“They’re cute, I guess?” She kept darting frantic glances at the rearview mirror as she tried to pick up gossip. “You can’t seriously be thinking about buying one.”
“Would one be enough?”
“Goats are like potato chips. You can’t stop with just one.”
“I’m going to pretend you mean it would need a friend and not that one goat isn’t very filling.”
“You do that.”
“The question is…” I paused to check on the Hadley/Tisdale situation, “…would the pack eat them?”
“Duh.”
“What if I kept both edible and nonedible goats?”
“Are you telling me you, the mushiest-hearted person I know, would split her goats down the middle—metaphorically—and put one in a pen to slaughter and one in a pen to milk?”
Thanks to the wine—how had it gotten in my hand again anyway?—it was easy to squeeze out a few tears.
“Don’t cry, you sap.” She elbowed me. “I was kidding. We wouldn’t eat the goats. Happy?”
Wiping my cheeks dry with my fingers, I sniffled. “Do you mean it?”
Her lips screwed up tight. “Yes?”
“Liar.”
“What is she lying about this time?” Tisdale leaned forward. “She should have been a writer. The stories she told when she was a pup…”
The bar reminded Linus of an airplane hangar down to the galvanized steel panels covering its walls and its high dome ceiling. They must have bought it for the location then renovated it. No one would build a bar to these specifications. It would cost a fortune to heat and cool this place.
A karaoke stage, dwarfed by the size of the building, stood empty at one end. The main attraction, the padded arena with a mechanical bull, filled the other. A long bar stretched across the back wall, its glossy top beaten and chipped but kept clean and polished by the older barkeep who took his time filling orders. Linus retreated there to await his next turn.
With his shuffling gait, his worn flannel shirt, and starched jeans over scuffed boots, the barkeep could have walked off the set of a western film.
As the groom, Linus had enjoyed the dubious honor of the first bull ride. Once was enough to convince him to hang up his spurs for good. He hadn’t broken a sweat beating the timer, but his tailbone wasn’t going to thank him anytime soon. The machine was calibrated to humans, and he wasn’t that. Not even a little. The gwyllgi, with their superior reflexes, smashed his record with ease. The last time he saw Hood, he was riding the bull backwards with his hands tucked under his arms.
Not exactly inconspicuous, but they were here to party, and the premises were warded against humans after midnight.
As he watched the spectacle from the bar, he sipped from a glass of bourbon served on the rocks. The heat racing down his throat warmed him from the inside out, for a little while. An insistent prickle down his spine had him reaching for Cletus, and the wraith materialized beside him, fingers clacking.
The wraith’s eagerness made him wary. “What do you know that I don’t?”
Cletus extended his arm, one bony finger pointing toward the entrance.
A familiar blonde strolled in, her arm hooked through Adelaide’s, her shadow alive on the wall behind her though she hadn’t taken another step.
Midas, who was taking his turn on the bull, whipped his head toward the door. The loss of concentration got him flung onto the mats, and he landed hard on his shoulder. As he leveraged into a seated position, chagrin on his face, Hadley cracked up and Adelaide slapped her thigh.
Hands cupped around her mouth, Hadley yelled, “I’ve seen drunk sorority girls last longer.”
The guys chorused ooh, and the challenge was on. The Whitaker sisters versus the gwyllgi.
“I’m here.” Lethe swaggered in, arms raised over her head. “The party can begin.” It took her less than a second to notice it had started without her, thanks to Hadley and Adelaide, and for a glare to narrow her eyes. Striding across the open space, she met Hood halfway. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Eyes hot, he pressed his nose to hers, his mouth almost brushing hers. “I told you I was bringing the guys here.”
“You did, and then I said it sounded like fun and called dibs.” Jerking back, she tapped the button on her shirt. “I’m the matron of honor. I do what I want.”
“I’m the best man.” He tapped his own button. “I do what I want.”
“Fight me for it.” Lethe began bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Winner takes the club.”
The way Hood looked ready to devour his mate on what should have been a dance floor prompted Linus to clear his throat. “Ride for it.”
“I like the way you think.” Lethe channeled her aggression into a little dance. “Me first.”
“We can do this all day,” Hood drawled. “It’s not a fair test.”
