“I wanted to meet your family, Ronnie, and waiting until one of them died—which was your suggestion—is unacceptable.”

She growled and pouted but rested her head against his chest and her arms around his waist. “You owe me for this, Shaw.”

“I owe you for a lot, sexy.” He kissed the top of her head and then her cheek. She went up on her toes and touched her lips to his. That was all it took. Her fingers tangled in his hair, moans easing up the back of her throat while Brendon pulled her tight against his body, holding onto her the way he planned to hold onto her for the rest of his life.

She reached down with one hand and gripped his cock through his jeans, making him instantly hard and ready. Her nipples were hard under her sweater, and he was mere seconds from pushing her onto the couch and fucking the living—

“Rhonda Lee Reed!” The snarled words slammed across the room, startling the two away from each other. “I know I don’t have to tell you that you will not be having sex with that boy in my living room.”

Suddenly Brendon felt like a horny fifteen-year-old caught on his girlfriend’s couch. He even had to turn away for a bit to get his cock back under control.

“And let me tell you something else”—Tala slammed down a tray with two cups of coffee and freshly made sweet rolls—“y’all are sleeping in separate rooms.”

Ronnie gasped in outrage. “What? I’m not sixteen, Momma. You can’t—”

“Oh yes I can, little girl. This is my house. Will be until they bury my bony ass in the backyard. Until then, I will not have your poor father hearing the two of you having…relations. Understand me, Ronnie Lee?”

Giving a dramatic sigh of her own, Ronnie turned away and stared out the window. Nothing like a Reed female standoff.

So Brendon answered for them both. “We understand, ma’am.”

Those dark hazel eyes, so much like Ronnie’s, looked Brendon over. “At least the cat’s got some damn sense,” she muttered. “Now when your daddy gets back from his still, Ronnie Lee, y’all better have more control than what I just witnessed.”

Tala walked back into the hallway but stopped and turned toward Brendon. Uh-oh. “Ham do you for dinner tonight, Brendon Shaw?”

Startled she asked, and realizing he was being invited to dinner among wolves, Brendon quickly answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Gotta have pork on New Year’s Day. It’s good luck. I’m even making my famous redeye gravy and biscuits. You’ll like it.” The “or else” definitely implied.

“Sounds wonderful, ma’am.”

She grunted and headed back to her kitchen.

Ronnie turned away from the window and punched his arm. “You suckup!”

He pushed her back. “Shit starter.”

They glared at each other for a moment, then the two of them grabbed hold of available body parts, viciously tickling while tripping their way over to the couch. They barely controlled their laughter, made worse for the fact that they didn’t want Ronnie’s mother, who had wolf hearing no less, to catch on to their wrestling. Or, as Ronnie liked to call it, “tusslin’.”

Suddenly the weeklong vacation in Tennessee seemed way too long with the idea of separate rooms, and at the same time Brendon couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather sneak around with, trying to cop a feel.

The one thing he could say about his Ronnie Lee, she made nearly anything fun.

The front door opened, and he and Ronnie scrambled to separate corners of the couch.

A large, unfriendly hulk of a wolf stopped in front of the living room and stared at them.

“Hey, Daddy!” Ronnie jumped up and ran to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek and the old man hugged her back. But those wolf eyes stayed locked on Brendon.

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“I missed you, too, little pup,” Clifton Reed said gruffly. “Who’s this?”

Ronnie walked back to Brendon’s side as he stood up to face the man who had hurt a lot of males he felt weren’t worthy of his daughter.

“Daddy, this is Brendon Shaw. My mate. Brendon, this is my daddy. Clifton Reed.”

“Mr. Reed.” Brendon stepped forward and shook the old wolf’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

The old man grunted. “Boy.” He looked back at Ronnie. “Your brothers are bringing in wood for a fire. Look like it might snow. Where’s your momma?”

Ronnie sighed good-naturedly. “Where she is every day at this time for the last thirty-five years y’all have been mated. She’s in the kitchen.”

“That’s all that needed to be said, little pup.” With another grunt in Brendon’s direction, the wolf walked off.

Ronnie beamed up at him. “He likes you,” she whispered.

Brendon frowned. “Likes me? The man grunted at me. Twice.”

“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Brendon didn’t even know how to respond to that, which Ronnie took as agreement. “Exactly.”

The front door opened again, and heavy footsteps could be heard as Ronnie’s brothers marched in the room, their arms filled with either wood or Mason jars filled with that paint thinner they tried to pass off as liquor.

Rory stopped first, staring at the pair. “What y’all doing here?”

“He tricked me,” Ronnie said simply.