “I’d probably go with more solid colors for you. Darker reds and browns. Maybe a dark blue. But you know what,” she added. “Ain’t nothin’ here we can’t discreetly cover up.”
“It’s not like I’m ever here. Not sure it matters.”
“Trust me. It matters. Think about it—on those rare times you come home after months and months away . . . you walk through the door, throw on the light . . . and
that
couch is the first thing you see.”
Eggie nodded. “You know . . . my grandmomma made me a couple of quilts few years back. They’re in the upstairs closet.”
“Perfect. Because it won’t seem strange to your aunt that you’d put her Momma’s quilt on your couch. See? You can cover up dang near anything and never have to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“Why would I worry about my aunt’s feelings? Actually. . . why would you? You don’t even know her.”
“Don’t have to know her. She was kind enough to rush furniture over here to her nephew and—”
“She charged me double on the shipping for the urgent delivery and no family discount on the furniture.”
“Oh, really?” Darla briefly pursed her lips. “Well, if you’re gonna pay full price with your own kin, you’re gettin’ what you want. We’ll take this crap back tomorrow and exchange it.” She folded her arms across her chest, fingers tapping against her biceps. He had a feelin’ if she were standing, she’d be tapping her foot right now.
“You don’t have to be upset, Darla Mae.”
“Who says I’m upset? Just ’cause family’s not treatin’ family right. It’s not like I haven’t gone through that or anything,” she finished on a mutter. She looked up at him. “I’m still hungry, Egbert Ray.”
“Okay, okay. No need to snarl.”
Although Eggie did kind of like when she did.
 
Unlike that horrid furniture, the food was good. Of course, that food had been made by Eggie’s mother, Pauline Jessop of the Jessop Pack out of Alaska, which explained the She-wolf ’s size. Jessop wolves were known for their size and speed, only outsized by Arctic wolves, who were descended from Vikings. The Jessops also owned the lumber empire Jessop Mountain Timber, which meant Pauline Ann came from real money . . . and had probably trained several years as a lumberjack. It was required for all the Jessop Pack, male or female.
Sounded like a lot of work to Darla. She’d stick with managing bread dough, thank you very much.
Darla pushed the remainder of the macaroni and cheese toward Eggie.
“What?” he asked.
“You’ve been eyeing it. You might as well finish it.”
“Have you had enough?”
“Eggie, I’ve had enough if I was three people. So go on.” But when he didn’t move fast enough for her, Darla helped him out by putting one of the steaks on his plate and followed that up with several big spoonfuls of the mac and cheese.
He studied his plate for several seconds before he looked at her. “You tryin’ to tell me something?”
“Yes. Now eat.”
While the wolf ate, Darla picked up her glass of sweet tea and looked around his kitchen. She had a feeling his mother had a lot to do with this room. It was nicely equipped and roomy. Maybe she used it when she needed extra space.
“So, Egbert Ray ... what do you do in the Marines?”
He stopped eating, his fork hovering by his mouth. His eyes focused on her and narrowed a little bit. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m a spy.”
He lowered his fork. “What?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m just sittin’ here pumping you for information. That’s what I do for the, um, Viet Cong.”
His fork hit the plate. “Do not joke about that, Darla Mae.”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Who’d believe that
I
would be helping the Viet Cong?”
“Everybody. They’re all paranoid right now, so I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you.”
“Nice Southern gals like me don’t spy.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I’m trying to get you to talk. It’s called a conversation, Egbert Ray.”
“I ain’t chatty.”
“Fine.” Darla pushed back her chair and picked up her plate and fork. She carried them to the sink and turned on the faucet. As she began to search for soap and a sponge, she realized that Eggie stood next to her, carefully placing his own dish and fork in the sink.
“I’ve never been to Vietnam,” he told her, his gaze out the window. “Never had a tour there.”
Nearly everyone that Darla knew who’d been in the military in the last ten years had spent some time in that war-torn country.
“But you’ve been somewhere, right?” She could tell by the scars, the way his body always seemed coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. This was not a man untouched by battle.
Eggie scratched his forehead before facing her. “I’m in what they’re about to start calling the Unit.”
“Oh!” She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“You don’t know what that is, do you?”
“Do I need to?” When he rolled his eyes, she quickly added, “Look, I don’t believe in all this war and fightin’. As a matter of fact . . . I’m a pacifist.”
Eggie stared at her. “How can you be a predator
and
a pacifist?”
“It’s possible.”
“Do you still hunt down your own meat?”
“I’m a pacifist, Eggie Ray. I didn’t say I was a vegetarian.”
“A vege-what?”
“Forget it.” She motioned him away from the sink. “Go on and get the rest of the bowls and things. I’ll do the dishes.”
“You should be resting.”
“Do not annoy me, Eggie Ray.”
“Thought you were a pacifist—ow! What was that for?” he demanded while rubbing his ankle.
“Gettin’ on my nerves. Now do as I tell ya and don’t even think about arguing with me.”
He lowered his leg. “You sure are a pushy pacifist.”
Darla grinned. “Because I’m also a feminist.”
Eggie’s head tipped to the side, reminding her a little of a dog hearing a weird noise. “Why?”
“What do you mean why? Do you actually believe that women are treated fairly in this society?”
“No. But you’re a She-wolf.”
“So?”
“So no wolf is ever going to tell you that you can’t do something unless he really hopes to get his throat torn out.”
And what really annoyed her was that he was right, but that wasn’t the point. “That’s true, but I’m thinking about
all
women.”
“But you’re a She-wolf.”
“I know what I am, Eggie.”
“Then I don’t see the point.”
“You know what?” she snapped. “We’re done talking about this.”
“You were the one who said you wanted a conversation.”
“Well I changed my mind!”
“No need to yell, Darla Mae. I’m standing right here.”
She let out a heavy sigh and again faced the sink. “Get the rest of the dishes,” she ordered.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to make you mad.”
Startled, Darla looked at Eggie. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“Lord, no, Eggie. Annoyed? A bit. But not mad. When I’m mad . . . you can really tell.”
“Is it worse than . . . this?”
“This?” Darla laughed and patted Eggie on the arm. “This is nothing.”
His brow lowered but he didn’t look angry this time. Just confused. “Really?”
“Egbert Ray,” she laughed, again focusing on the dishes, “you are just the cutest thing!”
His confused frown worsened.
“Really?”

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