The next round of insults faded into the ever-present wail of wraith song screeching through his mind. As Grier entered the bar, he was granted a reprieve, her presence a lull in the storm of his thoughts. She wore her dark hair parted down the middle and woven into long braids. Her pale-blue eyes shot past the gwyllgi straight to him, and the warmth in her smile drew him off his stool.
“Hello, lover.” She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her face into his chest, and exhaled with a simple happiness to see him that caused the cold to retreat precious few degrees. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I like the braids.” He flicked one over her shoulder. “They’re nice.”
“They make me feel ten years old, but you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had so far. I wanted my hair out of my face, and Neely swore this style fit the theme best.” She smoothed her palms across his chest, her fingers tracing her favorite of his tattoos. “I like your pajamas.”
Lethe might have dressed her up in costume, but at least she had dressed her. Hood, who lived in cutoff sweatpants turned shorts in his downtime, didn’t see the problem with Linus’s bedtime attire.
“Get off the bull,” Lethe shouted across the room at Hadley. “I need to teach my mate a lesson.”
Adelaide stiffened, ready to defend Hadley, but Hadley slid off without complaint.
“That’s rude,” Grier yelled at Lethe. “Mind your manners.”
Lethe tapped a finger against her chin. “Nope.”
“Too many dominant gwyllgi in too competitive an atmosphere.” Grier just shook her head. “Lethe’s been on edge all night. Proximity to her mother has her instincts going haywire, and Tisdale has not helped things. I definitely see where Lethe gets it from. Maybe this will get it out of her system until after the wedding.”
“She’s used to shouting orders at pack.” He kept an eye on Hadley, and her temper. “Not everyone here is her subordinate.”
“Trust me, the others won’t complain.” Her eyes twinkled, drawing him in. “Not unless they want Lethe to perform a colonoscopy on them with her boot.”
Lethe approached the bull’s handler and dropped a crisp bill in his tip jar. He gave a short nod and mashed a button that caused the scarred bull to rattle and shake, its seams to crack, and its eyes to open, exposing red lights that flashed like taillights when it blinked.
“It’s like a Transformer.” Grier jiggled his arm. “Keet would lose his little bird brain over this.”
Where the homely bull once stood, a metallic sculpture of melded fantasy creatures had taken its place.
Razor-sharp horns replaced the dull ones. Wings that pumped with animatronic clicks spread from the split down its spine. Gone was the leather hide, and in its place were sleek scales that would make gripping impossible. Its eyes glowed red, and four stout legs extended from its belly as it folded in the pole where it had been mounted.
“What is…?” Hood gaped at the beast. “How did you know?”
“Hadley,” Lethe said simply. “She did the research.”
Confusion twisted up his face when he swung his head toward Hadley.
“What?” She shrugged. “I believe in the power of Google.”
“No.” Hood pointed a damning finger at it. “No one on Google mentioned that.”
“Well, not outright. There are hints, but you have to know the code.”
Rubbing his forehead, Hood studied her. “There’s a code?”
“Hadley has a review addiction,” Midas explained for her. “She won’t eat, shop, or attend an event without digging through its online records first.”
“Whatever.” Lethe shoved through them. “Me first.”
“Want to get a closer look?” Grier ribbed him with her elbow. “This should be hilarious.”
“Those wings look functional.”
“You think the floorshow will come to us?”
Based on the open ceiling, and the bar’s central location… “We have front-row seats.”
“And me without my popcorn.” She angled for the best view. “How are you enjoying your night?”
“It’s been interesting.” This twist meant it promised to get even more so. “You?”
“Interesting is a good word. Let’s stick with that. Also, how do you feel about kids?”
The boom of his heart pounding in his ears deafened him to the spectacle around them. “Kids?”
“Baby goats.” She scanned his face then burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist.” Burying her face against his shoulder, she shook with laughter in his arms. “Your face. You should have seen it. Gah. Why didn’t I think to record it?”
Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “You spent entirely too much time with Lethe while I was gone.”
“Possibly,” she admitted easily. “You can thank her for the curves.” She pulled back to smooth her hands down her hips. “Eating like a gwyllgi is the only way I can keep on the—”