The Mane Squeeze (10 page)

“You’re supposed to lumber,” she accused softly, looking over at the grizzly quietly sitting next to her. Poor full-humans. Without the same hearing as Gwen, they’d never know the bear was next to them until he said something or until the mauling started. She shuddered at the thought. “Because I can hear lumbering.”

“I do lumber. Since I was eight.”

“You need to lumber louder. No one wants to look up and see a bear sitting next to them. Breathing.”

“Gee, thanks.” He jerked his thumb toward his house. “My mother’s home. She wants to talk to you.”

“You’re not going to get a better deal from anyone else,” Gwen tossed out.

“Would you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Arguing a point before anyone’s given you a reason to. Don’t preemptive argue. It’s annoying.” He stood up and so did Gwen. “The reason I’m talking to you now is that I need to warn you about my mother.”

Gwen put her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. She doesn’t like cats. She’s going to say snide remarks about climbing trees and hacking up hairballs, and you’re going to apologize now for whatever she says. Right?”

“You’re doing it
again
,” he accused.

Shit. She was.

“If you’d let me talk for myself, I was going to say that my mother is a dyed-in-the-wool feminist and she’s
dying
to meet you because she’s completely in love with the idea of a female plumber putting in her new water heater. She also may ask to interview you for her monthly newsletter, but you’re not obliged to do that unless you want to.”

Gwen could say with all honesty she hadn’t been expecting any of that. “Oh. All right then.”

He leaned down until their noses almost touched. “Did you know that you’re very frustrating?”

“Maybe, once or twice, I’ve heard that before.”

His mother was in love. Lock knew it as soon as she set eyes on Gwen that she’d fallen head over heels in love.

First off, Gwen was dressed “correctly.” Sturdy work boots, no cute shoes. Curly hair held off her face with a headband, no cute hairstyle more concerned with glamour rather than functionality. Cargo pants with lots of pockets for easy access to often-used small tools or pen and paper, no cute jeans with a thong hanging out. Long-sleeved Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt that had seen better days but still did the job, no “I’m your sexy plumber” cute T-shirt in pink.

But what made it perfection for Dr. Alla Baranova-MacRyrie was that Gwen had those nails, because in his mother’s mind that meant she embraced her femininity even while rejecting society’s standards for women. Give Lock a couple of hours, he could write the paper that his mother would present at the next female empowerment rally she would be hosting in the New Year.

“So you’ve been doing this for years,” Alla said to Gwen, ignoring the burning smell coming from the stove.

“Mom, when was the last time you checked the meat in the oven?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re supposed to be warming this up, ya know? Not grilling it all over again.” Lock motioned her aside so he could pull the oven door open.

“I used to follow my Uncle Cally around when he’d come over to fix Ma’s plumbing and by the time I was thirteen, I had a regular summer job with his company.”

“Now this Uncle Cally, is he an actual uncle or simply one of the many males your mother had around for breeding purposes while you were growing up?”

Lock bolted up so fast, his head slammed into the stove. “
Mom!
”

Perplexed, his mother studied him while he rubbed the back of his head. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

“
Me?
You can’t ask Gwen a question like that.”

Alla sighed in exasperation. His mother had often told Lock that he was much too polite to ever be a true intellectual. “But this is a Pride we’re discussing, Lachlan. They don’t keep males around except for protection and breeding purposes.”

“Mom!”

“Any Breeding Males we had around the house,” Gwen calmly cut in, “were never called uncle. Ma always thought that was creepy.”

“I have to agree with her,” Alla muttered, again ignoring the glare from her son.

“My Uncle Cally is one of Ma’s brothers.”

“Half-brother?” Lock asked.

Gwen scowled but he knew it was to keep from laughing. “Shut up.”

Brody walked into the kitchen, happily clapping his hands together. “Dinner ready?”

“Mom burned the meat. Again.”

Alla glared at her husband rather than her son. “If you wanted a housesow, you should have married one!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Brody argued, pointing a damning finger at Lock. “It was the boy!”

“But you were
thinking
it,” she accused. “Now, I’m going to take Gwen into the living room and you two can work out dinner.” She smiled at Gwen. “You’ll stay for dinner, of course.”

“Okay,” Gwen said easily, surprising Lock.

Alla walked to the refrigerator and Gwen stepped out of her way. The kitchen had always been too small for a family of four bears, but Lock wondered if Gwen was feeling a little overwhelmed. She was only about five-eight. His mother was six-four and had the sturdy hips and shoulders of a true breeding sow. Lock could never think of a time as a child when his mother didn’t make him feel safe. Because who’d be crazed enough to try and get near him when his mother was around?

“I have iced tea, dear. Or beer?”

“Maybe a saucer of milk?”

Gwen and Alla looked over at Lock and he immediately pointed at his father. “It was him,” he lied.

His father, oblivious as always, held up a menu from the stack they kept on hand in one of the cupboards. “How about Chinese food? They deliver and have those wonderful family-style meals to feed four. So I’ll order eight of those.”

Gwen was kind of amazed. A mother with several degrees and a prestigious position at an Ivy League college did not ensure that she’d be any less embarrassing to her child than a mother who became a nurse through night school. Gwen knew this when Alla launched into her “unfortunate changes in my vagina after the birth of Lachlan” discussion.

Lock had to put his big glass of milk down for that one, his head buried in his hands. The parts of his face not covered by his long fingers turned a lovely shade of crimson. Gwen had nail polish that matched that color perfectly.

