Page 86 of Healing Her Lions

“I’m hanging up,” I threaten.

“You know how mating works, right?”

“I know how to mate. Shit.” I laugh as I walk back to the door of the cottage.

“I just want to make sure you do this the right way. The sooner the better,” he urges.

“I got it.”

“Tell Breeane hello and we love her already,” he says quickly.

“I will,” I tell him.

“Talk soon, Logan,” he says before he hangs up.

I shake my head. Fuck, that felt good.

It’s time to spend some time convincing my mate. Because Dad will be lucky if he can stop my mom. I give him four days at the most.

I open the door and see Lucas lying on the couch, and Las leaving the bathroom.

“It went well?” Lucas asks.

“It did. He agreed to give us eight days to convince Breeane to be ours in every way before they show up on our doorstep. I would cut that in half. I don’t think he can hold Mom back.”

“I have no doubt they will be here in two,” Lucas says. He crosses his arms underneath his head. “He’ll probably leave tomorrow and take the longest route in history just to give us the two days.”

“I agree with him. He’s been waiting too long already.” Las slaps my back. “I’m glad you called him.”

“Me too,” I sigh. “I’m happy that they are coming but we need more time alone with Breeane. You know Mom is going to smother her. She’ll want to take her shopping and cook with her. We’ll get kicked out of our house so they can use the kitchen.”

“Breeane will love it,” Lucas says softly.

“I know.” I selfishly want privacy.

“She is still in the bath,” Las informs me. “We refilled the tub.”

“She is mad at us,” Lucas says.

“Why?” I frown. We want her to desire to be around us, not be mad.

“We worked her up,” Lucas chuckles. He slides sideways off the couch. “We’ll give you some privacy.” He follows Las to the door. “She is probably helping herself out right now,” he yells before they leave.

“Fuck.” I jog to the bathroom door and swing it wide. “Breeane.” Her flushed face swings my way and she glares.

“Your brothers are mean,” she states.

I close the door and move toward her. “Why are they mean?” I crouch beside the tub.

“They told you,” she guesses.

“I want to hear it from you,” I urge.

“They talked all dirty to me and teased. They wouldn’t touch me,” she pouts.

“Poor, baby.” I brush the wet hair from her cheek. “Can you hold on long enough for me to confess something?”

“Of course, I’m not an animal,” she scoffs. I raise a brow. “You know what I mean.”

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