Chapter Nine
“Oh, God,” Quinnsaid when she entered the kitchen where Monica sat at the center island eating a ham and pineapple sandwich. Her orgasm and her anger had made her hungry, but she wasn’t up to facing twenty questions with her astute and almost psychic sister. Monica always seemed to know when something was going on with Quinn.
Monica calmly got a plate from the cupboard and slid it across toward Quinn. She pushed the carved ham and grilled pineapple slices over next. “Honey mustard?”
Quinn pursed her lips and nodded grimly. “Of course.”
Monica opened the fridge and pulled out the jar. It was a homemade recipe. Her sister’s specialty. Monica grabbed a butter knife from the silverware drawer and set it down next to the jar, then she took a seat in front of her plate.
“So,” she said when Quinn began to build her sandwich. “Luke, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Quinn avoided eye contact with her sister as she opened the jar and dressed her bread with the thick spicy, sweet mustard.
“Oh, Luke. Yes, yes,” Monica panted. “Yes!”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “Oh my God!”
“Yeah, I think you threw in a couple of those as well.” Monica smirked. “Hot stuff, sis.”
“How did you… Oh crap.” She’d forgotten that the ceiling vents in the kitchen ran just below the hidden room. Had Monica heard the last part? After the orgasm when Luke revealed his true self? “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know you’ve chosen our new chief. Wowza, he’s a dirty talker. It almost embarrassed me enough to quit listening.” Monica grinned now. “Almost. I would have stayed for the grand finale, but mom wanted me to try on the satin shoes she had dyed for us. She is losing her ever-loving marbles. By the time I got back here, all had gone silent.” Her sister shrugged, mischief heavy in her dark eyes. “I was really looking forward to the begging.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Yep, I think you called that out once or twice as well.”
“Stop it.” Quinn shoved a bite of sandwich in her mouth, hoping her sister would do the same. She was not in the mood to have this conversation. Not now. Not when she was still sorting through her feelings. “This is good.”
“Thanks,” Monica said. “I try to please. Not as much as Luke Dashwood, but you know, I do what I can.”
“Monica!” Quinn pleaded. Her face flamed red.
“So, tell me about Luke. I’ve seen him around this week when he’s been visiting Brandon.” Monica blushed when she said the injured bear’s name. “But your Luke is hard to read.”
“He’s not my Luke.”
“He sure sounded like yours,” Monica said. “Hey, if Marigold and her brother trust the guy, he can’t be all bad.”
“It’s not that,” Quinn said. How much should she tell Monica? Was it better to keep Luke’s secret and take whatever consequences came as a result? For now, she would keep quiet. The party was still three nights away, and she didn’t have to decide anything this very minute.
Marigold ducked her head into the kitchen. “There you are,” she said.
“Here I am,” Quinn agreed. Had Marigold known about Luke’s plan to pretend to be a bear? She would ask her clansmen later, not in front of her sister. But Marigold had to know Luke was a werewolf.
“Luke needs you.”
“I bet he does,” Monica snorted.
Quinn’s stomach dipped. “Uhm, why?”
“He says he found something in the secret passages that you need to see. I’m supposed to follow you.”
Quinn nodded, then pushed away her half eaten sandwich. “Fine.” She sighed. “Let’s go.”
“You want me to come with?” Monica asked.
“No, I can handle it.”
