Earl nodded. “Good advice. Thanks.”
Knox raised his voice. “All set back there?”
Roarke gave a short yip, which Abby interpreted as an affirmative. Knox must have interpreted it that way, too, because he revved the engine.
Both members of the Sasquatch couple began to howl in obvious terror. The eardrum-splitting sound, added to the horrible smell, created Abby’s version of utter hell. She clapped her hands over her ears.
Once again Knox dug in his pocket and extended his hand back to Abby. In his palm rested two foam-rubber earplugs. She took them without protest and stuck them immediately into her ears.
The earplugs muffled the sound and slowly her tense muscles relaxed. She glanced over at her grandfather, but he was involved in giving the Sasquatch pair reassuring smiles and didn’t seem to notice the racket any more than he’d noticed the odor.
When the helicopter lifted off the ground, the howls grew louder. Abby wondered if Knox had a parachute in his pocket and if he’d offer her that next. Roarke had said the flight would take about an hour, and Abby wondered if they’d all have permanent hearing loss by then.
But instead, miraculously, the howls tapered off and eventually stopped. Abby took out her earplugs to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, but all she could hear was the rhythmic sound of helicopter blades slicing through the misty air.
Earl nudged her. “Take a look back there.”
Abby turned around in her seat. The Sasquatch pair sat on the floor of the helicopter, their legs out in front of them. Sandwiched between them, looking for all the world like the Sasquatch family dog, was Roarke. The female was gently stroking his fur.
Knowing how reassuring that thick pelt could feel, Abby wasn’t surprised that the howling had stopped. Roarke was providing comfort to them in the same way he’d provided comfort to her in the tunnels under the Gentry mansion. But when she looked into his green eyes, she was glad to be wearing a bandana over her nose and mouth, because his miserable but resigned expression made her grin.
The hour passed more quickly than she’d expected. Knox circled a wooded area and set the chopper down near a small waterfall that fed into a rocky stream. Then he hopped out and opened the door for the Sasquatch pair.
Abby turned to watch their departure. They clambered out of the helicopter much faster than they’d climbed in, and then they stood, obviously waiting for Roarke. Abby hoped they hadn’t decided to keep him.
Roarke jumped out, too, and trotted around the clearing as if pointing out its advantages. He sniffed at a bush, and the female came over to rip off a few leaves and munch on them. When she sat down next to the bush and continued to eat, the male came over to join her, and soon they seemed to be enjoying lunch together.
For a while Roarke stood watching, but then the female glanced up and made a shooing motion with her hairy hand. Roarke trotted back to the helicopter and once he’d leaped inside, Knox shut the door. Within seconds the helicopter was airborne.
Abby turned around, wondering if Roarke would come up to the front again now that the Sasquatch pair was gone. Instead he stayed far back in the helicopter, his head on his paws. She could imagine why. After such close contact with the creatures, his fur must stink to high heaven.
Earl plastered his face to the window for several minutes and then finally settled back in his seat with a sigh. “Wow.” Then he turned to the back where Roarke lay. “Thanks, Roarke. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
Lifting his head, Roarke whined softly before settling back down.
That soft whine did it. Abby unbuckled her seat belt and moved to the back of the helicopter. Then she pulled off her bandana and sat down next to Roarke, who did indeed smell like a thousand pissed-off skunks. “I’m not letting you stay back here by yourself.”
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind and tried to scoot away.
“Stop that. I’m sitting by you, and that’s that.” Moving right next to him, she used the bandana to wipe his face. “This should help.”
Roarke sighed and rested his head in her lap as she continued to stroke his head with the bandana.
“Isn’t that better? It smells like mint.” She couldn’t read his mind. Only another Were in wolf form could tune into his thoughts. Still, she did know what he was thinking as she stroked him with the bandana.
It smells like you.
When they landed at Portland-Hillsboro, Roarke waited until Earl and Abby left before shifting and putting on the clothes he’d stashed in the back of the helicopter. Knox had jumped out immediately, too, probably to get his first real breath of fresh air. The poor Were was going to have to fumigate both the chopper and himself.
Once he was dressed, Roarke climbed out of the helicopter and glanced around. Knox stood nearby, but Abby and Earl had walked over to meet Aidan. Aidan was keeping his distance from them, though. Everyone who’d been in the helicopter carried the Sasquatch stink.
Roarke approached Knox and stuck out his hand. “Thanks for doing that, Trevelyan. I know it was a challenge.”
Knox returned Roarke’s firm handshake. “It was, but I’d never seen a mated pair before. When they came down the hill holding hands, I thought that was sort of touching.”
“I thought so, too.”
Knox gazed at him. “Your friend Abby seems very fond of you. Not many humans would have gone back there. You must have smelled awful.”
“I’m sure I did. Abby’s . . . special.”
“You know Gentry’s put out the word that she’s a major threat to all of us.”
Roarke nodded. “That’s why I’m taking Abby and Earl back to New York.”
“Is that your brother standing over there, the one who mated with a human?”
“Yes.” Roarke started to add that he wouldn’t be following in his brother’s footsteps. But he was no longer sure of that. He wanted Abby desperately, and if he thought she was willing to make the necessary sacrifices . . . Could he ask her to do that?
Trevelyan gazed at him with a hint of disapproval in his dark eyes.
Roarke had a new appreciation for how Aidan must have suffered during Roarke’s lectures on the subject of Weres mating with humans. He cleared his throat. “Listen, if I could make it out here for a visit, would you consider giving me flying lessons?”
“I could do that.”
