Then Gwen reached up, her fingers stroking his cheek, his jaw; her eyes focused on his beautiful face.

“It’s okay, Gwen.” He gave her that sweet smile. “Say it when you’re ready.”

“Okay. I will.” She slid her hands into his hair and tugged so he would move closer. She sat tall in his lap, raising her mouth to his. When they were barely a breath apart, Gwen said, “I love you.” She smiled, shrugged.

“I was ready.”

Lock’s hands bracketed her face, long fingers stroking her skin. He studied her like he wanted to absorb every part of her, take in every detail. No one had ever looked at her like that and, if they had, it clearly hadn’t meant as much.

Lock’s lips met hers and, as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she leaned back onto the kitchen floor, taking Lock with her.

“Table Six up,” Ric called out as he placed the two large and expertly roasted and plated slabs of venison on the counter. The server grabbed both plates and walked out.

Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, Ric said to his sous chef, “I’ll be back. Taking a break.”

He walked out without waiting for an answer and headed into the alley behind the restaurant. Drinking water, he stared up at the sky. It was a nice night. A beautiful night.

“Planning to run away?” a voice asked.

Ric’s grin was wide and real as he threw his arms around the man’s shoulders. “Uncle Van! It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, cousin.” Niles Van Holtz, Uncle Van to the younger cousins of the Pack, stepped back and studied him closely. “Busy night?”

Ric let out an exhausted sigh. “You have no idea.” He gestured with his water bottle. “So what brings you to this coast?” His shoulders slumped. “Do I need to involve my father?”

“Oh, God, no. I’m still recovering from Memorial Day weekend.”

Ric cringed, remembering the family event that had turned ugly rather quickly. “I sent Aunt Irene flowers.” Complete with groveling apology. “She said she liked them.”

“She loved them. Although I had to hear, yet again, how it’s my fault that we didn’t take you from that, and I’m quoting here, ‘Visigoth’ when you were five and realized your IQ was higher than your parents’ and brother’s combined.”

Laughing and appreciating the compliment from a bona fide genius like Irene Conridge-Van Holtz, Ph.D., Ric shrugged. “So what do you need?”

“The information you sent me a few days ago?”

“Yes?”

Van held out something and Ric took it. It was made of studded leather and when he unraveled the pieces, he realized it was a very large muzzle. A very large, blood-encrusted muzzle.

“I think it’s time,cousin,” the older wolf said and, sadly studying the piece of equipment in his hands, Ric had to agree.

CHAPTER 25

Alla Baranova-MacRyrie watched her son lift her husband’s old and extremely heavy desk up and out of the way and put in the new one.

“I thought your father just wanted you to fix the old desk.”

“I know.” Lock shifted the new desk back, forth, back, trying to make sure it was perfectly situated. “But after examining it, I decided he needed a new desk.”

“He likes the old one because his son made it.”

“I was thirteen. It’s flawed.”

Alla rolled her eyes. Some things would never change. “Yes. Horribly flawed. It only managed to last eighteen years in perfectly acceptable condition. At your father’s dangerous hands, no less. Must be a huge disappointment to you.”

Stepping back until he stood beside her, Lock observed the desk and the surrounding area. “Think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll adore it.”

Lock glanced at her. “Why are you wearing a witch’s hat?”

“It’s Halloween.”

“Yes. I know. I’m going to a party later tonight.”

“You? Going to a party? With people?”

“Cute.”

Arms crossed over her chest, Alla said, “That desk is really beautiful, Lachlan.”

“Thank you.” Lock cleared his throat. “I’m…uh…” He cleared his throat again. “I’m probably going to be doing this as a business.”

“Building desks?”

“Yes. No. I mean, building desks, chairs, tables, whatever.”

“Like an assembly line?”

“No, not at all. I’m talking handmade pieces.”

“Art.”

“It depends who you talk to.”

Alla nodded. “That fits you.”

Lock gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re not…”

“Disappointed?”

“Since I’ve been back you’ve been pushing school, teaching—”

“Lachlan, you’re very good at many things, but I want you to do what makes you happy. The military didn’t make you happy. Software—” she rolled her eyes “—honestly. Where’s your joy in that? But this?” She held her hands out, gesturing to the desk. “This brings you joy. That’s all I’ve ever cared about.”

Alla turned to face him and placed her hands on both his cheeks. “I want my son happy. Because when you’re happy, you shine.”

Lock kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Now you’ve got a party to go to. And I hope you’re not going alone.”