Page 54 of Bride of Choice

Away from me, because apparently I suck as a girlfriend.

Soon I was surrounded by a sea of towering fuzzballs, each with varying expressions on their faces, mostly curious, frowny disapproval possibly aimed at me, maybe at Gopher, I didn’t know or care at the moment, more than a few baffled, and one or two that were a bit too perfectly neutral.

“Thanks,” I murmured quietly as I was assisted back into my seat. With a smirk and put on, everything is fine so fuck off face, I joked, “I totally meant to do that.”

“What do?” a male that was definitely not one of Dorothy’s mates inquired, coming up on me to take the seat closest to me.

He had pretty blue-grey eyes like one of Dorothy’s males, a little bit of a hooked nose, a short but wild mane of fur atop his head, and looked oddly familiar. Huh. But didn’t they all look oddly familiar? The familial resemblance from beast to beast was really throwing me off.

Our gazes met and held for so long it probably looked weird. I felt, I don’t know, like I really knew him from somewhere… It was like a niggling in the back of my mind but I couldn’t place him. I could know him from anywhere, to be honest. The handful of hunters Boog’s introduced me to, the masonry type guys Gopher chats with a lot on market days. Maybe it was simply his resemblance to one of Dorothy’s mates throwing me for a loop.

“Hurt?” he asked, blue-grey gaze darkening along with the scowl slowly overtaking his features, eyeing me from head to toe for injury.

Was I in the presence of another overprotective teddy bear of a male, like Dorothy’s mates, or was he showing peeks of interest?

My eyes widened for all of two seconds, the urge to lean away from him as he settled his thick forearms onto even thicker thighs and slid forward riding me hard. But Joanie did not show weakness to strangers, not if I could avoid it.

“Back up, wouldja, Bobo? You’re invading my personal space, fuzzykins.” I wasn’t trying to be the rude guest, I appreciated everything Dorothy and her mates were doing for me, but having another curious fuzzball quick-attached to me was not on the top of my to-do list. I had enough problems. Surely she understood this by now, having lived with these furry Neanderthals for forever and a day. Give them an inch and they’ll drag you kicking and screaming to the altar. Or was she one of those crazies that liked that kinda kinky shit?

Sliding my gaze her way, I had to suck my lips into my mouth, fighting not to laugh as I spied one of her males leaning in as if to press a kiss to her cheek, to grab her up and pretend to bite at her throat until she was laughing, red faced, her slaps at him useless as she giggled her ass off and insisted he quit. Oh, she was so a drag her off kinda slag. Doro, you dirty bitch.

I liked her even more for it.

“Jes, boobo! Hears the female! Backs up!” Bread whizzed by, smacking the nosy newt square in the face.

A snarl left “Bobo” that had my hair standing on end. Food fights were so not his deal.

Before I realized what I was doing, I’d leaned away from him without thought. Food fights weren’t my deal either, and neither was that snarling in my face business. “Down, Cujo,” I muttered under my breath without thought, so low I hoped my slip went unheard.

“What cooed-jo?” another male that was not a mate of Dorothy’s, that I was aware of, crowding in on my right, loudly demanded to know.

Her enormous dining room table had gone from empty to extended, all Knights of the Realm present stuffed to the gills.

“Eh, Kooky?” a third instigator teased.

Kooky, aka Bobo Newt the nosy, grunted and turned his body instead of facing me dead on, giving the thick maned male teasing him a long, measuring look. Grumbling something at him in Lo denaii, the male taunting him made a meek noise at whatever Kooky had just quietly rumbled at him and quickly dropped his gaze.

Taking a piece of bread as it was offered, a large basket of it, rolls as fat as my head being passed around, I tore off a piece from the smaller loaf I’d nabbed, telling Kooky quietly, “Now that, that’s something I’ve gotta learn. A few short words and you’ve got ‘em by the short hairs. It’s a talent.”

My words were meant to compliment, but in a jokey, friendly way, not an I wanna add you to my mountain of bologna come-on.

“Kooky mean,” the male to my right spoke up, baring his teeth at Kooky. “Bad male. No want.”

“Bah!” the male beside Mr. Butt-Right-In chided Butt-In. “No know bad male. Joo bad male. Pfft. Wide mouth.”

When Kooky bared his teeth back at Butt-In, Butt-In not knowing which way to snarl as it came at him from both sides, I was chomping at the bit to ask if Kooky was Mr. Grumpypants’ actual name or some sort of kooky insult. I’d be Kooky-ing everyone on my shit list ‘til the cows came home if it was some sort of Lo denaii insult— their word for jackass, dick, or asshole, maybe?

“No beed jelly, Oogi,” a male down towards the end of the table near Dorothy and her mates called out.

“Not Oogi,” the suddenly grumpy Oogi gritted out. “Doh-ghee.”

“Dough-gee?” I blurted on a sputtering laugh, before I could stop myself. THAT was somehow better than Oogi? My hand clapped to my mouth and I tried with all my strength to muffle the snort that slipped free, unbidden, but it was too late.

“Why Gofur leave Bad Jo?” The look Dough-ghee gave me, a taunting snicker leaving him, made me feel about two inches tall.

Eyes narrowing, glancing around to doublecheck all remaining parties further down, namely hosts and hostess, were otherwise occupied, I leaned close to Dough-ghee and bit out, “I dunno, Oogi. Maybe he saw your fugly face or smelled you and it scared him off.”

Dough-ghee’s snickering smirk fell, mouth fish-gaping for what felt like a full minute as the males closest to him, overhearing, laughed at his expense.

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