“Great. Well, I need to shove off. Sorry about the stink in your chopper.”
“I’ll deal with it. See you, Wallace.”
“That’s a given. I want to learn to fly one of these eggbeaters. Thanks, again.” Roarke turned and crossed the tarmac to Abby and Earl. “Are we ready to go?”
Abby waved a plastic rectangle that looked very much like a hotel key. “We’re driving to the Marriott first. Aidan refuses to let any of us into the Learjet until we’ve showered and changed.”
“That may be possible for you, since you each packed a suitcase, but I don’t have any clothes other than this.” He motioned to the gray sweats and sweatshirt Earl had contributed.
Aidan held a handkerchief to his nose and moved slightly closer. “I’ve had some time to kill, so I picked up some clothes for you, stud. I figured you’d come out of this stinking up the place. Go to the service entrance and they’ll let you in that way, so you don’t contaminate the lobby. Then all of you just leave your dirty clothes in the room. Housekeeping has instructions to burn them.”
Roarke shrugged. “I won’t argue with that. Let’s go.”
Earl spent the short drive to the hotel raving about his Sasquatch experience. “I have to get it out of my system with you guys,” he said, “because I won’t be able to tell anybody else.”
Roarke decided not to mention that Earl wouldn’t have a chance to talk to other humans for a while, anyway. Better not put too fine a point on that.
When they reached the hotel, Roarke expected them all to be sharing the same room and shower. Instead he discovered that Earl had his own key to the room next door.
“See you in a few,” Earl said with a smile as he walked into his room and closed the door.
Abby had the key, so Roarke waited while she opened the door. But he wasn’t quite prepared for her to grab him by his shirtfront and haul him inside before slamming the door again.
Then she got right in his face. “Listen here, Roarke Wallace! I may not be able to shape-shift, but if that’s the only reason you won’t choose me as your mate, then, as much as I love you, I’ll have to label you prejudiced and narrow-minded. So there.”
He blinked. “You love me?”
“Of course I love you! Isn’t it obvious? Would I have held your head in my lap when you smelled like a thousand pissed-off skunks if I didn’t love you?”
He grinned. The scent of Sasquatch might just become his favorite aroma. “Guess not.” Ah, sweet heaven, she loved him! The tightness in his chest eased as he accepted that love as the greatest gift he would ever receive.
She put her hands on her hips. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”
He cupped her beloved face in both smelly hands and surrendered to the joy that washed over him as he imagined a lifetime with this incredible woman. “I have this to say: If you can forgive this prejudiced, narrow-minded fool, I’m the luckiest Were that ever lived.”
Her expression went from fierce to gentle in an instant. “Of course I forgive you.”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “Thank God. Because I love you beyond all reason, and if you’ll have me, I want you for my mate, Abby Winchell.”
She swallowed. “Are you sure, Roarke? Because our children might not be Were.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “That’s not the most important thing in the world. The most important thing for kids is that their parents love them and love each other. And we’ll have that in spades.”
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her sweet body against his. “Oh, we will, Roarke. We certainly will.”
He groaned. “I want to make love to you. And we don’t have time. Aidan is expecting us to—”
“He’s expecting us to spend the night in this hotel room, Roarke, and fly back to New York tomorrow. That is, if—Wait. Allow me to quote him exactly: ‘We can fly back in the morning, Abby, assuming Roarke gets his head out of his butt long enough to realize what he has with you.’ ”
Roarke laughed, happier than any Were who’d screwed up so thoroughly had a right to be. “Seems like I did.”
“Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “I think you did.”
“You know Aidan will never let me live this down.”
“Do you care?”
Roarke shook his head. “After the grief I gave him over Emma, I deserve whatever he dishes out.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting her. And the rest of your family.”
“They’re going to love you.” He hesitated. “But I’m afraid your job as a claims adjuster in Phoenix isn’t going to—”
“Are you kidding? I’m so ready to move on. I’ve even thought of something I can do for you.”
“I can think of several things you can do for me, and they all involve getting naked.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is work-related, you sex maniac. When you’re doing fieldwork and you find indigenous populations who need financial help, I’ll come along to administer those programs. I’d be good at that.”
“Abby, that’s brilliant! God, there are so many times I could have used someone to figure out the details. It’s a great idea.”
“So I’m hired?”
“I’d be a fool not to hire you, and I’ve vowed to stop being a fool.” He searched her gaze for any hesitation, any misgiving about the path she’d chosen. He found none. “We’re going to be very happy, Abby. It won’t always be easy, but we’re going to be happy.”
“Absolutely. But I do have one question.”
“Only one?” He nuzzled the tender place behind her ear.
“For now. If I’m going to be your mate, I should probably know what your middle initial stands for.”
“It stands for Adolph.” Giving in to the lust he could no longer keep at bay, he urged her toward the bed. “Which means wolf, Little Red Riding Hood. And I’m warning you, I’m very hungry.”
She laughed as they fell onto the bed, stinky clothes and all. “So fairy tales do come true.”
“I don’t know about all fairy tales, but this one will. We, my delicious Abby, will live happily ever after, starting now.” And he proceeded to show her how.
Read on for an excerpt from the next fun and sexy Wild About You novel by Vicki Lewis Thompson
A Werewolf in Seattle
Coming from Signet Eclipse in June 2012.
Colin MacDowell was one jet-lagged werewolf. The trip from Scotland to Aunt Geraldine’s private island off the coast of Washington State hadn’t seemed this arduous the last time he’d made it. Apparently a seventeen-year-old pup could take more travel abuse than a thirty-two-year-old Were.