The Mane Squeeze. Shelly Laurenston

do happen. You don’t leave, that cat goes postal, you slap him around, the She-wolf calls her itty-bitty friends and, like the dogs they are, they come running. You’ll slap them around. At that point, I’m back out here because the doc’s called me to get you off the property. Or, you can leave with me now and everybody’s happy and breathing.”

      “Everybody’s happy but me.”

      “Sacrifices have to be made, and we know that lion ain’t makin’ any if he can help it.” Toots winked at him, motioned to the exit door. “Come on, shorty. Let’s go. You can seethe all the way back to Van Holtz territory.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      How did he let this happen? He’d promised Mitch he’d take care of Gwen. One weekend out, and she’d been assaulted by interloping wolves and mooned over by that imbecile bear.

      Talk about dropping the ball.

      Blayne stormed back into the waiting room. At five-eleven, she was a good three inches taller than Gwen, but both hybrids were still pretty small as human compared to most of the breeds they were mixed with.

      “You called the cops?” Blayne accused and Brendon could only stare at her.

      “What?”

      “You called the cops on the bear! I was standing out front and I saw them driving away in the Ranger’s SUV.”

      Not sure what she was talking about, but not in the mood to get into a fight with a woman who would happily have a verbal argument with lint, Bren could only shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “It was me,” Ronnie cut in and they both looked at her.

      “I’m sorry, darlin’,” Ronnie said simply, “but he needed to go.”

      “Why?” Blayne demanded, looking surprisingly angry over a bear she didn’t even know.

      “Because he didn’t need to be here.” Ronnie’s voice was calm and very controlled, which Bren knew was not a good thing. Happy and sunny equaled good. Calm and controlled equaled wolfdog without her head.

      “I don’t think that was your decision to make,” Blayne practically snarled.

      “And I think you should suck my—”

      “Why don’t you check on Gwen,” Bren quickly cut in, grabbing Ronnie’s hand and intertwining their fingers before she could finish that particular sentence. “She’ll be waking up soon.”

      With a loud and rather dramatic sigh, the wolfdog stormed off, and Bren kissed the back of Ronnie’s knuckles. “Thanks.”

      Ronnie’s bubbling anger slipped away and she smiled at Bren. “Gwen will be okay.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “And there’s no need to call Mitch about this.”

      He winced. “Are you sure?”

      “You wanna see that little mixed-breed feline really mad at you, Brendon Shaw? You just call her brother back here over something like this. Take it from a ‘baby sister’ who knows. You leave that boy right where he is and let us take care of Gwenie.”

      He nodded and pulled Ronnie over until she sat on his lap. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

      She kissed his cheek and put her arms around his shoulders. “I’m glad, too. Did you see the claws on that bear? And he was aiming right for your pretty face, too!”

      Gwen opened her eyes and snorted. Figures.

      “What?” Blayne asked, staring down at her.

      Blayne was staring down at her. Not a handsome bear. But Blayne. She loved Blayne…but Blayne wasn’t the bear. The bear who’d made a promise. Gave his word!

      See? She couldn’t rely on anyone but herself, her family, and Blayne. Crazy, never-knew-when-she-would-snap, anger-management-classes-are-her-friend Blayne. Anyone else—not to be trusted.

      “Nothing’s wrong,” Gwen lied.

      “You sure?”

      “Yeah. I’m sure. So can I leave?”

      “Brendon’s signing you out now. You can’t walk on that leg for at least four hours, so he’s going to have to carry you. Or Smitty.” Blayne’s lips pursed. “The Pack’s here, too.”

      Gwen didn’t ask why the Smith Pack was here because she already knew. Ronnie Lee called one of them and said in that annoying country twang, “No, no. I don’t need nothin’. I’ll be fine. Y’all don’t worry ’bout me none.” And the dogs ran over like Ronnie was being locked into an Animal Control van.

      “Whatever,” Gwen sighed. Because really…would it have killed the bear to have stuck around at least until she woke up? At least until he knew she wasn’t about to become another victim of body-part theft? Apparently it would have, because he wasn’t here. Like he’d promised!

      As Gwen always suspected, male bears were no different from any of the other breeds. All males were born liars. Every last one of them. And why the hell did she care so much that he hadn’t stayed and she felt moments from pouting?

      It must be the medication. That was the only thing that made sense. All those stupid meds flowing through her body were making her an emotional wreck.

      Brendon walked in. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

      Blayne slipped her arm under Gwen’s shoulders to help her sit up.

      “I’ve got her.” Brendon waited until Blayne stepped aside and then easily scooped Gwen up in his arms.

      “You don’t need to carry me like I’m an infant.”

      And proving how much like Mitch Shaw he really was, Brendon cried out dramatically, “Would it kill you to let me help you?”

      Blowing out a sigh, Gwen looked at Blayne and Blayne looked down at the floor, her shoulders shaking from laughter.

      “No, Bren. That’s fine.”

      He smiled, happy he’d gotten his way. “Thank you.”

      Ulrich Van Holtz continued to read the latest tome on world economics, pretending to be bored, but in truth absolutely fascinated!

      He loved weekends like this. Weekends without his father, Alder, or brother in attendance because if there was one thing that pair knew how to do really well was ruin a relaxing weekend among family.

      But instead of enduring the presence of those two, Ric was instead getting a few days of downtime with his favorite cousins, a few hours on his own to read a dry, detailed exploration on failing economics, and a chance to watch his best friend storm into the house, slam the door behind him, and make all Ric’s lounging cousins disappear in the face of that grizzly boar-rage.

      Awesome.

      Lock MacRyrie stalked by the living room entryway wearing hospital scrubs, a scowl, and a series of fresh bruises on his face and neck.

      “Lock?”

      The grizzly walked back and stood in the archway. “What?”

      “Should I ask what happened to your face?”

      “It doesn’t matter,” he growled before storming off again.

      Placing his book on the table, Ric followed his friend. When the grizzly started to head out a back door, Ric caught his arm and led him toward the kitchen.

      Adelle Van Holtz, his father’s first cousin but mature enough that Ric always referred to her as Aunt Adelle, glanced up from whatever she was mixing for tonight’s dessert. Her mouth dropped open in shock when she saw Lock.

      “Lachlan!” She put down her mixing bowl and rushed to him. “My poor baby.