Kade sighed. The guy had no clue. And he was in no mood to explain it to him. “Listen, just go with us on this, okay?”
Zach glared, and anger radiated off him. Every hair on Buffy’s body stood on end. Kade’s lips reflexively pulled back from his teeth.
Dammit.Someone here had to be the adult. So he added, “Listen, I’m no happier about this than you, but I’ll do a lot for Cara.”
A muscle jumped in Zach’s cheek. But the anger diminished, and he nodded. “On one condition.”
Kade’s eyebrows rose. “What’s that?”
“Be nice to my animals. Or I’m throwing you out on your furry ass.”
The Were’s brows rose. Was the guy more suicidal than brave? “You can try.” He shrugged. “But I guess that’s fair.”
As Zach opened the door and stepped out, Kade couldn’t stop himself from poking the bear. “It isn’t my furry ass you need to worry about.”
“I so didn’t need to know that.” Zach spoke through clenched teeth. He wrapped his arms around Buffy and walked away, whistling to the dog. Spike came, head lowered. As did the donkey, Willow. And the gray-colored horse, with one blue eye, called to him.
Regular Doctor Doolittle, this guy,Kade thought.No wonder Cara likes him.
17
Spike held his head and tail low, glancing frequently over his shoulder. He seemed as unimpressed with Kade’s presence as Zach.
Damned sneaky Cara. If she’d told Zach what they were up to, he would have called a cab. Or rented a bloody car. Or walked.
Not that any of those would have stopped Kade from arriving on his doorstep. He doubted many things stopped the massive Were. The man was an effing romance writer’s dream. A whole lot of broody arrogance wrapped in a package rippling with muscle and hiding an inner critter with big, sharp teeth.
Spike trotted past Zach who continued to carry Buffy toward the house. They were halfway there when the dog spun around to face back the way they’d come, and barked.
Storm’s explosive snort echoed across the yard.
Zach turned in time to see a huge, hairy form bound past the barn. It moved too fast for him to get a good look at it, but it was much larger than a bear with fur that gleamed gold in the overhead light. Gold with bands and spots of black.
He glanced back to the truck. Folded neatly on the hood were Kade’s jeans and shirt.
Beyond the vehicle, stood Storm. Her entire body was rigid as she stared after the Were. Her ears lay flat. But she wasn’t panicked like poor Tucker. The gelding was frantically running back and forth along the back of the corral.
Willow trotted after Zach, completely unruffled. As if werewolves were as common as chickadees. She hadn’t been so calm last night. Not the right werewolves, he guessed.
Gritting his teeth, Zach carried the cat into the house. He shut the door firmly in Willow’s face. The donkey usually brayed her disappointment when Zach did that. When she didn’t, he opened the door again. He surveyed the lack of donkey presence with resignation, as well as the forlorn, single rubber boot on the porch. He’d forgotten that he’d left them out there this morning. Willow was trotting back toward the corral, swinging the boot in her teeth.
Zach shook his head. She’d had all day to molest those boots. It only proved that she did it to bug the hell out of him. Did Cara leave her with instructions to attack his footwear? With any luck, she’d snatch the boots Kade had left beside the truck. Would serve the Were right to have to pad around in stocking feet.
He sighed, shut the door, and returned to the kitchen. Setting the cat on the floor, he grimaced at the mess the police had made.
Just about every surface had fingerprint dust on it. Dark patches coated his light counter, fridge, and stove. Light ones marked the dark surfaces.
They’d had an effing fingerprinting party. That word was proving useful in his new reality. It was his place. They’d no doubt found lots of his prints. Maybe Cara’s too. If they discovered anyone else’s, he’d like to know about it.
Zach sighed and opened a couple of lower cupboards.
“They’re in there,” he told Buffy.
She sat and looked at him. Meowed.
Spike stood in the kitchen and regarded the cat, uncertainty in his stance. Zach was grateful to note the dog had normal, deep-brown eyes. Cara might have brought him to Zach, but Spike didn’t have the trademark gaze of a Familiar. If that’s what Willow and Buffy were.
Which was fortunate, considering Spike slept with him. It would be entirely too weird. Like having your mother strap a full-time camera to you.
