Chapter 7

BRATT.

Taking Noah to my folks’ place was always a treat for everyone involved. I usually got to eat an amazing homecooked meal with my parents, Noah got to be spoiled by his grandparents, and Mom and Dad got a chance to spend time with their only grandson.

My mother, while identifying primarily as a shifter, had a lot of Italian heritage in her bloodline. In fact, she was the first generation born in the States to my late grandparents after they immigrated. Because of that, food had always been equated with love in my household, and we ate a lot of amazing food.

Now that my parents were retired, my mother spent most of her time improving old recipes. Buying her a pasta press for Christmas a couple of years prior was the best and worst decision I ever made.

When we pulled up outside of the house, even Travis could smell the fresh garlic and butter from outside their beachfront bungalow.

“Holy shit,” he said as we climbed out of the car.

“Uncle Travis! Bad word!”

“I know, I know, but I had to, kiddo. If that food smells good to me, it must be otherworldly for you and your dad, right?”

“I want dino nuggets,” Noah said as Travis helped him out of his car seat.

“How about something kind of like dino nuggets, but with pasta and not shaped like a dinosaur?” I asked him.

“No! Dino nuggets!”

I stifled a groan as Travis set Noah on his feet. I ruffled his hair before squatting next to him to meet his eyes. “You know Grandma gets really sad when you don’t eat like a big boy, so if you eat like a big boy tonight, I promise we’ll do dino nuggets and potato smileys tomorrow.”

“Both?” Noah exclaimed. “Yeah!”

He took off running up the stairs to the front door of my parents’ house, fully bribed into behaving. I stood to my full height again and huffed, looking at Travis.

“Want to stay for some dinner before we go out drinking?” I asked.

“Why would you even insult me by asking that? As if your mother doesn’t already love me more than she loves you. As if I would ever turn down your mother’s cooking in this, the year of our Lord—”

“All right, all right,” I interrupted. “I don’t need the monologue. Come on.”

My parents’ place wasn’t too far from my own, in the same neighborhood, in fact. I bought the small plot of land and built them a house as an anniversary gift when my business had turned a decent profit.

They had been living in a mobile home for a while at that point, having downsized after my sister and I left them with an empty nest. But the rent for the plot had been getting out of hand, and while they never told me directly, I knew they’d been struggling to make ends meet. It had become especially clear when I visited, and Mom didn’t offer to make me a meal.

The way I’d seen it was that they’d given everything to give me and my sister a great start in life. It was now my job to help take care of them in their retirement and as they aged.

When Travis and I stepped inside, our senses were assaulted by even more mouthwatering scents of tomato, capers, milk, cheese, and prosciutto. A happy warmth filled me as my mother called from the large kitchen.

“Is that my favorite son?” she called.

“You bet it is, Mrs. Lucas!” Travis responded without a beat.

I punched his arm lightly as my mother poked her head out above the breakfast bar. She grinned at us.

“Come on in. I made chicken parmesan!”

We migrated toward the kitchen where my mother stood cooking. My father sat a few feet away at the breakfast table, sipping on a bottle of beer. My mom leaned down, opening her arms up to Noah for a hug. Obliging her, her ran to her. She peppered kisses all over his face and the top of his head.

“You get bigger every time I see you, you little monster,” she said, tickling him. “Do me a favor and stop growing up, would you? It makes me feel old!”

“But, Nanny, you are old!”

“Noah!” I chastised. His mouth pulled down, and he shrunk into himself as he looked at me.

“Out of the mouths of babes.” Dad chuckled.

“Oh, don’t encourage him, you,” my mother said. “You’re older than I am, after all.”

“No one needs to tell him that,” he retorted.

“Gramps is old! Gramps is old!”

“Not so pleasant when it’s you, is it?” Mom asked with a satisfied smirk. “Anyway, Noah, I made special chicken parmesan for you. Want to see it?”

“Okay!”

My mother grunted as she picked Noah up and carried him over to the island counter, where a small collection of chicken cutlets was already cooling on a plate. Noah cried out with delight.

“Nanny made dino nuggets!” he squealed.

And sure enough, she had. On the plate were the most gourmet-looking dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets I had ever seen.

“Mom, you didn’t have to go through all the trouble,” I said.

