Page 3 of Destined Predator
“I didn’t know him as well as you did,” Jack replied, his words coming slowly. “And I guess I’ve learned more about him since coming back, if not from you, then from people’s stories and memories, here or in town. But I don’t think he’d have knownwhatto do if he discovered shifters existed and that his younger son is destined mate to one of ’em.”
“Y’all might jus’ have the right of it there, son,” said Rhett, his impersonation of Chauncey Tucker’s measured, guarded speech so accurate that it set them both laughing again.
Jack twisted around and took one of the framed photos off the hall table. “I swear, you hold this up in front of your face when you do that, we’d fool anyone he’s still around!”
“Ah reckon we abou’ might,” Rhett couldn’t resist saying, Chauncey-style, as he took the picture to return it to the table.He studied it. He looked like Chauncey—no-time-to-fuss short dark hair and a big and burly frame, although his eyes were a hazel blend of his pa’s brown and his mom’s green—and was like him, too, in his focus on the ranch and the land.
“I’m more like Mom.” Jack followed Rhett’s line of sight to where the portrait of Lorraine Channing Tucker gazed down at them from the wall.
True, he had her large, dark-lashed green eyes and more delicate bone structure. Lorraine had been a beauty, with her high cheekbones and wide, full mouth, and Jack shared those, too.
Jack had always liked the formal-looking painting of Mom, in a silk evening dress she rarely had occasion to wear. Remembering how as a kid, Jack had used to exclaim “Portrait pose!” whenever Mom happened to be half-turned away and looking back at him, the same position she’d been put into for her painting, made Rhett laugh.
Seeing the expression Jack wore now, as he gazed at one of the last photos of Chauncey and Lorraine together on their wedding anniversary, Rhett knew he was wishing he’d been able to tell them he was gay. Jack had spoken of it before.
“Hey.” He got his younger brother’s attention. “I reckon they’d be glad you found someone. I know I am. And I’ll say it one more time for the folks at the back—there’s always a place for you here at the Double T. Heck, youownhalf the Double T!”
“Even if I know more about ranch dressing than ranch work?”
“Thought you worked in an office in New York City, not a restaurant. Like, publishing, not fast food?” Rhett joked. “And you know, that’s something we could think about. I was wondering about getting the admin side of things more up to date here— Oh, sure, go ahead. Laugh it up, kid.”
“’S’hard not to, when I think what passes for a ‘system’ in that home office back there!” Jack wiped his eyes. “If it’s Monday,you move the pile of papers to the back of the desk. Tuesday, to the table beside the desk. Wednesday, the chair halfway between the table and the filing cabinet. And by Friday—”
“By Friday I’m kicking your ass.” Rhett grinned, too.
“Tryin’ to.” Jack folded his arms. “But yeah, the office processes need streamlining. And not just the office. I got interested in data management—well, data science, or even data technology, really—and I’ve been havin’ some ideas for using it for the cattle, too.”
“That so? Like what? Putting a jumbotron in the far pasture to show the herd movies? Or giving each cow a cell phone, get ’em to take selfies, maybe set ’em up with an Instagram account? You wanna solve our ‘social media problem’ that way?” Rhett bent to see in the mirror, to give a final brush to his hair, and raised an eyebrow at his brother’s reflection behind him.
“Hey, neat idea—pretty pictures of cows in costumes and us dressed as cowboys in chaps… Hmm…” Jack couldn’t keep up the joke. “No. Tagging each cow with an electronic ID that stores all their info, to make herd management more efficient. It’s just something I was reading about.” Jack looked from the carriage clock on the hall table to his watch. “Hey. You wouldn’t be stalling there, would you, big bro? Seeing as how tonight’s your first date…with a guy?”
The words still made his stomach flip. A date. With a man who wasn’t just any man but an Alpha. A leader. Someone who didn’t flinch from what he was.Rhett wasn’t sure if he wanted to learn from Casey or wrestle him to the ground—and the problem was, both pictures made his pulse race.
“No.” Rhett tweaked his sheepskin jacket from the coat stand and put it on. “I’m ready, see?” Well, he was the ‘dressed clean and tidy’ part of ready, andhopingto meet a nice guy, even if he didn’t think he’d ever be ‘ready’ for it.
“It’s a big step.” Jack nodded. “You want some pointers, bro?”
“Jack, Ineverwanna see your pointer. Ev-er,” Rhett emphasized, quitting the house. He was glad Jack walked him to his truck, although he could have done without the “Make me proud!” and “Make it happen!” that his one-hundred-percent certified brat of a little brother hollered after him as he drove away.
Rhett fiddled with the radio, getting it to his favorite classic rock station in time to catch a group suggesting he “take it easy”.Good advice.That was followed by “one for the oldies,” a classic country song telling him to “be a man”. He was—if facing up to being gay and wanting to bewitha man counted.
Well, even if it didn’t and it wasn’t what the singer or songwriter had in mind, Rhett was off to Bard’s Saloon for his first-ever date with a guy, and one who was more experienced than him, better-looking than him and more take-charge than him.
A smug, bossy alpha, all long legs, wide shoulders and overlong wavy hair, strutted into his mind’s eye, and Rhett turned up the music to wipe him out.Well, ready or not, here I come.
Out beyond the porch lights, a coyote yipped once, sharp and distant, before the night swallowed the sound. Rhett smiled without meaning to. Maybe the wild was calling again, this time in a voice he actually wanted to answer.
Chapter Two
Casey Akers sped his bike up the Akers’ drive, cut the engine and jumped off to stride into the house almost before the motor stopped. If his quick, seamless flow of movements owed a little something to his shifter side and a bigger something to his alpha status, well, there was no one around to see and wonder, with the Akers’ house being on the outskirts of town.
No one to see ’cept us coywolves…who were mostly all at home and all lazing around in their own filth. Sometimes he wished there was someone. Not to challenge his authority—he had enough of that from his siblings—but to watch him and see him, to look past the alpha front to the man who never got to stop leading.
“Oh, come on!” Casey spun in a circle, looking around the den at the mess. “This some sort of joke?” He pointed at the dirty crockery on the coffee table and sideboard. “There can’t be a clean plate or dish left in this place!”
“Tough day?” his sister Lacey asked, with deceptive sweetness. “No sign of Tom and Mac, so you had to do everything, as usual?”
“And came home in a mood,” muttered his other sister, Anne.
