Lycan Redemption (2 page)

“Where are your things, Galen?”

“Left ‘em in the timber.” He nodded his head toward the tree line he’d emerged from. “Wasn’t for sure if I’d be needing them or not.”

“Oh. Well, if you want to give the job a trial run, I sure could use the help. I don’t think you’ll find things around here overly demanding, but there’s more work than I can handle on my own.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, ma’am—Myka.”

“Have you had dinner?”

His stomach growled loudly in response, and she grinned. Her nerves were settling, and relief at the prospect of finally getting some help settled over her.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she said. “If you want to get your things, there is a small apartment in the back of the barn. It’s not much, but it’s clean and comfortable. There’s a mini fridge, electric burner, and microwave. You have your own bathroom as well. Again, nothing fancy, but it’s functional. I can’t pay much over the free board and meals.”

She frowned. They hadn’t discussed wages. One hundred dollars a week plus room and meals wasn’t much. He’d probably turn tail and run when he found out.

“I’ll do the job for meals and board.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why?” He shrugged.

Yeah. Why? She could use that money for clothes and food and supplies. But her guilty conscience got the better of her.

“The job is room, meals, and one hundred a week.”

“I’ll do it for the meals and board,” he insisted.

“We’ll see,” she said quietly. “Get your things and meet me at the house after you get settled. Dinner is in the Crock-Pot. After we eat, I’ll get you some clean towels, sheets, and blankets.”

He nodded and turned back toward the woods.

“Oh.”

He stopped when she spoke.

“How do you feel about children, Galen?”

“Can’t say I’ve been around many, but I don’t dislike them.”

“That’s another stipulation of the job. You will need to get along with Patrick. He lost his father six months ago, and I don’t want any more drama in his life.”

He nodded and continued for the tree line.

She watched him for a few more seconds, then made her way to the house.

* * * *

His mate had a child? He hadn’t expected her to be a virgin, but the fact that she had a child made a knot the size of Mount Everest take residence in his gut. The thought of another man touching her, of her bearing another man’s baby, made him a little crazy. He wasn’t a double standard type of guy. What she did and with whom was her choice. He was no innocent by any means, and wasn’t naive enough to believe that a grown woman would wait around for someone she never knew existed.

Galen gritted his teeth. Nothing she’d done in the past—nothing in the future, for that matter—had the power to make him feel differently about her. She was his mate, and any child of hers would be cherished, protected, and loved by him just as she would be.

He snorted. He’d just gotten a lucky break, and all he could do was bitch and moan over the fact that Myka had a life before him. He had a roof over his head, meals, and his mate. He shouldn’t stay. He should get his bag of belongings stashed in the timber and move on. He shouldn’t risk putting Myka or the kid in danger, but how could he possibly pass up a chance like this? Falling into a job he didn’t know existed? How had that not been fate giving him an obvious shove toward his destination, no matter how temporary it might be?

While he wouldn’t be able to stay with her forever like he should be able to—like he already wanted to—he couldn’t deny this was the perfect place to hole up. Rugged terrain and escape into Canada but a breath away. What more could he ask under the given circumstances? Once the other lycans came for him, and eventually they would, he’d lure them away before they found her. He’d never put her in danger because of his selfishness. He may have only just met her, but he’d give his life in a heartbeat to keep her safe. No matter how things ultimately played out, she was his. Forever. He was hers. Forever.

Chapter Two

“Patrick?” Myka called out as she entered the small mudroom connected to the kitchen.

She hung her coat on a hook by the door and pulled her boots off. Patrick had been helping her in the barn earlier, but once they’d gotten close to finishing up the last stall, she’d sent him to the house to get cleaned up for dinner. The delay with Galen may have given the little boy just enough time to find trouble.

Patrick was a great kid with a huge heart, but he had an inclination for mischief. There wasn’t a mean bone in the kid’s body. Unfortunately, he was not only the spitting image of Travis physically but had inherited his father’s penchant for attracting trouble. Travis never looked for trouble, but it had persistently followed him wherever he’d gone. A slight flutter of panic hit her in the gut when she remembered the late-night phone call six months ago from Travis’s employer, and she hurried down the hall to check the bathroom.

