Beast Behaving Badly (39 page)

And for the first time in twelve hours, Bo laughed.

 

 

Unable to continue sleeping with two females giggling hysterically in his bathroom, Lock headed to his kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee.

He was walking through his hallway, heading toward his kitchen, when he caught a scent, stopping him in his tracks. He focused on the door at the end of the hallway, blinking when the industrial strength door he'd had installed was torn off at the hinges.

The slightly larger bear-cat hybrid walked into his house like he'd been invited. “Where is she?” Novikov demanded.

“And a happy morning to you, too.”

The hybrid stormed up to Lock, scowling the entire way. When he stood in front of him, the bastard slammed his forehead into Lock's, knocking the grizzly back a foot or two. Lock shook his head, trying to get the ringing out of his ears. Once he'd done that, he butted the idiot back.

They had each other in mutual headlocks by the time a hearty laugh floated from the bedroom. Novikov threw Lock off and followed the sound.

Wiping the blood from his jaw and nose, Lock grinned.

Okay, yeah. Sometimes . . . I
am
a dick.

 

 

He found her in a bedroom with Gwen. And the sight wasn't nearly as interesting as it probably sounded since Blayne was stretched out, stomach down on the bed, reading a magazine and Gwen was sitting on the floor painting her toenails.

Scenting that this was the room Blayne spent the night in, he stormed over to the bed and began picking up the magazines she had laying all over the bed, the floor.
Everywhere!

“How can you live like this?” he demanded. “This isn't even your house!”

Without even looking up from the copy of
Mademoiselle,
“This is how you say hello to me?”

“You're lucky I don't wring your scrawny chicken neck. You couldn't call? Check in?
Something?
”

“I thought about doing that . . . then I forgot . . . then I remembered. . . then I forgot again.” She shrugged, still focused on her magazine. “I figured I'd see you today or something.”

Unsure of what the hell was going on, Bo looked over at Gwen. She shrugged, looking as confused as Bo felt.

Not sure how to handle this situation, he handled it as his uncle would. He dropped the pile of magazines he'd picked up back on the floor, grabbed the base of the frame of the bed, and flipped Blayne's cute ass right off it.

“Hey!” she squealed.

Bo dropped the bed. “See ya,” he said, and walked out the door.

“You're leaving?” she yelled after him.

“Yes!” he yelled back. “I'm leaving, Lady Spoiled Brat of Spoiled-Bradington. Have a good life!”

Bo was near the front . . . hole—the door was still in the hallway, the grizzly trying to figure out how to get it back on—when he heard feet run up behind him and felt something small, cruel, and heartless land on his back.

“You,” she accused, “are so rude!”

Bo stopped walking. “I'm rude?
I
am rude?”

“You heard me.”

Reaching behind him, he caught Blayne by the ass and swung her off his back. She squealed again until he placed her safely on her feet.

“You left me!” he accused. “You left me and didn't even bother calling me!”

“You knew I was with Gwen.” She sounded so reasonable, like he was the out-of-control one.

“Nope. I can't do this.” He took a step to walk around her, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. He tried to ignore the fact she only had on a big Philly Eagles jersey and thick socks, her hair in two ponytails. She looked adorable and it wasn't fair. It was
not
fair at all!

“You can't do what?”

“Put up with you.”

“Put
up
with me? I didn't know I was such a chore.”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Well, since I still can't get this goddamn watch off . . .” she muttered before looking at it. “Nine thirty.”

“Right. And the first game of the Cup finals less than a week away. And what am I doing, Blayne? What am I doing at nine thirty in the morning before Cup finals?”

“Uh . . .”

“Well?”

“Looking for me?”

“Do you think I'd be looking for you if I weren't worried about you? Because I hadn't heard from you? Because I hadn't heard from anyone?”

“I needed some time to think, okay? And I didn't know if I was supposed to go back to your place or my place or if I was being kind of presumptuous thinking either way. I figured a night apart would do us both some good.”

“You're thinking too much again.”

With her eyes downcast, the toes of her right foot pushed into the floor, she countered, “Maybe I am, but you could have called
me.
”

“Well, since I have your cell phone”—he threw that on the floor—“and you weren't home to pick up your landline, the wild dogs didn't know where you were, and Van Holtz and MacRyrie ignored my calls, I'm not exactly sure how I was supposed to call you.”

She cringed a little. “Okay. You have a point.”

“Thanks. I'm glad you think I have a point. I've gotta go.” He grabbed Blayne around the waist and lifted her out of his way, then he walked out. He was at the elevator when she cut in front of him, blocking the exit with her arms outstretched.

“I'm sorry,” she yelped. “Okay? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

“You're making me crazy!”

“I know!” She took a breath. “I know. I'm not trying to drive you crazy.”

“Not trying but succeeding nicely. Now move.”

“You're going to end it because I'm unreliable, flaky, and often thoughtless?” She stopped, blinking hard. Her shoulders slumped. “Wait. I'd actually end it for those reasons.”

The last thing he wanted to do was end it with this impossible woman, but he wasn't one of those guys who enjoyed constant drama in his life. It was distracting, and he couldn't afford ridiculous distractions. Instead of saying that, though, he said, “Let's talk about it later.”

Ice time. He needed ice time and twenty miles on the treadmill at fifty miles an hour to make him feel better. It would clear his head.

He pressed the elevator button and stepped inside when the doors opened. Blayne stood there, watching him. Seeing that wounded look on her face was killing him, but he didn't know what else to do at this moment. They were really different, but he knew that wouldn't matter if they both worked together to make their relationship perfect. But he would not subject himself to one of those relationships where only one person was doing all the work. Life was simply too short for that kind of misery.

“I promise I'll call you later,” he said, punching the button for the first floor.

