Melinda’s Wolves(28)

“Ah, yes. There’s a phone on the kitchen counter. It must be hers.” Griffen opened the door wider with his foot, nodding behind him. “Come on in.”

Trace stepped around his brother and bee-lined for the kitchen.

“You don’t smell right.” Griffen said.

“No shit.” Trace turned and headed back for the door, catching the grin on Griffen’s face. Trace rolled his eyes. “Don’t say a word. You didn’t claim your mate until two days after you met her.”

“True. But there were extenuating circumstances. We were missing our third, if you recall. And don’t forget me getting impaled with a branch.”

Trace chuckled. “More like a stick, and all because you thought you saw some sort of Indian spirit woohoo.” He jiggled his fingers in the air.

“You’re going to mock the Native American spirits now? After they saved my mate’s life and brought the three of us together? Don’t let Melinda hear you talking like that. She’ll leave your ass high and dry and you’ll never get any.”

Griffen was right. Trace needed to curb his beliefs about strange black orbs, or at least keep his thoughts to himself. His sweet mate was a believer, and she would freak out on him if he let on he didn’t quite follow her logic. “Well, gotta go. I’m sure we’ll come back by later to visit. Melinda would like to see the baby. But she’s, uh…”

“Embarrassed?”

“Yep. That’s about right. Tell Miles and Rebecca we said hello and we’ll be back.”

“’K. Go claim your mate before you lose brain cells.”

Trace turned to walk back to the truck, mumbling to himself, “Oh how I wish it were that simple.”

When he reached the truck—the driver’s door still open—Melinda scooted toward him. “What are you doing?” he asked as he handed her the phone.

“Getting my car.” She pointed at the lone car in the circle drive. A cute silver two-door. Not at all what he would have guessed.

Trace waved her off. “We’ll get it later.” He shoved her back across the seat so he could climb in.

Melinda grabbed the steering wheel, the only way she could thwart his efforts against her tiny frame. “Trace. That’s crazy. I need my car. It’s right there. We’re here now.”

He leaned in, took her chin in his hand, and met her gaze. “And I don’t want to be apart from you today. I’m sure Keegan agrees. Let us take you to your place and then your shop. We’ll come back here later anyway so you can visit the baby.”

She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes. “Are you always this domineering?”

He shrugged as she scooted back across the seat. “Not sure. You’re my first mate.”

Keegan laughed.

Melinda slapped his leg. “I’m your last mate too. So keep that in mind when you’re on the path toward pissing me off.”

He winked at her and pulled away from the house.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to her condo. Keegan was the first to descend from the truck, lifting Melinda to the ground next.

She smoothed her skirt down and led them to her home. At the door, she turned to face them. “Uh, you should know. I’m a bit of a slob. And I wasn’t expecting guests.”

Keegan lifted her chin with one finger. “You should know you can do nothing to scare us off. It doesn’t work that way. And we aren’t guests.”

She nodded, saying nothing else as she turned toward the door.

Trace’s first thought was that her condo was small. Much smaller than his. Then again, she lived there alone. And she had an end unit, so she had quite a bit of privacy.

She opened the blinds as soon as they stepped inside, letting the light filter into the dark space.

“You are a slob,” Keegan teased, stepping over a pile of shoes in the entryway.

“I told you.” She headed down the short hallway, Trace following on her heels as her ass swayed. The farther he made it into her home, the more he smelled her essence. Her scent permeated the space, of course.

The glance he’d taken of the living room and attached kitchen taught him a lot. She was indeed messy, or lazy. Dishes filled the sink, books littered the coffee table, and the kitchen table was covered with at least a week’s worth of mail.

Her bedroom was no better. She obviously didn’t believe in a hamper. He didn’t see evidence she even owned one.

When he looked at Keegan, he found him grinning, fighting off laughter. He turned to face the wall, pretending to examine her framed pictures in order to keep her from seeing his expression.

“I’m certain we can break you of this messy clothing habit in a hurry,” Trace said.