“It wasn’t any trouble,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I needed a new challenge. It’s good for me, keeps the ol’ brain chugging along.”

“What do you say, Noah?” I prompted my son. Manners were a newer lesson for him now that he was coming into his boyhood. But I’d be damned if my kid was going to be a rude little shit.

“Thank you, Nanny,” he said, wrapping his arms around her neck.

She smiled and squeezed him tight. “Anything for my sweet little pup. Now, go sit with Gramps. Dinner will be ready soon.” She let him scramble down her body, and he hurried off to give my dad a hug. Then she looked at me and Travis.

“You two going to stay for dinner, or are you heading right out?”

“I thought we could stay if you have enough,” I said.

“It’s like my own son doesn’t know me at all. You both go take a seat. Help yourself to a drink from the fridge if you like.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I grabbed a beer for myself and Travis from the stainless-steel refrigerator and chocolate milk for Noah. It was always a toss-up on whether Noah would actually eat what was served to him, and even if he was excited about my mother’s homemade chicken nuggets, it was best to make sure he got some protein from a glass of chocolate milk.

I sat down, rubbing the back of my neck as I took a sip of my cold beer. I was in a decent mood, but I was still wearing a lot of the stress of the day in my shoulders. If a night of drinking didn’t fix this, then a massage would be needed in short order.

“What’s wrong?” my mother asked.

“Wrong? Who said anything was wrong?” I looked over to where she stood, stirring a pot of sauce on the stove.

“I’m your mother, Bratt. I know when something is bothering you,” she said, pointing her stained wooden spoon at me.

“Long day. Noah’s first day of school and some…stupid work stuff,” I said.

“Stupid work stuff? Something wrong?”

“Just some jackass refusing to sell to us because of—” I cut myself off, looking at Noah, who was playing with some dinosaur toys that my parents kept for him. I didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room with Noah in the vicinity. After all, by the time he was old enough to understand prejudice, there was a chance there would be less of it toward our kind. “Well, you know,” I said vaguely.

“Ah…I thought that was illegal these days.”

“It is,” Travis said. “We told him as much, and he told us to take him to court.”

“Well, he sounds delightful. Seems like you dodged a bullet then.”

“Yeah, I guess. It just puts us in a tough spot for the new office,” I said. “How’s Ginge doing?”

“Your sister’s fine—busy as ever in the shifter division. I’ve only really talked to her on the phone. Between the department and heading to the state capital to lobby for better working conditions and a restructuring of the police force to account for shifters, she’s barely had any time for herself or for anyone else.”

“Really? She’s getting into politics?” I asked.

“You know how stubborn your sister is—if something is broken, she wants to fix it.” Mom tasted the sauce, mouth working for a moment. Then she grabbed a fresh sprig of oregano from her herb planters on the windowsill and crushed it into the mixture. “I guess you’re both that way. Your sister fixes society, and you fix homes and businesses to be more accommodating to us shifters. You must have gotten it from your father.”

Dad snorted and shook his head, quiet as ever. “I don’t know about that.”

My father was an analytical, thoughtful guy. When he and my mom were young wolves, after they mated and started facing the world together, people didn’t really know about shifters. We hadn’t come out of the clawset yet. If things were hard now, they were even harder then.

Shifting had been so perilous that many packs were forced to live on the outskirts of society. Abuse and assault ran rampant for decades because a woman coming forward about her abuse ostensibly meant selling out the existence of shifters as a whole. There were still women my mother had known growing up who were missing, likely dead, but we couldn’t be sure.

Dad wasn’t a particularly strong male—some would call him a beta. Just a quiet guy with a penchant for chess who ran a specialty watch-and-clock repair shop for most of his life.

Still, Dad was one of the good ones, according to my mother, and managed to somehow get them situated in a cushy city life even though it had been risky. They both stayed as far away from pack politics as they could, which had been a big deal in the beginning. My grandfather, Victor, was actually the alpha of a pack in Georgia, and it was sort of the logical next step for my dad to take over that position. But instead, he left the pack to be with my mom and make his own way. For a good portion of my childhood, whenever I asked about my grandparents, things always got really tense.

