Bill? I didn’t mean to
startle you. I didn’t want to take a chance.”
“No problem.”
Dash bent over and sniffed
the box. He detected no trace of explosives or anything else suspicious. Was
that...perfume? For the first time, he noticed that the box had been tied with
a pink ribbon. This had “woman” written all over it, and he had a pretty good
idea which woman had sent it.
“Is it a bomb?”
“It’s much worse than
that,” he muttered.
“Do you want me to get rid
of it?”
Sighing, he picked up the
box and slipped it into the pocket of his cargo pants. “No, it’s fine. It’s
confidential pack business. Make sure you don’t mention it to anyone else. Are
we straight on that...this time?”
“All right.” Bill took up
his stance by the door again, continuing to avoid eye contact with Dash.
“You don’t need to stand
there all day,” Dash said. “That’s why we have a doorbell.”
“All right,” the
submissive wolf said again, and eased himself down on Elaine’s charming Shaker
bench. Dash rather thought it might break under his weight. Elaine would hold a
grudge.
“Sure you’re happy there?”
“Yep,” Bill said, folding
his arms over his chest.
“Okay.” Dash stalked off
to his den.
He looked up and down the
hallway before he pulled the study door shut behind him. The little white box
weighed a thousand pounds in his pocket. He took it out and put it on his desk.
It looked so harmless.
Taking a deep breath, he
fumbled with the pink ribbon, trying to undo the elaborate knot. After a minute
or so he set the box down in disgust and began rummaging through his drawers
for a knife. Nothing. If he lived alone, there’d be a hunting knife in every
room of the house, but Elaine wouldn’t think it proper. Distracted, wondering
how Annie would feel about it, he slammed his fingers in the drawer and swore.
Pushing back his chair, he
rose, intending to head for the kitchen to find something large and sharp. The
damn box sat on the desk, mocking him. He hated carrying it around, but he
couldn’t very well leave it there. He shoved it back into his pocket.
Half the family appeared
to have taken up residence in the kitchen. Both his aunts—Marjie looking
a bit paler than usual—Annie, Daisy, Jack, and Gaelan were all standing
about, chatting. He couldn’t very well make off with a knife without being
interrogated. Instead, he rested a hip on the counter and scowled at everyone.
Annie caught his eye and
turned away, smiling. About what, he wondered. He ran a hand over his skull,
feeling the beginnings of the old familiar tension headache.
“We’re all done packing,”
Elaine announced. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready, Dash. Are you ready?”
He’d shove a couple changes
of clothes into a duffle bag along with his wash kit. How long could that take?
He shrugged.
“Did you pack formal
clothes?”
He screwed up his face at
his aunt. “What for? This is Montana, not New York. And it’s a ranch. I’ll be
running around in fur half the time, anyway.”
“There are functions to attend,
meetings, dinners. You ought to take your formal pack clothes. You weren’t
planning on only packing jeans and lumberjack shirts, were you?”
He scowled again, the
tension between his eyes deepening when he heard a titter. Annie. She wouldn’t
be laughing if she had to wear the formal getup they wanted him to wear. He’d
hoped the change of leadership might mean a relaxation of the formalities, but
he’d been naïve. The aunts would never let him escape that stuff.
“I’ll grab my bag.” If
he’d been in wolf form he would have flattened his ears against his head and
growled. As it was, he maintained his scowl and turned to leave the room. And
stopped. He heard something, at the very edge of his senses, and his hackles rose.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“What was that?” Daisy
asked.
“What was what?” Annie’s
voice still held a hint of laughter.
He spun on one
startle you. I didn’t want to take a chance.”
“No problem.”
Dash bent over and sniffed
the box. He detected no trace of explosives or anything else suspicious. Was
that...perfume? For the first time, he noticed that the box had been tied with
a pink ribbon. This had “woman” written all over it, and he had a pretty good
idea which woman had sent it.
“Is it a bomb?”
“It’s much worse than
that,” he muttered.
“Do you want me to get rid
of it?”
Sighing, he picked up the
box and slipped it into the pocket of his cargo pants. “No, it’s fine. It’s
confidential pack business. Make sure you don’t mention it to anyone else. Are
we straight on that...this time?”
“All right.” Bill took up
his stance by the door again, continuing to avoid eye contact with Dash.
“You don’t need to stand
there all day,” Dash said. “That’s why we have a doorbell.”
“All right,” the
submissive wolf said again, and eased himself down on Elaine’s charming Shaker
bench. Dash rather thought it might break under his weight. Elaine would hold a
grudge.
“Sure you’re happy there?”
“Yep,” Bill said, folding
his arms over his chest.
“Okay.” Dash stalked off
to his den.
He looked up and down the
hallway before he pulled the study door shut behind him. The little white box
weighed a thousand pounds in his pocket. He took it out and put it on his desk.
It looked so harmless.
Taking a deep breath, he
fumbled with the pink ribbon, trying to undo the elaborate knot. After a minute
or so he set the box down in disgust and began rummaging through his drawers
for a knife. Nothing. If he lived alone, there’d be a hunting knife in every
room of the house, but Elaine wouldn’t think it proper. Distracted, wondering
how Annie would feel about it, he slammed his fingers in the drawer and swore.
Pushing back his chair, he
rose, intending to head for the kitchen to find something large and sharp. The
damn box sat on the desk, mocking him. He hated carrying it around, but he
couldn’t very well leave it there. He shoved it back into his pocket.
Half the family appeared
to have taken up residence in the kitchen. Both his aunts—Marjie looking
a bit paler than usual—Annie, Daisy, Jack, and Gaelan were all standing
about, chatting. He couldn’t very well make off with a knife without being
interrogated. Instead, he rested a hip on the counter and scowled at everyone.
Annie caught his eye and
turned away, smiling. About what, he wondered. He ran a hand over his skull,
feeling the beginnings of the old familiar tension headache.
“We’re all done packing,”
Elaine announced. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready, Dash. Are you ready?”
He’d shove a couple changes
of clothes into a duffle bag along with his wash kit. How long could that take?
He shrugged.
“Did you pack formal
clothes?”
He screwed up his face at
his aunt. “What for? This is Montana, not New York. And it’s a ranch. I’ll be
running around in fur half the time, anyway.”
“There are functions to attend,
meetings, dinners. You ought to take your formal pack clothes. You weren’t
planning on only packing jeans and lumberjack shirts, were you?”
He scowled again, the
tension between his eyes deepening when he heard a titter. Annie. She wouldn’t
be laughing if she had to wear the formal getup they wanted him to wear. He’d
hoped the change of leadership might mean a relaxation of the formalities, but
he’d been naïve. The aunts would never let him escape that stuff.
“I’ll grab my bag.” If
he’d been in wolf form he would have flattened his ears against his head and
growled. As it was, he maintained his scowl and turned to leave the room. And
stopped. He heard something, at the very edge of his senses, and his hackles rose.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“What was that?” Daisy
asked.
“What was what?” Annie’s
voice still held a hint of laughter.
He spun on one
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