She smiled in relief when she peeked through the crack of the partially closed door and saw Patrick. He was standing on the red step stool she’d gotten him, in front of the sink, brushing his teeth. She shook her head before patting the door lightly.

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen. Hurry up. We’re going to have company.”

She didn’t wait for his answer as she made her way back to the kitchen. The robust scent of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she’d put in the Crock-Pot this morning wafted enticingly through the house. She washed her hands, retrieved a head of lettuce from the fridge, rinsed it, and placed it on a cutting board. She found a bowl in the lower cabinet, then got to work cutting up the green leaves for salad.

Once finished, she rinsed the knife and cutting board before placing them in the strainer to air-dry. By the time she’d sprinkled shredded cheese on the salad and gotten the dressing out, Patrick was standing beside her.

“Who’s coming for dinner? We never have guests.”

She was happy to see him exert the general enthusiasm and curiosity a little boy should about such a thing. She’d been worried about Patrick for months after Travis’s death. He’d been sullen, withdrawn, and depressed for much longer than she thought was healthy. With the help of Ms. Case—Betty, a psychiatrist who’d chosen Loring, Montana, for her retirement home—Patrick had slowly shown improvement over the past few months. Betty had refused any kind of payment for helping Patrick, which had been a blessing since Myka hadn’t had the funds to pay for therapy. That hadn’t stopped her from slipping Betty fresh eggs and produce here and there whenever possible.

Patrick was technically supposed to start kindergarten in a couple weeks, but Betty suggested waiting until next year considering the recent trauma of losing his father. Myka had agreed, but in compromise took him to a local day care once a week for a supervised play day. She and Betty both wanted Patrick to maintain as normal of a life as possible in the rural community, wanted to expose him to other children and give him every opportunity to have friends and be a typical kid.

On the day that Patrick went to day care, Myka took care of errands and occasionally made the trip to neighboring Malta for supplies that weren’t always readily available in her small community. Over time, Patrick had come out of his shell, and had become a happy, carefree boy. Myka would always struggle with her brother’s death, and she was an adult who understood that death was a part of life. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Patrick felt, a child who couldn’t comprehend the full meaning of death.

He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that his father was never coming back. How did one explain death to a five-year-old? She’d had no idea, and that was where their guardian angel, Betty, had entered. While Myka wasn’t an atheist, she didn’t belong to a specific religion either. She believed that there was a higher power out there somewhere, someone who had created the earth and everything on it—the universe, for that matter—but she wasn’t sure exactly who or what that someone was. However, when she and Betty together decided that Patrick might deal better with his father’s passing if he thought of Travis as an angel, Myka had had no problem with it if it provided any measure of comfort for him.

Besides, why couldn’t angels exist? Weren’t angels, after all, beings of protection, light, and kindness? An angel didn’t necessarily have to have a halo and wings, as was the wide-believed notion. An angel, in her opinion, was someone who came into one’s life when all hope seemed lost. Someone who lent a guiding hand and a kind heart. Someone who could help one find the right path in life. Travis would do all of that and more for Patrick if he were still alive. If there was an afterlife, she had no doubt he’d do that for Patrick from there as well.

“We have a new farmhand, Patrick. His name is Galen, but you should call him Mr.—” That’s when she realized he hadn’t told her his last name.

“The last name is Soloman, but I’d prefer to be called Galen if that would be okay with you, Myka.”

She spun around to find Galen standing in the doorway.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked, but you were obviously preoccupied.”

“It’s okay.”

“Patrick, this is Galen Soloman. If he doesn’t mind you calling him Galen, I’m okay with that.”

She quietly watched as Patrick sized Galen up. After a few moments of apparent indecision, he slowly walked to him, cocked his head to the side, and offered his hand. The resemblance to Travis was uncanny, but she saw traits coming out that were uniquely Patrick as well.