I didn’t meet my grandfather until I was in my freshman year of high school, but I think we were all better off for it, especially when I overheard how the pack elders talked about my sister when she was barely starting puberty—like she was breeding stock for a prized horse. Sometimes, back when we were teenagers, my sister and I resented our parents for not keeping us closer to pack culture, but the more I saw of all that garbage, the less I liked it.

As it was, more and more people were moving away from that these days.

“You know, Bratt, you’ll probably fare better in a different location anyway,” my dad said. “After all, people like him? If they’re ignorant about one thing, they’re usually ignorant about a lot more.”

“Yeah.” I took another swig of my beer. “It just rubs me the wrong way. It’s the principle of it, you know?”

He nodded in understanding but also knew that there was nothing to be done about it.

The skin under my collar was just starting to prickle with irritation when my mother approached the table with an armful of expertly balanced plates of chicken parmesan. She’d been a waitress for most of her life until Dad was able to keep us afloat on his own. Then she became a stay-at-home mom.

“Bratt, I’m marrying your mom,” Travis said as he picked up his fork.

“I’m taken, kiddo,” Mom said, the nickname a holdover from our time in high school together.

Travis pointed a fork at my father. “If you ever mess this whole thing up, just remember that I’m waiting in the wings.”

“You know, between Bratt joking about marrying Sylvia and you always vowing to marry my wife, I sometimes worry about you boys. Aren’t there any women your own age who are interested in you?” Dad said.

I snorted a laugh as I tucked into my food, shaking my head.

“No, Pops. But now that you mention it, Bratt has his eye on a certain someone.”

I dropped my hand, fork clattering forcefully on the plate. “Don’t,”I threatened.

“Too late, I already heard it,” my mother said as she sat with us. She tucked a napkin into the neckline of Noah’s shirt, who seemed blissfully unaware as he dunked dino-shaped chicken into red sauce and munched on buttered noodles. “Spill,” she commanded.

I shot Travis a withering look before gesturing for him to continue. Now that my mother was on the subject, she wouldn’t drop it. She’d been pushing me to start dating ever since Olivia and I split.

“Well, her name is Marley, and she is a certain someone’s T-E-A-C-H-E-R,” Travis said. “She’s very cute and laughs at your son’s stupid jokes.”

“Oh, really? That would be convenient, wouldn’t it? You could see her almost every day.”

“Or really inconvenient if it goes poorly. Besides, I’m pretty sure Lana said there’s a no-dating policy for the tea—” I looked down at Noah, who was now making two dino nuggets fight in a fierce battle of violence and domination. “The point is moot, basically. She’s very pretty, but it would never work.”

“Well, that’s convenient too—only in a way I don’t like.” My mother frowned. “Honey, you shouldn’t be complacent about dating. Believe me, it’s only going to get harder as Noah gets older. And you deserve to be happy. Not everyone is going to turn out like…like you-know-who.”

I pressed my lips into a tight line—even now, thinking of Olivia just pissed me off. I would never understand her and the people who were like her.

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ll think about it. Let’s just drop it for now. I don’t want things to get…” I looked at Noah again, still blissfully unaware for now. “I just don’t want to talk about confusing stuff.”

“Fine,” she said, lifting her brows in concern. “We’ll drop it for now.”

The rest of dinner went easily enough, and by the time Noah’s food was almost finished, he was already starting to get a little drowsy. Since it was still early for him to be going to bed, my dad took him to play with knick-knacks in his workroom.

The sun was beginning to set when Travis and I hugged and kissed my mother goodbye.

“You guys have fun tonight and drive safely. If you need to run home, just do that.”

“Mom, I’m a grown man. You don’t have to remind me not to drink and drive,” I teased.

“I don’t have to, that’s true, but I will anyway,” she said with a wink. “Don’t worry about Noah. We’ll take him to school in the morning. We want to see the place anyway. We haven’t seen it since the ribbon-cutting ceremony.”

“A lot has changed since then, too. Make sure you go in and check out the model of the solar system in the lobby. It’s amazing.”

“Your dad will love that,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I said as I trotted down the front steps and got into the car.

“So, back home to freshen up for the ladies? Or straight there?” Travis asked me.

I snorted. “Ladies? Dude, we’re just going to get a couple of beers, maybe one or two shots. Unless you’re trying to tell me I smell bad?”