She nodded, stepped back. “Oh.” She leaned over and pulled out a piece of paper from the top of her sock. “If you're looking for me later,” she said, handing him the slip, the old elevator slowly closing. “Here's my schedule.” She gave a little chuckle. “I promised to do a bunch of stuff for Jess over the next couple of days before she brings the baby home, so I took your advice and wrote it all down.”

She gave one more wave and the doors closed, shutting her out.

Bo unfolded the sheet and stared at the lined notebook paper. She had a list of twenty things with lots of scratch-outs, that was in no particular or discernable order, written in bright purple ink, except for the important stuff that was in red, and random notes written in the margins.

And, at the bottom of the page she'd doodled two hearts. One had the initials G.O. and L.MR., and between the initials she'd drawn one of those honey containers shaped like a bear. The other heart had B.T. and B.N. and between them she'd drawn a seal, which she'd scratched out and replaced with a plus symbol instead.

The elevator doors opened on the first floor and Van Holtz was waiting there with several bags of groceries in his hands.

“Oh. You,” he said. He started to walk in and, without thinking, simply reacting, Bo shoved him back out of the elevator by his head and hit the elevator button again.

“You asshole!” Bo heard as the doors closed.

 

 

Blayne sat at Lock's kitchen table, her chin in her hands.

“I'm sorry, Blayne,” Lock said, putting a bottle of water in front of her. “I should have told you he'd been trying to track you down.”

“It's okay.” Blayne could be the bigger person here because she had Gwenie.

“It is
not
okay!” Gwen slugged her fiancé's arm. “Not okay at all. You need to talk to Novikov and straighten this out.”

“Isn't there something else I can do?
Anything
else?” Lock begged.

“No!”

Usually Blayne would try and stop the argument and soothe the hurt feelings, but she wasn't in the mood. She was miserable. And had no one to blame for it but herself. But what could she say? She'd panicked. Panicked because for once she had a reliable, smart, non-sociopath as a boyfriend. Not a gentleman caller, but a boyfriend. And he loved her—despite her many fuck-ups.

To be honest, once she realized all that—panicking was her only option.

“Giving me your list”—a voice said from the kitchen doorway—“makes it impossible for you to actually
use
your list, unless you made a copy. Which I'm doubting.”

Blayne swallowed and looked over at the doorway.

“And maybe,” Bo Novikov went on, holding Blayne's list up, “with some patience on my part and another forty or fifty years of hard work, we can get a list that makes a modicum of sense.”

“It makes sense to me.”

“That kind of says it all, doesn't it?”

Smiling, Blayne scrambled out of the chair, over the kitchen table, and into Bo's arms. He lifted her off the floor, and she put her arms around his neck, her legs around his chest, her ankles locking behind his back. He kissed her, and she felt all his love in that kiss.

When he pulled away, he said, “I missed you last night.”

She hugged his neck tight, burying her face against his throat. “I missed you, too.”

“We're going to get some breakfast,” Gwen said, easing by them.

“Ric's coming over to make us breakfast,” Lock argued.

“Ric can buy us breakfast instead.”

“I'm not leaving so this idiot can have makeup sex in our apartment.”

“Come on, man,” Bo pleaded. “Can't you help an Asian brother out?”

“No!”

Blayne pressed her mouth against Bo's shoulder to stop the laughter from spilling out.

“This is your fault,” Gwen reminded Lock, storming past the couple again and grabbing his arm. “And this is your punishment.”

“But we haven't showered or anything yet.”

“We'll go to Bren's hotel, book a room, and shower there. Hotel sex! And waffles. That sounds promising, doesn't it?”

“But I need to fix the door—”

“Suck it up, MacRyrie.”

Bo pressed his forehead against Blayne's, holding her tight. Blayne was counting the seconds before Gwen and Lock grabbed their shit and left—and she loved Gwenie because the feline was making that slow bear “Move, move, move!”—when Ric came down the hall.

“Lock? What happened to your door? Was it that Neanderthal?” He stopped when he saw Blayne and Bo still in the kitchen doorway. “Oh,” he said flatly. “The Neanderthal. And the Neanderthal's woman.”

“Good, Ric,” Gwen said. “You're here.” She grabbed the bags of food Ric had with him and dropped them to the floor.

“There are eggs in there!”

“That's not your problem. Come on. We're going out for breakfast.”

“I have enough food to even feed this cretin.”

“This may come as some surprise to you,” Bo said to Ric, his scowl terrifying if Blayne didn't already know how safe she was with him. “But I do know what those words mean, you magniloquent prat.” And when Blayne's head came up, Bo added, “And no, Blayne, I didn't make that word up either.”

“You mean like that boda-chica word?”

“It's Boadicea and I—why am I arguing this with you?” He glared at Ric. “You need to leave.”

“Like hell I—”

“We're out!” Gwen said, shoving the wolf toward the door. “Blayne, call me when you're done, there's condoms in the top drawer of our dresser—”

“Jesus, Gwenie!” Lock barked, and Blayne didn't know if he was disgusted or merely embarrassed.

“—don't forget to change the sheets. Love you, sweetie!”

The trio argued all the way to the door, down the hallway, and into the elevator, but once they were gone, Blayne knew they were gone.

“Okay, fine.” Bo grinned. “I find Gwen an acceptable human being.”

“That's so big of you.”

“I know.” He pulled Blayne off him, launched her up in the air—Blayne squealing the entire time—and when he easily caught her on her way down, tossed her over his shoulder. “Now we find those condoms.”

 

 

Bo's eyes opened wide and he stared up at the energetic and naked wolfdog straddling his chest.

“I am now,” he told her.

“Good.” She wiggled on his chest and Bo caught her hips to stop her from moving.