“You really have nothing better to do than have coffee with me?” he asked.

Toni shrugged, figuring she could quit at any time. “Nope. Nothing better to do.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

They ended up in a Starbucks at the end of the street, and Toni not only got the wolf to drink a large cup of coffee, she also got him to eat several cinnamon buns and three pieces of coffee cake. Not the healthiest breakfast, but she was sure he’d work it off.

“So what is it?” she asked him when she knew Johnny was calmer. “What has you so worried?”

“Everything.”

Toni smiled. “Everything, huh? So . . . the economy? Wars in other countries? Who’ll win this year’s Super Bowl? That everything?”

“Since I don’t care about any of that . . . no.”

“That’s what I figured. So what is it? Really?”

“What if I’m not as good as your mother thinks?” he finally asked, taking a huge leap of faith in showing Toni his weakness, his true fear.

“You have to be,” Toni stated bluntly, “because when it comes to this, my mother is never wrong. She’s completely useless at the most basic things like math, keeping the tenses straight when she’s speaking Italian, and unless she’s making breakfast, she’ll most likely set the house on fire if she tries to cook a meal. But when it comes to music . . . when it comes to what you do . . . my mother is never wrong.”

“But”—he shoved another bit of crumb cake into his mouth—“what if she’s wrong this time? About me?”

“Because you have that kind of power, right? Quite the narcissism you’ve got going there,” she teased.

He gazed at her for a long moment before admitting, “You’re right. I’m pathetic.” Then he dropped his head to the table and sighed . . . dramatically.

Crossing her eyes, Toni eased her brother’s cell phone out of her pocket and, keeping it under the table, quickly texted her mother. It was a skill she’d developed over the years . . . texting without looking. She’d learned it from Oriana, and it was a skill she was glad to have because of times just like these.

Starbucks on corner. It’s Toni.

Need you. Another stu bout 2 b destroyed

By yer awesomeness

After a few minutes of staring at the top of Johnny’s head, Toni saw her mother rushing down the street. She skidded to a halt when she reached the Starbucks doorway, took a breath, pushed her hair off her face, and calmly sauntered into the café.

Again, Toni only managed not to laugh by biting the inside of her cheek.

Jackie casually ordered a chai tea from one of the baristas before casually sauntering over to their table.

Her mother had become the queen of being casual after lots of self-training.

“Hey, baby,” she said to Toni. “What are you doing . . . wait. Johnny? What are you doing here?”

The wolf’s head came off the table, and he blinked wide, panicked brown eyes at Jackie.

Jackie pretended to think, her forefinger tapping her chin. “Don’t we have an appointment right now?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Jean-Louis. I . . . I . . . it’s just . . .”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jackie waved Johnny’s panicked stuttering away. “I’m terrible with appointments myself. That’s what my mate helps me with. Right, Toni?”

“Sure,” Toni lied, because her father would probably be late to his own funeral if Toni didn’t make sure he wasn’t.

Jackie went to the counter and picked up her tea, then returned and sat down next to Toni.

“So,” she asked, cupping her chai tea, “what are we talking about?”

Johnny looked at Toni, his eyes begging her not to say anything.

“Movies,” Toni lied. Honestly, Toni would only lie this much to help her mother.

“I love movies,” Jackie stated. “What are your favorites, Johnny? Are you into sci-fi or stuff with lots of big explosions? Personally I hate chick flicks or anything that’s clearly trying to make me cry. I hate that.”

Knowing her mother could handle things from here, Toni picked up her backpack and slipped out of her chair.

And now, after handling this little drama, Toni knew it would be easy as hell to quit her day job.

Ricky leaned against one side of the office doorway and Rory leaned on the other while Reece stood between them, his arms crossed over his chest. Together they watched a big male lion play grab ass with his wife. Of course, it was his right. The company was partially his.

“Mace!” the full-human giggled-squealed. “Stop it!”

He had the poor little thing pinned against his desk with his big lion thighs while he man-handled—or in this case, lion-handled—Desiree MacDermot-Llewellyn, detective first grade for the shifter unit of the NYPD.

“Come on, Dez,” the big cat pushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

“That sounds highly unimpressive for a former Navy man.”

“Unlike your Marine brethren . . . Navy SEALs know how to get the job done—quick, fast, and to everyone’s satisfaction. We don’t just storm the beach, baby. We take the whole damn country.”

Ricky looked at his brothers, and both of them crossed their eyes in disgust. Cats were bad enough, but military cats could be the worst. Combining that mane along with the ability to protect their country just made most of them completely unbearable.

“What are we doing?” a voice asked from behind Ricky and his brothers, and, he was ashamed to admit, they all reacted as any sane person would react when they suddenly had a large polar bear sidling up to them—they screamed like little girls and spun around, fangs bared, claws out, ready to fight to the death.