“You know you don’t smell bad. I know you know that because your nose is a thousand times stronger than mine, which leads me to believe you are fishing for a compliment. And I am not taking the bait. If you’re set on a sausage party, then you won’t hear any bitching from me. We can rough it.”

“Travis, you are an enigma, truly. How is it that one man who does nothing but think about women remains so single?”

Travis tossed his head back as if flipping non-existent hair out of his face. “None of these people deserve me.”

I choked back a laugh and shook my head. “All right, Grace Kelly, let’s get a move on, yeah?”

“You got it, Mr. Daisy.”

Our usual haunt was a brewery in town owned by a local and a long-time friend of Travis. It had all the standard trappings you’d expect at a brewery. Atmospheric orangey lighting, rustic wooden interior and fixtures, comfortable booths in tasteful black vinyl and—

“Travis, you missed the turn,” I said as we sped past the street that would take us to the brewery.

“We aren’t going to Beards and Brews today.”

“Well then, where the hell are we going?”

“The Night Shift,” he said.

I balked. “The Night Shift? As in the shifters’ bar and dance club?”

“That would be the one,” he said casually.

“But you hate shifter clubs,” I said. “The last time we went to one, you almost got your throat ripped out for dancing with someone’s mate.”

“Listen, Bratt. I am nothing if not a stubborn idiot. Maybe this one is different. That last shifter club we went to was more like a biker bar, anyway. Didn’t you say the biker packs are kind of old school and weird?”

“How is this one any different?”

“Uh, it’s in New Middle Bluff, and it is chic. Fuckin’ light shows and shit,” he said.

“But—”

“Bro, would you please, for the love of all that is good in this world, just shut your trap and try to have a good night? We’re going somewhere that will allow you to be yourself after a day where you had doors slammed in your face for being what you are, okay? I am your best friend. Let me be self-sacrificing once in a while, you ass.”

I inhaled to speak again and promptly let the words vanish, my breath leaving me in a huff.

“Fine. But you better not try and get me to dance with anyone. I see what you and Mom are up to.”

“Scout’s honor, I will not make you use your two gigantic left feet on this night.” He held his hand up in a pledge the same way I had with Marley earlier that day.

After about twenty minutes, we arrived at the club. Travis was right; the place was trendy. The signage was made of silvery neon lights depicting a huge, full moon and the name of the club written in cursive. There were no real windows, but as I looked past the bouncer at the door, I could see stainless steel, dancing poles, and violet and pink lighting the dim interior.

“It looks…kind of girly,” I said.

“Oh, so clubs are gendered now? Stop being a pig and get out of the car,” he said.

Rolling my eyes, I slid out of my seat and reluctantly walked toward the entrance. Travis, hilariously, was carded at the door. I teased him for a good ten minutes about looking like a teenager, but only because I was so uncomfortable. The place was nice enough, just not really my vibe. At least they had some good pale ales on tap, so I ordered a round of those as we got settled in.

What bug had gotten up Travis’s ass? Why was he suddenly trying to get me into shifter spaces? Or at least, shifter spaces like this—trendy and obnoxiously dark, with overpriced cocktails served with clouds of cotton candy around the glasses. This wasn’t our vibe, shifter club or not.

We sat and shot the shit for a while, talking about work and brainstorming a nice gift for Sylvia’s upcoming fifty-fifth birthday.

Then it happened.

I caught the scent of roses and honey on the breeze coming through the door.

I whipped my head around, looking for the owner of that familiar yet entirely unique scent. The place had gotten a lot more crowded, but my eyes quickly found her.

Marley Cage stood just a few steps from the entrance, looking around the place with Lana and Noah’s other teacher. Marley had changed out of the capris and flowery blouse into something more feminine. Tighter. She tugged awkwardly at the hem of her skirt like it wasn’t hers, and she didn’t exactly know how to wear it. Still, she looked delicious in it.

The shirt was lace, showing off a lacy bralette that cradled her perfect breasts with care. Long sleeves connected to a pair of silver rings, one on each middle finger. A pencil skirt hugged her ample hips and thighs, the skirt’s slip just barely allowing her thigh to escape when she shifted her weight to one hip. She’d put on some flashier makeup, too—glitter and gloss—and even curled her hair a bit more.

She was perfect.

And I was annoyed.

I looked over to Travis, who was studying the ceiling tile a little too intently.

