“Pool schedule?” Lock laughed. “You don’t think that’s going to work, do you?”
“Of course, it will. I wrote it out. In pen.”
But to prove the ineffectiveness of his theory, two lion males tore down the stairs, made a mad dash through the house, tearing off clothes as they went, and crashing into each other, Ric’s furniture, and the walls, screaming, “Pooooooool!”
“Wait!” Novikov yelled, running after them. “There’s a schedule! Your time isn’t for another three hours!”
And like that, Ric’s anger vanished, replaced by laughter.
“Come on,” he said to Lock. “Let’s go torture Stein by telling him he’s doing everything wrong even when he’s not.”
“Excellent plan.”
Lock walked off and Ric began to follow, but stopped long enough to return to the chart and move Novikov’s precisely placed people all over the place, separating couples from each other, their children, and spreading them out randomly so breeds and species were all sorts of mixed.
Laughing harder, he headed toward the kitchen, already deciding he didn’t like the way Stein deboned those damn chickens.
Yeah. It was going to be a great weekend!
Dee headed into the house from a side door after spending a couple of hours in the pool with her Pack and kin. As she passed through, she saw that the Shaw brothers had moved from lounging next to the pool to lounging in the living room, both of them sprawled over Van Holtz’s furniture like the big, lazy beasts they were. In fact, Mitchell might actually be drooling. Shaking her head, disgusted, she walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
“Dee,” she heard behind her, but Dee kept walking. “Dee. Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann. Deeeeeeee-Annnnnnnn.”
Eyes closed, Dee stopped, took a breath, before she faced Teacup. “Yeah?” Dee gritted her teeth when the wolfdog hugged her. “Why are you touching me?”
“Because you’re really a wonderful person and maybe the world thinks you’re just a heartless killer, but I think you’re the best. The best!”
Dee looked over the wolfdog’s head at the small group of hybrid pups and cubs that she’d invited to come here this weekend. The rest of the Group’s hybrid kids had plans with their foster families, but this bunch, including Hannah, had no one. So, yeah, Dee had invited them all to attend after talking it over with Ric. It wasn’t a big deal. Why did Teacup insist on making everything a goshdarn big deal?
“Get her off me,” she told Hannah.
“Why me?”
“Get her off.”
Sighing, the bear-canine hybrid took hold of Blayne’s waist and pulled until she’d finally released Dee.
“Go find rooms,” she told them all. “Anything that doesn’t already have someone’s bags in it. I don’t want to hear any damn arguing over it either.”
The kids took off, running up the stairs, someone yelling, “But did you look at the chart?” from somewhere in the house. Dee didn’t know who and she didn’t care.
“You want to play tennis with me?” Blayne asked.
Good Lord, the woman had so much energy. Dee had seen her taking a run around the property, disappearing for several hours. She’d probably run ten, maybe even twenty miles, and now, standing in Van Holtz’s marble hallway, sweat pouring from every pore onto the man’s floor, she didn’t want to shower and pass out like the cats. She wanted to play tennis. Freak.
“Nope,” Dee told her, turning away. “Don’t want to play tennis.”
Blayne cut in front of her. “How about a swim? Or basketball? There’s a basketball court, too.”
Dee caught hold of Blayne’s nose between the knuckles of two of her fingers. “What is it I just said?”
“You said no. You said no! Ow! Let me go, you Amazon!”
Twisting the nose she held a little more, Dee pushed Blayne down the hallway until they reached the kitchen. Using Blayne’s body, Dee shoved open the large swinging door and stalked in.
The wild dogs sitting around the kitchen table, eating more chocolate than was probably good for them, looked up at her, eyes wide.
“What did I tell you people when you arrived? What did I say to you? My exact words?”
“Keep the wolfdog away from me,” they all repeated back to her. All except Jessie Ann, who was too busy giggling around a mouthful of dark chocolate brownies. At least Dee guessed the brownies were dark chocolate. Bobby Ray’s woman had a real thing for dark chocolate. It couldn’t be normal.
“And yet what is she doing?”
“Annoying you?” one of the wild dogs asked.
“Yes. Annoying me.” She shoved Teacup away from her. “Don’t annoy me!”
“But I just wanted to show you how much we love and care and—”
Ric appeared beside Blayne and shoved a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. “Isn’t that delicious, Blayne? Enjoy.” He grabbed Dee’s wrist and dragged her toward the back of the house, stopping long enough to glare at a busy Stein, who’d stopped butchering something to wipe his forehead.
“What?”
“Get to work.”
“I was just—”
“Don’t argue!” Ric pulled her out of the kitchen, through the mud room, and out the back door.
“Why do you keep torturing that poor boy?”
Ric stopped and faced her. “You ask me that after you had Blayne’s nose in a Dee-lock?”
“She’s annoying. Stein is working his ass off.”
“And he’ll continue to do so. There’s no easy way back into the Van Holtz Pack. And if I’m going to make a good case to get him back in, he’ll need to prove to me that he deserves it.”
Dee smirked. “Look at you, Van Holtz. Trying to sweet talk me.”
MacRyrie walked out of the house, carrying a baseball bat.
“Is that for Novikov?” Ric asked, sounding way too hopeful.
“No. Wanted to see if anyone was up for a little softball game.”
Dee folded her arms over her chest. “You? Playing softball? This isn’t your idea, is it, MacRyrie?”
Because MacRyrie was a lousy liar, he looked past Dee and asked, “Why would you ask me that?”
Dee glanced over at the kitchen window and saw Blayne and the wild dogs duck for cover. Snarling, Dee snapped, “Teacup!”
“Oh, come on, Dee,” Ric argued teasingly. “How bad could a little game of softball between friends be?”
CHAPTER 23
“I don’t see what the problem is!” Blayne yelled at Mitch Shaw while they stood on the pitcher’s mound. “You’re playing for the Smiths!”
“I’m mated to a Smith, in case you hadn’t noticed. You, however, are not mated to anyone in the Kuznetsov Pack. You are, point of fact, Pack-less.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ric heard Dee-Ann sigh next to him. “And here we go.”
And, sure enough, Ric’s beloved but “sensitive Sally” Blayne burst into tears, the entire Kuznetsov Pack rushing the field to give her a big hug while yelling at Mitch.
“Oh, come on!” Mitch yelled, arms thrown out dramatically. “You’re not buying this, are you?”
“Does he mean Blayne’s performance,” Ric quietly asked Dee, “or his own?”
“Probably both.”
Jess stormed onto the field after shoving her daughter into a laughing Smitty’s arms, and slammed her finger into Mitch’s chest.
“I’ll have you know, Mitchell Shaw, that Blayne and Ric are part of the Kuznetsov Pack. As is Gwenie and Lachlan MacRyrie of the Clan MacRyrie. So if they want to play on our team, they can!”
“You’re kidding, right?” Mitch felt the need to argue, as always refusing to accept that he’d never win this fight. Not against a female predator. Not without backup—and Mitch’s brother Brendon Shaw didn’t appear ready to be anyone’s backup. “At least Blayne is half wolf. But Gwenie? Hello? Feline. MacRyrie? Bear. And Van Holtz has his own Pack!”