“Was it his giant kumquat head?” Gwen asked, thoroughly enjoying every second of Lock’s misery.

“No. It was his shoulders. He’s always had very large shoulders. I mean look at him. Even as a baby they were freakishly long.”

“Freakishly?” Lock snapped.

“They stretched me right out.”

“Mom!”

Brody shrugged and reached for more moo goo gai pork. “I didn’t mind.”

“Dad!”

“Well, darling, you were always quite large, so it made things a little easier for both of us when it came to sex.”

“Mom!”

Alla shook her head. “I don’t know what happened to you, Lachlan MacRyrie.” She turned to Gwen. “I’ve always insisted on being quite open about human bodies when talking to my children. There’s no shame in a woman’s body. And like everything else in the world, it ages. So while you still have the exquisite body you’ve been blessed with, Gwen dear, and that prebirth vagina—enjoy it.”

“Is there any way to get you to stop?” Lock begged.

“Eat your food and stop whining, Lachlan. It’s not attractive.”

Brody’s head lifted and he leaned back in his chair, staring off through the living room and into the front room. Their house was like one long building, everything linear. It fit them so well.

After a few moments the front door opened and Brody grinned. “Well, look who’s here.”

Three young children ran in, screaming. Brody stood and held his arms open, allowing the children to crash into him. He didn’t budge an inch.

“Mom?” She walked into the room and Gwen immediately saw the resemblance between brother and sister. She doubted Lock and his sister had many “You two are related?” moments like Gwen and Mitch did.

“Hello, dear. What are you doing here so late?”

“I came to pick up the…” Her words faded away when she saw Gwen sitting at the table. Her nostrils twitched and flared and her eyes immediately went to her children, her body tensing.

“Stop it, Iona,” Alla warned while she put more honey chicken with cashews on her plate. The woman had an appetite like Mitch and Brendon put together.

“Iona, this is Gwen O’Neill,” Lock said. “Gwen, this is my sister Iona MacRyrie-Phillips.” There certainly was a lot of hyphenating in this family.

“Hi.”

Her gaze examined Gwen carefully before she finally replied, “Hello.”

“She’s our plumber,” Brody said with an interesting amount of cheer. He returned to his chair and sat, pulling one of the children, a girl, onto his lap.

“Inviting plumbers to dinner now?” the sow asked.

Relaxing back in her chair, Gwen replied, “I’m so good at what I do, I always get a meal afterward. And sometimes, flowers.”

Lock choked on his milk while Brody agreed, “She did an excellent job, dear. We have a new water heater now. A
waterless
water heater. I plan to examine it tomorrow.”

“No!” his entire family said, making him jump.

Even the granddaughter on his lap looked up into his face and said with the solemn wisdom of a four-year-old, “Don’t, Grandpa.”

“This is a really nice table,” Gwen said after Iona and Alla went into the kitchen to retrieve old family flatware for one of Iona’s exclusive doctor-only parties. And yeah, Lock specifically did not mention to Gwen that his sister was one of those evil “organ thieves.” Not with the evening going so well and all.

Gwen tapped the table. “Where did you get it?” She leaned down to examine the underside. “Was it expensive?”

Lock glanced at his father who quickly shrugged and muttered, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t say anything about what?” Gwen asked.

“Why are you asking about the table?” Lock demanded, wondering what she was up to.

“Because it’s nice and one day I’ll need furniture.”

Brody sat up. “Well, then—”

“Dad.”

Gwen glanced back and forth between them. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lock said. “The table was made for my parents,” which wasn’t a lie.

“Oh.” She pouted a little. “This would probably be out of my price range then.”

Brody threw his napkin down. “Yes, but—”

“Dad,” Lock cut in again, scowling in warning at his father.

Gwen watched them closely. “What is wrong with you two?”

The MacRyrie men gave identical shrugs and answered together, “Nothing.”

Gwen said good-bye to the MacRyries, giving them her personal cell phone number in case they had any problems with their new heater. As she walked back to her truck, Lock walked beside her.

“I’m sorry we kept you out so late,” he said.

“No problem. I had a really good time.”

“Sure you don’t want me to follow you back to the city?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Right. I don’t know how I survived this long without you shadowing me.”

Gwen unlocked her truck door and pulled it open.

“So, Gwen…you want to go out sometime?”

And there it was.

She faced him, the open truck cab to her back. He had his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the bushes behind her head. He was shy and adorable and wouldn’t last ten seconds with her or her family. Sure, in a physical fight and if they snuck up on him, startling him into a violent reaction, he could take Gwen’s uncles and Mitch. But in the verbal duels that represented O’Neill get-togethers? Not two seconds. He got weird when she asked questions about his parents’ dining table and couldn’t even look her in the eye when he asked her out.

“Thanks, Lock, but no.” See? Much better to let him down now, then crush him later when he got attached to the unattachable. “It’s nothing personal, though,” she added.

He laughed, now looking her in the eyes. “Yeah, being turned down for a date is always
not
personal.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Not really.” But he was smiling and there didn’t seem to be any bitterness or anger. She appreciated that and, to her way of thinking, it said a lot about him as a man.

“I had a great time tonight. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

“Okay.”

Hmm. Maybe he was taking it
too
well. Couldn’t he even put up a little fight for her? Jeez. She was glad she hadn’t wasted her time.

She got into her truck, and Lock closed the door for her. He leaned into the open window, looking around at everything, as curious as his father, if not as grabby about it.