Bear Meets Girl (Pride #7)(34)

She took a step, stopped, walked back to him, and placed her hand against his crotch.
Crush jerked at the feel of her stroking his cock through the thick denim of his jeans. Of course, the way those fingers were working him, he might as well be naked.
“Goddamn,” she murmured, then again shook her head and snatched her hand away. “See what you’re doing?”
“What I’m doing? How is this my fault?”
“It is your fault. You and your big cock! Dammit!”
“You’re insane.”
“Certifiable.” She wagged a finger. “But you’re not getting out of this now. Better put some time aside, because when I nail you, I’m going to need all night.”
Her cold gold eyes scowled down at his crotch again and, after what felt like forever, she stamped her foot, spun away from him, and stormed out, slamming his front door behind her.
Crush looked over at the dog gazing up at him from under the table. Where it was safe.
“I don’t understand how this is my fault,” he told Lola, which got him a vicious bark.
“You don’t have to be mean about it.”
When Cella got back home, she walked in through the front door, passing the living room where her family was enjoying pie and TV. When they saw her, they all cheered, “Cella!”
Annoyed, she snapped, “Oh, shut up!”
Cutting through the kitchen, Cella headed into the backyard. She stopped by the table where Meghan and Josie sat doing schoolwork and glared down at her daughter.
“I hope you appreciate what a good mom I’m being,” Cella told her.
“You mean at the moment? Ow!” Meghan lifted her leg and rubbed her shin, which was probably where Josie had kicked her under the table.
“You’re a wonderful mom, Aunt C.,” Josie said, ignoring Meghan’s brutal glare. “And Mom’s inside.”
Taking the hint, Cella headed to the Davises’ house. When she walked in, Jai’s mother took one look at her face and pointed in the direction of the office that mother and daughter shared.
Cella marched through to the office, dropping into a free chair across from Jai’s desk. 
“And hello to you, too,” Jai said “Is something wrong?”
“That man is hung like a donkey.”
“Oooookay.”
“I will need all night to work that shit. And I will work it.”
Jai sat back in her chair and her eyes briefly closed. Oh, and there was a sigh.
“Explain to me why you can’t just say ‘he’s really cute, I think I like him, I can’t wait to get to know him better’? Why can’t you say that?”
“Because I’m freaking out.”
“Freaking out about what?”
“I like my pretend boyfriend. Which is just weird.”
“Honey, calling a man your pretend anything is weird.”
Cella chuckled. “I like calling him that. It annoys him.” Cella threw her hands up. “You see? I enjoy annoying him.”
“Sweetie.” Jai leaned over, took Cella’s hand. “You enjoy annoying everyone.”
Cella thought on that a moment and finally admitted, “You might have a point.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Crush woke up the next morning and decided that he wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Baissier to come at him—or, even worse, fantasizing about a long-legged and heartless feline with an amazing tight ass and right hook. Instead, he was going to do his job and find out why Whitlan was really back in town. And then, he’d take him down. If it turned out Crush could nail Baissier in the process ... well, that would just be a bonus, now wouldn’t it?
So, just before noon, Crush walked into a Yonkers bar. As soon as he opened the door, with the early afternoon sun behind him, those already drinking or “working” looked up to see who was coming in. But as Crush’s shadow grew on the floor and he stepped farther in, they all quickly turned away except the bartender.
“Hey, man.” The bartender laughed. “Dude ... what happened to your hair?”
Cella looked at her vibrating phone again, before quickly sending the call to her voice mail.
“What are you doing?” Rivka asked.
“Avoiding someone.” To be specific, Cella was avoiding Blayne. As the Group’s hybrid kids got older, Cella and Blayne had been eyeing some of them for their respective teams. Although Blayne could give two shits about the males, she wanted Cella to leave the females to her for her precious roller derby team. But after watching Hannah handle herself in that fight with the grizzlies yesterday, Cella knew she wanted the bear hybrid to try out for the Carnivores. Which meant that she would be forced to listen to Blayne Thorpe whine about it.
Before putting her phone back in her pocket, she checked the time.
