But how could he not?
With the handrail secure, Knife went inside to change out the blinds in Mrs. Johnson’s front window. They’d bought her electric ones, so she could operate them with a remote, without needing to get up. She left them open all the time so she could see what was going on outside, and the brothers had decided this was a security risk.
Inside, he cut up with Dozer about his ol’lady. Daisy had been doing a cover-up tattoo on a woman when her boyfriend came in and tried to stop Daisy from inking over the asshole’s name up on his ex-girlfriend’s tit, ranting about it always being his tit, and no one could erase that. Viper had stepped in to handle the boyfriend, and — while Viper was holding his arms twisted behind his back, explaining how he was never to walk back in the doors unless he wanted a worse beat down than the one he’d just received — Daisy had kicked the bastard in the nuts with all her strength. Three fucking times.
“Do you wear a steel cup when you’re sleeping around your ball-kicking wife?” Knife asked him.
“No, motherfucker. Do you wear one around your secret pack-wolf you assure us is just a fuck-buddy?”
“No need. She doesn’t sleep with me.” Mrs. Johnson was fully engrossed in learning her new phone, so he added, “She hangs in my motherfucking ropes all night.”
The prospect was spraying WD-40 in her front doorknob, working it with the key, and said, “Shit, really!?”
“Yes,” Dozer said. “Not a reason in the world to doubt him on that one.”
- - -?- - -
Two hours later, Knife’s insides were in knots on what should’ve been a fun drive up the mountain to Homewood, but he had no idea how things would work if he ran into Tuesday.
He loved riding with his brothers — dozens of motorcycles roaring up the mountain, and then pulling into the parking area at Homewood. Everyone knew when the MC arrived.
People were already milling around, and he could clearly see the seating areas, the food areas, the blow-up castle and other things brought in for the kids, and a whole lot of shapeshifters.
The sun would go down in a little while, and then the vampires would arrive.
Cora and Kirsten walked to them to welcome them, and Kirsten went to one of their chase vans to hug the kids — and returned to them with Duke and Gen’s youngest riding her shoulders.
Knife knew the history of the place because his brothers had told him. Cora and Kirsten had bought the land, contracted with Randall’s company to build the mansion, and were the official owners, but Homewood was now home to five powerful supernaturals. Cora, alpha werewolf over most of the Southeast, was mated to the Master Vampireover much of the same territory, and Kirsten was in a long-term relationship with the King of the Lions, and a man purported to be one of the Gods of Old.
Harmony had told them the scuttlebutt said he was Ares, now called Mordecai, but no one seemed to know for sure.
It seemed telling that the two original owners were the ones who greeted them and welcomed them. Knife didn’t know what Kirsten was, but she felt like Mother Nature to him, or something equally as powerful.
They walked into the crowd and he scented eagles, hawks, owls, wolves, deer, a few horses, and every kind of cat imaginable — lions, tigers, bobcats, cougars, and more.
Knife kept his shoulders loose and stayed with his brothers, but he tracked Tuesday by scent without meaning to, at the start.
He was near the waterfall when he first scented her, and he went to the bar area to get another beer.
Anytime he scented her close, he moved, to make sure they stayed out of sight of each other. If he could pull it off, they might survive this.
Two hours in, Dawg wanted more of the brisket, and Knife went with him and Horse to load plates once again. It was easy and normal, and he let himself relax into it — the familiar weight of his brothers beside him, so many smells coming from the food on warming plates, and he reached for the serving tongs and recognized the hand from across the table also reaching for them.
He looked up, and came eye-to-eye with Tuesday.
She’d clearly just arrived at the tablefrom the other direction, and now she was standing three feet away from him with a plate in her hand and an expression that told him she hadn’t planned this any more than he had.
He held her gaze for a few seconds longer than he should have before he found his tongue.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she said.
And then they both looked down at the food.
- - -?- - -
Tuesday made it back to her grandmother with a full plate and no memory of putting anything on it.