Galen squatted, then firmly but gently clasped Patrick’s hand. Myka swallowed around a lump in her throat. There was something about watching a big man like Galen interact with a little boy like Patrick that melted her heart. Galen stood and followed Patrick over to the table. Suddenly, the moderately sized kitchen felt cramped.

“Have a seat. I’m finishing up dinner.”

“Anything I can help with?” Galen asked.

Patrick sat across the table from Galen, intently watching every move he made, but Galen didn’t seem to mind.

“Patrick, why don’t you ask Galen to help you set the table?”

“Wanna help?” Patrick asked.

“Sure.” Galen nodded.

She put the pot roast and veggies on a platter while Galen and Patrick got plates, silverware, and glasses placed for each of them. After putting the food on the table, and filling the glasses with iced tea—milk for Patrick—they all sat down. She glanced at Galen. It would take her a while to get used to his size. He had to be a good six and a half feet tall. His biceps were well-defined, along with the muscles in his forearms, and his fingers were long and straight and looked made for hard labor. He was quite an amazing-looking man, but she felt like a midget next to him. Barely topping out at five feet, she’d grown accustomed to feeling small around most others, but Galen was a whole other story.

“Dang it!” She snapped her fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.

“Forgot the biscuits.”

“Looks like a wonderful dinner, Myka. I’m okay with no biscuits,” Galen said.

“Me too!” Patrick readily agreed.

She couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay. No biscuits. Eat up.”

She was about to ask Patrick if he needed help getting his food, when he held his plate up, and Galen began scooping some roast and veggies onto it.

“Enough?” Galen asked, and Patrick nodded.

Galen then passed the platter to Myka and waited until she was finished before filling his own plate. She couldn’t deny he had great manners.

“Patrick, don’t forget your salad.”

“Aw, I don’t want none,” he scoffed.

“It’ll help you grow big and strong,” Galen said before flexing his bicep at him.

Patrick’s eyes widened, and he piled some lettuce high on his plate before smothering it in dressing. She wished she was able to convince Patrick to eat the things he didn’t necessarily want with that trick, but was sure her muscles weren’t anywhere near as convincing as Galen’s. After she and Galen got their salad, they began to eat. When Galen took his first bite, his eyes closed, and he groaned.

“Something wrong?” she said in alarm.

His hazel eyes opened, and the force of his stare slammed into her.

“Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal this incredible.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “There’s plenty. Don’t be shy. I have pie for dessert.”

“Pie? Ohhhh. I think I’m in heaven,” Galen answered.

Myka’s tummy warmed with contentment at the compliment.

“That’s where Daddy is,” Patrick said before cramming some roast into his mouth.

Galen cast a quick glance at Myka before taking another bite.

“Heaven is lucky to have him,” Galen said.

Myka’s tension drained as easily as it had mounted when Patrick seemed satisfied with Galen’s comment. The rest of dinner was fairly quiet, her attention captured by the amount of food Galen ate. She and Patrick usually had loads of leftovers from pot roast night, but now barely enough remained for one plateful—which was a good thing in her opinion since she wouldn’t have to figure out how to get it all eaten before it went bad. She hated wasting food.

After Galen and Patrick helped her clean off the table, she cut pieces of peach pie for them all.

“Can I watch cartoons while I eat my pie?” Patrick asked.

“You know we don’t watch television while we eat, right?”

He frowned and shook his head.

“But I’ll let you do it this one time.”

“Woo hoo!” Patrick jumped up and carried the pie as fast as he could without spilling it toward the living room.

“He’s a great kid,” Galen said before taking a bite of the pie.

This time when he closed his eyes and moaned, she forced back a giggle.

“He is a great kid. Would you like some coffee?”

“If it’s not an inconvenience.”

“None at all.” She poured them both a cup before sitting back down. “You have a way with him,” she said before taking a bite.

Galen said nothing. As far as she could tell thus far, he wasn’t a man of many words. Some might take that as a sign that he was hiding something, and he very well could be for all she knew. He had an edge about him that she couldn’t quite describe. It was as if his quietness was deliberate. Deliberate for what reason she wasn’t sure. If she had to take a guess, she’d say that he did it to blend into the background.