Rafe nodded and Cam gave him another reassuring pat. And then Cam was gone and it was just him and Sierra because Laura was working, too.
Cam meant well, but he didn’t understand. The money wouldn’t ease this hole inside him. He knew it was wrong. He had more than most people. He had a woman he loved wildly and a best friend and a kid he adored. And he wanted to matter.
Oh, he knew they loved him, and he was more than willing to give up his former ambitions. He didn’t want to go back to the rat race, but he needed to contribute.
He couldn’t even give Sierra a grandmother.
He rocked her for a while, his mind wandering, trying to figure out a way out of this desolation he felt. The last thing his family needed was a bitter man.
There was a knock on his door. He closed his eyes briefly. It was probably Gemma. Ever since she and Jesse and Cade had moved into Holly’s old cabin, Gemma showed up from time to time with her slightly dour personality and one of Cade’s loaves of bread. He rather thought Cade and Jesse were trying to soften her up by forcing her to get to know the neighbors.
He got up and crossed to the door. The slight weight of Sierra sleeping in his arms was the only thing that kept him smiling.
He opened the door, ready to invite Gemma in for what always proved to be an awkward five or six minutes, but he was rapidly getting used to his life being awkward.
And it was more than awkward because Gemma wasn’t the one standing on his porch. Zane Hollister’s massive body took up most of the space, but he wasn’t alone. Stella Talbot was wearing her red boots with the purple fringe. Marie Warner was dressed in a pair of khaki overalls, a stern look on her face. Long-Haired Roger had a trucker hat over his bald head, and Polly, owner of Polly’s Cut and Curl, was shaking her head. There was a tension among the group that was impossible to miss.
Zane loomed in the doorway, his face a grim mask. “Rafe, we need your help to stop the greatest disaster Bliss has ever seen.”
Well, at least the day wouldn’t be boring.
Chapter Four:
Leo, Shelley, and Wolf
“Ma, I love you, but you’re fucking insane if you think for a second that we’re going to serve beet juice at our wedding,” he said over his cell.
Leo had been over this about ten thousand times, but two minutes ago his beautiful bride had called and used her dulcet voice to scream at him that if there were beets at her wedding, his cock was going to wither and die.
He believed her. His baby could be very stubborn. Unfortunately, so was his mother. He’d figured out how to deal with Shelley long ago. He could tie her up and spank her. It usually worked quite well. His mother was still a mystery.
“Leonardo, honey, don’t you want to know if she’s using you for your alien sperm?”
Nope. I’m perfectly fine with my sperm being used in any capacity. But the wedding was seriously fucking with his ability to get laid. He would be damn happy when the wedding was done and he could get to the marriage. “Ma, I love Shelley. Wolf loves Shell. We’re getting married to her. We’re happy. She’s one hundred percent human, with all the working human female parts. Be happy for us, please.”
He walked down Main Street, stalking his prey. Up ahead, the man he’d been hunting was walking into the Trading Post. Excellent. He could view the subject interacting with others again. He’d discovered the man two days ago and found that studying him took his mind off all of his troubles.
He could write a whole damn book about this guy. This guy made Chase Dawson look normal.
“Leonardo, I love you and Wolfgang. Shelley seems real nice, but it’s time you come to your senses. She won’t take the beet. She won’t even try.”
The fact that his mother could use the phrase “take the beet” damn near killed him. “Ma, none of us wants to take the beet. It’s not because we’re aliens. It’s because they’re gross and they stain everything. I spent a god-awful amount of money on Shelley’s dress. Someone named Monique Lhuillier really believes in her own talent, and one of our future daughters should really be able to wear it again because it might just be her only legacy after what that dress cost me. She can’t wear it if it’s got beet juice all over it.”
Not that he would ever have a child. A man had to have sex in order to procreate, and at this point he wasn’t even living with his wife.
They might not have a legal agreement, but she’d really been his wife since the day she’d agreed to marry him. But she’d insisted on this freaking old-school, no-sex-for-a-week-before-marriage shit.
And Wolf had just lain right down like a big old pussy. He hadn’t even argued with her about it.
Now they were back in their childhood cabin, in their old rooms. It was supposed to be a reminder of how far he’d come. He just kind of wanted to be where he was. He’d worked damn hard for his really nice condo in Dallas. Well, he’d manipulated Julian enough to get a wretchedly large salary that afforded him the best of everything.
And yet he had to admit there was a piercing sweetness to being back here. Everywhere he looked there was a reminder of just how much his crazy-as-fuck mother had loved him, how much this place had molded him into the man he was. Even hanging with Wolf had been fun. They’d been fishing and gone to the Movie Motel for a showing of Die Hard and just sat and drank and talked. Mostly about how hard up they were, but they were really communicating.
He thought about the e-mail he’d received. It had come out of nowhere and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He hadn’t told Wolf a thing about it. He sure as hell hadn’t told his ma. Was he going to say a word or pretend like it didn’t exist? He wasn’t sure. The man who had sent him the e-mail had pretended he didn’t exist for the last thirty-something years. Payback, in this case, was as easy as hitting the delete key.
“Ma? Are you there or have you vacated the premises?” He had to ask the question because on more than one occasion, his mother had simply dropped the phone and walked off when he told her something she didn’t want to hear. Of course, she tended to claim that those were the times she’d been abducted by aliens.
“It’s already started.” His mother’s voice was a hushed whisper. “You’ve turned your back on your upbringing. You used to love beets.”
His stomach actually turned. His mother was very good at rewriting history. He’d eaten beets half the time because they were the only things they could afford. He wasn’t going there with her though. He loved his mother enough that he could rewrite history, too. “Nope, I hated them all my life. The only reason I ate them was the fact that I didn’t get ice cream if I didn’t clean my plate. Ma, is there something else at work here? Some deeper anxiety?”
“Don’t you psychoanalyze me, Leonardo Michelangelo Meyer. I can still put you over my knee, you know. And there is no deeper anxiety than alien abduction. You tell that alien queen that I will not attend the wedding without her beeting.” There was a quick click and Leo sighed.
His mother used beet as a verb. Yep, his condo in Dallas seemed very peaceful.
A loud ruckus caught his attention. The doors to the Trading Post flung open and two young men came running out.
“That is one crazy son of a bitch. He damn near took out my eye with that fishing pole.”
“What the fuck is up with this place? I came here for Sasquatch, not Satan.”
Both young men practically ran down the road.
Max Harper was at it again.
Yes. This was a subject he could study for days. Leo was actually excited again. Ever since Logan had left, he hadn’t had a single deeply fucked-up dude to fix. Leo kind of lived to fix people, but he’d started to believe that Max was that rarest of fucked-up dudes. The naturally fucked up. The “no real reason for it, just kind of crazy” idiot.