“A place to be myself, huh?” I griped.

He looked over his shoulder and made a horrible show of looking surprised. “Oh, my goodness! What a coincidence. Small world, huh?”

“You did this on purpose, asshat.”

“I may or may not have heard from her that she was coming here with her friends to celebrate the first day of school while Noah was giving you the grand tour of the playground,” he said. “And I may or may not have decided that it would be good for the two of you to talk when you were both a few drinks in.”

“Can you do me a favor and…stop doing me fucking favors?”

He leveled me with a deadpan stare. “That is a paradox, Bratt. Are you trying to make me explode?”

“Are you implying that you’re secretly a robot?”

“I mean, have you ever seen me and a robot together in the same room? I could be.”

Despite my frustration, I looked over to Marley again. I watched as Lana directed her to a nearby booth, then I watched as every other unpaired male in the room watched her and her friends walk over to it.

I felt Travis’s eyes on me.

“What?” I said a bit too sharply.

“You want to go talk to her, don’t you?”

“I want to do way more than talk, and you know it. You also know I’m trying pretty hard not to confuse my son, and I don’t know why you are actively sabotaging me in that.”

“Because this is the first girl you’ve given more than a passing glance in five years? Because you both have really great chemistry? Because she’s got the face of an angel and a body made for sin?”

“You need to lay off the romance novels, Trav.”

“Excuse me. They are the way to a woman’s…uh…heart. And a few other places. But enough about me,” he said as he gave my arm a push. “Go and say hi. Go and charm her. It’s not a damned marriage proposal. It’s just a nice, fun night. Fuck the consequences.”

I looked back at Marley, laughing and talking with the other women. “You are a terrible influence. You know that?”

“It’s why you love me.” He raised his beer. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

I rolled my eyes and stood up. After a second’s hesitation, I walked over to their table, trying not to feel like the world’s biggest creep. I ran through a couple of potential greetings in my head before settling on one.

Marley was sitting between her friends. She looked up at me as I approached, her head dipping down just ever so slightly so that she looked at me through her long lashes.

I gave her my most charming smile.

“We have to stop running into each other like this,” I said.

“I’d ask if you were following me, but I technically ran into you first,” she said with a cute, restrained smile.

“Are you flirting with my teacher, Mr. Lucas?” Lana asked coyly.

“I’m flirting with Marley, Lana. Unless I’m supposed to call you Miss Gold?”

“Ew, no,” Lana said, drawing a laugh from the other woman.

As I stood there, a waiter approached, delivering some of those ridiculous cocktails haloed with sprinkled donuts and cotton candy. He put one drink each in front of each of them. “From the blond gentleman at the bar.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see Travis raising his glass to us.

“Wow, these drinks are, uh…” Lana said, her nose wrinkled slightly in disgust.

“They’re on us,” I said. “If you hate those, just order other ones.” I turned to the waiter. “Sir, can you put whatever they order on our tab, please?”

“Under Lucas, right? You got it.”

The girls all looked at each other, seeming like they wanted to gush and gab.

“I don’t want to intrude on ladies’ night, so if you need me, you know where to find me,” I said. “I just wanted to come and say hi. Seemed rude not to.”

“Well… thank you. You’re being very generous,” Marley said. “You don’t have to buy our drinks—”

“Girl, speak for yourself!” the third woman said. “Drinks are expensive here. And this one tastes like a rainbow.” She sipped her cocktail with flashing ice cubes, making it light up like the dance floor.

I chuckled, my eyes meeting Marley’s. For a moment, the club faded around me. I wasn’t sure if it was the magic of the darker hour or the few beers I already had in my system, but I just…wanted her.

In fact, it felt like I needed her.

Maybe I should have just said damn the consequences—maybe I ought to have asked her out on a proper date. Well, maybe when her boss wasn’t there to see it. But Travis was right—I hadn’t felt a connection like this to anyone in years. I knew it was senseless. I knew it was entirely physical. I knew I was thinking with my dick more than anything else. But couldn’t something great start that way?

I let my gaze linger on her just a little while longer before I headed back to my seat at the bar.

No matter what happened the rest of the night, I knew one thing for sure.

For tonight, Marley was mine.

If anyone else tried to encroach on that, I would be sure to correct it immediately.