“Who else are you expecting, Grandma?”
“Melinda.”
“Who’s Melinda?” Rebecca asked.
“My sister.” Miles shook his head with a smirk.
“Oh.” She hadn’t asked him about the rest of his immediate family yet. She knew Griffen’s family situation, but nothing about Miles. “Do you have any other siblings?”
“No. Just Melinda. We’re twins. She’s hell on wheels. She’s also a shaman.”
“You sure you didn’t call and tell your grandma we would be here?” she whispered under her breath.
At that moment his grandmother reached the table with another platter of something steaming. “Honey, I haven’t got a phone. Never have. Don’t need one.” She didn’t even glance at Rebecca as she spoke.
Rebecca swallowed. Fuck me.
This was too weird.
Griffen set a hand on her thigh and squeezed, making her gasp. His thumb was too close to her center. She set her hand on top of his and shoved. “Stop it. I can’t think when you do that.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m almost as freaked out as you are, baby.” He didn’t move his hand an inch, not even when she glared at him.
Just then the back door flew open, and a tiny woman bounded into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. Her long, black, straight, shiny hair flowed behind her. Her eyes went straight to Rebecca, and she circled the table as though she were more floating than needing the use of her legs.
She immediately wrapped her arms around Rebecca from behind and squeezed. “I’m so excited for you,” she gushed. Her cheek brushed Rebecca’s, warm and full of life, before she released and floated back to the other side of the table to pounce into a seat. “Tell me everything. Where did you meet? Was it romantic? Did you know right away? Were these brutes careful about your feelings?”
She turned to face Griffen and giggled. “Sorry. I’m rambling. Hi, Griffen.” She wiggled her fingers at him and winked.
Griffen set his hand back on Rebecca’s thigh and squeezed.
“She’s…interesting,” Rebecca communicated.
“She’s a train wreck. Don’t kid yourself,” Miles added without glancing at either of them. His gaze was on his sister as he continued to speak, out loud this time. “Hello to you too, sis. I’m not even going to bother to ask how you knew.”
She grinned wide and batted her eyes.
Miles’ grandmother took the last seat, her tiny frame almost ridiculously small for the table. Rebecca could easily see the resemblance between granddaughter and grandmother. When Melinda was that old, she would undoubtedly be a mirror image. She wondered if their mother looked the same as these two women.
Miles flinched at her side but said nothing.
Huh. A tale for another time. He hadn’t mentioned either of his parents yet. Did they live close-by also?
“Eat, everyone, while it’s hot. There’ll be plenty of time for discussion after.” The older woman nodded at the platters on the table and handed her grandson a serving spoon.
For the next half hour, little was said while they all enjoyed the exquisite culinary skills of this tiny waif of a woman who clearly spent many hours of her life cooking for her family and enjoying feeding people.
“That was delicious, ma’am,” Rebecca said as she finished the meal. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Any time. You’re family now.” She smiled, and for the first time the woman actually seemed like a normal, regular, everyday grandmother. And then just as quickly, her face changed to serious, her brows came together, and she sat back. “There is much to discuss.”
Chapter Fifteen
Griffen watched every person at the table while they ate, trying to make sense of the insanity. He’d come up with absolutely no resolution to a single question floating in his head.
The woman had no phone? How the hell had she known they were coming? He’d heard tales of shaman before, but this was incredible. Although hardly more unbelievable than the flat tires or downed tree.
Griffen had met her several times before, but he hadn’t known she was a medicine woman. He also hadn’t known she didn’t have a phone.
Melinda was a pistol. He had known that. She’d kept her mouth closed during the meal, but it clearly was a struggle for her, and he noted that several times her grandmother turned to her and shook her head. Did the two of them communicate telepathically? He could believe it. Hell, they both had an uncanny sense of everything. Why wouldn’t they share a connection?
Wolves, at least in his world, didn’t typically have the ability to communicate in human form. They could do so in wolf form, but only mated couples, or ménages as it seemed, could do so unshifted. An important detail, especially if one found themselves mated to a human.