“Do you have to go?”
“Not yet, but I promised I’d meet some of the guys for training today. But don’t worry, I have time. Your bachelorette party is more important than anything right now.”
“I don’t care about a bachelorette party.”
“Of course, you don’t. You’re in love, blah, blah, blah. But your friends do care and that’s all that matters.” Cella wasn’t lying when she’d told Jai that she adored Rivka. She really did. How could she not? A fellow She-tiger, Rivka always looked so cute and girly with her curly black hair that it was hard to believe she was one of KZS’s Cleaners. Born and raised in Israel, she’d been recruited by KZS when she was twenty and they’d moved her to the States. With minimal equipment, she could dispose of a battalion of bodies in less than six hours. She was also loyal, dependable, and took great care of Cella’s kid. In the end, that was all that mattered to Cella: Were you someone worthy of being around Meghan? The fact that Bri actually loved her, too, was the least of Cella’s concerns.Returning to her checklist, Cella said, “I’m thinking open bar.”
Rivka put her nearly empty cereal bowl on the side table. “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much these feline bitches can drink when it’s on someone else’s tab?”
After debating an open bar, crafting a reasonable guest list and making wardrobe decisions, Cella had just moved on to dinner options when the front door to Rivka and Bri’s extremely high-priced penthouse opened and a voice from the hallway called out, “Where’s my pussy at?”
The two females looked at each other, then back at the living room archway. A few seconds later, Bri came sauntering through with a large deli bag smelling delightfully of fresh pastry and coffee.
He stopped in the archway and stared. “Oh. Cella. You’re here.”
Tilting her head to the side, Cella asked, “Do I count as your pussy, too?”
He scowled. “No, you do not.” Bri walked farther into the room. “And what are you doing here”—he pointed at Cella and Rivka—“canoodling?”
Cella tried to see it from Bri’s point of view. Both females were on the couch, Cella’s back against the armrest and her legs over Rivka’s legs with Rivka toying with Cella’s shoelaces. Okay. The visual might be easy to misinterpret by regular full-humans, but a feline should ... oh, forget it. Bri was still a guy and to him nothing was more frightening than having the mother of his child good friends with his fiancée. And considering how much Cella enjoyed messing with Bri’s mind, she could understand his concern.
“Don’t get paranoid. You always seem to forget, baby’s daddy—”
“Stop calling me that.”
“—that as cats we’re naturally affectionate when we actually like someone. I like Rivka, but that doesn’t mean I want to bone her.” She looked at Rivka. “Do you want to bone me, sweetie?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
And that’s why Cella loved Rivka. How could anyone think Cella had a problem with Rivka marrying Bri? She had a great sense of humor and actually made the man much less uptight accountant guy.
“Do not freak me out before my wedding,” the male warned. “Just do not freak me out.”
“Speaking of which, do you know what’s going on with our kid?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s acting really stressed out. Especially anytime I mention school to her.”
Putting the coffee cups on the table, Bri dismissed Cella’s concern with a wave of his hand. “She’s probably just worried about her decision to stay on Long Island with the family and go to Hofstra. A decision I’m sure you’re not making easy on her.” 
Cella stared at the tiger standing in front of her until she finally managed to grind out, “What do you mean her decision to go to Hofstra?”
“Oh.” Bri looked at his fiancée, then back at Cella. “Meghan, uh ... didn’t mention that to you?”
Crush knocked on the door in the back of the bar and it slowly opened. The man protecting the door looked him over, then asked, “Let him in?”
“Of course.”
Crush walked into the room. He could tell from the general funk that an all-night poker game had been going on. But as soon as he stepped in, most of the players picked up their winnings and headed out the door into the alley behind the bar.
Dave “Charming” Lepke smiled at Crush. “Come on in.”
Crush walked in, making sure to check the dark corners and behind the door before moving across the room to stand in front of the well-known gambler turned bookie. In his late sixties, with a full head of white hair, Charming still had the imposing build and attitude of a man who used to break guys’ arms for being late paying back their gambling debts.