Page 64 of Prayers for the Prickly

Will your Nana be there, too? She’s a riot.

Of course she will, Grandpa, too, they live at the bend of the pond about a half-mile from my folks’ place.

Oh, that’s right, you did say that your family owned every house around that pond.

And much of the shoreline up that way, too.

Next you’ll tell me they helped found Perriwinkle Cove.

Because they did. Both sides. And we’ve been here ever since.

Did you ever think about leaving, outside of sailing away on a houseboat?

Naaah. I like it here, even now that people have started taking my lack of a resting bitch face for an excuse to strike up a conversation.

I wouldn’t say it’s gone-gone, but I have noticed more smiles than scowls over the past few weeks.

How can I not smile, when I have you?

Be still my fluttering little hedgehog heart, what was it Aunty Clara kept saying about him being a keeper? He really was, every last fanged, furred inch of that wolverine was who I wanted to wake up to every day for the rest of my existence, and I fully intended to savor every moment fate gave me with him.

Chapter 25

Gregor

It was getting easier to leave the shop before we closed, what with Olly not only overseeing the gallery, but the construction crew working on the gallery’s expansion. He also ensured that the fresh seafood delivered each morning to the house was stored in the proper refrigeration unit, so it was fresh and ready for me to make supper each night.

Tonight, I’d be making oysters Rockefeller and crab stuffed lobster to serve with the cranberry orange salad August had been craving. That I’d found the same sort of soothing meditation in cooking that I’d found in my woodwork meant that I’d taken to dropping into the Little Village Bookstore more often, to select a new addition to the cookbook collection I was building at the house.

I couldn’t wait to try my hand at some of the fun, kid-friendly recipes I’d come across, excited about the prospect of homemade popsicles and sandwiches cut into adorable shapes. I’d already picked up a few metal sandwich cutters to start the collection, including a duckie, a mousie, and holy shit….

Some badass wolverine shifter I was supposed to be, already thinking of things in the same terms as August’s nieces and nephews, but dammit all, those little hoglets had been too damned cute for words.

And there went the soft, gooey feeling in my belly again, leaving me tingling with anticipation at the thought of holding my little ones. Every time I looked at my mate, I pictured the miniature versions of August we’d soon have filling our home, their little giggles and coos adding to the brightness of a place I already loved.

As I headed up the boardwalk toward the house, a bright splash of lavender caught my eye, sitting in the window of the toy store.

Lavender Bunny’s Teatime Eggstravaganza.

A yellow and red clearance tag marked it and the rest of the collection of Easter leftovers, the Teatime Eggstravaganza book not the only children’s cookbook among them. It was like the fates were throwing up a giant neon sign telling me to get me ass in there and grab them while I was already thinking about treats to make for my little ones.

It was a no brainer to duck inside and look for a cart the moment I’d swept the cookbooks, and several critters with bunny ears that were definitely not rabbits into my arms. My eyes landed on the cart and a stuffed mouse almost as big as my mate at exactly the same time. With those big, floppy pink and brown ears, and fluffy brown, tan and gray body, it looked like a giant replica of a field mouse.

I'd never thought there would be a reason for me to care about the texture of anything save for how finely I sanded the grains of the wood I worked with, but when I touched that stuffed toy, it was like stroking fur. I plopped my clearance items in the cart and snatched up the mouse, tail whipping myself when I slung it over my shoulder. At least the ceilings here were high.

“Would you mind keeping this up here for me until I’ve finished shopping?” I asked the somewhat familiar looking redhead behind the counter.

“Gregor? Gregor Erickson?” the slightly built man asked as he reached to take the mouse from me. It was bigger than him, but not bigger than the mammoth man who stepped out of the office and effortlessly plucked it from his hands to place it on one of the wide shelves behind him.

“Umm, yeah,” I said, still trying to place him. “I’m sorry, have we met? You sort of look familiar, but I’m afraid don’t know your name.”

“It’s okay, we haven’t actually met,” the redhead explained.

Now, when the mammoth man turned, I did know him and chuckled as Brendon stepped around the corner, ignored my proffered hand and swept me into a bone crushing hug.

“He recognizes you from me chasing you all over the damned ice from seventh grade until we graduated,” Brendon explained. “That’s Janie, my mate.”

A lightbulb went off as Brendon turned me loose.

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